The efficient woman pushed her glasses up on her nose and then peered over them as she reached across her desk to riffle through the sheets in his hands. She pulled up the last section. “Look the data from Runnymede.”
“Who is Runnymede? I’ve never heard of them.” Jamie slouched in his seat as he focused on the information in his hands.
“They make silicon wafers. You know, the chips in phones and computers.”
Jamie leafed through the pages reading only the highlighted chemical names on each page. Sodium hydroxide, hydrogen peroxide, hydrofluoric acid, sulfuric acid. He glanced up, this was vicious stuff. On the fifth page, midway down, he saw it. Arsenic.
“You’ve got it!” Jamie clapped her outstretched hand. “Could they possibly be releasing any of this stuff into the river?”
“I asked them, but they won’t speak to me about it. I’ll bet that they won’t release that information without a subpoena.”
“How did you get the rest of this?” Jamie asked.
“Public information.”
“So can you write me up a subpoena?”
“Right here.” She pulled a single sheet of paper out of a basket next to her desk.
“Louise, you’re super.” Jamie jumped up and went to his office with it. “I think that I’ll take this over there with me now.”
Louise nodded. “Here’s the address. By the way, what came back at the lab?”
“Nothing. Zilch.”
“Can you use this factory stuff if we can’t prove that there was anything on the plants?”
“Of course. I just won’t mention the results,” he said. “See ya later. How late will you be here?”
“The night before the hearing? I’ll go pick us up some sandwiches,” said Louise.
Atta girl, thought Jamie.
Chapter 18
On court day morning, I woke up at 3:00 AM. No more sleep was coming to me. I had only been in bed for four hours, and I slept for only half of that. The judge would commence at nine, and Jacqueline was coming to pick me up at 7:30 for breakfast. That left four and a half hours to wait. I walked down to my workroom and began mentally preparing for the day ahead. My nerves were as frazzled as though I were preparing for my board exam in medical school. I tried giving myself a pep talk. I paced around the house but after four trips up the stairs I was ready to scream. I had to focus on something else.
On the workbench several scraps of metal were still lying around. I began to fumble with the materials. At first, I was just occupying my hands, but my mind soon focused on the task and I blocked out my anxiety. What began to emerge from those efforts was a stick. I worked the metal into a three-inch long twig with a rough bark-like texture and knobs alternating around the body to imitate broken off branches. I placed it into the electroplate basin where the remains of my gold solution had been ignored in the police search of my house. Hoping that there was still enough gold in the liquid to coat my narrow pin, I switched on the battery.
While I waited for the gold to accumulate, I ran on the treadmill. Twenty minutes of sweat was cathartic. Not a thought of the coming day crossed my mind. I showered quickly and went to check on my newest piece of jewelry.
In the workroom, I donned non-latex exam gloves and removed a shiny, yellow twig from its bath with a pair of tongs and rinsed it off. I set a tiny seed pearl on the top, round like the handle of a good walking stick, and sighed with gratification. My nerves were my own again.
Steve had called last night and wished me well, even after I cussed him out about his affair being with Sarah of all people. He said that he hadn’t told me who it was originally because he did not want to damage our doctor/patient relationship, and he said he knew how much Sarah had needed me.
He also said that Sarah had spent most of their time together asking about me. He said that he felt that Sarah was with him only to connect with me and he felt more like an interloper than a lover. So, he had broken off the relationship. He didn’t say why he had entered into the relationship however. And I didn’t ask him. It just didn’t seem to be important anymore. Amazing how something like facing life in prison will put everything else into perspective.
