Gavin and Lorne said their goodbyes and took off. The good nurse checked my vitals again, and what she called the drip delivering an antibiotic. Then she gave me a couple of pain killers. I don’t know if it was because they were strong, or just my general lack of good health right then, but I was asleep almost before she left the room.
* * * *
Thursday afternoon they moved me to a private room in the hospital. It seemed as if I had barely settled in when the cops appeared. Okay, make that cop—one Detective Eaton. He pulled up a chair, after introducing himself, sat, and took out a notebook and pen.
“All right,” he said. “I want your version of what happened, from the beginning.”
“Lorne Raynell and I are friends. You know about his brother’s murder, I hope.”
“According to the police where it happened, I know that he probably committed suicide.”