Checked Out

by Sharon St. George

  “Your excuse is protecting Sig’s manhood, remember?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Yeah, and losing my job in the process. What’s Seamus O’Brien got to do with anything?”

  “I’m not sure, but I want to know if he’s terminal.”

  Cleo blinked. “Whoa. You think he’s dying?”

  “I think we need to know. If he is, there’s going to be a fortune up for grabs.”

  “What’s the connection to Poole? Do you think Seamus is one of her patients, too?”

  “That’s something else we need to know.”

  Cleo headed for her office in the main tower. A couple of hours later I was scrutinizing statistics for the CME program on urologic surgery deaths and complications when Jared Quinn dropped by again.

  “Aimee. How’s it going?” His mood had improved since our morning meeting.

  “It’s going okay. What brings you here again?”

  “I want to make sure you remembered to include Cody O’Brien’s medical record in the urologic surgery review.”

  “It’s been earmarked, but it will only be reviewed for indications for his planned urologic surgery, not for the trauma death in ER.”

  “That’s right,” Quinn said. “His death in the ER is a separate issue. It’ll be reviewed later by the Emergency Department once the coroner’s report is ready.”

  I understood Quinn’s reasoning. In the case of a lawsuit, it would be good to be able to testify that Cody’s abrupt departure from the hospital the night before an acutely needed surgery had been addressed in a timely fashion and proper actions taken by the hospital staff. Quinn would be on the stand if that came to pass.

  Quinn sat in the guest chair next to my desk. “Your boyfriend called me this morning. Not long after our little talk.”

  “Nick? Why would he—”

  Quinn chuckled. “No, sorry. Bad joke. You have too many boyfriends. I was talking about James O’Brien. Your date at Margie’s last Friday.”

  “Oh, James. He’s not—”

  “Not the flavor of the week?”

  “Never mind. Did you ask James about the lawsuit?”

  “No, but he brought it up, basically said the same thing he told you. Looks like your instincts were correct. He’s trying to convince his family to drop it. No final decision so far.”

  “Were you able to tell him what he wanted to know about Cody?”

  “Hardly,” Quinn said. “He wants to know if his brother’s death was accidental or foul play. I told him I spoke to the coroner yesterday, and so far there’s nothing to warrant a homicide investigation, but he hasn’t ruled on the manner of death. I told your friend I’d keep him informed.”

  I’d seen enough death certificates in my training to know that the cause of death section involved a chain of events leading to an immediate cause of death like heart failure. I also knew there was a separate section for manner of death. That included half a dozen options, but the two I was most curious about were Homicide and Accident. Which one would be checked when Cody’s certificate was complete? I hoped the coroner wouldn’t settle for Could not be determined.

  “I thought the first responders were convinced he was kicked by Game Boy.” I wasn’t ready to tell him about Laurie’s mysterious calls until I knew more about why she’d called me.

  “Game Boy?” Quinn looked puzzled.

  “Game Boy is his horse. If Cody was kicked in the head, is there any doubt it was accidental?”

  “Apparently not, but the coroner is taking his time with this one because Cody was a public figure, and he was also Seamus O’Brien’s son. Seamus has a certain standing in the community. The coroner doesn’t want to make a hasty decision that will come back to bite him.”

  “Then there is no active investigation by law enforcement?

  “Not so far. There doesn’t appear to be a reason, but the coroner’s ruling could change that.”

  “Have you seen Cody’s chart?”

  “I dropped by the Health Information office to have a look.” I envied him. As TMC’s administrator, he had greater access to patient records than the administrative department heads.

  “Were there any photos of Cody’s wound in the chart?”

  “I didn’t see any,” Quinn said, “but he died so soon after arriving that he wasn’t treated for the head trauma. The EMTs’ paperwork was all in there. I saw EKG tracings, notes about IV lines … all their standard stuff. Most of the documentation was from O’Brien’s pre-surgery admission the day before. ER documented that his body was moved to our holding morgue to await transfer to the coroner.”