I realized, as I turned my new pin back and forth in the light, that Steve had been right. Sarah had over-identified with me. I remembered Psychology texts describing the phenomenon of transference when a patient distorts the relationship with the doctor. They begin to act out fantasies with the doctor. Most often they did this by attempting to draw the doctor into an affair, or by accusing the doctor of having abused the relationship when an attempt at seduction failed. I had never heard of a patient having an affair with the doctor’s husband, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. I took a deep breath. Whatever Steve’s reasons for cheating, of which I had imagined plenty, at least now I thought I understood Sarah’s interest in him and that seemed to help in some way. I understood finally that Steve really did love me, that his actions had not been about me and any shortcomings I might believe myself to have. Despite what the rest of the day might hold, that knowledge affected me deeply, so that I felt lighter than I had in months. Freed in some way I couldn’t quite define. In that moment of clarity however, I also realized that I no longer missed Steve. I still loved him in some way, cared for him, but I had gotten a piece of myself back that had been missing, and I wasn’t going to lose it again.
It was 6:45 when I emerged from my workshop, and I decided to wear the pin to court. I went upstairs to dress just a few minutes before the doorbell rang. Jacqueline let herself in, and called upstairs.
“Nic, are you ready?”
“Yes.” I stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down at her with calm in my soul. I had chosen a simple heather gray dress with minimal makeup, with only my new twiggy stickpin, and some earrings for jewelry.
“You look perfect,” said Jacqueline. “Business-like, but not too uptight.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Are you really ready?”
“If I’m not, can we save this for another day?” My stomach churned.
“No.”
“Then who cares if I’m ready or not?” Bitter waves welled up in my gut.
“I do. You need to be ready for court,” answered Jacqueline.
“It isn’t quite like you suiting up for battle, Jackie. You were meant for a courtroom.”
Jacqueline was indeed in high gear, and she laughed, “C’mon, let’s go knock 'em dead.”
“Quite the apropos phrase, Jack.” I couldn’t help but smirk. Gallows humor, I guess.
She shrugged with a mischievous look in her eyes.
We stepped outside. Jacqueline picked up the paper on the front stoop, and turned to take it back inside. “Hey, look at the front page!”
The front page of the morning paper carried a full half-page article about my case. The report said that Steve Lane was likely the murderer. It gave the tale of his flight into hiding from Sarah Summers, saying that he had tired of Summers early in the affair. Originally, he had found it sufficient to break off the affair, but then, when she caused the demise of his marriage, he developed a more vengeful frame of mind. The paper listed a witness as saying that he had used some of his wife’s arsenic and resumed seeing the woman as he slowly poisoned her. The dose had not been enough to kill her immediately, and he had grown desperate. Ultimately, he had moved to an unlisted address in an effort to hide, and then when Summers finally became sick enough to be admitted to the hospital; he had given her the biggest dose ever trying to make her death appear to be a complication of her hospitalization.
There was description at the end of ‘Dr. Lane’s valiant efforts to save the life of her husband’s lover', and of 'her recent attempts to save an orphan girl’. It made me look like a hero.
The story said that a piece of my jewelry had been found in the home of the deceased, apparently the unseemly remains of Steve’s early generosity to his mistress. The article stated that a detective had located Steve at his h
idden home, and questioned him on the case, but had not made an arrest. Finally, there was a boxed plea to the public to help free his wrongly accused wife.
I looked at Jacqueline, in disbelief, “Where did this come from? They practically crucified Steve right there on the front page.”
Jacqueline said, “It’s no different from what they were saying about you.”
“They’ve been saying that?” I was suddenly glad that I had buried all of the newspapers, if I’d seen something like that written about me, I would have had crumpled where I sat.
“And worse.” Jacqueline affirmed, grabbing me by the elbow to steady me. “Haven’t you seen the papers?” She led me toward my sofa. “The only positive article about you was the one Mr. Adams wrote the other day.” Jacqueline’s voice was soothing and approving. “That was a good move to take him out looking for your cellmate.”
I took the paper, still a little light headed, “Who wrote this article? Adams again. Where did he get this story? I certainly never said any of this.”
“I know that he’s been tracking you heavily. He could have cobbled this together. There’s nothing out there that makes you appear guiltier than your husband. Maybe you impressed him. Maybe he was just looking for a different slant to sell more newspapers. I don’t know.”
