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Installment 2:
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Jan. 2

Dr. Martinez enters the room wearing a white uniform.  “It’s good to see you awake this morning.  I’m Dr. Martinez.”

 He picks up Marcus’s chart and reviews the data.  “I was the physician on duty when they brought you in last night after the accident.  You had surgery to stop some internal bleeding.”

 Not getting a verbal response from Marcus, the doctor furrows his brow.  “Do you remember getting hit by Mr. Cain’s car?”

 Marcus slowly shakes his head.

 “What is your name, son?  Rescue workers didn’t find a wallet or I.D. at the scene of the accident.”

 “I…” Marcus begins, hoarsely.  He clears his throat.  “I can’t remember anything.”

 “Well, let’s just start with the basics.  How about your name?”

 Marcus struggles to remember.  “I can’t…I’m not sure.”  Marcus lapses into unconsciousness..

Dr. Martinez picks up the phone and dials.  “This is Dr. Martinez.  John Doe has regained consciousness, but I’m concerned about possible brain damage.  I need a neuro consult.  Yes, room 712.”  He hangs up.

 Nurse Renwick enters with a glass of water.  “Dr. Martinez, Det. Washington would like to question the patient…”  She notices Marcus has lost consciousness.  “…but I guess he won’t get very far now.”

 “No, it doesn’t look like it,” Dr. Martinez responds grimly.  “He appears to have amnesia.  I just ordered a neuro consult to determine what may be causing it.  Keep an eye on him ’til the neurologist arrives, okay.”

 “Yes Doctor.”  Absentmindedly, she pours water into a plastic cup.

 University Hospital: Nurses Station

 The doctor emerges from Marcus’s room and approaches Det. Washington extending his hand.  “Detective.”

 They shake hands.

 “Good morning.  How’s your patient doing?” inquires the detective.

 “Well, I’m afraid not so good.  He momentarily regained consciousness this morning, but he’s suffered a severe trauma and has no recollection of the events that brought him to the hospital.”

 “Are you telling me he has amnesia?”

 “Yes.  He doesn’t seem to remember a thing.  Not even his name.”

 Det. Washington becomes visibly concerned.  “What’s his prognosis?

 “Well, amnesia rarely lasts more than a few hours,” the doctor explains.  “I’d expect his memory to return in time.  But I’m afraid the events of last night could be lost forever.”

 “So, how long do you estimate it will be before he can make a statement?” Det. Washington inquires.

 “I can’t say.  I’ve called in a neurologist to rule out any nerve damage.  We’ll have a better sense of the situation once the patient regains consciousness.”

 The detective takes a breath and grits his teeth.  “Alright.  How ’bout I check back with you tomorrow?”

 “I’m sure he’ll be able to answer your questions in the next day or two,” Dr. Martinez suggests.  “I’ll keep you posted.”

 Det. Washington nods, and turns to exit.  Dr. Martinez goes to the computer at the reception desk.  Nurse Renwick returns to find the doctor accessing data.

 “The neurologist is with the patient now, Dr. Martinez,” she announces.

 “Good.  Thank you.  I’ll be in my office.”

 As he exits, District Attorney Philip Benton, a distinguished man with fairly dark complexion, graying at the temples, approaches the desk.  Looking like a man from old money, he is dressed in an expensive yet conservatively styled gray tailored wool suit.

 “Mr. Benton,” Nurse Renwick beams.

 “Gail, we’re about to become family.  I think you can start calling me Philip.”

 “Well, of course…Philip,” she grins.  “I’ll have to get used to having the District Attorney as my cousin-in-law.  What brings you here this morning?”

 “I’m actually here to see you,” he smiles and leans on the desk.

 Gail blushes.  “Really?” she says coyly.

 “Yes.  I wanted to talk to you about the wedding.”

 Gail stares into Philip’s eyes, obviously infatuated.

 “The wedding?” he continues.  “Between my little sister Ann and your cousin Roger?”

 Gail regains her focus.  “Oh!  Yes.  Yes, of course.  The wedding.  What about it?”

 “Well, Roger had mentioned that you were coordinating the reception at the Valley Towers Hotel, and I’d like to get in touch with the caterer.”  Philip shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head with displeasure.  “I just got roped into sitting on the planning committee for a fund-raiser and I said I’d find someone to cater the affair.”

 “Sure.  I have her card right here,” she proclaims as she pulls her purse out from underneath the desk and sifts through the pockets.  “By the way, how are things going with you and Ms. Lynn?”

 “Rhonda?  You know her?”

 “Well, I know of her,” Gail adds.

 Philip fidgets and looks away.  “Uh, you know.  We’re doing just fine.  She’s a, a lovely lady.”

 “Yes.  She is, isn’t she,” she agrees, gritting her teeth.

 Finding the caterer’s card in her purse, she pulls it out and hands it to Philip.  “Here it is.  I guess you and Ms. Lynn will be coming to the wedding together?”

 “Actually, I don’t believe she will be joining me,” he replies with frustration.  “She, uh, she’s made other plans that she can’t get out of.”

 Gail struggles to contain her pleasure.  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that…Philip.”

