Chapter Fifty-Six

I drove into the lightning. If there was a buildup of carbon in my car's exhaust system, it got blown out the back.

I heard the scream of sirens and thought I was about to be pulled over for speeding on Broadway. I didn't slow down. And I didn't see any flashing red lights when I glanced up in the mirror.

When I turned onto Popular Avenue, I saw the sirens and flashing lights were coming from Joe's place.

"Boy, that was fast," I said in reference to my 911 call to send help. Realistically, I knew police and ambulance couldn't t have arrived that quickly.

My speed increased before I jammed on the brakes. The car tires skidded against wet pavement, and stopped within inches of the Lincoln sideswiping the fire truck. An ambulance was backed up to the porch. And this old gal was out of her car and racing toward it without thought of the extended damage I put the ankle in jeopardy of sustaining. I felt no pain; only a sense of urgency to get to my dear friend, Joe Wise.

He was on a Gurney being wheeled out the door and up into the ambulance. His eyes were closed. An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. And I was frantically demanding to know from paramedic or attendant if he was going to be okay.

"Fay, he's gonna be okay," the voice that belonged to the pair of hands that landed on my shoulders assured.

Mitch guided me out of the way. But my eyes followed Joe, and remained on him until the ambulance door was pushed shut.

"If it wouldn't a been for Mitch here, it might a been all over for that old guy, though." I looked up into the face that went with the deep male voice.

Lieutenant Lewis Evans towered next to Mitch. And he was looking down at me.

"Angel did it," I shouted, hoping to be heard over the sudden squeal of the siren behind me as the ambulance started to pull away.

"Mitch told me the story. That's why we were here. Come to have us a chat with this Angel woman."

"She isn't here, Fay," Mitch was quick to jump in and tell me.

"No kidding. She was out cold on my living room floor when I left home."

"You say she's in your house?" This came from the lieutenant. Mitch looked too surprised to speak.

"I clobbered her across the head with my crutch. She was trying to force me to swallow a bottle of sleeping pills. It was supposed to be a suicide. The same with Joe."

"Like I said, if it weren't for Mitch here, Mr. Wise would have inhaled enough gas to put him to sleep for good."

"Gas?"

"Good I quit smokin' when I did." Mitch finally had found his voice.

"Otherwise, I never would a been able to smell it."

I think it was the confused look I was giving him that made him clear things up for me.

"When Lewis and me got here, the house was dark. Everything locked up tight. My taste buds and smeller started workin' again a few weeks after I quit those cancer sticks. Anyway, we're walkin' 'round the house, tryin' doors and stuff, and I smell gas."

"The gas on the old kitchen stove was turned on full blast. Light a match in there and the whole place would a blown," the lieutenant informed.

I finally looked around and saw windows pushed up. I also heard the lieutenant ask a borough police officer to get on his radio and send the troops to my place, pronto.