by Gary Birken
“Maybe,” she said, “but technically, a person walking into an ER hasn’t been registered yet, so strictly speaking, they’re not a patient and wouldn’t be protected under AHCA regulations.”
Al drummed the countertop and then rubbed his chin skeptically.
“Give me an hour. I’ll have one of my guys drop them off in your office.”
“Thanks, Al. You’re a lifesaver.”
“After you’ve had a look at these, you’re going to destroy them—right?”
“I’ll shred them into tiny strips and then incinerate them.”
He smiled. “Okay, Doc. But this squares us for the free advice.”
“I’d kiss you, but you’re on duty.”
He laughed. “My wife would shoot us both.”
CHAPTER 84
Morgan left the security office and was on her way back to her office when she realized she had completely lost track of the time.
“Shoot,” she muttered, checking her watch. It was quarter to five. She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone.
Will answered on the second ring.
“Hi. It’s Morgan Connolly. I’m so sorry but I got side-tracked and completely forgot about our appointment. Can we reschedule for tomorrow?”
She heard him chuckle. “I guess I’ve been guilty of the same thing myself more times than I care to admit. I’ll check my calendar and give you a call.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“You sound a little frazzled. What’s going on?”
“I think I may have finally figured out a way to find out if Mason Kaine was really the one responsible for my father’s death and the Code Fifteens.”
Morgan took a minute to explain her plan.
“Well, if it works, you may have found a way of eliminating a major conflict in your life,” Will said.
“I’m sorry about our appointment,” she told him again. “I know you wanted to get together.”
“Tomorrow will be fine. By the way, if something comes up tonight and you want to talk, just call me back. My family’s out of town. I’ll be here all night.”
“I may do that,” she told him with a genuine appreciation of his thoughtfulness.
Morgan started across the main road that traversed Presbyterian’s campus. She was just about to step up on the opposite sidewalk when her phone rang. She checked the caller ID. It was the emergency room.
“This is Dr. Connolly.”
“Hi, Morgan. It’s Sherry. We have a little situation over here. I think we could use your help.”
Morgan had known Sherry Chang for a long time. She was a competent charge nurse who wasn’t prone to overreacting.
“What’s going on?” Morgan asked.
“Kipplinger’s on call today for internal medicine. We called him a little while ago to come see a patient in renal failure. I guess he forgot he was on call. Anyway, he had made plans to get out of the hospital early.”
“So, he’s been acting out a little.”
“Ranting and raving would be a more accurate description. He’s been on the warpath since he got here.”
“Who’s on for us?” Morgan asked.
“Patti. She’s doing her best but . . .”
“Great,” Morgan moaned under her breath.
Mild-mannered and accommodating, Patti Casoni was an excellent physician. But she was only one year out of residency, and on her best day, no match for the likes of Dr. Stephen Kipplinger.
“Tell Patti not to get into it with him. I’ll be right over,” Morgan said, turning around and heading back toward the emergency room.
CHAPTER 85
Above the rattling of its faulty air conditioner, Detective Vic Prieto guided the Ford Taurus down Mason Kaine’s street.
“That’s it,” Jody said, gesturing at the two-story palatial brick colonial on the opposite side of the street.
Vic whistled. “Must be nice,” he said, pulling up to the curb directly across from the house. “What do you figure? About three million bucks?”
“Four easy,” Jody said.
They stepped out of the car into a warm afternoon and started across the street.
“Maybe we should ask the sheriff for a raise,” he suggested.
They walked up the path to the front door. Jody rang the bell. A minute passed with no response. She rang it again. Finally, a disconcerted-appearing woman appeared at the door.
They each produced their identification.
“My name is Detective Baxter and this is Detective Prieto. We’d like to speak with Mr. Kaine.”
The woman, who reminded Jody of her humorless and overbearing aunt, took a long look at their IDs. She then scanned them both, looking at them as if they were trying to sell her the latest miracle vacuum cleaner. The usual apprehension Jody was accustomed to seeing on the faces of the people she was about to question was absent. From the entranceway, Jody noticed a tall, muscular man standing under an archway. He was dressed in a dark suit and stood with his hands clasped in front of him. His gaze was on them.
“Mr. Kaine has been ill,” the woman said officiously. “He’s resting at the moment. If you would like to arrange a time when—”
Vic wagged his finger and said, “We’re police officers. We don’t arrange times. If Mr. Kaine’s too sick to speak with us, then we’ll be happy to call nine-one-one and have him transported to the nearest emergency room. We’ll let the doctor decide if he’s well enough to talk to us.”
Trying to avert any further unpleasantness, Jody handed the woman one of her cards. “Maybe you could inform Mr. Kaine we’re here and see if he’ll agree to speak with us.”
The woman folded the card in half, glared at Vic, and then walked away. Jody watched as she slowly ascended the ornate staircase.
“That worked,” he said.
“The good cop/bad cop thing’s getting kind of old. Anybody who watches TV is on to it.”
“What do you think?” Vic asked. “Nurse, personal assistant, girlfriend, or all three?”
“I don’t have the foggiest,” Jody said with a half shrug as she marveled at the flamboyant furnishings in the huge foyer.
