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When Inspector Irratino awoke in a hospital bed on Sunday afternoon, his first thought was of the restaurant reservation he had made. Preparing for his regular post-murder meal with Deductive Logico, he’d managed to secure a booking at an extraordinarily upscale and exclusive place renowned for its linguini. (Irratino hadn’t even had to resort to hassling the manager this time.) A glance at the clock on the nightstand revealed that it was almost 5 P.M. The reservation was at 6! He had to get changed immediately! The inspector leapt out of the bed, but he didn’t make it five steps before noticing a shooting pain in his arm. In his effort to leave, Irratino had almost pulled out a large IV unit in his arm that was hooked up to a bag of purplish-looking fluid.
Needless to say, he had many questions.
In no particular order:
What is that stuff in the IV bag?
Will the manager agree to reschedule my reservation if I tell him I’ve had a medical emergency?
Will Logico forgive me for standing him up at that restaurant?
Where is Logico?
How did I get to this hospital in the first place? The last I remember, I was pretending to be dead at the prison.
Irratino received an answer to the last question when Dr. Crimson burst through the door of the hospital room, holding an intimidating-looking syringe.
“What are you doing out of bed?” she demanded.
“What was I doing in that bed in the first place?” he countered, a bit wary of what she would do with that massive needle. It reminded him of why he hated hospitals: in the Marot, they symbolized death and uncomfortable, painful objects being inserted into one’s skin. (Perhaps that specific interpretation of the cards had been influenced by his own fear. Irratino didn’t think he was ready to admit that to himself.)
“You were poisoned by one of the inmates at the prison. The prison called an ambulance for you after Logico solved your murder and you didn’t immediately spring back to life.”
“How could I have been poisoned? I never ate anything at the prison.”
Dr. Crimson sighed and began to speak slowly, as though she were attempting to explain quantum physics to a kindergartner.
“Yes, precisely. The lab downstairs took samples from this syringe found at the scene to see if its contents match the substance you were taken ill with.” She passed the tube to Irratino. After a cursory inspection of the needle, he felt the side of his neck. Sure enough, there was a small puncture wound where the syringe must have stabbed him.
“Dr. Crimson, how am I not dead yet? In your medical opinion, would you consider my miraculous survival a sign from beyond?” Irratino asked, hoping she would agree so he could recount this to Logico later during their belated meal (after he had apologized profusely for being late with a bag of the deductive’s favorite coffee beans).
“No, I would attribute your survival to the fact that your would-be murderer didn’t fill their syringe with enough KCl to induce a heart attack. What an idiot,” muttered the doctor disdainfully.
Irratino silently thanked whoever might be listening that the inhabitants of the prison seemingly knew very little about drug dosage. Turning to Dr. Crimson, he asked, “Considering that I’m still alive, can I leave now? I have a dinner with Logico to get to and not much time to make it there.”
“Absolutely not. You’ll need to stay here under observation for at least the rest of the night. In the meantime, you can help me fill out this medical questionnaire.” She removed a clipboard from the large pockets of her lab coat. Irratino idly imagined someone getting bashed over the head with it and shuddered.
“What symptoms would you say you’re feeling?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just some tingling in my legs, and anxiety from not making it to my dinner on time.”
Dr. Crimson’s pen had started to leak red ink all over the page she was writing on, most likely from the ferocity she was gripping it with. “Very funny, Inspector. But you’re still not leaving. You look awful.”
“Awful?!”
“You’re terribly pale. You must not get out much, or have any exercise.”
“I’ll have you know I’m quite the sportsman!”
“Yes, you and that detective of yours are always aching to play a rousing game of tonsil hockey. Speaking of, are you sexually active?”
Irratino felt that this medical questionnaire had become a different sort of interrogation.
“Alright,” he sighed, “That’s it. I’m going to call Logico to take me home.”
But he never got the chance to, since Logico became the second person to burst through the door that day.
“Oh, Irratino!” Logico gasped, winded from running through the convoluted hospital hallways.
“Thank goodness you’re okay! My apologies for not getting here sooner. Parking was murder-” He froze and remembered why his rival, antagonist, and friend was here in the first place. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. In all my time faking my death to prove the validity of the esoteric, I never imagined someone would try to make it a reality.”
“If it’s any consolation, your would-be murderer was caught. The court date is in two days,” Logico said, a steely gleam in his eyes. “I promise you I’ll make sure justice is delivered.”
