Harry had an active mind and a broken body.
The bullet wound repairs, as the doctor called them, needed time to heal, and that excluded any sort of physical activity. He was young and strong so it wouldn’t take too long, but he was not to mistake the feeling of general wellbeing as a sign of recovery.
Even when discharged, an event that didn’t seem to be on the horizon, he was going to be severely restricted in what he could do. Going back to the rigors of private detective would have to be postponed indefinitely, or. As the doctor said when his prognosis was met with a degree of disbelief, at least a month, possibly two.
But now that he was on the road, Sykes considered it a good idea to tell his family he was alive and well, even though they had not known he had disappeared or been injured. The fact he hadn’t done so earlier, was simply because Harry had asked him not to.
It was the result of a conversation with Sykes, one that had left the detective very surprised.
“You mean to say your family has no idea what it is you do?”
Harry and Sykes had been discussing who needed to know about his condition.
“No. They’ve never been interested. Once we were of age, unless we followed in my father’s footsteps, it was out the door and not let it hit as you were leaving.”
“What profession is he?”
“And you didn’t want to be a doctor? It’s a far safer occupation than going after lowlifes, as you can now appreciate.”
“And be bored to death, seeing sick people every day?”
He grunted, seeing the logic in that.
“Both Doctor’s like Dad. His favorites. I’m the middle boy, left to my own devices. I went to University, stuck it out for three years, and couldn’t stand the blood. One night in Emergency was enough to put me off for life.”
“And your sister, Corinne?”
Harry gave Sykes a measured look, he had done his homework.
“The child who could do no wrong.” There was no mistaking the resentment in Harry’s tone. She didn’t have to become a doctor or be subjected to the same discipline as he and his brothers had.
Sykes sighed. “Sibling issues, I might have guessed. Shall I tell them or not?”
“I leave it in your hands. When you meet them you’ll know what I mean.”
© Charles Heath 2016-2019