 “Well I got what I came for.  Thank you, Gail.  Back to the office.”

 He exits, leaving Gail to smile contentedly.

 Bank of San Marcello

 Frank enters the lobby and gets in the tellers’ line.  Deciding the money he took from Marcus’s wallet could be traced back to him of he deposited it all at once, Frank decides to only deposit a thousand dollars into his account and place the rest in a safe deposit box.

 A woman finishes her business at one of the teller windows and Frank approaches.  Behind the window is Martin Nguyen, a slim Vietnamese-American man in his late-20s.  Dressed fashionably in business-casual wear, it seems obvious that Martin craves more from life than working a nine-to-five job.

 Frank completes a deposit slip and hands it to the teller.  “Welcome back to work,” Martin greets.

 “Don’t rush it,” Frank sneers.  “Not back for a couple of days yet.”

 “Man, you get into a fight?” asks Martin, noticing the bandages on Frank’s face.

 “Oh, no.  Nothing.  Just a little car accident.  Everything’s fine”

 “Glad to hear it.”  Martin calls up Frank’s account information on his computer screen.  “How was your vacation?  Vegas, right?”

 “Uh, yeah, it was great.”  Frank hands over the pile of cash he took from Marcus’s wallet.

 “Whoa!” exclaims Martin.  “Looks like you had a real good time down south.”

 “Yeah.  You know what they say, ‘unlucky in love…’”

 “Man, you must be lucky in cards,” Martin replies with awe.  “Didn’t know you gambled.”  He begins counting out the cash.

 “I like to take risks sometimes,” Frank says shrewdly.  “And if I continue playing my cards right, there might be a lot more money where that came from.”

 “Keep depositing wads like this, and you’ll be retiring from this place any time now,” says Martin with envy.

 “Not just yet,” ponders Frank.  “But yeah.  One of these days, it won’t be me  upstairs pushing paperwork around.  I’ll have someone else keeping tabs on my money.”  He smiles crookedly.  “If I just play my cards right…”

 Sept. 3

 University Hospital: Patient Room

 Dr. Martinez enters the room to find Marcus awake and lucid.  “Good morning,” he greets.  “You seem more alert today.”

 Marcus straightens up in his bed.  “Um…yeah.  I’m feeling a little better.”

 The doctor flashes a pen light into each of Marcus’s eyes to observe their reaction.  “But you still have no recollection of who you are?”

 Marcus shakes his head, obviously frustrated.  Dr. Martinez views Marcus’s chart.

 “Well, your CAT scan and MRI both show that your brain function is fine, and your blood work came back normal,” Dr. Martinez informs him.  “The neurologist believes that the amnesia is psychological in nature, and not the result of physical injury.  I’m going to call for a psychiatric consult.”

 “You think I’m crazy?” Marcus frowns, disturbed by the notion.

 The doctor puts the chart down and looks Marcus in the eye.  “I didn’t say that.  But you’ve endured quite a trauma, both physically and emotionally.”

 “That’s for sure,” Marcus agrees with a sigh.  “I feel terrible.”

 “Well, it’s no wonder,” Dr. Martinez comments empathetically.  “You’ve been through quite an ordeal.  You just had major surgery.  It’ll take time for you to heal.”

 “I just wish I could remember something.  Anything.”

 Dr. Martinez picks up the chart.  “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of your memory loss.”

 He steps toward the door.  “Now just rest, and I’ll check in with you after the psychologist is finished questioning you.”  Dr. Martinez leaves the room.

 “We’ll see what we come up with, won’t we, Doctor…” Marcus whispers to himself.

 University Hospital: Nurses Station

 Dr. Martinez stops at the reception desk, picks up the phone, and dials.  “Det. Washington?  It’s Dr. Martinez.”

 “What have you got for me?” Cole asks, sitting at his desk at the police station.

 “Well, we’ve run a battery of tests on John Doe,” the doctor tells him.  “All results are normal.”

 “Sounds good so far.  Is he conscious?”

 “Yes.  He’s able to communicate today.”

 “Good.  I’d like to question him,” Cole states with anticipation.

 “You’re welcome to, Detective.  However, you should know, the patient has experienced a complete loss of memory.”

 “Come again?” Cole asks, his hopes waning.

 “He still has no memory,” the doctor explains.

 “Of anything?  Even his name?”

 “I’m sorry to say, no,” The doctor replies solemnly.

 “So I guess this has gone from a simple traffic incident to a…a missing persons investigation…only in reverse,” Cole reflects.  “So, where do we go from here?”

 “I’ve summoned a psychiatric specialist to further assess the situation.  In the meantime, the patient is awake and alert.  You’re free to question him at this time.  As I said before though, I imagine he won’t be able to tell you much.”

 “I’m on my way,” Cole asserts.

 University Hospital: Patient Room

 Within an hour, Gail enters Marcus’s room with Cole.

 “John?  This is Det. Washington,” she introduces.  “He’s investigating the accident that brought you here.  He’d like to ask you a few questions.”

 “Thank you nurse,” says Cole.  Gail exits.  “John, eh?”

