by Jaden Skye
“We do have to be careful of how we speak in public,” Beatrice repeated. “As I said it’s easy to be overheard and have one’s words distorted. Rumors can fly like poison arrows all over the place.”
Cindy was startled. This hardly seemed like a place filled with poison arrows.
“This case seems to have created quite a stir,” Cindy murmured.
“Right from the start,” Beatrice was exasperated. “We’ve been warding off reporters from day one.”
“Is that because Tara and Owen were so well known?” asked Cindy.
“Not necessarily,” said Beatrice, “it was because the accident was so gruesome and dramatic. And, because the patient remained in a coma for so long. People started wondering if she would ever come out of it. It became a guessing game.”
“She never did, did she?” asked Cindy.
“Well, if you check the records,” Beatrice breathed heavily, “you’ll see that there is no medical record of the patient having come out of the coma. But naturally, when a patient is in a coma for a long while people begin to assume all kinds of things. Some say Tara did come out. That’s because, due to reflex responses, at times it can seem if patients are talking, smiling or even waving. But they aren’t.” Beatrice looked at Cindy then carefully, to make sure she understood.
“I can understand all the confusion,” Cindy remarked cautiously.
“Good,” said Beatrice then, “I’m glad I’m talking to a sane person at least.”
“Are there insane people involved with the case?” Cindy was fascinated.
“It’s not up to me to evaluate an individual’s sanity,” Beatrice carefully bypassed Cindy’s question. “Naturally, the family was devastated as the process went on and on. It was a huge strain on everyone, including the staff.”
“Why the staff?” asked Cindy, surprised, “because of the attention by reporters?”
“Yes, that, of course, and also the reaction of the patient’s husband,” Beatrice breathed. “He never left the room, slept, bathed, and ate in that spot for two months.” Then Beatrice looked up at Cindy to see what she thought of that.
“He sounds extremely devoted,” Cindy remarked.
“Or extremely nervous to leave Tara alone,” Beatrice responded. “Owen watched over everything each nurse did as though she were coming to take his precious wife away. Finally, he wouldn’t even allow Tara to have a night nurse. He said he’d take the night shift himself.”
“All the more reason to feel that he didn’t do it,” Cindy said carefully.
“Not necessarily,” Beatrice leaned closer. “The strain on him, too, was beyond belief. How long can one keep going on like that? It’s entirely possible that he snapped.”
“Anything is possible, of course,” said Cindy. “But that’s an assumption; it’s not evidence to have him locked up.”
Beatrice looked at Cindy harshly. “I’m not suggesting my remarks are evidence of anything. I’m just filling you in. If you’re speaking of hard, cold evidence, there’s none of it. There’s no possible way of determining who put the lethal substance into the patient’s IV. None at all. There were many who felt relieved when she finally passed.”
“Someone knows though,” Cindy murmured, half to Beatrice and half to herself.
“What’s that you’re saying?” Beatrice leaned closer.
“I believe someone knows, who put the substance into the IV,” Cindy repeated more clearly.
“What do you base that upon?” Beatrice seemed momentarily frightened.
“I base it upon investigating many cases,” Cindy reported. “When we dig long enough, we always find someone who knows the answer, someone who’s seen something crucial. I’ve grown to count on it.”
Beatrice tossed her head back. “Well, that’s out of my domain, I wouldn’t know. My job is to oversee the nurses here. I’m head nurse on this floor, that’s all.”
“That’s quite a lot,” said Cindy.
“I like my job and I’m good at it,” Beatrice looked Cindy straight in the eye.
“I’m sure you are,” said Cindy. “You’ve had so much experience with patients in comas. Did you think Tara would come out of it and be okay?” Cindy decided to suddenly throw Beatrice a curve ball.
The question jostled her. “Of course it depends what you mean by okay,” Beatrice remarked. “I’ve seen patients recover fully after a lengthy coma, but more commonly they’re left impaired. Often the family feels it’s kinder to let them go.”
