“He cannot remember!”
The hushed discussion was somewhere in the room, both familiar male voices were in an argument, one seemingly adamant while the other persistent.
Armand could not quite hear the gist. The unwanted distraction came from his room’s sophisticated sound system, installed to pipe in music all over the house. It was turned to high volume for a reason.
How appropriate! He remembered the video, how the victim achieved justice in the end.
He was the victim now. How he ended up helpless he had to discover while tied to a chair.
A chair? Where’s the bed? Where were the medical equipment?
“Can you turn the system off? Are you deaf or something?”
The next song playing was cut off in mid stream. Immediate silence revived the grim ambiance that presided since he woke up the other day.
“You called for me,” grinned Attorney Abad, his impish face brought terror to adversaries. It was his second most lethal weapon in the courtroom: the first was his sharp intellect.
“You’re late,” Armand reprimanded. “As usual.”
“I have a crook to defend. Maybe you are acquainted with Senator …”
“I don’t want to know,” he cut him off with disrespect, to remind the man that he was in charge.
Doctor Aran pursed his lips; his eyes vacant of emotion.
“I need you to fetch a spiritist,” he continued. “Someone reliable. You know what reliable means, don’t you?”
“Get off it, Armand! You are wasting time.” The lawyer tried to deflect his client’s search for answers.
“There’s no harm in trying,” Doctor Aran found his chance to interrupt. “He pays the bills.”
“There!” Armand said resoundingly. “He is smarter than you today!”
Attorney Abad controlled his temper, his color did not change. Usually, when enraged, he resembled an American native ready for war.
“As you wish,” the lawyer humbly replied. “I’ll send for a local to come the soonest.”
They were ready to part ways when Armand decided to play his cards.
“What’s the story about?” his segue caught both men in front of him by surprise.
“The kind doctor here presented me with the latest bulletin concerting your health.”
“Did I howl yesterday, Doc? I cannot remember.”
“Yes. No,” Doctor Aran fumbled.
“Now, you’re confusing me,” he remarked, staring straight to his lawyer’s eyes. The contact was not friendly.
“I mean, yes, I told Attorney Abad about your improving conditions. No, you did not howl.”
“So, that’s why I am still tied. I am improving.” Armand could not understand the irony.
Attorney Abad could not stand the questioning. He was more comfortable if the role was his.
“I have to go and find your witch doctor.”
“You do that!” Armand shouted at the departing lawyer. “I want an old woman. The uglier the better.”
Doctor Aran remained motionless. He seemed ready to divulge what he kept secret from his patient.
“I am listening, Doc.”
“What?” the medical man was startled. “I am not saying anything.”
Doctor Aran turned around and left in hurry.
“Suit yourself,” Armand sighed, resigned to inhabit the chair for another day.
(to be continued)