“I think I should be with you as much as possible.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s morning, and I’ll be around people. I just have a few errands. I’ll be on my guard, and I know where to kick a bad guy.”
Alec chuckled. “I’ll bet you do. All right. I need to stop by my office anyway. Keep your cell phone on. I’ll meet you at the food court, say 1:00?”
“It’s a date.”
Alec turned and walked out.
Laura’s kitchen phone rang. “Hello?”
“Dr. Valorian, my name is Julia Nobles. I’m a nurse. I helped with CPR on the doctor that died. I heard you’re asking questions about his death.”
“Yes, I am, and thanks for calling. I was told that two nurses tried CPR that night.”
“I was one of the nurses, and I’ve been asking questions, too. I saw Mrs. Preswick shopping a few days ago. I’ve known her for a few years. I spoke to her about my CPR on her husband, and she told me you think he was murdered.”
“You said you’ve been asking questions?”
Julia sighed over the phone. “It’s something that’s been on my mind, lately, that is. At first, I just blew it off. But now it keeps bothering me.”
“What’s bothering you?”
“I know basic CPR as well as anyone. I even teach it now and then at courses. Anyway, I started CPR on Dr. Preswick, after I found him lying on the ground with no breathing or pulse. That other nurse ran up and said she knew CPR. She started right away giving mouth-to-mouth ventilations.”
“Yes, you did two-person CPR.”
“The thing is, I don’t know why she was even there. As you know, chest compressions are the most important part of initial CPR. My chest compressions were good enough. At first, I didn’t say anything. I thought maybe she just needed to get into the flow of the situation. After all, this was the real thing. This wasn’t a dummy we were working on. I told her nicely that she wasn’t inflating the lungs properly; the chest wasn’t always rising like it should. She’d give a breath or two that seemed fine, and then his neck would flex and her breaths would just blow his cheeks out instead of inflating his lungs. So, at times, no air was getting to his lungs at all, even with my chest compressions. I even had the feeling that she kept blocking the airflow.
“I figured maybe she was nervous and would forget to keep the neck extended and the airway open, but the whole resuscitation effort went like that until the paramedics arrived. I thought about reporting her to her supervisor, but then the paramedics intubated him and tried shocking his heart. When he didn’t respond at all, they said he’d likely been dead for a while, before basic CPR was started. They said even ideal CPR might not be enough, and his only hope was advanced care in the ER. So, after they loaded him on the ambulance and drove away, I kind of forgot about it.”
Laura was silent for a few seconds.
“Anyway, I thought I’d let you know—”
“Oh, yes, I’m glad you were there. It sounds like you did the best you could. And I really appreciate your calling me. I know that other nurse, and I’ll talk to her about her CPR skills.”
Laura hung up the phone. What the heck does this mean? She knew that some doctors and nurses were overly critical of others in emergency situations. Even in her ER, no two resuscitations were exactly the same, and Laura could usually peg the one or two people in the room who would find something to complain about. Anyone could be a critic, and assuming that role often inflated one’s ego and covered up insecurity. That’s why some people she knew were so quick to criticize.
Nevertheless, maybe something suspicious had happened during Preswick’s CPR.
I’ll discuss it with Alec.
Although it was warm and sunny outside, a few clouds were collecting, and showers were forecast as a good possibility later in the day. Laura completed a few errands in her car and forced herself through some cleaning chores around her house. She then dressed in light brown shorts and a blue polo shirt and walked several blocks to the King Street Metro Subway Station, seeing no one suspicious along the way.
She boarded the yellow line and exited at the Archives Station. A short walk brought her to the Newseum, a popular D.C. attraction located on Pennsylvania Avenue, not far from the National Mall. Laura had visited this museum before to marvel at fascinating exhibits honoring the First Amendment and the history of investigative journalism. After tarrying for a few sobering minutes before 12-foot tall concrete sections of the Berlin Wall, she entered the food court and sat down with a cup of coffee. Her table was next to the walkway that led to the food order area, and it was moderately crowded inside, not unusual for a Saturday. Laura’s sipping was accompanied by the soft echoes of shuffling shoes and the murmur of conversations. She was looking forward to satisfying her hunger and relaxing for a while with Alec.
