Latest from the Janitors, Asps, and Other Books - The Tickleton Affair (Jinitors Series) - Armold starts to recover after his house is blown up.

 

Today’s excerpt is from The Tickleton Affair, the Book #5 of the nine-book Janitors series.  Arnold starts the recovery process from the damage done to him in the explosion.  Enjoy and have a great day.

m.j.

 

In Cottonwood, Arnold was already getting antsy about being in the hospital, even though he felt awful.  He ached all over from the force of the blast and his rough landing after being blown through the air.  After a doctor visit, he called Nancy to see how she was. 

She answered the call on the first ring.  “Nancy here.”

“Hi, Nancy.  It’s Arnold.  How are you?”

“Fine.  The question is, how are you?”

“Sore, but I’ll live.  The doctor just left and told me I could try getting up and walking around soon.  Tell me about your situation.”

“I’ve got two FBI guys here at my place—one of ‘em even cooked breakfast for the three of us…nice guys.  I’ve called Gold Rush as you asked, and will soon be leaving for the plant.  We’ve got that last shipment of Tickletons to get off—the army’ll be coming by to pick them up in about an hour, so I gotta hurry.”

“Yeah, I forgot all about that.  I’ll let you go.  I’ll see you Wednesday—at the latest.”

“Arn, don’t get any ideas about leaving that hospital too soon.  Do what the doctors tell you to do.”

“Yes, mother.  Just like you’d do, I’m sure.”

Nancy laughed.  “Okay, you got me there.  I know you…you’ll do just what you damn well feel like doing—just like I’d do if our roles were reversed.  Take care.”

“So long.”

After he hung up, Arnold looked over at Evan and grinned as the other man was getting up off his cot after only three hours of attempted sleep.  “Sorry.  I guess you didn’t get much sleep, between nurses, doctors, and me.”

Evan stretched, yawned, and grinned.  “No problem…you’re the patient.  I think I vaguely remember one of my instructors at the FBI academy mentioning that there would be times when we’d be expected to go long periods without sleep, and I got a little—a couple of hours before that doctor came in.”

Arnold groaned as he sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed.  Evan hurried over to him.  “Let me give you a hand.”

“Thanks.  When you get through applauding, would you also help me stand up?”

Evan laughed.  “A brainiac with a sense of humor,” he thought.  While Carlos had been sleeping, Evan had done some research on his laptop computer on Arnold and found out that the man was at least a genius—with an IQ that Evan didn’t even know was possible.  That the man was also tough was evidenced by the way he took the unknown assailant out with his bat, and the way he wasn’t going to give in to his discomfort for too long.

As they walked down the corridor of the hospital, Evan asked, “Have you had any time to think about just what this attempt on your life was about?”

“No.  But, as I said last night—or early this morning—whenever—it surely has to do with my work.  What, I have no idea.  We’re working on a number of things that could have something to do with it.  My guess is a project I can’t tell you about—I’m not sure your director is even cleared for that.  One of those things that if I told you about it, I’d have to kill you.  Which raises the question of why someone would try to kill me.  You’d think they’d try to kidnap me or something of the sort.  What, if anything, have you found out about the guy who killed my dog?”

Evan smiled.  “He’ll probably forever be known as the ‘guy who killed your dog.’  Actually, the local police told me last night—er, early this morning—that the guy had no identification, which surprises no one, and also has no fingerprints.”

“No fingerprints?  I thought everybody had fingerprints.”

“They can be removed.  Acid is normally used.”

“Damn, that doesn’t sound too comfortable.”

“Guess not.”

 

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