Lady Justice and the Broken Hearts

by Robert Thornhill

  “Nobody at the hospital knows you’re here. Am I right?”

  She hung her head. “No, this is all me. This is my life’s work and I care deeply about our patients. If something is going on, we need to know. During the time we were together at the hospital, I could sense that you were a kind and caring man. I --- I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  “Of course I want to help, but I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Start with these,” she said, handing me a stack of files. “These are the records of the four patients we lost. I copied them.”

  “Geez! Isn’t that a violation of that HIPPA thing? I remember signing a ream of paper about that when I checked in.”

  “It certainly is. If anyone found out I had given these to you, I would not only be fired, I’d lose my license and probably be fined.”

  “Seems like you’re taking a pretty big risk.”

  “Walt, people are dying. We need to know why. Besides, I trust you.”

  “You’re secret is safe with me.”

  “One question, and I think I already know the answer. Was an autopsy done on any of the four to determine cause of death?”

  “No, that’s not normally done under these circumstances.”

  “I thought not.” I remembered from my years as a cop, that when Ox and I were called when someone died, there was no autopsy if a doctor signed off on the death.

  “I’ll take a look at the files and get back to you. Don’t get your hopes up. I might find something and I might not.”

  “Ummm, how much do you charge?” she asked embarrassed. “I’m on a pretty tight budget.”

  I remembered her giving me medicine for nausea when I was puking up my heels, emptying my pee thingy, and walking with me when I couldn’t sleep.

  “Tell you what. Let’s just call this a ‘thank you gift’ for all you did for me while I was under your care.”

  A tear ran down her cheek and she gave me a hug.

  After she left, I started looking through the files. When I was on the force, if we had multiple homicides, one of the first things we did was look for a common element in the cases. If we could find even one thing that would tie them together, we would have a place to start our investigation.

  Being on the cardiac floor, naturally all of the cases were heart related, but each was a bit different. One had experienced a heart attack, another had received a transplant, a third had a quadruple by-pass, and the fourth had a valve repair like mine. Nothing there.

  Next, I looked for social ties. Two of the victims lived in Kansas City, but the other two came from Warrensburg and Boliver, towns miles away from Kansas City. Another dead end.

  Two were retired, one was a farmer and the last, a librarian.

  I ‘Googled’ them all and found nothing in common between the four.

  The only thing I found that the four had in common was that they all died during the night. Not exactly a revelation. Each had different cardiologists and the ones that had gone under the knife had different surgeons.

  Each had a different nurse on duty for the night shift, but the one thing they all had in common was that Marcie was on duty during the day. Since they all died in the wee hours of the morning, I didn’t consider that a relevant fact.

  After hours of going through the files time and again, I came up empty. Maybe the unfortunate deaths were just a horrible coincidence after all.

  That night I was exhausted and went right to sleep, but around two in the morning Mr. Bladder was needing my attention. After taking care of business, I couldn’t go back to sleep.

  My mind wandered back to my stay at the hospital and I remembered being awake at about this same time and walking the deserted halls with Kim. I remembered thinking at the time, that security on the floor was practically non-existent, and that pretty much anyone could come and go as they pleased.

  Then it occurred to me. I had been looking for something that would tie someone in the hospital to the deaths. Maybe it had nothing to do with hospital staff or procedures. Maybe someone was coming off the street to do these people in. But who, why and how?

  I started thinking about the ‘how.’ A few years earlier, a man who called himself Thanatos was practicing euthanasia in Kansas City. I had been recruited to go undercover since I was the closest thing they had to an old dying man.

  Thanatos used a machine invented by the infamous Dr. Kevorkian, called the Thanatron. This device involved an individual pushing a button that released drugs or chemicals that would end his or her own life. It had three canisters or bottles mounted on a metal frame. Each bottle had a syringe that connected to a single I.V. line in the person's arm. The first bottle contained ordinary saline, or salt water. Another contained a sleep-inducing barbiturate called sodium thiopental, and the third a lethal mixture of potassium chloride, which immediately stopped the heart.

  As I thought about it, it occurred to me that every heart patient at the hospital was already hooked to a saline drip and had most likely been given something to help them sleep. The only other thing needed to complete the Thanatron was the potassium chloride which could be purchased online at Amazon or at any health food store.

  Its effect would be to stop the heart and since that’s exactly why these people were in the hospital, no one would notice.

  I was satisfied that I had figured out the ‘how,’ but was totally lost as to the ‘who’ and the ‘why.’

  Jason smiled as he slipped out of his apartment and headed to the hospital. His plan was working. Marcie was a basket case. As the death toll mounted, she had become more morose and withdrawn. He hated to see her suffer, but in the long run it would be the best thing that ever happened to her. Soon, she would come to her senses, quit, and take the position at the clinic that would bring her home to him at a reasonable hour.

