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“Now I don’t want you to worry, but I have been stabbed.”
Blanc stumbled and had the formidable Ms. Colleen Felongco not gabbed him he would have tumbled ass over teakettle down a flight of stairs, and probably ended up with an impressive concussion.
“What?”
“Stabbed darling. I’ve been stabbed, but everything is fine. I’m already at the emergency room.”
Blanc rightened himself and waved off Colleen. A moment ago, he’d been the one keeping her upright. The shock of discovering that her stepbrother’s killer was their own uncle had turned her knees to jelly, and Blanc had swooped like the gentlemen he was to keep her upright. He appreciated the reciprocity.
“Phillip!” He said. “How in the blue fucking blazes did you get yourself stabbed!?”
A very familiar, very annoyed huff came through the speaker.
“I opened the door, and the man standing on the other side of it plunged a knife into me.”
“You just opened the door without checking who it was first?” Blanc exclaimed, aware that he was being ridiculous.
There was another, very familiar, even more annoyed huff, and Blanc could see the expression on Phillip’s face so clearly, he might as well have been standing next to him on the dock.
“Of course I checked first! But he wasn’t exactly waving his weapon in the air, and declaring sinister intentions so I opened it. He wasn’t a very good attempted murdered if it makes you feel better. His first stab went wide, and he even left the knife behind.”
It did not make Blanc feel better. Instead, it created a terrible vision of his doorway, splattered with Phillip’s blood, and a murder weapon piercing the threshold.
“Don’t worry I haven’t touched it.”
Blanc’s pocket square was silver today, and when he snapped it open the strong wind blowing over the lake grabbed a corner and spread it out under the fading sunlight. The light brought ripples of lavender to the surface, and while the mix of color, light and fabric usually would have calmed him, now it had no such effect.
“Your wound?”
“The knife. It’s still in my shoulder so the- Oh! It’s green.”
Blanc threw his hand in the air, making Colleen jump, and turned the pocket square into a small flag. “What’s green?”
“The knife,” Phillip said, as though Blanc had spaced out at a traffic light and needed to be reminded that Green meant Go. “The knife is green. Like lime green.”
“Why would I care if the knife is lime green Phillip?”
“Because you always love these little details.”
And even as Blanc was left absolutely speechless his mind was already buzzing away. Green knife? Like the knife was entirely green or just the handle? Costco was selling multi-colored knives, and Blanc had thought how strange it was that the handles and the blades were in all in hideous shades of pastel. He wondered if Phillip had noticed the color of the blade because Jesus fucking, fuckity, fuck Phillip had been stabbed!
“Which hospital are you at?” he asked, the pocket square finally being used for its intended purpose as Blanc whipped away the sweat running down the back of his neck.
Phillip sighed a sigh that told Blanc he’d forgotten something he’d promised he was going to remember.
“Sister’s of Providence. Remember I told you it’s the best one to go to based off our insurance?”
“Phillip.”
“I’m not messing about with this! When you got stabbed, we were really lucky that you were in Germany! I am not looking forward to the bill that’s coming after this.”
“Phillip,” Blanc repeated. Proud of how calm, collected and for Pete’s sakes fond he suddenly felt. “I put your list of approved hospitals in my Notes app. But you never said one of those hospitals should take precedence over any of the others.”
“Oh!”
Phillip’s entire tone suddenly glowed bright and pleased, and Blanc felt a ridiculous flair of pride at making that happen. “Well, that’s great. I’m sorry I snapped. I know you have trouble with these of things, and that’s a good way to remember it. Yes, Sister’s of Providence.”
“It’s fine, honey. I’m leaving now. What’s the doctor told you?”
“Oh I haven’t seen one yet. I’m still in the waiting room. This place is quite busy, and they need to prioritize.”
All of Blanc’s previous calm vanished.
“Phillip, you have been stabbed!” He shouted, his arm shooting back in the air. This time the wind plucked the pocket square out of his hand, and dropped it right into the lake. “Push yourself to the front of that line!”
“I don’t know. The staff already know I’m here, and I have a few work emails I can answer until they’re ready for me.” There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the line, followed by a sharp, surprised gasp. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have turned that way. I hope they have good drugs. I’m feeling a little nauseous.”
“Sugar, there’s a knife in you. Of course you feel bad.”
“I actually- I hope they get to me soon. I’m sweating a lot, and Blanc I think I - ”
There was a clatter, a thump and then a cacophony of unfamiliar voices in place of where Phillip’s had been.
