"Mr. Decker. My name is Detective Benjamin Waverly. I'm here to ask you a few questions about the events that occurred that left you here in this bed," Ben says as he arrives in Carlton's room.
"I can't talk to you. I want to speak to my lawyer. Fucking vulture," the man says in a weak voice. His eyes are barely open, he's got intravenous set up with ringer's solution, a heart monitor, and a plethora of bandages across his abdomen. Laying on the hospital bed he sits in the room in silence. The television is on but he has muted it sometime prior.
"Suit yourself. I was just wondering maybe I could get your organs back when they're still fresh. I promise, as I am a vulture, I won't eat them," Ben smirks.
"Really? Are all detectives as witty as you? You're lucky I don't give a shit right now. The meds finally started working," Carlton goes back to staring at the television.
"Well, lunch time is coming up soon so I could probably just go now so I can get a good table. Liver and onions sounds pretty good right now. Ah, tell you what. I used to make a good batch of that. Throw it on the pan, fry that baby up. I used to hate the way it tasted like chalk but it's a great source of iron and I kinda like it now. The right sauce does wonders," Ben starts walking back out.
"Wait just a second, asshole. Get back in here," Decker says with barely much energy. He winces at Ben and begins to describe what happened: "Last night I went out with a few pals to go drinking. It was at a nice bar called Melange. We were having a good time minding our own business when a lady approached me and offered me a few drinks and a little fun. At my age, detective, it sounded like a good deal. She wouldn't tell me her full name. She just told me she goes by the name Triage," Decker leaves out a sigh and then a little cough.
"Yeah. We got to talking for a while and she lured me away from my buddies. She was beautiful. A one in a million. Truly made me glad I was divorced for the first time in ages," Decker explains.
"And then?" Ben jots down a few notes in his pad.
"I wake up half naked and bleeding just outside the hospitals double doors and missing more than just my clothing, phone, and wallet."
"That's all you can tell me?"
"Yeah, that's all I got, son. Now, if you'll excuse me I'd like to go to sleep thanks to the damn morphine," Decker slowly closes his eyes and his mouth begins to droop open.
"If you got anything else to tell me then it's a good idea that you do," Ben says.
Decker opens a drawer in a night stand that has dual medical purposes for equipment. He had stashed a piece of paper in there probably for safe keeping. He takes the sheet out as he lies in bed with his right arm and holds it out to Ben. The Detective grabs the paper and it reads:
"You're lucky I didn't take that heart of yours back. It belonged to a better man than you ever were."
"What does this mean, Decker?" Ben turns the paper around to see the name 'Triage' written on the back. Sealed with lipstick. A dark pink shade.
Carlton Decker was then motionless. The heart rate monitor was going on the fritz. Ben rushes out the door and screams for help. Decker was a wanted man but also a victim and the only lead in his case. This was the night Carlton Decker died from complications of some form of malpractice back yard forced operation.
Decker's spirit arose as the doctor and several nurses tried to revive him. Decker floats out to the hallway where Ben sits waiting to see what happens to his lead on the case.
"Decker. You've got to tell me more," Ben took advantage of the fact no one else was in the hall.
"You're a detective. You figure it out," he says. The light came for Decker and he walks into it slowly.
"Come on! Don't you want justice!?"
"Maybe it's already been served, detective. Goodbye," as he gives his farewell he vanishes with the light.
"For fuck's sake..." Ben turns and looks to the ground while holding his head with one hand. He then pulls out the paper Decker gave to him. "Something about... his heart?"