He definitely was much worse than when Stanley had left him in the bed. The blood had leaked onto the sheets and although Leo opened his left eye when Stanley touched him, he managed only a groan in reply to the question of if he was feeling any better. Realizing that they had absolutely nothing in the room that was going to be useful in trying to save Leo, Stanley left again and picked up a collection of medical supplies. Twenty minutes later he was back in the room. It took another twenty for him to get Leo bandaged up enough to stop the bleeding after which he collapsed into an arm chair, exhausted by the entire ordeal. He napped for the remainder of the day, getting up hourly to check on Leo and change his bandages when necessary. At one point, around seven-thirty p.m., his patient was alert enough to be asked just what exactly had happened, and Leo had responded by pointing to the envelope from his sister which still lay on the floor. After a few more questions, which elicited short, pained answers from Leo, Stanley managed to understand some of what had happened. By ten o’clock that night, with Leo more responsive and having regained some color in his face, Stanley was feeling pretty good about himself, thinking that he had actually been involved in saving a man’s life. He drifted off to sleep in the armchair after eating some soup for dinner.
When he awoke at three a.m., neck sore and right arm asleep from the awkward position he had been in, Stanley stumbled over to the bathroom to get a drink of water. Putting the glass to his lips, he began drinking while turning around to check on Leo. As he drained the glass Stanley realized that he had not seen his patient breath once in the entire time since he had gotten up. Rushing over to the bed, he was relieved to find that although Leo’s respiration was extremely shallow and slow, he was in fact still alive. Efforts to rouse the injured man failed though and in a panic, not wanting anyone to die on his watch regardless of the consequences, Stanley called the front desk and told them to send an ambulance. When it arrived the attendants were accompanied by a police officer.
Stanley really did try to bluff the officer but he quickly lost track of the story he was trying to tell and finally broke down and told the truth. That of course prompted the call for more police and soon a detective showed up just as Leo was being moved out of the room. Just a few minutes later a reporter arrived and listened in as the detective interviewed Stanley. They both then escorted him to a vehicle which took them all to the hospital where they were told that Leo was in surgery. It was ten-thirty the next morning, December 26th, before anyone was allowed in to speak with him. The detective and reporter both entered Leo’s room at the same time leaving Stanley sipping cold coffee in the waiting area.
Leo told some of the truth during that interview, including clarifying that although the hotel and Stanley all thought the man who shot him was Lorane North, the man’s real name was Robert Lester. He dodged most of the questions about himself and filled in a few of the details about the supposed “Christmas check” that Stanley had told them was the source of the incident. After that they left, the detective leaving an officer at the door and the reporter running off to file a story for the next edition of the paper. When Stanley asked to speak with Leo the young officer on duty would not allow it but several hours later, when he was relieved by a grey-haired and bored looked corporal, he was allowed into the room. Leo smiled slightly at him as he approached the bed.
“You better now?” Stanley asked.
“Yeah, yeah. Much. Just gotta figure out a way outta this place.”
Stanley looked down at the floor. “I’m really sorry about getting you here, calling the cops and all. I mean, I’m sure it’s gonna be trouble for you. But I thought you were about to die.”
Leo waved a hand weakly in his direction. “It’s ok. I could’a done without you telling them what you did but it’s ok. I probably would’a died back there, so it’s better that I ended up here.”
“I, I just didn’t know what to say. The cops scare me, honest, they really do. I just…’” his voice trailed off as he continued to look at the floor.
“Really, it’s ok. I’ll fix it. Now come here, closer,” Leo replied softly, his voice starting to lessen in strength.
When Stanley bent down so he could hear, Leo reached an arm up and grabbed him by the back of the head. His touch was cold and clammy, causing Stanley to wince involuntarily. He looked up and Leo’s piercing blue eyes were staring at him.
‘You gotta get out of town Stan, you gotta leave.” His voice was very low, just a faint whisper.
“Why? What do you mean? I’ll stay here and make sure they take good care of you.”
“No. It’s time to get your facts straight. You know we were breaking the law back in Bakersfield and being tangled up in this thing here ain’t going to make things easy. They’re gonna get you too. I might’a got you involved in some stuff you weren’t ready for, so consider this me making up for it. There’s some money back at the room, it’s sewn into the lining of my valise. Get back there before they think to collect it up and leave, go far away, and hide.”
Stanley had started to sweat profusely while Leo spoke, suddenly facing up to some of the facts that he had known internally for quite awhile. He took a handkerchief from his pocket to dry off his face and neck.
“I can’t, I mean, oh no,” Stanley replied, wiping his face again. “I cannot just leave, what about Dad, my stuff back there?”
Leo’s grip on his head had loosened due to the sweat but returned in full force. “No. You gotta go now. Get the money and go. Try Minneapolis, they’ll never think of looking for you there.” Leo released his hold after that and closed his eyes, seemingly falling back asleep. Stanley stood there, hat and wet handkerchief in hand, wondering if he really had the nerve to follow through on Leo’s advice.
…to be continued