Blindsight

Once beyond the nurses’ station, it was easy to find 507. Slowing down, Angelo glanced inside. Satisfied that no staff was in the room, he stepped over the threshold and looked at the woman in the bed. She was watching a TV mounted on a mechanical arm attached to the bed frame.

The woman had an eyepatch over one eye. Her unprotected eye switched its attention from the TV to Angelo. She gave him a questioning look.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. O’Connor,” Angelo said affably. “You have a visitor.”

Angelo waved for Tony to come into the room.

“Who are you?” Mrs. O’Connor asked.

Tony came smiling into the room with his bouquet of flowers out in front of him. Mrs. O’Connor’s eyes went from Angelo to Tony. She smiled.

“I think you must have the wrong room,” she said. “Maybe the wrong O’Connor.”

“Oh?” Angelo questioned. “Aren’t you the O’Connor who’s scheduled for surgery later today?”

“Yes,” Mrs. O’Connor said, “but I don’t know either of you. Do I?”

“I can’t imagine you do,” Angelo said. He stepped back to the door and looked up and down the hall. The nurses’ station was still a flurry of activity. No one was coming the other way. “I think it’s time for Mrs. O’Connor’s treatment.”

Tony’s smile broadened. He laid his flowers on the night table.

“What treatment?” Mrs. O’Connor asked.

“Relaxation therapy,” Tony said. “Let me take your pillow.”

“Did Dr. Scheffield order this?” Although she was suspicious, Mrs. O’Connor did not resist as Tony pulled the pillow from beneath her head. She wasn’t accustomed to second-guessing her physicians.

“Not exactly,” Tony said.

The confession emboldened Mrs. O’Connor. “I’d like to speak with Nurse Lang,” she began to say. But she didn’t get a chance to finish. Tony crammed the pillow down over her face, then sat on her chest.

A few muffled sounds followed, but Mrs. O’Connor didn’t struggle for long. She kicked several times, but the move seemed less defensive than an uncontrollable reaction to being deprived of air.

Angelo acted as lookout throughout. He kept his eyes on the nurses’ station. No problem there. The nurses were engrossed in conversation. Angelo looked down the hall in the other direction. His heart missed a beat when he spotted a middle-aged woman approaching 507 pushing a cartful of water pitchers. She was only fifteen feet away.

Stepping back into the room, Angelo closed the door. Tony hadn’t quite finished dispensing his “treatment.” He was still sitting on top of Mrs. O’Connor.

“Someone’s coming!” Angelo warned him. He pulled his gun from his pocket and fumbled with the silencer.

Tony kept pressure on the pillow. There was a knock at the door.

Angelo motioned toward the bathroom. “Come on,” he urged in a whisper when Tony failed to follow him in. After another ten seconds there was a second knock. Tony reluctantly lifted the pillow. Mary O’Connor was blue and motionless. Her unpatched eye stared blankly at the ceiling.

Frantically Angelo motioned for Tony to join him in the bathroom as a third knock sounded. Then, as the door to the hall opened, Tony pushed off the bed and crowded into the bathroom, forcing Angelo to straddle the toilet. Tony pulled the bathroom door partially closed as the woman with the cart of water pitchers entered the room.

Angelo had his gun ready. The silencer was in place. He did not like the idea of using it, but he was afraid he didn’t have any choice. With the bathroom door open a fraction of an inch, he was able to watch as the woman switched O’Connor’s water pitcher for a fresh one. He held his breath. The woman was only a few feet away. His plan was to wait for her to spot Mrs. O’Connor before he made his move. To his surprise, the woman disappeared from view without so much as a glance in Mrs. O’Connor’s direction.

After waiting for a full minute, Angelo told Tony to take a careful peek.

Slowly Tony opened the bathroom door enough so that he could get his head around the door.

“She’s gone,” Tony said.

“Let’s get out of here,” Angelo said.

Exiting the bathroom, Tony paused at the bedside. “You think she’s dead?” he questioned.

“You can’t be that blue and still be alive,” Angelo said. “Come on. Grab your flowers. I want to be long gone before they find her.”

They made it to the car without incident. Angelo was thinking it was a good thing he’d gone in. Trigger-happy Tony would have left a trail of bodies in his wake.

Angelo was just pulling away from the curb when Tony confided in him. “Smothering wasn’t bad. But I still like shooting them better. It’s surer, quicker, and definitely more satisfying.”

Lou took out a cigarette and lit up. He didn’t even feel like smoking particularly. He was just interested in killing time. The meeting was to have started half an hour earlier but officers were still drifting in. The subject was the three gangland-style executions that had occurred in Queens overnight. Lou had thought the cases would have inspired a sense of urgency in the department, but three detectives were missing.