Split Second
Page 20
Savich started to say Mr. Patil’s name when he opened his eyes and looked up at him. There was only an instant of blankness before he smiled. “Hello, Agent Savich. It pleases me very much to see you.”
Mr. Patil spoke English with the beautiful faintly sing-song accent of his native country. Besides English and Hindi, he also spoke French and Spanish. He’d come to the United States when he was twenty-four, too old to relearn English with an American accent, he’d told Savich. He spoke very formally, and his English was perfect.
Savich lightly touched his fingertips to Mr. Patil’s forearm. “I’m very glad to see you, too, Mr. Patil. How are you feeling?”
“I am feeling quite pleasant, only I am tired, always tired. Sleep hovers over me, is always dragging at me.”
“Then perhaps it would be best if I came back tomorrow.”
Mr. Patil said, “Oh, no, it is very nice to see someone other than family. They all wring their hands and look at me like I’m already in my coffin. Detective Raven was here earlier, but I fell asleep in the middle of one of his questions. My arm is sore, but it doesn’t bother me too much. I have heard the nurses call me a tough old buzzard. I like the sound of that.”
Savich said, “I do, too. Your family is very worried about you, Mr. Patil, and your friends, Mr. Urbi and Mr. Shama.”
“Oh, yes, and I love them, but after a while, they do grate on one’s senses. Ah, but to see my very good friend Amal Urbi and his nephew Krishna, that was good. They do not hover. They act like sensible men and sit and speak to me until I fall asleep. They were here this morning.
“But then after they left, my wife came and stayed and stayed. Jasmine always asks questions—the nurses, every doctor who comes within twelve feet of me. She is not happy, she tells me over and over, not happy that I should be robbed two weeks in a row. It makes no sense, she says, and asks more questions. She does not believe in coincidence. The poor young police officer who is sitting outside this room, he does not have a chance against Jasmine. She tells me she hears that he is engaged and very possibly thinking of his fiancée and not really paying all that much attention to my safety. And then she shakes her finger in his face.”
“I plan to speak to your wife myself. She can question me as much as she wishes to. Do you feel up to telling me what happened, Mr. Patil?”
“I would like to, yes, Agent Savich.” He was silent, and Savich could practically see his brain weaving together the facts of what had happened Wednesday night, but it was difficult for him, even though he’d already told his story to Ben Raven. Savich waited. “There was not a great deal of business Wednesday evening, and so I decided to close thirty minutes earlier than I normally do. This was not unusual for me. I went through my same routine—straightening merchandise, making certain the refrigeration units were working properly, checking the locks, the lights, lowering the blinds over the front window, removing the cash from the register, counting it, preparing the deposit slip, and putting it in a deposit bag to take to the bank.”
“Did you know the police found the empty deposit bag beside you?”
“That is what Detective Raven told me. It is odd, because many nights I leave the deposit bag in the safe for my son to deal with in the morning, but I decided to put the deposit bag into the business drop box at the bank myself.”
“Tell me what you did then, sir.”
“After I finished my routine, I let myself out of the back door. I was locking the door and setting the alarm when I heard someone breathing behind me. I was turning when I felt a very hard slap against my back, and it threw me against the door. And then I must have passed out, Agent Savich. I have no memory of anything else.”
“Did you think it was a man you heard breathing behind you?”
Mr. Patil thought about that, slowly shook his head. “I do not know, I am sorry.”
It was a thoughtful, cool recital. Savich asked him a couple more questions, got more information about Mr. Urbi and Mr. Shama, and said, “Mr. Patil, I plan to help Detective Raven find out who did this to you.”
“Detective Raven told me the robber last Tuesday night is just above my head on the fourth floor, recovering from the wound in his shoulder. He said there were complications following surgery but the man is doing better. Have you talked to him, Agent Savich?”
“I’m going up to talk to him now. You rest, sir. I will speak to you tomorrow.”
