Murray slowly opened his eyes. He didn't know where he was. All he saw was a vast expanse of white. He saw a blur of movement to his right. He turned his head quickly, and gasped as pain radiated from his head to his chest and from his chest outward.
"Uhnnn!" he grunted.
"How are you feeling, Dr. Bozynski?" a female voice asked.
"I've been better," Murray muttered noncommittally. "Where am I?"
"King Harbor Hospital. My name is Ms. Wallace. I'm one of your nurses. How are you feeling?" She began straightening his covers.
"I hurt. What happened?"
"I don't know, Dr. Bozynski. The police will have to tell you if you don't remember. They want to talk to you anyway. Do you feel up to talking to them?" She looked up when she did not receive any reply.
Murray was either asleep or unconscious. She drew the covers up around his shoulders. She took his vital signs: temperature 102 F, blood pressure low, pulse weak and thready. He was not in good shape. He was bruised and battered. He had several stitches in cuts on his face. She brushed the hair away from his forehead. He was thin. She had seen him when they brought him in. He had scars from recent cuts on his face, and fading and recent bruises on his body. Someone had beaten him once recently, and once not so recently. He had also been shot in the chest by a high-powered rifle. The wound was close to his heart. She wasn't sure he was going to make it. He was in TICU. She wasn't sure he was going to leave it except on a stretcher headed to the morgue.
Per doctor's orders, she adjusted the flow on his IV to give him additional fluids. She checked the transfusion bag and made sure it was flowing properly.
Ms. Wallace walked out of the room. Lt. Joanna Parisi approached. "Is he awake?"
"Not now. He was awake for a few minutes, but he's out again."
"Did he say anything?"
"The usual stuff for emergency patients. You know...'where am I? What happened?' That sort of thing. Nothing more."
"How is he?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am. You'll have to talk to Dr. Echles."
"Very well, I will. Does the same thing apply to Mr. Allen?"
"No. I know how Dr. Bozynski is; I simply cannot legally tell you his condition. However, as Mr. Allen is no longer on my unit, I cannot tell you his condition. But, the fact that he is no longer on my unit should tell you something." Ms. Wallace smiled at her. "Check with your policemen. They went with him when he was moved to a regular care unit."
"I'll do that." Joanna glanced toward Murray's room. "Any idea when I'll be able to talk to him? We'd really like to find out what's going on. This is the second time in two months we've had to bring him into the Emergency Room. Someone, or several someones, seem to have it in for him. The first time, no one else was hurt. This time, they were." She walked over and stared through the window at Murray. "He's a relatively harmless little man. He can be aggravating, but he is harmless. Why would anyone try to kill him?" She looked at Ms. Wallace. "I think Mr. Allen was shot by mistake. I think the assailant was trying to shoot Dr. Bozynski. But why?"
"Did he say anything on the way in?" Ms. Wallace asked.
"He asked us to notify a James D. Murphy and muttered a phone number. We called it and notified Mrs. Murphy of the situation. She said she'd notify her husband. Has anyone shown up?"
"You said no one could see Dr. Bozynski unless an officer was present. He hasn't been conscious. However, there is now a short man who bears a strong resemblance to a gorilla in my waiting room. He said he was here looking for his captain. I assumed that was you."
"No. I'm only a Lieutenant. Ah, the description doesn't ring a bell. Is he still here?"
"I haven't seen him leave. Now, Lt. Parisi, if you'll excuse me, I have other patients to check on." Ms. Wallace smiled and walked away.
"Anderson!" Parisi called.
A uniformed officer came over. "Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Is there a man in the TICU waiting room?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Do you know who he is?"
"Yes, ma'am. James Murphy. Although I never knew his first name was James."
"You talk as if I should know him."
"Yes, ma'am. He owns Murphy's Bar & Grill down by the waterfront. The one all the policemen and firemen patronize. The one where the outside of the building is real dingy, but the inside is a nice quiet Irish style pub. One that serves food and beverages. There's never any trouble there. It's always handled by them."
"Does he look like a gorilla?"
"If gorillas comes in a red-headed variety, maybe. He's built like a brick wall. All sort of square. His shoulders kind of hide the fact that he's got a neck, there's so much muscle on them. He looks like he's fat, but he's all muscle. You definitely don't want him ticked off at you."