Laura heard a commotion behind her. Someone gasped and hit her chair, causing it to screech along the floor. Feeling a sharp thud against the back of her head, she recoiled and yelled, “Ouch. Watch out—”
A person turned and stumbled against her, as if he were drunk, and his bag brushed the side of her head. As the man staggered off, Laura glanced up in time to notice that he wore a heavy, bedraggled coat and a blue ski cap. She didn’t get a good look at his face, but she did spot a beard and a sliver of skin across the back of his neck. Although the coat and cap appeared somewhat different in the light of day, Laura realized that the man resembled the person she and Alec had seen at the statue two nights before.
He hadn’t hurt her—only startled her. She felt the back of her head and didn’t sense any blood on her fingertips. She stood, crossed over into the entrance walkway, and hurried after him—bumping, squeezing between, and sometimes irritating the people in front of her. The man was nowhere in sight; she didn’t see the coat or cap ahead of her. Laura guessed he’d rounded a corner and entered a restroom or maybe yanked off his coat and cap and faded into the crowd. It was a large area with multiple exhibits, and a generous afternoon rain had chased even more people inside. Given a slight head start, a person could easily lose himself here, especially if that person could move faster than first impressions indicated.
Laura’s heart pounded as she returned to her table to collect her thoughts. Who was that guy? What was that all about? She wondered if it was just a strange coincidence. It sure looked like the same guy. A coincidence with the same homeless person? She ran her fingers through her hair and sipped her coffee, figuring it was rare that a homeless person ever came in to this museum. Recalling her first glance at the bumbling overdressed man, the exposed neck came into view, and a spot appeared on the skin. She decided that it was probably a bug crawling on him. She shook her head. This is too weird. She thought that maybe Alec was right—maybe they did spook Dr. Preswick’s killer. Laura glanced around for him, although it wasn’t 1:00 yet. She downed the last of her coffee.
She began to feel dizzy. Her head was light, spinning. What is happening? People around her melted into blobs of color, and she could barely stay upright in a sitting position. She managed a weak smile and almost laughed. It was ironic.
She’d never felt like this before, but she’d seen it happen many times and heard plenty of patients describe it to her in the ER. She’d been drugged, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. Gagging herself with her finger to make herself vomit wouldn’t work, since the drug was already coursing through her blood vessels. She’d made the most likely diagnosis, but couldn’t complete the treatment. No nurses were around to help with this poisoned patient. It was too ironic. She was too weak to laugh.
“Help,” she whispered as her body slumped out of her chair to the floor.
***
Alec circled the streets inside the National Mall area, his windshield wipers set at maximum speed to fling away the pounding rain. He was thinking about paying to park in a garage nearby when he lucked into a recently emptied parking space on Madison Drive. Protected by his umbrella, Alec walked north away from
the Mall on 4th Street, watching the sidewalk to avoid the expanding puddles. He arrived at the Newseum and looked at his watch. It was 12:58.
Alec shook the excess water off his umbrella and walked to the food court. He soon spotted Laura sitting at a table, her back to him. As he approached her, she slipped out of her chair and fell in a heap onto the floor.
What the . . .
Alec ran up to her and shook her shoulders. She was as limp as a rag doll. “Laura,” he shouted at her. She didn’t respond. He signaled to nearby onlookers. “Call an ambulance.” He saw a man pull out a cell phone.
Okay, what do I do now? Alec tried to remember his past CPR training, and his recent conversation with Laura about CPR. Calm down. Think.
He turned her body onto her back and watched the chest for a few seconds. “She’s not breathing,” he said to no one in particular. His heart raced as he pinched her nose. Inhaling to inflate his lungs like balloons, he covered her lips with his and blew into her mouth, causing her cheeks to bulge out.
“Here, let me help.” A young woman knelt down by Laura’s right side, opposite Alec. “Just tilt her head back like this. Now breathe for her again.”