“Are you suggesting someone from the family did this?” Cindy pushed on.
“I’m not suggesting anything of the kind,” Beatrice was on the alert. “I’m telling you that your questions are all open ended and have no answers, just suppositions.”
“But Tara Danden was murdered,” Cindy reminded her forcefully. “Someone actively took her life.”
“You can view it that way if you choose to,” Beatrice shuddered slightly.
“It has nothing to do with whether or not I chose to,” Cindy replied. “There are facts in the case.”
“You can view euthanasia as murder, or as compassionate action,” Beatrice replied forcefully.
“That’s not up to me, it’s up to the courts,” Cindy stated. “And right now a man who well might be innocent is being held for a crime.”
“I’m aware of that,” said Beatrice, suddenly tired.
“Do you think Owen killed his wife, Beatrice?” Cindy asked bluntly.
“I have absolutely no idea about that,” Beatrice responded tartly, unwilling to get pulled in. “If you ask other nurses or aids on the floor they’ll each tell you something different. It’s all gossip, rumors, speculation. No one knows, and that’s a fact.”
“I really need to speak to Alana, the nurse in charge of Tara’s care,” Cindy changed the topic abruptly. She had to take the next step.
Beatrice placed her hands flat out on the desk. “Alana happens to be home sick today, believe it or not.”
“What’s wrong with her?” asked Cindy disconcerted.
“I have no idea. This is the first time Alana’s ever called in sick,” Beatrice continued. “Frankly, I’m as surprised as you. I think someone told her you were coming.”
Cindy was taken aback. “Who? Are you suggesting that Alana doesn’t want to talk to me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Beatrice repeated. “Just that she’s suddenly ill, though she looked perfectly fine to me yesterday. I believe you and Mattheus went to some hospital party last night, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Cindy, wondering what that had to do with anything.
“Well, I’m sure Alana heard about it,” Beatrice said flatly. “If you ask me, it seems like Alana figured it would be convenient to be sick now for a few days while you are in town.” Then Beatrice gave Cindy an odd glance.
Cindy wondered what she was actually trying to tell her. “I’d like Alana’s home address and phone,” said Cindy. “I’ll contact her myself immediately.”
“Absolutely not,” Beatrice replied instantly. “I’m not at liberty to give that to you.”
“But this is a murder investigation,” Cindy insisted.
“Alana’s home is off limits,” said Beatrice. “You’ll have to wait until she returns to work.”
“You’re protecting her?” Cindy felt dazed.
“I’m doing my job,” said Beatrice.
“Getting in the way of a murder investigation,” Cindy suggested.
“Not at all. I’m in my legal rights here,” Beatrice snapped.
But Cindy wouldn’t let it go at that. She needed more from Beatrice.
“In your professional opinion would you say that Alana was a good nurse?” Cindy probed.
“Good or not is beside the point,” Beatrice dodged the question. “Alana has a right to her privacy. And yes, she is a good nurse. She did a fine job with Tara, no one would dispute that.”
Then why won’t you let me talk to her, Cindy wondered.
“Okay, I think that’s enough for today,” Beatrice pulled her chair back suddenly, “unless there’s something else you need to know.”
Cindy was far from ready to end the interview though. “What about Tara’s family?” she pushed forward. “Which ones were in Tara’s room the most?”
Beatrice looked at Cindy coolly. “As I was not the nurse on the case, that’s not something I can tell you,” she replied. “Alana will help you with that, or some of the nurse’s aides who worked with her. Will that be it? I have a lot to take care of.”
Of course Beatrice was busy, had a lot of responsibility, but Cindy still wondered why she was so eager to end the interview.
“For now,” said Cindy.
Beatrice looked surprised, as she stood up. “There’s truly nothing further I have to tell you.”
Cindy stood up as well, “Things come up when you least expect them to,” she replied. “I’ll stay in touch, if you don’t mind.”
Beatrice neither consented nor refused, just walked to the door, opened it and stepped out as if a great load had been taken off her chest.