Irratino laughed delightedly. “You sound like Judge Pine! Which makes sense, since you’re both earth signs. Still, I’ve never seen you so worked up over a case before.”
Logico opened his mouth as if to reply, but the sudden slamming of the door interrupted him. As it swung shut again, Irratino glanced up to see who had come in.
A nurse stood at the foot of his hospital bed, eyes red and glassy from crying. “I heard Deductive Logico was in this room, and we need his help,” she said, “one of the other nurses was just murdered!”
Dr. Crimson rolled her eyes. “Honestly, one of them dies every month. I’d think you’d be used to it by now.”
The nurse apologized and sniffled loudly. Irratino offered her the box of tissues on his nightstand, which she accepted gratefully.
Logico looked lost in an emotional situation like this. “There, there. Irratino and I will find out who killed your friend,” he said, awkwardly patting the sobbing nurse on the back. “Now, why don’t you clear the crime scene? The inspector and I will be right there.”
“Wait!” cried Dr. Crimson, brandishing a package of pills and a glass of water in her hands. “He’s still sick. Inspector Irratino isn’t going anywhere unless he takes these.”
Irratino immediately put two pills in his hand and prepared to swallow them, but Logico stopped him.
“Remember the Klonopin incident? Let’s make sure these aren’t poisoned first.” Taking the pill box into his hands; Logico peered at it, eyebrows arched almost to his hairline. “Dr. Crimson, I’m a bit concerned about some of these side effects.” He proceeded to read the lengthy list off the packaging label. “‘Muscle weakness, extreme paranoia, fatigue, premature balding-’”
“Balding?!” interjected the inspector, clutching at his luscious locks.
“You’ll be fine…Probably. Just make sure to come back to the room in about an hour to get some rest. I’ll be leaving now. This whole murder business is going to wind up a bureaucratic nightmare,” grumbled Dr. Crimson before banging the door behind her shut.
Logico gazed at Irratino. Usually, Irratino would be thrilled to have Logico’s eyes on him, but this time around he wasn’t enjoying the concerned look the deductive sported.
“Perhaps,” ventured Logico, “you should stay here and rest while I go search for clues and evidence-”
“No.” Irratino shook his head vehemently, which only made his head spin even more than before.
“No?”
“Don’t leave me here alone, please… This place is unnerving. It’s got an awful sort of negative energy flowing through these halls.”
“That might have something to do with the murdered nurse.”
“Why must you always assume the simplest solution, Logico?”
“I’m inclined to think of Occam’s razor in this case.”
“I don’t particularly care what razors they use in the surgeries here; I just want to leave as soon as possible.”
“Well, the sooner we solve the case, the sooner we can leave. Here, let me help you up.”
Logico wrapped his arms around Irratino and lifted him up. Despite his slender figure, the inspector was heavier than he looked. His balance thrown off, Logico tumbled back onto the bed with Irratino falling on top of him. A little time later, he had caught his breath and only then noticed Irratino’s expression.
“This is rather nice,” Irratino said, smiling dreamily. “Don’t you think?”
“Well, lean on my shoulder while we walk. I don’t want you falling again.”
...
The nurses’ station was not-so-conveniently located in the very back of floor 13. Due to the lack of a map for the patients and faculty, Logico and Irratino were forced to wander the halls together. Logico grumbled about poor design choices but was secretly pleased to have this time to spend with his closest friend. Irratino seemed to feel the same, what with how his head was resting on Logico’s shoulder for the entirety of their walk. Logico was almost disappointed when they finally reached the station. Upon their arrival, the two came face-to-face with an irate Dr. Crimson who seemed to be yelling at a particularly obnoxious caller on the phone.
“Be reasonable, Officer Copper. You can’t seriously expect to take all my nurses in for questioning just because one of them is dead! As long as there are patients in the hospital who are still alive, they’re the ones who need to be taken care of.” The good doctor added, almost as an afterthought, “Well, as long as those patients can cover the bill, anyways.”
There was some unintelligible squawking from the other end of the line. Logico couldn’t make out what Officer Copper had said in reply, but clearly whatever it was making Dr. Crimson’s prominent frown lines deepen even more. She started gesturing wildly, her movements threatening to tip over a massive stack of papers on the desk.
“Unbelievable! Just how do you expect this hospital to operate? You’ll be hearing from my lawyers, as soon as I have a spare millisecond to call them!”
