“And Robin wasn’t one of the ones you let yourself get attached to.”
“No. That isn’t because she was a bad person, you know, just…”
“I suppose when you knew she was terminal…”
“It might sound callous,” Betty said, “but you have to maintain some emotional distance, or it’s just too hard.”
“Was there anyone who took care of Robin who was really attached to her? Or who really disliked her?”
“No. I can’t think of anyone.”
“There isn’t anyone who ever said anything about her that worried you?”
Betty shook her head emphatically. “No, certainly not.”
Zachary stared off past Betty, committing everything to memory and mentally checking his list of questions to ask. While he would have liked to pull out his phone to write down her answers and consult his notes, he knew if he did, Betty would become self-conscious and stop sharing.
“Can you tell me about the day Robin died?”
Betty patted down her already limp, shapeless hair with one hand. “I don’t know what I can tell you.”
“You weren’t on shift that day?”
“Yes, I was on shift. I’m on every day, really.” It was no wonder she seemed so worn. With her obvious years of experience, she should have ranked a little time off. Working every day, especially in an emotionally taxing setting like a cancer treatment center, seemed like a recipe for physical or mental collapse. “I just mean… it wasn’t like it was an eventful day. Nothing noteworthy really happened. It was just… the day Robin died.”
“Did she have visitors?”
“Yes, a few. She was doing pretty well… up until the end. She had a few people in and out. Her boyfriend, family members…”
“Did she… just die in her sleep? Or did something happen?”
“She was in a lot of pain. We’d increased her painkillers and she slept a lot. Her family was in to see her Thursday evening, and then… Friday morning, she was gone.”
“She wasn’t on some kind of monitor that would tell you when her heart stopped? Ring an alarm?”
“Despite what you see on TV, very few patients are actually hooked up to a heart monitor at the hospital. Unless they actually have some kind of heart problems that need to be monitored. We aren’t notified every time someone’s heart stops.” Her gaze drifted away from Zachary. “This is a cancer ward. We don’t generally take heroic measures. We don’t try to bring someone back once their heart stops.”
Zachary thought about that. It made sense. And he knew that he himself had rarely been on a heart monitor during his hospitalizations. He had been after experiencing a series of electrical shocks, but not during other hospital stays.
“I guess in Robin’s case, it was a release? It was good that she didn’t suffer longer?” Zachary suggested.
“Yes, that’s true… cancer can be a very difficult way to go. We do our very best to fight it back, but often in the end, the monster wins.”
“Robin’s death was unexpected.”
“No.”
Zachary focused on Betty’s face and raised his brows in query.
“Her death was not unexpected. The timing was,” she clarified.
“Ah. Right.”
“We knew she was terminal,” Betty reiterated. “The cancer had spread through her body. It was only a matter of time.”
“But she ended up having less time than you had thought.”
“You never really know. Sometimes the doctor gives a person a month, and they live ten years. Sometimes he says they have a few months, and in two or three days, they’re gone.”
“In cases like that, where they are gone so quickly, is it investigated?”
“No, honey. Why would it be?”
Zachary tried not to bristle at her patronizing manner.
“We know what killed her,” Nurse Betty said. “Cancer killed her. We are just grateful she is at rest and no longer suffering. We go on and take care of the living.”
Zachary rolled this thought around in his mind for a few moments, examining it. “And you don’t think that anyone maybe… decided to help her along? Decided to release her from her pain?”
“Certainly not. You may hear of that kind of thing on TV, but it is very rare. All nurses are not ‘angels of death.’ Why risk going to prison by interfering with the natural course of things? Patients go when it is their time. Like the coming of the Lord, we don’t know the day or the hour. Robin died because she had cancer. That’s all. There’s nothing else to tell.”
The nearby elevator dinged and a group of young doctors and interns got out, chattering away as they entered the unit. Nurse Betty straightened and immediately stared at her screen, typing busily, as if she hadn’t been chatting with Zachary.
“There is Dr. West,” she said, giving a nod.
Zachary turned and studied the group of young men and women, looking for a gray-haired doctor. But he couldn’t sort out which of them was the doctor who had been in charge of Robin’s treatment and turned back to Betty for help.
“Dr. West,” Betty called out. “There’s a gentleman here to see you.”
One of the youngsters broke away from the group and approached Zachary. At first glance, he hardly seemed older than twenty, with his geeky glasses and artfully-swept hair. He had to be at least thirty to be in the position he was in, likely much older, but his face was unwrinkled and still boyish. He did hold himself with the upright confidence of an experienced doctor and he didn’t have the sleepless eyes of an intern.
“Yes, sir,” Dr. West acknowledged. “What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if I could have a few minutes to talk to you. Privately. I know you have rounds now, and probably a very busy schedule, but if I could get half an hour of your time…?”
Dr. West adjusted his glasses. “I am sure we could find some time, Mr…”
“Goldman. Zachary.”
“And what is this about, Zachary?”
“I’m… looking into the death of Robin Salter.”
“Looking into… I’m sorry, who are you? Are you with the hospital?”
“No. I’m not—”
“Then I don’t understand. There is no reason to ‘look into’ Ms. Salter’s death. Are you a police officer?”