  “What did you think about indications for surgery? Did Poole’s notes satisfy you?”

  “They seemed appropriate, but I’m not a doctor. I want that record reviewed by every urologist on our medical staff.”

  “Every urologist except Dr. Poole, of course.”

  “Of course,” Quinn said. “Medical staff members don’t review their own patient care.”

  “Right. I’m familiar with the protocols for chart review.”

  “Sorry, I keep forgetting you’re no longer a greenhorn. After the death certificate is complete, we’ll see that O’Brien’s case is reviewed by the Emergency Department.” Quinn stood and gazed around the room. “You have your regular library chores, plus building the forensic collection, and now this CME program That’s a lot on your plate. Are you sure you can handle it without Beardsley around?”

  “So far, so good,” I said, “as long as I can count on Lola for the routine stuff.”

  “All right, then.” Quinn tapped his fingers on the edge of my desk. “Poole’s a scrupulous surgeon; however, she sometimes agrees to take on extraordinarily complicated cases. I’m curious to know if her peers agreed with her planned approach in this one.”

  So was I, but I wasn’t about to tell Quinn about Cleo’s theory that Poole wasn’t man’s best friend when she had a scalpel in her hand.

  After Quinn left, my focus shifted back to my conversation with Cleo about Seamus O’Brien. If the patriarch was terminal, I could imagine Echo and Keely competing for the lion’s share of his estate. James said Seamus was in a hurry to change his will right after Cody died. I wondered when Seamus had first contacted his lawyer. Was it before or after Cody’s death? If he started the process while Cody was still alive, maybe he had been contemplating divorcing Echo.

  Too many variables leapt to mind. It was pointless to pursue them until I knew more. I could ask James who his father’s lawyer was, but I wasn’t ready to tip my hand to James just yet. I forced my mind back to the work I was being paid to do.

  Cleo called half an hour later. “I have news.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  Five minutes later, in mild respiratory distress, I walked into the Medical Affairs Office in the main tower.

  “Mother of God,” Cleo said. “I just put the phone down. How did you do that?”

  “Ran,” I said. “What’s your news? I have to get back.”

  She handed me a piece of note paper. “What’s this?” I scanned the page and saw three words: Lyme, babesiosis and splenectomy.

  “I just finished writing up an Infection Control Committee report to be forwarded to the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta. They follow diseases caused by the Lyme tick, and Seamus O’Brien was one of the patients on the list.

  “What does this mean?”

  “See the columns of questions with boxes to be checked? I copied the items that were checked with a yes for Seamus O’Brien. I thought you’d want to do some research, see if you can get some idea how serious his case is.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” I said. “I think we’re dealing with more than just Sig and Dr. Poole. Something’s going on with the O’Briens. DeeDee’s dead, Cody’s dead, and if we don’t figure out what’s going on, someone else might die.”

  Cleo pointed at the notes she’d given me. “I’m going out on a limb giving you even that much. I just wanted to
make sure Siggy will be safe going under Poole’s knife. I didn’t sign up to save the world.”

  “But you did agree to go to Laurie Popejoy’s house with me tonight. Don’t forget I’m picking you up at quarter to ten.”

  “I know. Dark clothes. I’ll be ready.” Cleo’s phone rang. While she reached for it I let myself out and returned to the library. I was familiar with Lyme disease, but I had never heard of babesiosis, and I had no idea why splenectomy was mentioned. Both were listed on the CDC form, so I assumed they were important. Before I could start a MedLine search, my phone rang. Although the temptation to ignore it was strong, conscience won out and I picked up.

  “Hey, Lady. I’ve got something you want.”

  It dawned on me Nick was talking about the answering machine tape. Laurie’s messages.

  “When can I have it?”

  “Dinner tonight. Meet me at Casa Loco.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there at five thirty.”