Blanc’s car was currently at the bottom of Cayuga Lake, but Eileen was kind enough to give him a ride back to the city.
It took five hours, and by the time he was navigating the hospital corridors searching for Phillip’s room he had one running list of every possible person who could want to do Phillip harm, and another that listed the suitable responses to the crime.
That second list just said, “Fingernails. Removed.” In large block letters.
Not for the first time he marveled at the ease with which he’d been allowed into the hospital. He was under no illusions. It might not always be this easy even in New York City, but just being able to say, “my husband is here” and being waved right inside undid serval knots in his chest.
They’d discussed getting married at length when it had been made legal in New York state. It had been a strange thing to consider. A maddening thing. Oh sure, he’d marched, and speechified, and raised funds for political candidates for the right to scribble his name across a piece of paper next to Phillip’s, but there was still an ornery mule living in his heart that loudly bayed at the injustice of asking a government that had done its best to kick him and others like him in the teeth for permission to love someone.
If he pondered the issue for too long, he became extremely cranky. But Blanc was also a very practical man, and what had finally tipped the scales and given marriage the win was hospital visitation. They’d both been kept away from one another before, and if waving a marriage certificate under the nose of a homophobic nurse got him to Phillip, he’d sign a dozen of them.
To his extreme relief there was a doctor in Phillip’s room when he reached it. Her white coat was a soothing beacon of professionalism and accountability. In contrast, his poor sweetheart looked like he’d been road hard and put up wet. And not in a positive life affirming kind of way.
“You made it,” Phillip said, in the overly cheerful tone of the heavily drugged.
Sparing a sharp nod for the doctor, Blanc crossed the room to stand at Phillip’s bedside.
“Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away.”
There was an impressive looking bandage peeking out from under Phillip’s hospital gown, and Blanc’s mind annoyingly went to work crafting an image of Phillip caked in blood with a hideous green knife sticking out of his shoulder. He tried to chase it away by kissing Phillip on the cheek, and then again atop his head. It didn’t work, but it soothed some part of him that had been supremely stressed since Phillip had called.
Though now that he was in spitting distance of the man, Blanc frowned. Phillip was radiating heat.
“How’s he doing Doctor….” Blanc gave the rail-thin woman with the long gray braid a searching look. “My apologies, in my rush I didn’t ask your name.”
“Dr. Silver,” the woman answered with a brisk nod. “Family?”
“My husband,” Phillip said, and from his position gazed up at Blanc through his eyelashes. A move that sent a curl of pleasure through Blanc’s heart.
“He’s very lucky. He lost a lot of blood.”
“Which she put right back in,” Phillip crowed, moving to pat Blanc’s hand. He missed by a few inches. “She’s very good.”
“And it doesn’t look like there will be any long-term nerve damage,” she continued. “His stitches should dissolve on their own after a few weeks, but he’ll have to make sure the wound stays clean. We’ve given him some painkillers, but I am worried about this fever. I’m afraid there was something on the knife.”
Ice went down Blanc’s spine.
“Poison?” he asked.
Dr. Silver gave him an odd look, and shook her head. “Bacteria. That knife was filthy. We’re giving him a round of antibiotics, but I’d like him to stay overnight.”
“I asked them to put the knife in a bag for you,” Phillip said. “You have to see the ghastly thing. Once you added the blood it was like a derange Christmas decoration.”
“That is so very kind of you, Phillip,” Blanc said. This time he was the one who reached for Phillip’s hand, and because he wasn’t high as a kite he successfully entwined their fingers. “Dr. Silver, have the proper authorities been contacted?”
“Yes, hours ago,” Dr. Silver confirmed. Her pen danced across Phillip’s chart the scratches suddenly the only sound in the room. When she was satisfied with her results, she returned it to its slot at the end of the bed. “I have no idea where they are, but I’ll leave you to handle that part. I imagine you have more experience with the police than I do. It was nice to meet you Detective Blanc.”
She left the room without a backwards glance, and Blanc found he rather liked her.
He gave Phillip’s hand a kiss before letting go, shucking his coat off, and then pulling a chair close to the bed.
“Hi, darling. How you doing?”
“I feel great,” Phillip said, his eyes slipping closed. "Little tired but the nausea is completely gone.”
“Oh well I am just tickled pink to hear that,” Blanc said. “Why don't you try sleeping. If the police ever show up I'll wake you.”
“Okay,” Phillip said. “Great. That's great.”
And then he was asleep.