*
After speaking with Beatrice Cindy was more determined than ever to get Alana’s contact information. This was no time for playing games or going by official rules. As time went by and the case was unsolved, Owen became more and more entrenched as the suspect.
Cindy went back to the main desk to see who else she could talk to. The receptionist who’d been there before was gone and a young, spry, Jamaica man sat at the desk, taking calls and handling paperwork.
“Hi,” Cindy came up to him brightly, “I’m Cindy Blaine, here to investigate Tara Danden’s case.”
“Oh sure,” his eyes lit right up. “I heard of you. We all did.”
“I’d like to speak to some of the aides on the floor who worked in Tara’s room,” Cindy said naturally, as though it were a matter of course.
“Sure thing,” he agreed, picking up the phone and buzzing someone. “Gloria, you got a second? Someone up front wants to talk to you. Great.” Then he hung up. “She’ll be here in a second. I’m glad to help. My name is Skip.”
Cindy liked Skip immediately and he liked her. “I really appreciate your help, Skip,” Cindy said in a heartfelt manner. “Right now I need all the help I can get.”
“So do we all,” he whispered back.
“I especially need help with Tara,” Cindy stepped closer to the desk.
Skip’s eyes got wide. “Tara’s gone now,” his voice dropped. “You think she needs help now wherever she is?”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” said Cindy quickly, shivering. “I mean I need help finding out who put the substance in her IV.”
Skip flinched. “That was a horrible thing, terrible,” he exclaimed. Cindy was surprised to see how strongly it affected him.
When a person’s in a coma for a long time, a bunch of us from the hospital pray for
them every morning in the day room, over there,” he quickly said.
Cindy was startled. “That’s really lovely,” she said, touched.
“It makes a big difference, believe me,” Skip went on.
“I’m sure it does,” said Cindy.
“A lot of times we even see the blood pressure settle down after we pray,” he went on.
Cindy was impressed by this young man. She’d heard that many Jamaicans were religious, but it was especially uplifting to talk to someone who took his faith so seriously.
“We all felt Tara was going to make it,” Skip went on, sensing Cindy’s interest. “God is the healer, God can heal everything.”
“Not this time, though,” said Cindy sadly.
“You don’t know that for sure,” Skip interrupted. “How do you know what really happens in a coma?” He looked deeply at Cindy, as if he were trying to make a point.
“I don’t know, of course,” said Cindy feebly.
“For all we know the patient was recovering, just taking a rest, that’s all,” he said.
Cindy barely knew what to make of what he was saying.
“Some people even think that’s what happens after someone passes away,” Skip was on a roll. “It can be beautiful afterwards, healing continues. Some are way better off there.”
That was hard for Cindy to absorb. She immediately thought of her sister, Ann. Was she better off now, was she healing and happy?
“But we can’t know what happens for sure, can we?” Cindy breathed,
“Sure we can,” Skip smiled.
“If we can know something like that, then why can’t we know who ended Tara’s life?” asked Cindy.
“We will,” said Scott, “believe me. Someone here knows everything.”
“Who?” asked Cindy, mesmerized.
“You’re doing what’s right. God is on your side. Don’t give up, keep looking,” Skip whispered.
“Do you have any ideas?” asked Cindy.
“Not really,” Skip replied. “They didn’t let most of us go into the room. We just heard things from the nurses and aids. Talk to them,” Skip looked over his shoulder. “There are lots of different opinions floating around.”
“Is Gloria a good one to talk to?” asked Cindy.
“Yeah, she’s perfect, she’s the best,” Skip said, as a short, plump woman in her early forties ambled down the floor. “Hey, Gloria, over here,” he waved to her, “come meet Cindy Blaine.”
Gloria came over to the desk, smiling at Cindy, “How do you do,” she said.
“Cindy’s here to find out about what happened to Tara,” Skip said quickly.
Gloria rolled her eyes. “Come down to the cafeteria with me for lunch,” she said to Cindy, “and we can talk.”
“Talk in public?” asked Cindy, “it’s okay?”