Alec inhaled and blew into her mouth once more. This time, Laura’s chest expanded.
“Good. Breathe for her like that each time you count to eight. Not too forceful, just enough to make her chest rise.” She smiled at Alec. “I’m a nurse. She has a regular carotid pulse, so she doesn’t need chest compressions.”
“Thank God,” Alec said, remembering what Laura had told him about how serious it is for the patient if the heart stops after poisoning.
Poisoning. That word jolted him upright. He bent down again, raised Laura’s upper eyelids, and looked at her pupils. “Oh, no.” Her pupils were tiny, pinpoint.
Chapter 25
Laura woke up with bright lights in her eyes and the feeling of an endotracheal tube through her mouth and into her trachea. She heard the swooshing of a bag, which was squeezed at intervals to usher oxygenated air through the tube and into her lungs. Her vision cleared.
Her throat was irritated by the tube, and she couldn’t suppress a coughing fit. Laura raised her right hand and indicated to the observers in the room that she was awake and could breathe on her own now. She bucked and coughed as the tube was removed from her mouth.
Laura saw a crowd of people around her and recognized her own ER nurses. She’d been brought to the critical care room in her ER. Someone raised the head of her bed, and Alec walked to her side.
“What happened?” Her voice was hoarse.
“You almost checked out. You were poisoned.”
The cobwebs in her head faded away, her thoughts becoming more focused. “Oh, yeah. I remember now.”
Paul, one of Laura’s coworkers and the ER doctor on duty, stepped up behind Alec. “This man saved your life,” he said, his hand on Alec’s shoulder.
Laura’s eyes widened at Alec. “You were there?”
“Sure, I was. We had a date, remember?”
Paul leaned toward Laura. “Mr. Dupree suggested we treat you for opiate poisoning. He said you might’ve been slipped some designer drugs. Your pupils were pinpoint when you got here, and we gave you a large dose, actually several large doses, of the antidote. Mr. Dupree might’ve been right on target. You came around once we got enough antidote in you.”
Laura took Alec’s hand. “Thanks.” Her voice was clearer. “And thank you, Paul. I think I’m recovering fine. Did Alec tell you about the lab that tests for fentanyl derivatives?”
“He sure did. I got the specific information from the ME’s office. We’re sending your blood off to that lab for testing.”
“Good, though I know what the answer will be.”
“This poisoning has to be reported, and Mr. Dupree kindly offered to contact the police for us. In the meantime, we need to monitor you. Even though your blood pressure and oxygenation are stable now, it might be a good idea if you stayed in the hospital for observation until tomorrow.”
“Oh, I’m feeling better. And you know that I know the potential problems to watch for after opiate poisoning. I’ll return for treatment if I get symptomatic again.”
“You mean you want to leave? Now?”
“Surely you don’t want me here. Everyone knows doctors make the worst patients.”
The group around her laughed and nodded in agreement. Laura decided on a compromise. “Okay, I’ll lie here for a while, until the antidote wears off. But if no symptoms return, I’m out of here.”
Paul sighed. “All right. You win. But you must come back tomorrow for a recheck. You had a tube in your trachea, you know.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll contact you if I’m having any problems. I know I’m lucky to be alive.” Laura shook Paul’s hand. “By the way, thanks for not cramming a catheter into my bladder.”
Paul chuckled and walked away to tend to other patients.
Alec bent down close to Laura. “Do you know who poisoned you?”
“I think it was the man we saw the other night at the statue.”
“The homeless guy? The man in the old coat with the beard?”
“That’s the one. I only saw his back and side, but the coat and beard looked the same. I’m sure it’s him.”
Alec threw his hands up. “Who the heck is he?”
“One of our suspects, maybe?"
“Got to be. But which one?”
“Probably one of the guys. Unless Mrs. Preswick dressed up like a man. It couldn’t have been Tina, well, unless she’s good with costumes.”