A few minutes passed and Jody heard the clip-clop of footsteps coming down the staircase.
“Mr. Kaine will see you now,” the woman said from the bottom step.” Vic winked at Jody and together they crossed the entranceway. “I would ask that you conduct your business as quickly as possible. Mr. Kaine needs his rest.”
“We understand,” Jody said, before Vic could make a regrettable wisecrack.
Once they reached the top of the stairs, the woman escorted them down a wide hallway and then past several bedrooms until they reached the end of the hall. She knocked and then pushed the double doors, which opened onto an immense library with twenty-foot ceilings, silk drapes with French pleats, and floor-to-ceiling oak bookcases. Two cherry-stained ladders on brass runners faced each other across the room.
At first, Jody was so lost in the magnificence of the room that she didn’t see the man on the other side of the library sitting next to a large bay window. When she finally did notice him, he was staring at her with his arms folded. As a police officer, Jody was used to surprising and unusual situations, but what lay before her left her speechless.
CHAPTER 86
It took Morgan over an hour to defuse the acrimonious situation in the ER.
With undying patience, she finally managed to convince Dr. Kipplinger that it wasn’t the emergency room’s fault that he had forgotten it was his day on call, nor were they trying, as he put it, to assassinate his patient. Forcing herself not to tell him what she thought of his bully-like antics took every drop of self-restraint she possessed.
When she arrived back at her office, it was well after seven. Kendra had long since left for the day. Morgan was anxious about the Fast-Pass IDs and prayed Al had dropped them off as he’d promised. She unlocked the door, walked straight past Kendra’s outer office, and continued into her own.
Sitting in the middle of her desk was a large manila envelope. After a brief sigh of relief, she picked it up and sat down. Sliding out its contents, Morgan tried to ignore the fine tremor in her hands.
Al had organized the Fast-Pass photo IDs into two piles: one for each of the dates she had requested. Beginning with the ones from the emergency room, she quickly separated out the women. This left her with approximately fifty photos to go through. Looking for Mason Kaine’s Fast-Pass, she studied each ID in the same manner. First she looked at the photograph and then the name printed below it. When she was satisfied the ID was not his, she slid it to the back of the pile.
Morgan had gone through about half of the stack when she came upon a photo she recognized. Although time had partially eroded her recollection of his appearance, the ID was definitely Mason Kaine’s. The name printed below the photo confirmed her suspicion. Even though the answer to her question was undeniable, Morgan stared at the photo for almost a minute. The picture of Kaine showed his front row of teeth to be normal. There wasn’t even a hint of a gap.
After a soft sigh, she tossed the remainder of the passes back on her desk.
“I knew it,” she whispered, putting the photo in the manila envelope.
With the disappointing realization that Mason Kaine was probably not the man responsible for her father’s death or the Code 15s, Morgan stood up and walked over to the opposite side of her office. Taking a seat in a small armchair, she could feel the desperation building. Her eye was caught by a large framed photograph of her father at a black-tie reception that sat on the top shelf of her bookcase. The affair was put on by Presbyterian to honor him for his many years of commitment to the hospital. Even though it was another reminder of his death and how much she missed him, she still found herself smiling affectionately.
After a few minutes, Morgan stood up from her chair and walked back to the desk. She reached for the second pile of Fast-Passes, the ones that belonged to the individual who visited the Cardiac Care Center the night Alison Greene died. Based on what she had just learned about Mason Kaine, she had no expectation of finding his photo among them. But she was interested in seeing what I. Ogden looked like. More important, she wanted to compare his ID to those from the emergency room, hoping to find a match.
Morgan flipped through the CCC photos one at a time. She had only turned over a few when she came upon one that instantly made her breath catch. Even though there was a noticeable gap between the man’s front teeth, she recognized his face immediately. Driven by a sudden rush of panic, her heart pounded out of her chest. Slowly, her gaze drifted down to the name on the pass. It read I. Ogden. Swallowing against a throat that felt as dry as cotton, Morgan grabbed for the original stack of emergency room IDs.
Her hands fumbled as she tossed each rejected ID back on her desk. Even while she frantically sorted through them, a part of her prayed she was wrong. When she was almost to the end of the pile, she came upon the ID she knew would be there. Morgan closed her eyes and forced herself to slow her breathing. After a few seconds, she slowly opened them again. She then held up the two photos, one next to the other. The names were different, but the man was the same.
Morgan reached for her cell phone, brought up the directory, and found the number for Jimmy’s Place restaurant. She hit the call button.
“Jimmy’s. Can I help you?”
“May I speak with Amelia please?”
“This is Amelia.”
“This is Faith Russo’s cousin,” Morgan began, above the clattering of the restaurant commotion. “I’m sure you remember. We spoke at the restaurant a week or so ago.”
“Of course, I remember,” Amelia said. “Were you able to find anything out?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I wonder if I could fax you a couple of photos. I’d like you to tell me if you think it’s the guy who was interested in Faith.”
“You mean Steve?”
“Yes.”
“Sure,” Amelia told her. She then gave Morgan the fax number. “By the way, he’s never been back in the restaurant.”