  As he crept through the deserted hall of the cardiac ward, he thought of his next victim, a boy of twelve who had been born with heart defects. It was one thing to off an eighty-year-old guy who had already led a full life, but quite another to snuff a kid. The upside was that the tragedy would be even harder for Marcie to bear. Maybe this would be the one to push her over the edge.

  He peeked into the room. The boy was sound asleep as was the mother on the pull-out bed.

  Quietly, he inserted the syringe into the I.V. and pushed the plunger.

  He could see the boy’s eyes flicker under the closed lids and then there was no movement at all. He hurried out of the room as the read-out on the monitor flat-lined and ‘Code Red’ echoed down the hall.

  Another job well done.

  I had just finished my bowl of Wheaties when the phone rang.

  “Walt, this is Kim. We lost another one last night. This time it was a twelve-year-old boy. We can’t keep losing people like this.”

  “I’m so sorry. Listen, I don’t know if you have enough pull to get this done, but if you can, check the boy’s blood for potassium chloride.”

  “Seriously! Surely you don’t think --- ?”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s hard to believe that someone might be injecting these people on purpose, but now’s the time to find out for sure. Can you get it done?”

  “I have a friend in the lab. I’ll get it done and let you know.”

  An hour later she called back. “You were right. The technician found potassium chloride in the boy’s blood. How did you know?”

  “Just a lucky guess, but since you’ve confirmed it, this is a whole new ball game. We’ve just graduated from five mysterious deaths to five homicides. We’ve got a serial killer on our hands and it’s time to go to the cops.”

  There was a pause “Somebody needs to break the news to the hospital administrators.”

  “Let me take care of that after I speak to my contacts at the precinct. It might be better if your superiors didn’t know you had copied files and gotten me involved.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  As soon as she hung up, I was on the phone to Captain
Short. After a brief conversation, I was on my way to the precinct. It was almost like I hadn’t retired.

  When I arrived, Detective Derek Blaylock from the Homicide Division was already in the captain’s office.

  During my five years on the force, Ox and I had worked many cases with Blaylock. He never ceased to be amazed at how two grunt patrol cops found themselves in the middle of so many high profile cases.

  “Thought we got rid of you,” he quipped, extending his hand. “You’re like a case of athlete’s foot that keeps coming back no matter what we do.”

  “Thanks, I missed you too.”

  “So tell me about this string of hospital deaths. How did you get mixed up in this in the first place?”

  “Well, it all started when I was in the hospital for my open heart surgery.”

  I saw the startled look on his face. “Open heart surgery! No one said anything.” He looked at the captain. “Did you know about this?”

  The captain nodded. “Ox and I knew, but Walt didn’t want to make a big fuss about it so we didn’t spread the word.”

  “So you’re an official member of the ‘zipper club.’ Welcome,” he said unbuttoning his shirt and exposing a six inch scar.

  It was my turn to be shocked. “I had no idea. When did you have your surgery?”

  He thought for a moment. “Going on ten years now.”

  “No ill effects?”

  “I’m fit as a fiddle. Now back to these murders. Give me the details.”

  For the next half hour, I shared everything I knew about the five deaths.

  “Looks like you’re right on, as usual,” Blaylock said after I finished. “The next step is to meet with representatives from the hospital.”

  “Can you find a way to leave Kim Delany’s name out of it. I don’t want her getting in trouble.”

  He thought for a moment. “Sure, I’ll just tell them that the family of one of the victims came to us. That should do the trick.”

  He thought for a moment more. “When I go to the hospital, I’d like to have a plan of action ready to present to them and I think I have one that just might work.”

  The captain and I looked at him expectantly.

  He turned to me. “Are you up for an undercover assignment?”

  I couldn’t believe what he was asking. “I just had my chest cracked open three weeks ago and you’re wanting me to go after a serial killer?”

  “Actually, your current condition is the perfect cover,” he said, grinning. “I want you to go back into the hospital as a patient so you can keep an eye on things. We’ll figure some excuse. Maybe your incision isn’t healing properly or something like that. Based on what you’ve told me, whoever is doing this is coming during the night. You know the hospital procedure and most of the personnel, so you’d be perfect to spot somebody who doesn’t belong.”

  “Then what? Am I supposed to subdue this person? Remember, I can’t lift more than ten pounds for another five weeks.”

  “Of course not. We’ll have another officer on the floor undercover as one of the nurse’s assistants.”

  I thought for a moment. “Okay, you’ve got a deal, but on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ox will be with me as the nurse’s assistant.”

  The captain grinned. “I think Ox would be perfect for the job.”

  “Yes,” I replied. “I just know he’ll be thrilled.”

  It looked like the dynamic duo would be working together again.

  CHAPTER 14

  My new assignment got mixed reviews.

  To say that Maggie wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea would be an understatement.

  “You’re doing what? I can’t believe it! Three weeks ago, the surgeon was holding your heart in his hands, and now you tell me you’re going after a serial killer?”

  Once I assured her that I would just be there to observe, and that Ox would be with me, she began to relent. The thing that won the day was when I told her that the killer’s latest victim was a twelve-year-old boy. Reluctantly, she agreed that the perp’s reign of terror must come to an end.