I looked up at my friend’s face. Faithful through it all. “What happens to me now?”
She smiled down at me, but started for the front door beckoning me with a tilt of her head. “You appear in court this morning as scheduled. Of course, this will only help you in court today.”
“Jackie, do you really think that Steve did it?” I picked up my handbag by the door and followed her out. I looked across the gray-green dew covered lawn, the grass from sod strips that Steve had dug and planted by hand, and then babied through the dry summer heat while it got established.
“Yes, actually, I do,” said Jacqueline. I rubbed my temples, as I followed Jacqueline’s bright green footprints across Steve’s former lawn.
***
Meanwhile across town, Jamie’s phone rang awakening him. He was always a late sleeper, and he had no trouble sleeping the night before a court date, even in a big case like this one. He did have to increase the number of antacids that he took, however. He answered the telephone rather groggily and was met with an angry barrage.
“Jimmie, I don’t know how you got this into the paper, and I don’t know why you would stoop so low, but I am mad as hell.”
Jamie jerked straight up in his bed. “Who is this? You have the wrong number.”
“Don’t play dumb. You planned this. You planned this for today, so that we would have to back off. We can’t try this case now. No jury in the world would believe us. You sabotaged us.”
Jamie became fully awake, and aware that the assaulting voice was that of Phil Dormand. “We’re not going to trial?”
“I told you not to play dumb,” said the prosecutor. “If I can find any evidence to connect you to this, I’m going to have you disbarred.”
“Let me get the paper. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jamie pulled his silk paisley robe on over his boxer shorts, and walked out to the front yard with his cordless phone. He had to search for a few moments, because the paperboy had thrown The Daily News into the bushes again. He spread the thing out on the front stoop, and was stunned.
“You know that I wouldn’t say anything like this.” His eyebrows came down like twin black clouds shading his eyes. “You know better than that.”
“They got details from somewhere. Who else had access to the facts of the case?”
“I don’t know.” Jamie stepped back inside, free hand clenching and unclenching.
Dormand continued. “We’re going to have to drop this thing now. The jury has been contaminated. Hell, the evidence is now suspect. I can’t try this case.”
“Are you making that official?” Jamie smiled at the ceiling and spun around his foyer, anger forgotten. What a relief. The chances of getting the case dismissed today had been much lower than he was willing to admit. Until this moment, he had been sure that they were headed for a long, drawn-out, devastating trial.
“Yes, I’m calling Judge Smoltz. He’s going to be peeved, and this is not going to help your reputation.” Dormand railed.
“Well, I’m sorry, but thank God,” said Jamie. He hung up and sprinted back to his bedroom where his briefcase still sat with his cell phone and Veronica’s mobile number in it.
***
“They’re dropping the case against you.” Jamie exclaimed when I answered my phone.
“Really?” A rush of adrenaline shot through my chest.
“Have you seen today’s paper?”
“Yes, we saw it before we left.” My heart started racing and I felt light-headed again. I was grateful that Jacqueline was driving.
“Meet me at the courthouse in 45 minutes. We’ll talk about it.”
I hung up, breathless, but smiling, and looked at Jacqueline, “It’s over. They’ve dropped my case. We’re supposed to meet Jamie at the courthouse in a little over half an hour.” I felt the warmth of my blood returning to my face as quickly as it had fled a moment ago.
Jacqueline was triumphant. “I told you that it would be dropped. You’re safe. The right man has been identified.”
“Will they arrest him?”
“Not likely,” said Jacqueline. “Unless Steve comes forward and confesses to the police, this case could never get past a jury. It’s the same story as yours really, simple reality.”
I furrowed my brows. “You knew that this was going to happen?”
“This was the course I suggested. The paper just made it quicker.”
We stopped for breakfast, but I when my eggs arrived, I found that I couldn’t eat. “Jackie, I’m not sure what to make of all this.” There was still a knot in the pit of my stomach that I could not get rid of.
