The Jester's Court

Chapter 9: Breakin' the Law

That evening when I got home, I took the Amazon package into the house that had been left in the entry and went out to the shed to take a look around. It didn't take much to find the bolt cutters and pry bar. I had to admit, the wrap job on both was quite good. But then, I'd been good at it all those years ago. Apparently, my skills returned.

The next thing I did was to order a lock for the shed. I unboxed the toolbox and headed for the closet. I'd ordered a pretty big one; it had to be in order to fit those damned platform boots into it. It just fit through the access panel. I struggled with it a bit; the thing was heavy.

After that, I did my normal evening routine until it was time for bed. I found that I was dreading goin' to sleep; I didn't like not knowing if I'd be the Jester that night or not. There was nothin' I could do about it, though, and I had to sleep.

In fact, I had to go to bed early so that I would have time to get a Lyft or Uber to the doctor's office. I was hopin' that my car would be released soon.

I woke in my own bed, thank God. I had just enough time to do the mornin' thing, drinkin' another cup of coffee while I waited for my driver, Anaad "Andy" Babbar, to appear. I was suspicious that "Andy" wasn't his real middle name, but it wasn't uncommon for immigrants to adopt a more Americanized name. And, indeed, when "Andy" pulled up, he was decidedly Indian. It didn't bother me, though; I got in and said good mornin'.

He asked what kind of music I liked. I told him I didn't much care and soon we were bobbin' along to some great punjabi beats. I pretty much liked all sorts of music, if it had a good beat or melody.

It took us a solid forty-five minutes to get to the doctor's office. I left "Andy" a nice tip and off he went.

The doctor's office tried fairly hard, given the rather overpowerin' air fresheners, to not smell like a bandaid. Not that this is a bad smell, mind you, but the freshener on top of it was a bit overwhelmin'. If I had to wait long, I suspected I'd have another headache.

Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long and soon I was tellin' my woes to my doc, even about the blackouts where I woke up on the couch. I left out the clandestine Jesterin' part. She asked the usual questions about how long I'd been havin' headaches and whatnot. In the end, she decided she wanted an MRI done. I nodded and told her the joke the Lieutenant had made about that very thing. It was kinda dumb, but I was nervous.

What surprised me was that she wanted me to have it right away. No waitin' around for a week or two for an appointment. She called the lab herself to arrange the walk-in. I was gettin' concerned.

"What do you think is goin' on, Doc?" I asked.

"Well, Terry, what I want to do is to eliminate the possibility of a brain tumor. Or, if you have one, I want to catch it as soon as possible."

I felt cold and clammy. "Do you think it's likely?"

"I don't know, honestly. You have some of the symptoms, but they could also just be a collection of symptoms from several different things. You could be having ordinary migraines and sleepwalking as a response to stress, especially if you haven't been sleeping well or have been under a lot of stress."

I nodded and we said our goodbyes. She promised to get back with me as soon as she had the results.

I left the office and wandered through the complex to find the lab. I swear, I think all hospitals were designed to confuse and befuddle patients so they can't get out. Hell, I could barely get in, but I finally managed to get there, and on time, too.

I wasn't too thrilled about the whole tunnel thing of the MRI chamber, but I wasn't particularly claustrophobic. What I didn't like was the contraption they put my head in to keep it absolutely still. It was... creepy. Still, I was able to survive without freakin' out, so I was proud of myself.

It took me over an hour to get back to work. When I finally arrived, Danny was about to head to lunch.

"You eat yet?"

"No, and I'm starvin'."

"Yeah, well, let's go. Oh, and I have good news. Your car's ready to come out of impound. You can pick it up on your way out for the day."

"Excellent!"

I told Danny the deal over lunch. "What do you think? Do you think you have cancer?" he asked.

"I don't know, man. It does explain everythin' that's been goin' on. But, she said it wasn't the only thing that explained it," I replied.

"Okay, so we're going to work with the assumption that you don't have cancer until we hear otherwise," he declared.

"Sounds good." I agreed.

We decided to make the lunch quick since I'd missed most of the mornin'. We actually did have other cases we were workin', so that's what we did for the rest of the day. I was glad to not think about the MRI results for a while.

I rounded out my day by joyfully picking up my car from impound. They'd actually washed it, too. But, someone had glued a bobblehead Jester to my dash. "Son of a bitch!" I exclaimed when I realized it wasn't goin' to come off easily. I wondered who'd done it.

I took a picture of it and texted Danny. Tell me you didn't do this!

I got back, Who me? with a picture of him and his shit-eating grin.

You are so dead.

Are you threatening me?

No, I'm statin' fact. Payback's a bitch.

I called a local garage who was more than happy to work on "The Jester Car". They sent a tow truck out to pick it up and promised to call when they had an idea of what was wrong. I wondered if my old beat up Honda would be totalled by the insurance.

Which reminded me to call and let the insurance people know that I'd sent the car to the shop. They'd coordinate with the shop about damages and let me know. There was now a lot of hurry-up-and-wait in my life.

The lock for the shed had come when I got home. God, I loved Amazon. I locked up the tiny structure and realized that, if anyone really wanted what was inside, they could almost just pick the thing up and carry it off. There was little that I could do about that unless I wanted to load the thing down with cement blocks. I decided to risk it.

I sat down, at last, in the tiny backyard at the tiny two-person table, and contemplated life. I couldn't help but wonder; if I had a tumor, could it explain why I black out became the Jester? I'd heard that people's personalities could change when they had one. Maybe this was what was goin' on. On the one hand, I didn't want to have cancer, but on the other, I wanted an explanation about my behavior. It wasn't like me to be breakin' the law.