“I’m a private investigator. I’ve been asked by a friend of Mrs. Salter to look into any… irregularities. Just to put their minds at ease. Her family’s and friends’.”
“Her family didn’t ask me about this. I didn’t get the sense anyone had any concerns.”
“It will just take a few minutes, and then I can reassure them that everything looks perfectly normal…”
He continued to say ‘them’ even though there was only Bridget. It sounded better if there were more than just her. Especially since she wasn’t even family.
Dr. West didn’t look reassured.
“Mr. Goldman’s wife was treated here,” Nurse Betty told Dr. West. “Bridget Downy. She went into remission.”
Dr. West smiled warmly. He was, it seemed, more inclined to humor the spouse of a patient they had managed to save. Maybe he understood that Zachary would be inclined to be positive toward the facility that had helped her.
“Oh, I see. One of our alumni! Then I would guess that you know the quality of the care that our patients get. We are very good at what we do. We have one of the highest-rated cancer treatment programs in the country.”
Zachary nodded and continued to look as agreeable as possible as Dr. West extolled the program, the building, the doctors, and even the nurses, finally earning a thin smile and nod from Betty as well. The small herd of young doctors had stopped talking among themselves and were all standing close by, listening in, eyes alight with interest at what was going on.
“I’m sure that’s exactly what my report will reflect,” Zachary agreed, when Dr. West started to wind down. “We were always very happy with the treatment here. I can see that they continue to hire high-
quality staff.” He attempted to include both Betty and Dr. West in his smile of approval. There were some people that just couldn’t be over-flattered. They would drink up everything he offered and more, without ever suspecting any insincerity. “And I don’t want to keep you. You have so much to do here and there are people waiting on you. Are you free after your rounds? Maybe I could buy you lunch?”
“I am engaged for lunch. But maybe this afternoon, three-ish?”
“That would really be great.”
“Perfect. You can get the directions to my office from—” Zachary saw Dr. West’s eyes slide over to Betty’s name badge, but he managed to continue on without a pause, “—Nurse Betty. I won’t have a lot of time to meet with you, but we could go over your concerns, provided we are only talking in general terms and not breaking doctor-patient privilege.”
Zachary had been worried he was going to run up against claims of confidentiality at some point. He was going to need to get access to confidential patient records, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to do that unless he could get the family’s consent.
“I’m sure we can work things out,” he assured Dr. West. “We could talk about how things were when Bridget was being treated here and discuss hypothetical situations.”
Dr. West considered this and then nodded, appearing to accept the suggestion. “Well, I look forward to meeting you, then…”
“Zachary.”
“Right. Zachary. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
He rejoined his group of young cohorts and led them to the first patient room.
Zachary smiled at Betty. “He seems like a very nice fellow.”
“He’s a good doctor,” she agreed. But she looked like she’d eaten something bad. She pulled out a note card and wrote down an address and sketched a small map. She handed it to him slowly. “I didn’t say anything to you that was a breach of confidentiality,” she asserted.
Zachary shook his head immediately. “Of course not! You’re a trained professional. I already knew about Robin’s diagnosis and her death. And anything else you said was certainly general knowledge. Her family visited her. She was in pain. There’s nothing secret about any of that.” He intentionally substituted the word secret for confidential. Whether Nurse Betty had actually revealed anything that might be considered confidential or privileged information or not, he wasn’t sure. But she hadn’t said anything that had surprised him or that Robin or her family would have objected to.
Betty looked reassured. She patted her flat hair down again and nodded. “We do have to be careful of these things.”
Chapter Four
Z
achary was left with several hours of dead time. He hadn’t really expected to be able to see Dr. West immediately upon just showing up. He would have to be back at the hospital in the afternoon, and in the meantime, he needed to fill the time productively.
Bridget had given him some of the names of Robin’s family members and, with a few quick searches, Zachary was able to find phone numbers for them. The first one he managed to reach was Vera Salter, Robin’s mother, and she agreed to meet with him if he wanted to drop by and see her. Zachary found her living in a small brick bungalow in a middle-class neighborhood. Despite the fact that she had told him he could stop by, she answered the door in her housecoat and looked surprised to see him.
Zachary introduced himself again, worried that she might not understand why he was there. Grief could do things to a person. Zachary remembered what it had been like to lose his family. And later, to lose Bridget. They weren’t even dead, but he still grieved for each one of them, and if he let himself get caught up in it, hours and days could pass while he walked through life in a fog, not really taking in anything that was going on around him.
“I’m Zachary Goldman, Mrs. Salter. My wife is—was—a friend of Robin’s.”
She nodded slowly, giving Zachary her hand to shake, but she looked right through him as if he weren’t even there. Zachary looked into her broad, dark face, searching her eyes for some connection. Her tightly-curled hair was cut close to her head and had more gray in it than black.
“I don’t know your wife,” Vera said vaguely.
“You’ve met her. Bridget Downy. She’s petite, blond… well, she was blond, is blond now, but when she was in treatment… I don’t know if she would have had hair when she met you.”
“Bridget,” Vera echoed.