Dr. Crimson jumped up from the desk, overturning the stack of papers. Medical records fluttered around them like flower petals from a cherry blossom tree. Irratino and Logico both got down on the ground and started picking them up, Irratino grabbing handfuls of paper and Logico sorting them into neat piles. They both reached for the same paper at the same time, their fingers touching.
“Oh, were you going to…?”
“Yes. Here, take it.”
“No, no. You had it first, you read it.”
“It’s fine by me, just take it.”
After a sharp glare from Logico, Irratino got hold of the paper first, flipping it face up. It appeared to be a patient record with all the information on the chart censored. The name, date of birth, and medical history were nothing but black ink smudges. A message was scrawled across the top of the chart: LIRAADM VNAY SAW TNO NI HET FIERCTAEA.
“Ugh, doctors’ handwriting is utterly impossible to read,” groaned Irratino.
Logico still pocketed the paper in case it made sense later.
“I don’t think this counts as a location on your grid, does it? It seems obvious no one was murdered here. Where shall we go next?” asked Irratino.
“Well, I was hoping to interrogate the gift shop cashier, but we could always-” Logico started to say before he was interrupted by a loud growl.
Irratino looked down at his stomach in surprise.
“Would you mind terribly if we investigate the cafeteria first?”
…
Irratino had to give this private hospital one thing. Although they were suspiciously lax on holistic medicinal practices, clearly they hadn’t scrimped on the interior design. The cafeteria was flooded with natural light from the massive window on the far wall. Sunlight reflected off the mahogany flooring onto the silk tablecloths. It was actually a little blinding. Irratino thought he saw someone cutting into their food with…was that a scalpel? He squinted, but couldn’t make out a face.
Irratino was soon distracted from his train of thought when Logico arrived, arms laden with trays of food.
“Ah, you finally came back!”
One of Logico’s eyebrows raised up in its signature arch. He unconsciously reached out a hand to smooth it.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I didn’t mean to imply you wouldn’t come back to me, Logico. You always do. It’s just that I thought you might get lost around here. The vibes in this hospital are terrible, and I know something’s up with the place. Even if I cannot prove it.”
“How do you know?”
Irratino took this opportunity to look mystically into the distance. He intoned,
“Logico, do you ever get the feeling you are seeing things?”
“Like hallucinations?”
“No, like spirits. Beings not of this realm.” The esoteric inspector closed his eyes. When he reopened them, the figure holding the scalpel was gone. “Those who exist in limbo between life and death.”
“Are you seeing ghosts now? That would have been a huge help on our previous investigations.”
“But the mere existence of ghosts would require you to set aside your belief in the rational.”
“I’m not saying I believe in it, Irratino, just that it would have been helpful.”
Irratino sighed. Some arguments could never be won no matter how hard you tried. Perhaps it’d be best to change the subject.
“What progress have we made on the case?” the inspector asked. Logico looked up from where he was occupied with sketching mathematical equations on a napkin. Irratino reflected on the tragedy that algebra rarely has any esoteric significance. Truly, he would never know Y .
“I received a paper from a contact in the Laudable Organization of Venerated Educators. Strange name, I know, but this-” he pointed to a small list of names in the upper corner of the page- “This is the list of all the people who visited the hospital today. The murderer must be on this list!”
Irratino leaned over the table to peer at the list. It was rather short and written in Detective Code. Luckily, he had spent enough time in Logico’s presence to decipher it fairly quickly, and read:
- Admiral Navy
- Dr. Crimson
- Miss Saffron
- Silverton The Legend
Irratino took a deep inhale.
“I’ll meditate on this problem, and their motives will become clear.”
Logico went quiet. He might not have understood how, or why, but at the very least he understood the sanctity of silence when Irratino was attempting to give him a clue. Five long minutes later, the inspector had an answer.
“Silverton the Legend would kill to hide a secret.”
Logico nodded. Irratino knew it was never easy for him to connect a motive with a crime, as concepts like revenge, power, and well, love weren’t things you could just map out on a grid. It never stopped him from trying, though. Giving a grateful smile to the inspector, Logico added the new information to his notebook.
“You know, Irratino,” said Logico, standing up to dispose of their untouched lunch trays, “I appreciate you helping me with this. But I think it’d be best if you took a break every once in a while. Especially since you were almost seriously murdered just a few hours ago.”