  As I expected, Ox was excited when he learned that we would be working together again, but his euphoria was short-lived when he was told that he would be undercover as a nurse’s assistant.

  We had been down this road before. A couple of years ago, we were undercover at the Still Meadows nursing home. We were there to gather evidence of a scheme to defraud Medicare. Naturally, as an old guy, I was admitted as a resident and Ox was an orderly. He was less than exuberant when he discovered that his duties included emptying bedpans.

  Nevertheless, I was happy to be reunited with my old partner and working with the Lady Justice wearing the long white robe.

  Not to be left out, the Lady Justice from the dark side made her presence felt in the person of my partner at Walt Williams Investigations, Kevin McBride. As soon as he got wind of the plan, there was no holding him back. He insisted on being a part of things, so we arranged to have him come during the evening as a visitor, then hide away in one of the vacant rooms.

  We decided not to tell Blaylock about this latest development. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and I felt more comfortable with an extra firearm on the floor. After all, we were going after a serial killer.

  My cover story was that I had been experiencing fatigue and shortness of breath since my surgery, so the surgeon wanted me in the hospital for observation.

  Naturally, the hospital administrator was in on the scheme, but Kim was the only nurse that knew what was going on. I used the excuse that since she was the night duty nurse, she needed to be in the loop so that I could come and go as I needed.

  Since the other nurses thought I was a regular patient, I was forced to go through the usual intake procedure.

  It’s one thing to be buck nekkid in one of those god-awful gowns when you’re sick and don’t give a damn. It’s quite another when you’re well. I really didn’t have a choice. The same with the I.V. in the arm. At least I was spared the one in the jugular vein in my neck.

  Another skill I learned when undercover at the nursing home was how to slip a pill under my tongue, then spit it out when the nurse wasn’t looking. That certainly came in handy. The last thing I needed was to be drugged out of my mind with a cold-blooded killer roaming the halls.

  When I was wheeled into my room, I was pleased to see that Marcie was the duty nurse. We had become friends during my previous visit.

  I was appalled when I first saw her. I was used to seeing her perky, energetic and enthusiastic, but today she looked haggard and her eyes were dark and puffy.

  “Walt, I’m happy to see you again, but sorry you had to come back.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing serious. The doctor is just being cautious.”

  She took my temperature and blood pressure and was about to leave when I put my hand on her arm.

  “Marcie, what’s wrong? You’re just not yourself. Talk to me.”

  She paused for a moment, then closed the door and sat on the edge of my bed. “I --- I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I need to talk to someone. I felt very comfortable with you when you were here. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. What’s bothering you?”

  “I don’t know if you’re aware, but we’ve lost several patients in the past month.”

  “Yes, I have heard something about that. The first one was Malcom McCloud and his wife while I was still here.”

  “There’s been four more --- and all of them were my patients. No one can figure out what’s going on and every time we lose one, it just breaks my heart. I --- I just don’t know how much more I can bear.” She held up her thumb and index finger. “I’m this close to quitting.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” I replied. “You weren’t even here when they passed away.”

  She looked at me, surprised. “How did you know that?’

  Oops! Too much information. “I
hear things,” I said, trying to cover up. “Anyway, it would be a great loss if you left. You’re so good at what you do.”

  “Not anymore,” she said, shaking her head. “My heart’s just not in it. Good people like you come in and I get attached to them, then all of a sudden they’re dead. It just hurts so much.”

  I wanted to tell her that all the deaths were the work of a serial killer and that we were going to catch the creep, but of course, I couldn’t.

  “I totally understand. I just hope you’ll hang around while I’m here. No one can fluff a pillow as good as you.”

  That brought a smile to her face.

  “I promise I’ll stay as long as you’re here. Just don’t die on me. I couldn’t take that.”

  “Not planning to,” I replied, as she walked out.

  She had only been gone a few minutes when Ox came huffing in.

  “You owe me big time!” he said, grimacing.

  “You look like you just finished sucking on a lemon. What’s up?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s up,” he replied with disgust. “Mr. Livingston’s wanger. I was giving the old geezer a sponge bath, and when I got to his junk, boinnnng! There it was. Have you ever given an eighty-year-old guy with a boner a sponge bath?”

  “Can’t say as I have,” I replied, trying to stifle a grin.

  “Well, it’s no picnic. What was I supposed to do, keep washing it or just ignore it?”

  “I’m guessing this story didn’t have a ‘happy ending.’”

  “Very funny. How come every time we get an assignment, I get the bedpans and the horny old goats?”

  “Would you rather have this?” I asked, pointing to the I.V. in my arm. I knew he had a needle phobia.

  “Maybe not,” he replied, backing off.

  “It’s all just part of the job. Stuff we have to endure to catch the bad guy.”

  “Oh yeah,” he said, departing, “well I’m telling the nurse you want an enema. Have a nice day.”