Jacqueline was cheerily spreading apple jelly across a slice of toast. “Nic, you’re clear. You can make a fresh start. And you’re a hero.”
I laughed a little at that. “Then why do I feel like I just stepped on someone’s head?”
Jacqueline shook her head and breathed a smile. “Same old Nic, always worried about the underdog. I hate to ever give him credit, but Steve was on to something when he started talking about your orphans and strays. But, you know that’s why I love you.”
I smiled thinly, but said, “I hate when you say that about me. I hated when he said it.”
“What? That you gather orphans and strays like a spinster does cats?” she smirked. “I keep waiting for the day when you finally give up everything and run off to India to treat the poor people like your dad did.”
I shook my head in mild exasperation. “Jackie, really.”
We arrived at the courthouse exactly 45 minutes after talking to Jamie. He pulled in right behind us. I noticed that he had missed a spot shaving. He steered us quickly toward the side entrance, but a crowd of reporters met us there as well. It was unbelievable how many there were. There were even some from the major news channels in Atlanta.
They were in a frenzy calling and jostling one another for the spots closest to the door. I heard one voice out of the multitude. “How does it feel to know that your husband was the murderer?”
Ice ran down my spine. Jamie pushed me forward through the crowd, while Jacqueline pulled. I had lost all momentum of my own. All the while Jamie repeated over and over, “We have no comment at the present time. We will have a statement when this ordeal is finally resolved for my client.” He was smiling even as he tried to look business-like.
Inside the door silence reigned. Jamie looked straight in my eyes, with an involuntary smile twitching on his face. “Well, Nic, you must be relieved.” His face darkened slightly. “Do you know where the story came from?”
“No.” Jacqueline said promptly. “We don’t. That reporter clearly took the facts into his own hands. But, we’ve told them enough times that
she’s innocent. It was about time that someone took her side. Personally, I think that he hit fairly close to the mark.”
“You don’t think there was really a source at all?” Jamie looked incredulous.
“Maybe not.”
“No one in your office could have leaked that?”
“Well, no one would have. Everyone, except for me of course, has been a part of the case planning and could have known all of those things, but I have trouble imagining that one of our team would sell out a case that way. Even Wood...” Jacqueline suddenly stopped as if remembering with whom she was speaking.
“Wood?” Jamie’s ears perked up. “Woodhouse? Is he your mole?”
Jacqueline’s sparkling green eyes froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I looked back to Jamie who wisely dropped the subject.
All the way down the corridor, I said nothing. I listened to them bantering away light heartedly like this was any other case and became acutely aware of how patients felt when their doctors discussed other matters over their heads.
Jamie noticed first. Turning, he said, “Nic, you’re awfully quiet. You know this is good news. It’s the best outcome we could have gotten. Nothing less could have saved your practice.”
Jacqueline touched him lightly on the arm and shook her head slightly.
I pursed my lips. “It’s mixed news. I don’t know how to feel about waking up to find that my ex-husband is a murderer.”
“He had an affair,” said Jacqueline impatiently. She might have warned Jamie away from upsetting me, but clearly had no qualms about doing so herself. “How many times will you be surprised by his actions?”
“I’ll need to see more hard evidence before I can really believe it. He’s been presumed guilty. I know how bad that feels.” I licked my dry lips, trying to think how to explain my mixed emotions. How could I make them understand what I understood about Steve, about myself, about anything?
Jacqueline was still ranting. “Would you just let your heart quit bleeding for someone else for once? This is a happy occasion.”
This time Jamie stepped in to protect me. “Nic, it isn’t going to be the same for him. The prosecution can do no more with his case than yours, and they know that. Barring new evidence, this case is closed. He’s safe. Don’t worry about your...ex."
Treating Murder: Book One of the Veronica Lane, M.D. series (medical thriller) Page 21