"Well, I guess I'd better go talk to him." Joanna said after a few moments' thought.
"If you say so, ma'am. I'm just around the corner if you need me."
"Right." Joanna walked over to the door of the waiting room, and took a deep breath. Then she entered the room. "Mr. Murphy?" she asked.
The figure on the sofa stood up. "Are you the doctor?"
"No. I'm Lieutenant Joanna Parisi, King Harbor Homicide."
"Oh. My name is James Murphy. I received a call from the police that Murray Bozynski had been brought here?"
"Yes. He's in TICU. He was shot." Joanna said.
"Do you know how he is? Who shot him?" the little man asked, his eyes narrowing.
Seeing his face as he asked his questions, Joanna realized that this little man was a very dangerous little man. "I don't have much information about his current condition. I haven't been able to talk to his doctor yet. And, no, we don't know who shot him."
"I want to know who's been trying to hurt him. This business two months ago." Murphy walked over to the window and stared out. "I suppose there's still no information about that attack either."
"Not a lot. All the people who saw the men leaving have been downtown and looked at the mugbooks. No finds of any kind. We got the sperm samples. They've identified the fact that all three men that actually sexually assaulted Murray were secretors - blood type A. There were two other men who either did not get a chance to assault him or did not care to. We have only a vague description of the men. They were all fairly tall, solidly built, blonde or white haired, Caucasians. One, the one who might be white-haired, was said to be older than the others, and had what they called a 'hawk face'. Thin features, hawk nosed, etc. You know, the same kind of features that Basil Rathbone had." Joanna said.
"Or Geronimo." The little man said with a smile.
"I've known Murray for a couple of years now. He's never mentioned your name."
"He's mentioned yours. Said you were a pretty fair officer...didn't look down on him because he was not a 'drop dead gorgeous hunk' like his two roommates. Said you were a real nice lady who was interested in one of his roommates, Cody Allen. Or maybe it was Nick Ryder." The little man scratched his head and smiled. "I'm not real good with names, but I'm a holy terror with faces. I've never forgotten one yet."
"How long have you known Murray?"
"Good Lord! Let me think. It's going on nearly twenty-two years now. His brother, Michael, introduced us." The little man frowned. "It can't have been that long...but it has." He turned toward Murray's door. "When can I see him? He wouldn't have given you my number if he didn't want to see me...talk to me. To not mean me to come see him is not like the Captain."
"Captain?"
"My Captain. We served together for a while." He looked at Joanna. "I want to know who's attacking my Captain, Lieutenant."
"So do we, Mr. Murphy. We'd also like to know who beat him severely...again."
The little man began to pace, becoming more agitated with every step. Then his eyes narrowed and he grew calmer. "May I see him now?"
"I can't even see him now, Mr. Murphy. I may need to see him before you do."
The little man walked over to a pay phone, put in a coin, and dialed a number.
"Dorothy, I'll be up here a while. They won't tell me how he is. You may have to open and close without me. Call Raphael. Tell him to come in. Tell Janos he must help in the grill. Tell him that, if he gives you any grief about this, his car will be immobilized for six months, and he will be immobilized forever. Tell all the children, but especially Janos."
"Tell Janos what?" came a deep voice. Joanna and Murphy turned around. There was a tall, muscular figure in the door.
"Never mind, Dorothy. I'll tell him myself." Murphy hung up the phone. "You'll need to help your mother tonight, Janos."
"How's Uncle Murray, Papa?" His son asked as he walked in.
"He's in TICU. They don't put you there if you're in good shape. Damn it!" He slammed his fist against the wall. "He's back in hell, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do!"
"Papa! Calm down! You aren't going to be of any help to Uncle Murray like this!" The tall boy came over and put his hand on his father's shoulder.
Joanna recognized one of the star football players from San Diego State University, a running back with a lot of pro potential, only his name was Johnny Murphy.
"Uncle Murray?" Joanna questioned.
"He's my godfather." Johnny said. "I was named for him."
"Your name's not Murray. It's Johnny. I've seen you play against B.Y.U., U.C.L.A., and U.S.C. You're quite good." Joanna said.
"Thanks. However, that's not exactly right. I was given Uncle Murray's middle name. His full name is Murray Janos Bozynski. My name is Janos Patrick Murphy. My nickname is Johnny." He looked over at Joanna. "And you are?"