“I’m not surprised,” Morgan responded. “Thank you. You can call me back on my cell.”
“As soon as I have a look at them, I’ll give you a call.”
Morgan reached for the two photos and went out into Kendra’s office. After running off the copies, she faxed them to Amelia and returned to her desk.
Waiting for her phone to ring, Morgan drummed her blotter. She then picked up the nearest pen and began doodling triangles and circles on a small pad. Every few seconds her eyes found the cell phone. She picked it up to make sure the ringer was set to its maximum volume. She was just about to put it down when it rang.
“Hello.’
“That’s Steve,” Amelia said. “There’s no doubt about it. Where did you get those photos?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Morgan answered. “Thank you.”
What was just a suspicion a few minutes ago was now an incontrovertible fact: the man who killed her father was the same one who murdered Faith Russo. He was also, almost certainly, the mastermind behind the other Code 15s. Morgan believed she now had the information the police couldn’t turn a blind eye to. But in an abundance of caution, she decided to get Ben’s advice before calling Jody Baxter.
She tapped in his number but after six rings, she got his voice mail.
“Ben. It’s me. Please call me as soon as you pick up your messages. It’s important.”
Morgan checked the time and decided to give him an hour or so before making a final decision on her own regarding calling Jody Baxter. Confident for the first time the end of her nightmare was at hand, Morgan’s mind drifted to the events of the day.
All of a sudden, she sat bolt upright in her chair. Her feeling of comfort and safety instantly evaporated. She could sense the color draining form her face, and without giving the matter any further thought, she knew the last place on earth she wanted to be at the moment was sitting alone in her office.
Struggling not to become unglued, she grabbed the two Fast-Pass IDs and pushed them deep into the manila envelope. She worked around her trembling fingers to fasten the envelope closed. She made no effort to gather up the others, leaving them scattered across her desk.
Jumping to her feet, she turned around and snatched her purse from her credenza. When she turned back around to head for the door, she gasped. Standing in her doorway with a friendly smile was the last person she wanted to see.
CHAPTER 87
Openmouthed, Detective Jody Baxter watched as the man in the wheelchair pushed the joystick forward to rotate the chair around.
“I generally don’t see people without an appointment but my nurse told me you’re from the police.”
His stubbly face, ragged gray T-shirt, and frayed flip-flops gave him the appearance more of an agoraphobic recluse than a cunning murderer of indescribable physical strength.
“You’re Mason Kaine?” Vic inquired with some uncertainty in his voice.
“I am.”
“Do you want to call for backup?” Vic whispered to Jody, who refused to look at her sardonic partner or acknowledge his dim-witted crack.
Kaine guided the wheelchair across the room, bringing it to a stop a few feet in front of them.
“Please excuse my inability to come downstairs,” he offered, “but I’m still waiting for my elevator to be repaired.”
Still tongue-tied, Jody realized she had to make a decision quickly. While making an apologetic withdrawal seemed attractive and maybe even the most politically correct, something told her to, at least, ask Kaine a few questions.
“We just have a couple of questions for you, Mr. Kaine. It shouldn’t take too long.”
Appearing annoyed, he exhaled loudly and said, “I suppose you’re here about that lunatic, Morgan Connolly.”
It was hardly the response Jody expected. Before Vic could say something they’d both regret, Jody jumped back in. “If you don’t mind
my asking, Mr. Kaine, what would make you think that’s our reason for being here?”
“I’m paralyzed, Detective Baxter, not brain-dead. The woman thinks I’m trying to kill her. What I can’t figure out is why. If anybody has a reason to be irate to the point of homicide, it’s me. A lot of people would have filed a formal complaint of harassment.”
“Why do you think she believes you’re trying to kill her?” Jody asked.
“Oh, come now, Detective. Would you really have me believe you have no idea what happened to my sons? I think we both know if it weren’t for Dr. Connolly’s ineptitude, they’d still be alive.”
“I’m not a physician, Mr. Kaine, so I’m not in a position to judge Dr. Connolly’s competency as a doctor. What makes you think she’s been harassing you?”
“For one, she showed up at the car dealership I do business with. She pretended to be somebody she isn’t to grill my friend for information about me. Fortunately, he called to alert me to the problem. Obviously, she’s lost her grip on reality. It’s no secret that Dade Presbyterian and the Medical Board are finally catching up with her. Hopefully, they’ll yank her license to practice medicine forever.”
“You seem to have a great deal of information about Dr. Connolly. What makes you so sure she’s having professional problems?” Jody asked.
Appearing as if his intelligence was being insulted, Kaine said, “I’ve lived in this area for a long time. I’m not without many close friends, some of whom are doctors at Dade Presbyterian.”
Jody suspected that Kaine’s flow of information was a lot more sophisticated than he’d have them believe.
Vic asked, “Besides this incident at the car dealership, are you aware of anything else Dr. Connolly’s done that might be interpreted as harassment?”
“How about meeting with my ex-wife and pumping her for information? Why would she go to all that trouble of finding out where Adele works, setting up a meeting, and then hounding her for information if she didn’t plan to use it for something?”
