Nursing a Grudge: An Earl Walker Mystery

Chapter 17

An elderly man looked down at Earl. “Are you all right?”

“How do you think I am?” Earl tried to prop himself up on an elbow. He flailed, feeling for all the world like a turtle on its back.

“Do you need a pencil to bite on?”

Earl gave the man a look. “Now, why would I need that?”

“When you have a seizure, you’re supposed to—”

“I am not having a seizure!” Earl flailed harder, hoping the man would take the hint and help him up.

“Someone just tried to kill me! You were right here; didn’t you see it?”

The man shook his head. “I can get the nurse if you want.”

“Can’t you just help me up into that chair there—?”

“But that’s a wheelchair.”

Earl grunted. “I was pushed out of it when someone threw a knife at me.”

“If you’re hallucinating, I should probably get you a nurse.” The man left him.

“No! Wait!” Earl reached out, but the man had disappeared into the crowd. There was a massive huddle of people blocking his vision. All standing there, shuffling in place, looking at him, afraid to get involved with the man they assumed was having a seizure. Earl reached out his hand. “Could someone please help me back into my wheelchair?”

Nobody moved. Grunting, Earl rocked himself until he managed to flip onto his stomach. He dragged himself toward his overturned wheelchair, one big wheel in the air.

He finally got a grip on the chair, tried to figure out how to get it upright and how to get himself into it from the floor. He was not exactly well practiced in this particular act.

Finally someone in the huddle came forward. “Here, let me help with that.” The woman grabbed the chair and tipped it back upright. She leaned forward and gripped Earl by his armpits. Aside from his being ticklish, he was also mortified at the thought of a woman rescuing him. He was relieved when the woman called over a couple of men, who came and helped lift Earl and deposit him in the chair.

“There,” the woman said. “Feeling better?” She inspected him for some head injury.

“I was not having a seizure!” Earl wiped a hand across his forehead.

“No one said you did.”

“Well, that other man, he—” Earl let it drop. He looked over at the huddle at the door. Some still watching, others starting to leave. He was a little surprised to notice that, even as they drifted back to their activities—their jigsaw puzzles and their crossword books and their cards and their billiards—they were still between him and the exit. He called out, “Did anyone see anything?” A few looked at him, but nobody answered.

Earl looked at the big glass doors in front of him and then back at the big doorway into the complex. The entire room was between him and the exit. The would-be killer had to have been an excellent knife thrower to successfully throw it through a room full of bustling people and find its way to the wall. Earl turned to the woman. “Did you happen to see it?”

“Well, we didn’t see you until after you fell. If you need a witness for a lawsuit—”

“No, no, no—someone threw a knife across the room. Did you see him?”

The woman looked at him doubtfully. “I thought you said you had a seizure.”

“No, I did not have a seizure!” Earl pointed at the man standing there. “You had to have seen it. Either it was thrown from all the way over there—at the risk of some bystander walking into it—or the knife thrower had to come right into the middle of the room.”