"I'm Lieutenant Joanna Parisi, King Harbor P.D., Homicide Division."
"Is someone dead? Is Uncle Murray dead, Papa?"
"I don't think so. But, no one will tell me how he is either!"
"Calm down, Papa. You're not going to do anyone any good like this."
"I just want to get my hands on whoever has been hurting him, and break every bone in their bodies!"
"Papa, you always taught us not to strike anyone in anger. Said we could do more damage as ice, than as fire. A cool calm collected head in karate, rather than a hot head. Remember, 'revenge is a dish best served cold'. Beside, only if I get to hold them while you hit them."
"I know." The little man visibly calmed down. "But, this is the second time in two months, Janos. He's damn near died each time! At least, this time, he had me notified! I didn't find out by word of mouth from some of the patrons of Mama's Place like I did the last time he was hurt." The little man moved over to the window. "Sometimes, I think God has it in for him. The only ones worth a damn in that family are Poppi, Murray, and Melba. Even Michael, my friend, had a few screws loose. More than a few, if truth be told. I think Michael had a death wish. That's why he introduced me to his little brother and asked me to take care of him." He glanced over at his son. "Oh, don't look so shocked! I'm not talking about the kinder. They're decent people because that's the way they were raised. But, Murray's family...that's a horse of a different color. If Murray ever tells you he loves you like a brother, hit him! It's not a compliment. But, if he were to say, you were the brother he never had, that's a compliment."
"But, you, said you two were introduced by his brother, Michael?"
"They weren't raised together. Michael was ten years older than Murray. He was raised by their father. Murray was raised by his great uncle from the age of six. His father didn't know what to make of him. He had no idea how to raise a genius. Neither did his grandfather. But his great uncle Stefan did. You're there when they need you. You exercise their minds and bodies, keeping them active, and love them. You whop them when they need it, and you hug them when they need that. You teach them the difference between right and wrong, and try to help them build the inner strength to do what's right. And you pray a lot! Just like you do with any kid. Just like I did with you and your sibs, Janos." James Murphy looked at his son. "And hopefully, the wisdom to know that when a child fails to learn life's lessons (like YOUR brother Michael), it's not always completely your fault. Out of five kids, age 20 to 14, only one failed to learn the lesson that drugs are not the answer to a problem. Michael didn't learn it, and he died. You others learned it, and you lived. We wonder where we failed with Michael. We've discussed it with you, with the priest, with the counselors, the psychiatrists. The only thing I can think of is that there was an inherent flaw in his character that you did not inherit. Thank God!"
"But, Murray, he was a good one. His brother, Michael, was good, but he had a few twists in his nature. He would never have done well outside the service. It was probably a mercy that he died in Vietnam. Particularly given the welcome most Vietnam veterans received." Murphy looked out the window again. "Michael Bozynski had a raging temper that went off like a volcano, and usually did about as much damage. He hit Murray once, as an adult. Murray beat the living shit out of him. It seemed his Uncle Stefan had learned some dirty tricks in the partisans during World War II, and had taught them to Murray. Surprised the hell out of Michael...me, too. But, that was before the accident."
"Accident?" Joanna questioned gently.
"The captain was in a helo crash. Broke both legs, damn near crushed them. He lost a lot of muscle torn away in lacerations, too. They told him in the VA hospital that he'd never get out of a wheelchair. He proved them wrong. Then, it was that he'd never walk without crutches. Wrong again. Then without canes. Same thing. He may not be graceful, but he's doing things the doctors told him he'd never do again. He's a gallant little man. But, even a gallant heart can only carry him so far. It can't keep him here if God says it's time to go."
"No, Papa. But, you know Uncle Murray; he'd probably get into a theological argument with God. After a few moments of that, God may decide to leave him here as a test of faith for the rest of us." Janos said jokingly.
"Murray would never argue theology with God. However, he might 'why' him to death!" Murphy conceded. "That is a definite possibility. But, seriously, Janos, no matter Murray's feelings in this matter, he may not survive all this."
"Papa, Uncle Murray is a fighter. He doesn't give up. You know that."
"I also know that he lost several feet of stomach or intestines in that helo crash. I'm not sure which it was. Whichever, the doctors at the VA hospital told him it would be almost impossible for him to gain weight. That's been the one thing the doctors told him he'd never do again that he has been unable to do."
