The Tarot Card Mystery part Five


When he woke, colors and shapes swam before Sam’s eyes with the sickening feeling of being tied to the deck of a wind tossed ship. Someone was in the room with him, wherever he was. A hand touched his face and something touched his lips. A voice said, “Don’t be afraid mon, drink this.” He drank. Sam wouldn’t have been able to resist if he’d wanted to. Dark hair and brown skin filled his blurry vision as he slowly faded back to sleep.

When he next came to, Sam found himself in a hospital room. He felt exhausted but surprisingly good. The horrible feeling was gone. Sitting up on the side of the bed produced a small wave of nausea but it quickly passed. Where are my clothes, he thought, as he looked around the room. Standing, Sam moved uneasily toward the small closet in the corner. Inside, his clothes were hung up but his pistol was not in his coat pocket. Why do I keep losing my guns, he thought. After getting dressed Sam peeked his head out the door. No one there. Slipping out, he headed down the hallway looking for an exit. A nurse yelled from the other end of the hallway. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” “Sorry,” Sam said, and slipped down another hallway. An exit sign at the end caught his attention and he quickly made his way to it, and out the door.

By the position of the sun it looked like it was mid-day. The hospital was downtown so Sam hailed a cab and caught a ride to his office. Someone had been there, swept up the glass and placed a board over hole in the door where the latest window had been. Turning the knob, he found the door unlocked. Sam pushed it open and waited. Nothing. Looking in he found the office empty. Stepping inside he closed and locked the door. That’s when he heard the noise.

The bathroom door pushed open and Christi came into the room. “Awe ya gave me a fright mon!” Christi said, holding her hand to her heart.
“I see you feelin’ better. Dots good mon. I was afraid you weren’t gonna make it. Dat crazy ole witch cook up some powerful potions ya know?”

Sam just stared at her in disbelief. Grabbing the bottle of Jameson off the desk he poured himself a drink into a dirty glass. Knocking it back quickly produced a small jolt to his stomach which passed just as fast. He poured another.

“Hey, slow down mon.” Christi said, taking the glass from his hand. “You gonna do yourself in.”

“Right about now, I don’t give a damn,” said Sam. “You mind telling me what the hell happened?”

“Well I’m not sure,” Christi said, in her heavy Jamaican accent. “Seems de old hag slipped you a mickey, as dey say. I found you in de hospital and gave you somethin’ to help. What’s all deese scratches on your neck?” she asked, reaching toward Sam.

Sam backed up a half step. “That’s from your Auntie attacking me after her and her gorilla kidnapped me. Look, I don’t know what the hell’s going on here but I’m real sorry I took this case. I’ve been kidnapped, and beat up, I lost two good pistols and some skin and blood and what looks to be about a day or so I can’t account for.” I need some goddamn answers from somebody and since you’re the one who’s here, maybe you better start talking!”

“Two days.”

“What?”

“You were in da hospital for two days, mon.”

“Great!”

“Here’s what I can tell you, mon,” said Christi as she sat down on Sam’s cot. “My Auntie is not what she seems. She got people workin’ for her sellin’ drugs. Mostly in the ghetto’s and poor neighborhoods. She a big deal, mon. She got dat Micheal doin’ her dirty work for her, arrangin’ everything. Da guys who kidnapped me, see, you ain’t de only one with troubles mon,” Christ gestured toward Sam. “Dey work for da rival gang. Dey want da ole lady out. But Micheal keeps her safe. So dey kidnap me to try an’ get to her. But den you come along and save me!”

Christi stood and wrapped her arms around herself. Her eyes began to tear up. “An’ I jus’ wanna go home. Home to Jamaica, mon. My Da, he die of the cancer. He say I’d have a better life in America. But he didn’t know dat de ole hag sell drugs. He didn’t know so, I can’t blame him, ya know? I can’t. But I have people in Jamaica. Dey will help me. I know. I jus’ have to get back dere.” She sat back down on the cot.

Sam sighed a long, deep sigh. Moving to his wall safe, he opened it. He pulled out a 44 magnum revolver, two boxes of bullets and a stack of cash. Closing the safe, he turned to Christi. “Alright. If you want to go back to Jamaica, I’ll help you do that. Here,” he said, pushing a note pad and pen across the desk. write down your clothes sizes. I’ll get you some things while you stay here and clean up. Then I’ll take you straight to the airport and put you on a plane. Alright?”

“Oh thank you Sam!” Christi exclaimed, rushing over and throwing her arms around him.

“I’ll be back in a little while. I’m locking the door, said Sam.

Sam caught a cab to a local department store since he didn’t know where his car was, and bought Christi some things he thought she would like. Bright colors to cheer her mood. Later, he’d have to speak to the police captain to clear some of this up and get his car back. Another cab took him back to his office.

The first thing Sam noticed is that his office door wasn’t closed all the way. He set his packages on the floor in the hallway and pulled out his 44. Pushing the door open quickly and stepping inside reveled two thing. His wall safe was open, and the rest of his cash, and Christi were gone.

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