  Dinner with Nick. He worried about my taking risks, but he was no more able to resist an adventure than I was. That quality came in handy when I needed an accomplice

  I started the MedLine search for babesiosis. I had promised to give James the names of a couple of specialists for his father to contact, but before I could do that I wanted to learn as much as possible about Seamus O’Brien’s illness. Half an hour later I suspected Seamus knew more about his prognosis than he was willing to admit to his offspring.

  The patriarch’s illness was dire, and it further complicated the dynamic of the O’Brien family. No wonder he was concerned about his will. James and Keely were his only remaining offspring. What would they inherit if he died? What about his young wife? Surely she would be counting on a big chunk of the estate. Did any of his heirs know how ill he really was? If so, did that knowledge play a part in Cody’s death?

  Chapter 11

  I spotted Nick waiting in the foyer at Casa Loco. The hostess took us to a low-lit booth in the back.

  “Dinner at five thirty?” Nick said. “Why so early?”

  “I have to be home to do chores before dark, and Jack and Amah might need help with packing. Going to Africa for three weeks means more than throwing some socks in an overnight bag.” I quickly changed the subject. “So what did you get from the tapes? Anything we can use?”

  “I think so. That second message Laurie left on your machine has some background noise that might help us.”

  “Really? What is it?” My body tensed with curiosity.

  “Remember the last time we stopped for lunch at Uncle Fudd’s Tavern on our way to the Tamarack trailhead? There was a cuckoo clock on the dining room wall.”

  “The broken one that sounded like it was being strangled every time it marked the hour?”

  “That’s the one. I’m pretty sure that’s what was in the background of Laurie’s second message to you.”

  “She was calling from Uncle Fudd’s? But why?”

  “I did some checking with a buddy who works at Hikers’ World. He knows Laurie. Apparently, she’s hiked into the Thousand Lakes Wilderness a few times.”

  “You think she’s hiding out up there?”

  “It makes sense,” Nick said. “If the guy who’s after her doesn’t know she’s a backpacker, he’d never think to look for her there. And there’s no cell service in the wilderness, so unless she has a satellite phone, that would explain why she didn’t call you again.”

  “She left that second message on my machine five days ago. She’s endured some cold nights if that’s where she’s gone.”

  “Maybe we should find out.”

  “You mean go search for her?”

  “Why not? We’d know where to look.” Nick glanced at his watch. “We could head up there as soon as I get back from flying your grandparents to SFO tomorrow.”

  “I can’t. I have to work.”

  “Take a couple of days off. Come down with something contagious. Strep throat would be good.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Hey, this woman reached out to you. Someone broke into her home, and now she’s disappeared. It’s worth a white lie to find out if she’s still alive.”

  “You’re right. I’ll talk to Quinn. It’s just … there’s so much going on at work.”

  “Ask for two days. We should take a couple of Jack’s llamas. I’ll clear it with him. We’ll need his pickup and trailer.”

  “Why llamas? We’d cover ground faster without them.”

  “We might need more emergency supplies than we can carry on our backs.” Nick reached out and touched my arm. “And we might as well be prepared if—”

  “You don’t have to say it.” I envisioned Laurie’s lifeless body lying in the duff of a wilderness campsite. Jack’s llamas wouldn’t tolerate a live rider, but they would carry dead weight. Laurie’s dead weight. I was more determined than ever to go back for her laptop.

  That night the door of Cleo’s condo opened before I rang the bell.

  “How do I look?”

  She got most of the outfit right with a black turtleneck and dark skinny jeans, but her footwear was all wrong.

  I pointed at her black boots with three-inch heels. “You need to take off those ankle busters and put on something you can run in.”

  “Wait, you didn’t say anything about running.”

  “There probably won’t be running, but we’ll be walking in a dark alley. You need sensible shoes.”

  Cleo shuddered. “Never tell anyone I own sensible shoes.”

  She changed into a pair of black sneakers and grabbed a navy pullover sweatshirt while I stood at the door choking back second thoughts about my choice of partners in crime.