“I remember that Mr. Raditch was there with Michael and Crissy on Tuesday evening, the night of the attempted robbery. I called him when I was able, and he said they were fine. Are they still all right? Do you know?”
Mr. Patil spoke English with the beautiful faintly sing-song accent of his native country. Besides English and Hindi, he also spoke French and Spanish. He’d come to the United States when he was twenty-four, too old to relearn English with an American accent, he’d told Savich. He spoke very formally, and his English was perfect.
Savich lightly touched his fingertips to Mr. Patil’s forearm. “I’m very glad to see you, too, Mr. Patil. How are you feeling?”
“I am feeling quite pleasant, only I am tired, always tired. Sleep hovers over me, is always dragging at me.”
“Then perhaps it would be best if I came back tomorrow.”
Mr. Patil said, “Oh, no, it is very nice to see someone other than family. They all wring their hands and look at me like I’m already in my coffin. Detective Raven was here earlier, but I fell asleep in the middle of one of his questions. My arm is sore, but it doesn’t bother me too much. I have heard the nurses call me a tough old buzzard. I like the sound of that.”
Savich said, “I do, too. Your family is very worried about you, Mr. Patil, and your friends, Mr. Urbi and Mr. Shama.”
“Oh, yes, and I love them, but after a while, they do grate on one’s senses. Ah, but to see my very good friend Amal Urbi and his nephew Krishna, that was good. They do not hover. They act like sensible men and sit and speak to me until I fall asleep. They were here this morning.
“But then after they left, my wife came and stayed and stayed. Jasmine always asks questions—the nurses, every doctor who comes within twelve feet of me. She is not happy, she tells me over and over, not happy that I should be robbed two weeks in a row. It makes no sense, she says, and asks more questions. She does not believe in coincidence. The poor young police officer who is sitting outside this room, he does not have a chance against Jasmine. She tells me she hears that he is engaged and very possibly thinking of his fiancée and not really paying all that much attention to my safety. And then she shakes her finger in his face.”
“I plan to speak to your wife myself. She can question me as much as she wishes to. Do you feel up to telling me what happened, Mr. Patil?”
“I would like to, yes, Agent Savich.” He was silent, and Savich could practically see his brain weaving together the facts of what had happened Wednesday night, but it was difficult for him, even though he’d already told his story to Ben Raven. Savich waited. “There was not a great deal of business Wednesday evening, and so I decided to close thirty minutes earlier than I normally do. This was not unusual for me. I went through my same routine—straightening merchandise, making certain the refrigeration units were working properly, checking the locks, the lights, lowering the blinds over the front window, removing the cash from the register, counting it, preparing the deposit slip, and putting it in a deposit bag to take to the bank.”
“Did you know the police found the empty deposit bag beside you?”
“That is what Detective Raven told me. It is odd, because many nights I leave the deposit bag in the safe for my son to deal with in the morning, but I decided to put the deposit bag into the business drop box at the bank myself.”
“Tell me what you did then, sir.”
“After I finished my routine, I let myself out of the back door. I was locking the door and setting the alarm when I heard someone breathing behind me. I was turning when I felt a very hard slap against my back, and it threw me against the door. And then I must have passed out, Agent Savich. I have no memory of anything else.”
“Did you think it was a man you heard breathing behind you?”
Mr. Patil thought about that, slowly shook his head. “I do not know, I am sorry.”
It was a thoughtful, cool recital. Savich asked him a couple more questions, got more information about Mr. Urbi and Mr. Shama, and said, “Mr. Patil, I plan to help Detective Raven find out who did this to you.”
“Detective Raven told me the robber last Tuesday night is just above my head on the fourth floor, recovering from the wound in his shoulder. He said there were complications following surgery but the man is doing better. Have you talked to him, Agent Savich?”
“I’m going up to talk to him now. You rest, sir. I will speak to you tomorrow.”
“I remember that Mr. Raditch was there with Michael and Crissy on Tuesday evening, the night of the attempted robbery. I called him when I was able, and he said they were fine. Are they still all right? Do you know?”