Laura breathed oxygen through nasal prongs for more than an hour and sipped water to soothe her throat. Her vital signs were monitored by the nurses, and she managed to give indirect answers to their inevitable questions about the circumstances of her poisoning.
“Now, who’d want to poison one of my favorite doctors?” Betty said. If anyone of the staff were to find out the real scoop from Dr. Valorian, it would be Betty, the veteran ER nurse.
Laura didn’t want to get into the topic of Preswick’s murder investigation with the nurses just now, so she sidestepped the question. “I’m sure it was a mistake or a vicious prank of some kind,” Laura said.
Meanwhile, Alec had taken a taxi and retrieved his auto from its parking spot at the Mall. He returned to the critical care room and sat down in a chair near Laura’s stretcher. “I’ve updated Detective Judkins. He should be here soon.”
Laura’s vital signs were stable, and her blood oxygen saturation level remained acceptable. She signaled to Betty. “I’m ready to go.”
“How do you feel?” Betty said.
“Just a bit weak and achy, but that’s to be expected,” Laura said as she stood up from the stretcher.
Alec helped her walk around the room. Satisfied with her stability, Laura fetched her bag of clothes. “I’ll get cleaned up and dressed.”
Alec and Laura waited for Detective Judkins in the family room of the ER.
“Are you up for an interview?” Alec said.
“I’m okay. My throat’s a bit scratchy, but that’s all. I feel like I’ve slept too long.”
Judkins lumbered into the room, shepherded by a registration clerk. Alec and Laura stood to greet him.
“Hello, Ryan,” Alec said. “This is the ER doctor I told you about, Dr. Laura Valorian.” After handshakes all around, Laura and Alec sat down on the couch, and Judkins parked his large frame in one of the chairs.
“I want a scene like that one for my office,” Judkins said, pointing at the landscape picture of snow-capped mountains.
“So, you like the mountains?” Laura said.
Judkins stared at the painting. “Well, maybe a murder in the mountains would be easier to solve. Fewer suspects, more obvious motives.” He unfolded a notebook and tilted his head toward Laura. “I know you’ve had an interesting few days. Want to tell me about today?” He took notes with a pencil as he listened.
Laura and the
n Alec detailed their own versions of her close call.
“Any idea who the bearded man in the coat could be?” Judkins said.
Laura described her six suspects in the death of Dr. Preswick and spelled out her reasons for suspecting homicide.
“All six had motive and opportunity,” Judkins said as he scribbled.
“I’ll bet the killer thinks I’m getting close to the truth,” Laura said.
Neither Laura nor Alec mentioned their failed attempt to trap the killer in the park.
“I’ll review Mrs. Kline’s missing husband report.” Judkins wrote himself a note.
Alec produced a plastic bag containing a Styrofoam cup. “This is Laura’s coffee cup. I’ll bet that specialized lab will find traces of narcotic inside.”
Judkins took the bag. “By the way, when do we get the final report on Dr. Preswick from that fancy lab?”
“I expect it’ll come by mail in two or three days, Monday or Tuesday,” Laura said. “But we might be able to get a telephone report before that.”
“I’ll make that call today, and I’ll look into both of these cases. If we get positive lab evidence back on Dr. Preswick, I’ll start a formal investigation. If Dr. Preswick was murdered, it’s possible that the same person committed both crimes.” He scribbled a few more words and looked up at Laura. “Now, you reported an assault. Can you tell me about it?”
After listening and taking notes, Judkins glanced at Alec. “Do you think her attacker is our guy, the one making death threats against you?”
“I don’t know.” Alec shook his head. “It’s not his style.”
“I’ll put an APB out for your guy anyway. We know what he looks like.” As he walked out, Judkins stopped and turned to Laura. “Were there any other witnesses to your poisoning today by the man in the coat? Anyone near you that you recognized?”
She replayed the scene in her mind. “No. I don’t think so.”
After Detective Judkins led the way out of the ER and drove off in his police car. Alec and Laura walked to the red Mustang in the hospital visitors’ parking area.
The Diagnosis is Murder (A Dr. Valorian Mystery Book 1) Page 19
