Officer Belanger spoke something softly into the radio on his shoulder then pulled on a pair of blue nitrile gloves and leaned down to her. He smiled sweetly and gently plucked the Stoli's from her grasp, “Let's lose this for the moment, shall we?”
“I'm trying to dull the pain,” she explained.
“Right. But I'd hate to bring you to the hospital for a broken arm but have to treat your liver at the same time. Rumor has it cirrhosis is something you want to avoid.”
Maurine snorted, then thought that was about the funniest thing to happen to her all day, which brought on a hardy guffaw.
“All right, Miss Adams. Now, your daughter is safe in the other room with my partner, Officer Errens. I'm going to get some vitals from you until the ambulance arrives. And possibly put a stint on your arm. Is that okay with you?”
“Okay. What about your chin? Did you do that when you fell and broke your arm?”
Maurine's eyes glazed over. Her chin? What the hell happened to her chin? What was Officer Hunky talking about? “My chin?”
He nodded and pulled some gauze from a secret pocket hidden somewhere on his person, “Yeah, you're bleeding pretty good. Might need stitches, maybe.”
“Whaaaaaaaat? Oh shit, I hit my face on the floor over there, didn't I?”
“That's what I'm thinking.”
She raised her head to give him a better look at her chin. For the first time, she could feel the warm wetness of the blood spreading down her neck, “Is it bad?”
“I don't know,” he shrugged, “I'm not a doctor. Here, let me put this on.”
Belanger pressed the gauze firmly on her chin with one hand and took her pulse with the other, on her right wrist.
“Don't take my pulse from the other arm, will you, Officer Bettancourt?”
He smiled again, exposing a flash of teeth, “No chance of that happening, Miss Adams. Trust me, I am acutely aware not to touch your left arm. And my name's Belanger, not Bettancourt.”
Gosh, his teeth were so white! Were his parents dentists? The alcohol was really starting to take hold and the kitchen began to spin just a little.
“I'm going to clean your neck and face with some alcohol, so I can get a better idea of where your wound actually begins. That way the paramedics will be able to make an informed decision about stitching up your chin.”
“Thanks, Officer Belesney, but I really think I've had enough alcohol for today. You should cut me off.”
“No worries. You're not driving, we are,” Belanger said as he wiped a few prep pads over her neck area, to clean away the blood.
Maurine laughed, but inadvertently jiggled her arm and moaned, “Owwwww.”
“Settle down, sport. Ambulance is just up the road. Can you hear the siren?”
“They'll be here any second.”
“So I guess I'm gonna forgo the splint.”
Belanger turned to the Stoli's sitting on the floor behind him. It was two-thirds empty. He asked, “How much of that bottle did you consume, Miss Adams?”
“I'm thinking possibly a wee too much.”
“Riiiiiiiiight. Were you drinking before you fell, Miss Adams?”
“Nope. Pain management is all.”
He nodded, “All right. I'll pass that along to the EMTs when they get here.”
And then he called over his shoulder, to Officer Errens, in the living room, “Hey Brett! Can you ask the little girl how much alcohol her mother drank?”