Zachary nodded. Vera motioned for him to enter the house, and Zachary looked around, wondering whether anyone else was there to keep an eye on her, or whether she was normally more together. There was a skateboard at the door and a pair of Nike sneakers, which suggested that Vera wasn’t the only one living there. Zachary followed her to the living room and looked at the pictures on the mantel and side tables.
“You have a lovely family. Tell me who everyone is.”
Vera brightened. Her features livened up a little and she almost smiled. “Here is one of the whole family,” she said, choosing one off of the mantel. A posed studio shot, with everyone standing stiffly in front of a fake background. “This is my husband Clarence. He died years ago. And my girls, Robin and Gloria,” she indicated the pretty girls standing on either side of their parents. There was a man standing next to Robin. Tall, head shaved bald, a long face that made him look a little sad, in spite of his camera-ready smile. “That was Stanley,” Vera said. “He and Robin were engaged. We thought, when we had this picture taken, that he was going to be a member of the family. But… they broke up. Robin always wanted to cut him out of this picture, but I couldn’t bear to ruin it that way.”
“That’s understandable.”
“And this…” Vera laid a finger beside a little boy standing in front of Gloria, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “This was Rhys.”
She pronounced it ‘Reese,’ like the peanut butter cups. There was something about the way Vera said his name that made Zachary wonder what had happened to her grandson. He took a quick inventory of the other pictures, looking for Rhys in them. There were a few of Rhys, gradually getting older, with his mother or his grandmother, and a couple of school pictures where he was alone. But the sparkling, smiley boy was gone. In his place was a solemn, distant-looking boy. Zachary’s mind went back to the children he had met at Summit. Was he autistic? Neurodiverse? What was it that made him look so far away?
“My poor Rhys,” Vera said, shaking her head. “He hasn’t been the same since Clarence died.”
Zachary thought about that. He looked around the room and at the other pictures for more clues as to what had happened to the family. Was the boy still mourning his grandpa so many years later? Had they tried antidepressants? Counseling? Was there something more that Vera wasn’t telling him?
“Rhys lives here with you?” he suggested, looking at the skateboard and Nikes.
“Yes. This has always been his home, with Grandma and Grandpa. Sometimes Gloria has lived here with us… and sometimes she’s been… other places. But Rhys always stays here with us. And sooner or later, Gloria always comes home again.”
Zachary nodded. It was good that Rhys had a stable home. He didn’t have to live like Zachary had, passed from one foster family to another, never knowing how long he was going to be there or how bad the next one would be. Or when things got too bad, shunted off to an institution until Zachary could stabilize and they were ready to try something else.
“You must love him very much.”
“I do. He’s a very special boy.”
In the back of his mind, Zachary heard the other boys. The ones who would pick up the word special and turn it into something sarcastic and cruel. He wondered again just how Rhys was special. Something set him apart and made him unhappy, and Zachary didn’t think it was just losing his beloved grandparent. There was more to it than that.
But that wasn’t what he was there to investigate.
Zachary took a surreptitious look at his phone to make sure that time hadn’t gotten away from him.
He still had plenty of time to visit with Vera before he needed to be back at Dr. West’s office. He asked her other questions about the family, trying to get a feel for the dynamics and how Robin had fit into everything. She was the older sister, a bit of a perfectionist, a bit bossy, the sister who always had to be right and needed her parents’ praise and attention. Zachary could see parallels between the things Vera said about her daughter and Bridget. The two women had been drawn together by more than the fact that they had both been diagnosed with cancer and were in treatment together. They had an affinity with each other that went much deeper than that.
Zachary sat on the couch beside Vera as she went through the photo albums she had pulled out.
“I know these days everybody has their children’s pictures on their phones. But I’m old-school. We used to have them printed and then put them into albums, and I never did get into all of that fancy scrapbooking. Just putting pictures in a book, to look back on later and remember.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with that.” Zachary looked over the pictures of Robin and the others. “I’m an amateur photographer myself, so I understand the magic of developing prints and of being able to hold them in your hands. It’s not the same as zipping through pictures on an LCD screen.”
“That’s right,” Vera agreed. She touched the pictures as she turned pages. They were in roughly chronological order, so he could see the girls growing up before his eyes. In the early days, they had always been together. About a year or a year and a half apart in age, Vera had often dressed them up the same way, and the girls had obviously been each other’s best playmates in the younger years. But then as they progressed through school, there were pictures of each girl alone, pictures of them with other girls, or with boys, going on to develop separate interests and relationships.
Robin was with boyfriends more often than Gloria, but Gloria was the one who’d had a baby. There was no loving spouse or father in any of the pictures, just Gloria by herself or with Rhys. He’d started out as a small, swaddled baby in arms. There were no pictures where Gloria was looking at her baby with that beatific, Madonna-like expression that photographers were always trying to catch. Instead, she was looking at the photographer or off to the side, the child in her arms barely more than a prop, already forgotten. There were plenty of pictures of Rhys with both his grandma and his grandpa, playing at the park or doing woodwork in Clarence’s shop, raking leaves or playing a card game. All of those things that grandparents did with their children, at least in the idealized lives Zachary saw on TV.
She was Dying Anyway Page 3
