Patrick washed and walked into town. He finished a beer quickly and checked the crowd gathering in the Depresso. Claude was at the end of the bar. Patrick approached him. "Hey, Claude."
"Patrick."
"Claude, I've got to go to Kingston."
"Some people have all the luck."
"My landlady got taken to the hospital. Do you know where the hospital is?"
"Benedictine or Kingston?"
"Are there two? I don't know. Kingston, I guess." Claude gave him directions to both. "I don't have a car," Patrick said. Claude looked at him.
"Can you drive?"
"Yes." Claude reached in his pocket and handed Patrick a set of keys.
"It's that '56 Ford pickup out there—the black one with the wood rack."