Oath of Office by Michael Palmer Page B

reinserted his guard, then almost immediately hit him with two quick punches—one to either side of his face. Lou thought he heard a crunch from the vicinity of his nose, and his eyes teared. He wiped at the area with the back of one glove and checked for blood. None.
    “Keep your hands up, Doc! Hands up! Now, go on.”
    Lou increased his movement around the ring. Sweat was pouring off him now, stinging his eyes. He loved the feeling.
    “After the crash, she couldn’t explain why she’d gotten so reckless,” he said. “Lucky for her, she knew the chief of police. He let her off with just a warning, if you can believe it.”
    “I can’t believe you can’t keep your hands up,” Cap answered, stepping away and removing his mouth guard. “Take a moment without the guard. I think trying to talk is wearing you out.”
    Lou obliged, and took a few deep breaths to catch up. “Just for a minute or two,” he said. “I promise to keep my hands up. Did you get everything I said about Carolyn Meacham?”
    “Most of it. Obviously she was distressed about what her husband had done. It could have been that. Any clue what set him off?”
    “No idea,” Lou said. “He really was a talented doctor and an interesting guy. His AA recovery seemed right on track, and he hadn’t had any issues with his temper since he got in trouble four years ago.”
    Cap continued shifting from foot to foot like a runner at a red light, staying loose. “I heard on the news,” Cap said, “that one victim, before she died, had said something about ‘no witnesses.’ They were speculating that’s what Meacham was saying during his rampage. ‘No witnesses.’ I suppose it had something to do with that lady he was yelling at.”
    “What lady?”
    “On the news. I saw them interviewing her. Apparently she left the office right before your pal went ballistic—so to speak. She said that Meacham had screamed at her about her weight and that she ran off in tears. She got home, turned on the TV, and saw the shooting on the news.”
    “First I’m hearing of that,” Lou said. “I probably should have been watching more TV.”
    “Nobody should ever be watching more TV, bro. Unless it’s the Friday-night fights. So, what was this ‘no witnesses’ thing all about?”
    Lou toweled off and, feeling himself beginning to stiffen, started his own side-to-side shuffle. He needed more sparring time, but Cap was one of the wisest people he knew. If the man was interested enough to ask, his question was worth answering.
    “According to the police,” Lou went on, “the only victim who lived long enough to say anything quoted Meacham as saying, ‘No witnesses.’”
    “That’s strange.”
    “I agree, but why?”
    “Because if I understand what went down correctly, the potentially strongest witness, the woman I saw interviewed, had left the office before the shooting.”
    Puzzled, Lou looked across at his sparring partner. “What are you getting at?” he asked.
    “The kids from the street—the ones I train—they’d call that redonkulous. ”
    “Redonkulous?”
    “Yeah, it’s a portmanteau.”
    “Portmanteau? I always thought you spent too much time reading.”
    “I have a vocabulary notebook. I hardly ever get to use what I write down in it, but here’s my chance. Portmanteau means a new word formed by joining two others and combining their meanings. Redonkulous is a blending of the words ridiculous and donkey. It implies something bizarre, or impossible to the extreme.”
    “Why donkey?”
    “Poker donkey,” Cap said matter-of-factly.
    “What’s that?”
    Cap shook his head in dismay. “Doc, you need to hang on the streets more often. Get back in touch with the people. Poker donkey is just what it sounds like—a really bad poker player.”
    “Okay, I got it. So why is what I said redonkulous?”
    “Say it’s true, and Meacham was shouting ‘no witnesses’ while he’s gunning folks down.”
    “Okay.”
    “Why would he be