“Sure,” said Gloria, “why shouldn’t it be? We’re not hiding from anyone.”
Skip winked to Cindy, as she waved good bye before going to the elevator with Gloria for lunch.
*
Even though it was lunchtime the cafeteria was mostly empty. Cindy loaded her tray with an egg salad sandwich, yogurt, salad and two large iced teas. Her head was spinning and she wanted the comfort a big lunch would give.
“Boy, you’re hungry,” said Gloria, who just took a bowl of vegetable soup and lead Cindy to a table for two near a big window.
“This place is practically empty,” Cindy remarked, “how come?”
“There’s hardly ever anyone here,” said Gloria, sitting down. “Most of the guests order food in from a fine restaurant down the road and eat in private rooms reserved for them.”
Once again the hospital seemed strange to Cindy. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me,” she said to Gloria.
“It’s my pleasure,” said Gloria, “I’ve been one of the main aides on the case and have been wanting to talk to someone for a long time.”
“You didn’t speak to the police?” asked Cindy, surprised.
Gloria shook her head. “Alana and the head nurse did. But police and reporters don’t bother with the aides.”
“It’s their loss,” said Cindy.
“You can say that again,” said Gloria, “cause I was in the room a lot. And aides know things that even the family don’t.”
Cindy bit into her sandwich feeling ravished and tremendously sad.
“When you work with coma patients, you see lots of things,” Gloria took a big spoonful of soup and grinned at Cindy, exposing a missing front tooth. “I’m sure you know that Owen never left the room. It became annoying to the nurses. He was normal when there were visitors, but when visitors were gone he became weird.”
“How?” Cindy was transfixed.
“Owen kept saying how beautiful Tara was once and that she’d never be beautiful again. Sometimes he’d say it right close up to Tara’s ear. It bothered Alana a lot. One day she told the idiot to cut it out. Alana said Tara was still beautiful and always would be. Owen shook his head and kept repeating that it was finished now, Tara woul
d never be beautiful again. It was depressing as hell.”
“Sounds like he was devastated by the accident,” said Cindy, trying to make sense of it. “He couldn’t stand to see what had become of his wife. You don’t think he actually helped her die, do you?”
“Not at all,” Gloria muttered. “Just another sickie with a lot of money and no brains. If you ask me, I believe someone in the family did it.”
“Who did it and why?” asked Cindy, fascinated.
Gloria lifted the bowl of soup to her mouth and finished it all in one gulp. “I always tried to cheer up the family when they came to visit. I tried to tell them how Tara was doing, but none of them would give me the time of day. They didn’t want to hear a word I said. And I had important information, believe me”
“What information?” Cindy began to feel afraid.
“A few times I saw Tara open her eyes late at night and look around the room,” Gloria whispered in a grating tone. “She was here, she was back, I told them. But they wouldn’t listen.”
“They probably thought it was just a reflex,” Cindy uttered.
“No, it wasn’t a reflex,” Gloria was adamant. “I told them I even heard her speak.” Gloria began breathing heavily, “but not one asked me what Tara said. And her stupid father brushed me away like a fly.”
“It scared them,” Cindy exclaimed, “it didn’t make sense.”
“But at least they should have asked what their daughter said,” Gloria insisted. “Anyone who cared would have asked that.”
“What did Tara say?” asked Cindy, terrified to hear.
“Tara told me she wanted to die,” Gloria whimpered. “She said, let me go, let me go, I beg you. I heard her like we’re speaking right now.”
“What did you say to her, Gloria?” Cindy was totally caught up.
“II didn’t know what to answer. So, I just said, when the time is right honey, when the time is right.”
Cindy shivered all over. “Who else did you tell this to, Gloria?”
Gloria flushed, elated that someone finally took her seriously. “I told it to Alana, I told it to Owen. I even told it to Dr. Padden. No one cared a thing about what I said. They just kept Tara hooked up to the tubes and machines, hanging onto life. Then I finally told Tara’s daughter.”