"What do you mean?" Joanna asked.
"Oh, Murray used to be 220 pounds of Army officer. He...uh...lost a lot of muscle stripped away in the crash. He lost weight in the hospital because he couldn't eat. He...uh...he was down to 120 pounds at one time. Poppi, your Aunt Marie Jeannette, the hospital nutritionist, and I came up with a nutritional drink that helped him put on 40-45 pounds. Then his weight stabilized. The problem is, Murray has a high metabolism. Unlike me, who has to fight to lose weight, he can't seem to keep it. When he doesn't feel well, he loses weight...fast. It almost seems to melt off." He was staring off in the direction of Murray's room. "Any fever will make him drop five pounds in two days. Then he has to fight for two months to try to put the weight back on." He stopped when he saw several doctors hurry into Murray's room.
Janos came up behind his father as they wheeled a crash cart into Murray's room. They waited in silence until they saw them coming out.
"Doctor, I'm Dr. Bozynski's next of kin, with power of attorney in matters of medical care. How is he?"
"He's just had a small...incident. We had to use the defibrillator. You understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes. How is he?"
"I'll need to see proof of identity, before I can release that information."
Murphy pulled out a set of papers and handed them to the doctor.
The doctor read through the papers carefully. "These seem to be in order, Mr. Murphy. His condition is critical. He has lost a lot of blood. The loss of blood is causing his condition to be...unstable. Did the police tell you anything?"
"They told my wife that he had been shot."
"Anything else?"
"No."
"O.K. He was shot. It was a bullet from a high-powered rifle of some kind. We have already given the pieces to the forensics department. One of my assistant surgeons has traced the path of the bullet through the torso for the police as well. The bullet entered his body on the left side of his torso and continued slightly downward, passing within an inch of his heart. We had to do emergency surgery in the ER, not even waiting for an OR. Unfortunately, it also had to be done without an anesthetic. That would have caused problems. He came to for a few minutes, and then went back under. The only thing he said was, 'Oh, shit! Not again!' His condition is further complicated by the fact that he had been beaten pretty solidly sometime in the past 2 or 3 hours before he was shot. So, basically, I don't have a prognosis for you."
"What are his chances?"
"Of surviving?"
Murphy nodded his head.
"Right now, they are basically 50-50."
"When can I see him?" Joanna and Murphy chorused.
"Whenever he wakes up, I guess," the doctor said. "The police may need to see him before you do, Mr. Murphy. Your wife," indicating Joanna, "will have to wait until a little later."
Murphy looked at him in surprise. "She's not my wife, doctor. That's the police lieutenant."
The doctor looked at her in surprise. "The last police lieutenant I met was short, stocky, ugly, and male."
"Lt. Quinlan died two years ago."
"That would be about right," the doctor muttered. "Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant. Given our respective professions, I'm surprised we haven't met before now."
"Yes, unfortunately, emergency room personnel and homicide do seem to get together more often than the other departments get to meet each other."
"I still don't have a lot of information. I only know I don't want to see this man in my ICU or ER again any time soon! He's been in here too much as it is!" The doctor turned to Murphy. "Is there any way you can keep him out of my ER?"
"I didn't even know he was hurt the first time. I found out from one of my customers who also had been at Mother's Place that night. I fussed at him then. But, he's a proud, stubborn man. He won't let you give him shelter for fear it will bring danger to you or that it could be construed as charity. And, he has a terrible fear of charity. He wants people to do things because of loving or liking him - not out of pity or charity. But, sometimes," Murphy moved in to stare at Murray through the window, "sometimes that's what he needs. But he would never accept it. And, while you might be able to take care of it by sitting on him, about all it will get you is a bite in the butt. He's so thin and light now, he's putting to use all the little dirty tricks he's ever been taught, by a multitude of persons." He turned and looked at the doctor. "When will I be able to see him?"
"Perhaps in an hour or two...if he's awake," the doctor said. "As long as the lieutenant doesn't mind."
"I'll need to talk to him first, Mr. Murphy, " Joanna said. "Then you can talk to him."
Murphy looked at Johnnie. "Go home and help your mother, Janos. I'll wait here to find out what he wants or needs me to do." He sat down on the sofa, picked up a magazine, and began reading.
The doctor and Joanna exchanged glances. They each shrugged and went their respective ways.
Murray 1
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