  While I drove, I told Cleo about the sounds Nick heard on Laurie’s message, and our plan to look for her in the wilderness.

  “You’re going to take time off now?”

  “Unless we find her at home tonight, or something that disproves Nick’s theory.”

  “What are you going to do about the library?”

  “I’ll be there tomorrow morning, and Lola can keep the library open for minimal services until noon on Wednesday. I’ll be back to work on Thursday.”

  “You think Quinn will give you time off when Beardsley’s out and you have so much to do?”

  “He’ll have to,” I said in a forced whisper, “I have strep throat.”

  Cleo inched away from me toward the passenger door. “Cripes, don’t breathe on me.”

  “Relax, I won’t be contagious until tomorrow.”

  We reached Laurie’s neighborhood at ten thirty. I parked in the same spot on the street that Nick had used.

  “Here, don’t turn this on.” I handed Cleo a flashlight. “It’s for backup, just in case.”

  “In case what?” Cleo said.

  “In case … I don’t know. You don’t have to come. You can wait in the car.”

  “No way. You’re not leaving me here alone.”

  We crept through the alley and I led her around to the back door Nick and I had used the night before. It stood open at the same angle, sad proof that Laurie had not returned. I trained my light on the kitchen floor, motioned for Cleo to follow me, and started a room check. The fridge still stank of old milk. The living room was still tidy, and the bathroom window to the alley was still open.

  Only the pile of mail near the front door was different. Several new envelopes had dropped through the mail slot. I played my light on the one on top. The return address was a local pathology laboratory used by most of the doctors in town.

  Cleo followed my light. “Timbergate Labs,” she whispered. “Probably a pay envelope. Laurie moonlights there.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I heard it somewhere. I hear things all the time.”

  “Do you know how long she’s worked there?”

  “No idea, but she’s a certified lab tech in addition to being an RN. Lots of job security there.”

  “Job security isn’t helping her righ
t now.”

  “True. So where’s the laptop we came for?”

  I led Cleo to Laurie’s bedroom. “This is where Nick and I left it.” I trained my light on the desk across from Laurie’s bed.

  “Well, where is it?” Cleo said.

  “What the … it was right there.” I pointed to an empty spot on the desk.

  “You’re sure? ’Cause this is starting to freak me out.”

  “I’m sure,” I whispered to Cleo. “Positive.”

  “Then someone else has been here.”

  “Looks that way. Let’s leave. Now.”

  She didn’t needed prompting. I caught up with her standing outside my car, sucking on an inhaler.

  “Since when do you use one of those?”

  “It’s my mother’s. I forgot to drop it off at her senior residence after work today.” Cleo took another hit.

  “If you don’t stop nursing that thing, you’re going to have to get her another one.”

  “Maybe I will. This stuff works. I’m feeling better already.”

  I grabbed the inhaler and tossed it in the backseat. “No more. You don’t know what’s in that thing, and I need you with a clear head right now. We have to brainstorm.” I pulled away from the curb and headed back across town.

  “Okay,” Cleo said. “You start.”

  “The laptop’s gone. That means someone else knew about it and came back for it.”

  “Unless she came back for it herself.”

  “She fled for her life, so I doubt it. I’m betting it’s the guy who’s after her.”

  “Why did he wait so long to come back for it?” Cleo shivered and glanced toward the inhaler in the backseat.

  “It must have taken a while to realize it could help him find her. Maybe he’s your classic dumb thug.”

  “What makes you so sure it’s a guy?”

  “You’re thinking Dr. Poole, aren’t you?”

  “She’s the last person I’d want to meet up with in that alley. Or maybe she’s the brains, and she sent the dumb thug back for the laptop.” I couldn’t argue with that.

  We reached Cleo’s condo around eleven o’clock. She promised to stay off her mother’s drugs, so I let her have the inhaler. We sat on her sofa eating diet vanilla ice cream topped with diet chocolate syrup. No wonder she’d kept her figure.