Irratino waved a hand as if to swat a bug away. “Never you worry about that. My spirit would always live on even if my body did not.”
This did not seem to reassure Logico.
“Yes, well, I’d prefer if your body- I mean, you- stayed with me. Alive.”
“No guarantees. Anyways, don’t we have a patient’s room to investigate?”
…
“I told you, Logico! I knew this hospital was inhabited by ghosts! Don’t you hear that haunting beeping noise?”
The two craned their heads toward the noise and listened closely to the sounds.
“Perhaps the nurse’s ghost is trying to communicate? But I’m in no shape to conduct a seance! I-”
“Irratino, that noise was just the heart monitor. Sit down and rest a bit while I search the room for clues.”
“Oh, all right. If you insist.”
Logico surveyed the room. It seemed to be a standard setup for this hospital, with an uncomfortable-looking bed in the center of the room. The bed, covered with a scratchy-looking bedspread, was topped with a single large pillow. Logico briefly imagined someone being smothered with it. Something about this hospital brought gruesome thoughts to mind. Looking around, he saw that a poster that depicted a kitten hanging onto a tree branch for dear life (with the tagline Hang In There, Baby!, no less) was hung over a small table. Atop it was a wilting bouquet of roses and a get-well-soon card, which the inspector was idly reading through. Some sheer yellow curtains framed the window where the last rays of the setting sun shone through and rested on Irratino. Logico couldn’t help but think that even with Irratino’s odd pallor, he looked incredibly angelic with that halo of light surrounding him.
While he was considering the cost of a stained-glass window with Irratino’s likeness on it, the inspector lightly tapped on his shoulder.
“I found something that you might find interesting,” Irratino murmured, extending his left palm. “Take a look at this card.”
Logico took it gingerly from Irratino’s hand. It didn’t seem to be very important at all; it was a cheap card that probably had been bought as a last-minute item from the hospital’s gift shop. Still, his years solving mysteries had taught him that no clue was inconsequential. Inside the card were a few short paragraphs riddled with exclamation marks. It was signed “Get better soon!!!!! XOXO, Saffron”.
So Saffron had been in the gift shop after all. Logico pencilled this into his notebook and then gallantly offered his arm to Irratino.
“Ready to get going?”
…
Irratino thought the waiting room was the nicest place they’d seen so far in this entire hospital. Italian leather sofas were prominently placed in front of a fireplace (not currently alight, seeing as it was July) while framed paintings lined the walls. The art was modern, and designed in such a way as to be freakishly expensive and expensively freakish.
Logico stood by one of the entrances, a curved archway with strange carvings engraved upon it.
“Doesn’t this room remind you of the art museum we visited before?” Irratino asked, inspecting a rare vase.
“Yes, I believe that Mx. Tangerine was commissioned to design this hospital as well as that museum. But even with their similarities, I can’t say that I understand this art.”
“Art isn’t made to be understood with your brains, Logico. You can only understand it with your heart .” The inspector attempted to look meaningfully into Logico’s eyes, but he seemed rather busy inspecting a gravity-defying sculpture constructed out of pasta noodles.
Irratino stepped closer to a painting that to him resembled a toxic frog being sucked into the eye of a tornado. “Well,” he mused, “Our perceptions give the art its meaning. Tell me, what does this painting say to you? How does it make you feel?”
“Confused, mostly.”
Giving a dramatic sigh, Irratino flopped onto one of the sofas and perused the magazines on a side table near it. Opening the summer special edition of Celebrity Chatter, he scanned the pages until he came to the horoscope section. This wasn’t his usual source for that sort of information, but his marot cards and crystals had been confiscated upon his arrival at the hospital. Any communication with the esoteric world would be welcomed at this point. He read aloud from the crinkled page:
“Aquarius (January 20-February 18): Your latest plans are important ones, so when it comes to your level of commitment, stay consistent, persistent, and dedicated for the best results. (Even if this has resulted in danger in the recent past.) You will play an important role in answering a long-awaited question, but this will require complete collaboration and trust with others. Not your strong suit! However, your romantic prospects look good, so long as you keep one thing in mind: Don’t let insecurity win this week. ”
Irratino smiled to himself. Despite Logico’s complaints about the accuracy of most occult techniques, the inspector had always found horoscopes to be true more often than not. The advice they gave could be read into any way that one pleased, yes, but that added to the mystery. Finding oneself shouldn’t be an easy task. With that thought, he tossed the magazine back onto the table and leaned back on a rather comfortable cashmere pillow.