 “Well, they had to refer to me somehow,” Marcus replies glumly.  “I guess I’m officially John Doe now.”

 The detective pulls up a chair and sits next to the bed.  “Huh.  You really have no memories, whatsoever?”

 “It’s…like…like I’m a robot or something,” Marcus says, shaking his head.  “Like a lab created me and shipped me out without putting a memory chip in my brain.”

“So, what is the first thing you remember?” Cole requests.

“It was waking up here.  In this bed, yesterday morning.”

“No memories of a car hitting you?  Nothing about why you may have been in the road the other night?”

Marcus shakes his head, frustrated by his inability to remember.

“I hear your tests show that you’re in good physical health,” interjects Cole.  “They think your injuries aren’t responsible for the memory loss.”

“No.  They think it’s all in my head.”

“What do you think?”

Marcus pauses for a moment before answering.  “I don’t know.  It’s all I’ve been able to think about for the past 24 hours.  I…I can’t come up with anything.”

“Nothing?  No names, no places?” prods the detective.  “No memory of being out in the middle of the road in the foothills without a car?”

 “No.  I can’t remember a thing.”  Marcus looks into Cole’s eye, trying to gauge his reaction.  “Do you think I’m lying, Detective?”

 “I’m just gathering facts now.  I’m not thinking anything in particular.”

 Marcus continues to stare at Cole, wondering if he should be concerned.

 “Alright John,” Cole continues.  “I’ll be on my way.”  He rises.  “I can tell you one thing.  Looks like this investigation will be a lot more interesting than your average traffic incident report.  Thank you for talking to me,” the detective says as he places his card on the night stand.  “If you remember anything, you call me.”

 He turns to leave, but stops short of the door, turning back to face Marcus.  “Officially, your name is John Doe.  But you look Italian to me.  Mind if I call you Gian?”  Det. Washington holds up one hand, gesturing with his fingers held together.

 A diffident smile creeps onto Marcus’s face.  “Sure,” he sheepishly responds.  Reassured by the easy going nature of the detective, Marcus notices that he finds the man attractive.

 Santa Lorena County Building: District Attorney’s Office

 Philip sits at his desk, speaking on the phone.

 “I simply do not understand, Rhonda,” he says, perturbed.  “It’s a wedding.  Don’t all women love weddings?”  Philip breathes a deep sigh as Rhonda gives him her answer.  “No, I know that you’re not all women.  I just don’t get you, Rhonda.”  The DA stands and begins to pace back and forth across the room.

 “You’re the one who thinks we should become more committed in our relationship, right?  You support me in my career as a public official.  Well, attending my sister’s wedding will go a long way toward satisfying both of those goals.”  Philip grimaces and rolls his eyes.  “Alright.  I give up.  I’ll go stag to my sister’s nuptials.  Goodbye Rhonda.”

 Philip hangs up the phone momentarily, then picks it up and dials again.

 “Fahmoud, what’s the latest on the Bank of San Marcello embezzlement?” he bellows.  “Is the police investigation almost complete?  I see.”

 He plops himself back into his executive office chair.  “No, never mind.  I’ll talk to the detectives myself,” Philip sneers as he hangs up.  “If you want anything done right…” he mumbles.

 The phone rings.

 “What!” he shouts into the phone.  “Oh, I’m sorry, Gail.  I didn’t mean to be rude.”

 “That’s okay Philip,” she responds apprehensively from the Nurses Station .  “I guess I called at a bad time?”

 “No.  No, not particularly.  I mean, it’s rarely a good time in the DA’s office.  What may I do for you this morning?”

 “Well, I was wondering if you might like to have lunch with me today.”

 “Lunch,” Philip replies, less than attentively.

 Gail grows nervous, worried that Philip will see through her ruse.  “Uh, yes.  I have some ideas for the banquet that you’re planning, and I thought that maybe we could discuss them over lunch.”

 “Banquet?” asks the DA, forgetting their conversation the day before.

 “Um, the fund-raiser you mentioned?” Gail nervously reminds him.

 Philip begins to suspect Gail may have ulterior motives.  “Oh, yes.  That banquet.  Uh, well, that’s not for a few months now, and I’m rather busy today.”

 “I understand,” she says, disappointed and a little embarrassed.

 “Maybe we could discuss it at the wedding?” suggests Philip.

 “Yes.  Well, since there’s no hurry.”

 “Right,” he agrees.  “I should go now.  I have a pile of work on my desk.”

 “Of course, Philip.  I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

 “No.  It’s been no bother at all.  Goodbye, Gail.”

 They each hang up leaving Gail feeling humiliated.
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On the next installment of Tomorrow Waits For No One:

Det. Riley to Det. Washington: “You think his amnesia is on the up-and-up?”

Det. Washington to Det. Riley: “Yeah.  My gut’s telling me this kid is for real.”

Rhonda to Philip: “What has gotten into you?”

Philip to Rhonda: “I wanted to apologize for pressuring you about the wedding.”

Det. Washington to Det. Riley: “Yeah.  Now comes the hard part.  Our vic doesn’t have a police record.”

Stranger to a sleeping Marcus: “I put up with you for way too long.  This is payback.”

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