Irratino cast his eyes around the massive room but saw no sign of either distinctive eyebrows nor classic trench coat. The only other person he could see in the room had their back to him, engrossed with watching the minute hand tick by on a massive clock above the fireplace.
A Cancer, he decided. Only a water sign would be patient enough to wait here for hours on end.
Speaking of, how long had he been here himself? The inspector yawned, a sudden wave of tiredness crashing over him. Was his fatigue really from the pills Crimson had given him? If so…he’d just have to take Logico’s advice and rest for a while.
As he drifted off into dreamland, he vaguely thought he felt someone gently laying a blanket over him. Irratino didn’t need his skills in oneiromancy to know what the interpretation of such a thing would be.
…
15 minutes later, Irratino woke up with a start, sending his blanket fluttering to the ground. His slumber had revealed the truth! Was it the whisperings of his unconscious? The hidden soul-stuff of the human psyche? Who knew? The important thing was that the mystery's pieces had finally fallen into place. Irratino knew intuitively that Logico, too, had found the answer. Now they only had to find each other. He leapt off the sofa and ran to search for his friend, rival, and antagonist: they had a verdict to deliver together.
Meanwhile, Logico had gathered the suspects in the doctors’ lounge to announce whodunit. It turned out to be a much less arduous process than he’d expected; most of the suspects were bored to tears waiting for the verdict and followed him eagerly. Once they were all assembled in the same room, however, it became apparent that they all remembered each other from prison- and not very fondly at that.
“I thought they didn’t allow dogs in the hospital, Miss Saffron,” sniffed Admiral Navy, with a pointed glare at the poodle who was now sniffing his highly-polished leather boots.
“I thought they didn’t let you in the hospital after that last incident, Admiral.” Dr. Crimson returned.
“Ugh, and no one will let me forget it. You kill one guy…”
Logico was pretty sure it had been a lot more than one guy.
“Quiet!” cried Silverton the Legend. “Deductive Logico is about to announce the murderer!”
“Ooh, I hope it’s me. I miss the prison’s spa. They had the best Swedish massages,” chirped Miss Saffron.
Logico cleared his throat. “Excuse me, everyone, but I believe this mystery will be solved momentarily if you give me a chance to describe the intricate workings of this case.”
“Oh, great,” groaned Admiral Navy. “Now he’s going to make us sit here and listen to all his elaborate reasoning before we finally know whodunit.”
Dr. Crimson looked up from the latest issue of Medics Monthly to join in the conversation. “Can’t they ever get someone less competent to do these cases?”
A silence fell over the group, the suspects waiting expectantly for Logico’s answer.
But as luck would have it, it seemed that the door in the doctors' lounge swung open just as dramatically as all the others. A resounding boom echoed through the room, and then Irratino’s face appeared in the doorway. Logico felt that familiar pride in his chest at seeing the inspector again (and a bit of relief that at the very least, he looked much better rested).
“Deductive Logico is the greatest detective the world will ever see, so I can understand your frustration. Even still, the fault isn’t in Logico’s competency, but in your respective failures to conceal your crimes,” Irratino proclaimed grandly before squeezing into the last remaining spot on the sofa.
“Of course you would say that.” groaned Admiral Navy.
“Ugh, you’re here now?” Miss Saffron looked up from where she was inspecting her nails. “I thought I smelled incense.”
“I think I’ve had quite enough of people mysteriously bursting through doorways today.” Silverton the Legend stood up from his chair, walking to the exit with all the bravado of the silver-screen star he was. “I’ll be leaving, unless Logico finally wants to reveal the killer.”
“That is exactly what I’ve been trying to do,” said Logico through gritted teeth.
“Well, spit it out!” chorused the four suspects.
“Fine!” Leaping out of his chair, Logico raised his fist in a dramatic gesture even Irratino could be proud of and declared:
“It was Silverton the Legend with the scalpel in the cafeteria to hide a secret!”
“Me?!” gasped Silverton the Legend.
“Yes, by all standards of logic, it had to be you.”
“Explain to me then just how I committed this heinous crime. Because I know I’d never do anything to harm my reputation; not when my new movie musical is releasing next week.”
“Oh, the one composed by Lord Lavender, Mr. Moses Megastar ?” interjected Miss Saffron excitedly.
“Precisely, my dear.” The actor drew in a deep breath, beaming with pride. “It’s set to be the biggest box-office smash of the decade. Of the century!”
Irratino slow-clapped from his uncomfortable position on the couch, much the way he did after the solving of a Sunday case. “And that was why you had to kill the nurse, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never killed anyone.” Silverton scowled at Irratino, who returned the look. Logico knew there’d been an ongoing conflict between the two because neither of them could stand having someone else be the most dramatic person in the room.
“You’ve killed 16 people this past year. And the nurse had to be added to the numbers today because you thought she was going to reveal your secret,” Logico asserted firmly. Keeping the peace would be especially important in this investigation. He couldn’t risk another suspect trying to make Irratino’s faked deaths a reality.
“And what secret would that be?” Silverton looked at Logico with a challenge in his eye, but the deductive thought he sensed a bit of weakness behind that facade. Instead of answering straight away, Logico leaned towards Dr Crimson and gently tapped the clipboard she was holding.
“May I borrow this?” he asked politely. She passed it over without a fight, as most people tend to do when you have the legal authority to send them to jail. Logico flipped through the papers until he came to the one he was looking for, then gave the clipboard to Silverton, who immediately paled.
“W-what?!” The clipboard clattered to the tiled floor as it slipped from the actor’s hands. “How…how did you get hold of this?”
“Let me see it!” Admiral Navy dove for the paper while the others crowded around him to see it. A chorus of shrill shrieks erupted from the group once the reason for the Legend’s visit to the hospital became clear.
”Oh my God.”
“What?!”
“There’s just no way!”
Dr. Crimson looked up in surprise. “Logico, explain!”
“Silverton the Legend killed the nurse because she knew he’d come here to get Botox injections.” Irratino sing-songed with more than just a hint of smugness.
“And so,” Logico concluded, “he stabbed her to death in the cafeteria with her own scalpel!”
They all turned to face Silverton. The confidence seemed to have completely disappeared from his face. Now, he held his head in his hands, softly weeping.
“It’s all true!” Silverton the Legend cried. “My critics have done nothing but post online about how I’m too old for all my roles. Every age spot, fine line, and wrinkle has been written about in some tabloid! So I decided I needed to take control of it by coming here to get my face fixed. But that nurse…I just knew she would have sold me out to the press. It would have been so shameful! You couldn’t begin to understand the impact it would have had on my new movie.”
Logico thought murdering someone on an assumption rooted in insecurity was a lot more shameful, but he held his tongue.
Dr. Crimson, ever the efficient one, picked up her phone to call for assistance. Less than fifteen minutes later, a police squadron drove up to the curb along with several news vans hoping to get a glimpse of the star. Hand in hand, Logico and Irratino walked outside to get a better view of the chaos.
Logico spotted the culprit easily, his tall frame and silver hair (which matched his handcuffs nicely) standing out amongst the others outside. Officer Copper was guiding him into her police car, assuring him he’d be out of jail in time to attend the Monday night movie premiere next week. The other suspects stood around chatting with each other, as Dame Obsidian had arrived and was taking notes on the incident from each suspect for her latest book. Logico suspected this was because her recent books had been criticized as being “too unrealistic” for having crazed squirrels and lawyers serve as weapons.
Gazing at Irratino, Logico remarked, “Perhaps we should be collecting royalties from her if she continues to write exclusively about our cases together.”
Irratino made a noncommittal “mmm” noise in the back of his throat.
Logico didn’t know Irratino to ever be quiet after a case. Concerned, he nudged his shoulder. “Is something upsetting you?”
The inspector looked up, his expression inscrutable as always. “No, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“I thought you’d be much more excited that we solved the murder.”
“No, no, I’m thrilled we solved the murder. I just can’t believe we missed that reservation. I was hoping to finally indulge in some good Italian food with you tonight, but I suppose we’ll have to take a rain check on that until I can get us another spot on their six-year-long waiting list.”
“Actually…” Logico pulled out two plastic takeout containers from the lining of his trench coat.
“I may have made a detour on the way to the hospital.”
The two of them ate the cold shrimp linguini atop Irratino’s hospital bed. It really wasn’t any better than the previous plates of pasta they’d shared, but something about the company made Logico think this was his best dinner yet.