Sin & Bone: A Medical Thriller (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 2)

by Bette Golden Lamb

  And the betrayal of her mother and father, who acknowledged what had happened to her, but did nothing. Her parents and in-laws were paesanos from the same little village in Italy and that seemed more important than her life-threatening situation.

  “You can’t put your husband in jail. It was just a misunderstanding. These things happen sometimes with newlyweds.” She could still see them standing by her bed, watching a unit of blood flow into her arm as she lay in the hospital, torn and bruised. At the same time, her brother patrolled up and down the streets in his Chevy, looking for Dominick. He’d come back alone, unsatisfied and defeated

  For the first time in her life, she identified with the ravaged women of Africa and the non-existent or lowly status of women in the Middle East. She/they had no value except for the children they could bear. And for her, that dubious value might never occur.

  Later, they learned that Dominick had holed up in a fishing buddy’s upstate cabin. After Gina pressed charges, they picked him up and dragged him off to jail.

  Then came his threats of what would happen if she testified, followed by the trial, and sentencing – for the minimum term allowable: two to five years.

  Maybe her life, like those of other abused women throughout the world, did have less value in the eyes of the courts.

  She clutched Harry’s photo tighter to her chest and in spite of herself, smiled. Harry didn’t have one drop of Italian blood flowing through his veins, yet he happily merged his identity with hers and allowed her background to embrace him.

  “You’re my rock, my home,” she said to the photograph. “Why didn’t I grasp that before?”

  The telephone rang. Her heart raced as she grabbed the receiver.

  “Hello! Harry?”

  “It’s Regina. What happened to you? We were supposed to have a wedding this past weekend. I mean, you were supposed to have a wedding. I’ve been calling and leaving messages since Saturday. Don’t you ever listen to your message machine?”

  “I should have returned your calls, I know.” Gina could barely speak, had difficulty swallowing the lump that rose and threatened to choke her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t tell me you got cold feet again. How on earth could you not want to marry that incredibly cool guy?”

  “No, no. It’s not that, it’s something else. It’s complicated.”

  “Gina, I swear, you can complicate the simplest of things. You either love the guy or you don’t.”

  She stood, stumbled over her own feet, and reached for the other lamp.

  “I know. And you and Bill went to all that trouble to set up the ceremony. I feel just awful.”

  “So Harry’s not there, huh?”

  There was a long silence before Gina answered. “No. I guess I’ve managed to mess up our relationship, along with everything else.”

  “Everything else?”

  Gina swiped at the tears that spilled down her face. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Regina. Can’t talk about it right now. Please tell Bill I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to the two of you.”

  “You better call.”

  “I will. I will.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Gina gently hung up the phone, slumped onto the sofa, and sobbed until there were no more tears.

  She dragged herself into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a container of vanilla soymilk and fixed herself a bowl of cereal. After a couple of spoonfuls, she pushed it aside.

  “Mangia!” she muttered, remembering her mother, who would circle the kitchen table like a vulture, demanding that she eat. She started shoveling in spoonful after spoonful until the bowl was empty.

  Standing in front of the sink, she pushed aside the crisp, white curtains at the kitchen window. She watched the rain pour down on the cars under the street lamp; they were jammed together next to the curb and seemed to bear the brunt of the cascading downpour. Her little Fiat was standing like a brave soldier, but she knew the one small rip in the vinyl top would allow water to slowly puddle on the floorboard.

  She smiled when she remembered how Harry would force them out into a storm just like this one, in whatever they were wearing. He said it would make them feel more alive. And he was right. Her skin would tingle as the icy rainwater spilled over her. And how they’d laugh as they raced around the block, then dash inside to take a long, hot shower together.

  During those times, she was very much than alive, she was safe. She was with Harry.

  * * *

  After a soak in the tub, Gina tried to read herself to sleep, but it wasn’t until after 1:00 AM that she turned out the bedside light.

  The telephone rang.

  She grabbed up the receiver. “Harry?”

  Silence.

  “Harry, is that you? Please talk to me.”

  “Gina?”

  That voice. It was him. Her throat tightened. “How did you get my number?”

  “Please, I need to talk to you.”

  “I’m hanging up.”

  “I know all about you, Gina.”

  She froze, stared at the receiver. “What do you know?”

  “You help people.”

  “I’m going to call the police.”

  “They’re going to keep dying.” His voice was soft, but intense.

  “Who?”

  “Shelly’s gone. You’ll never see her again.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to satisfy your own sick needs by trying to scare me.”

  “She won’t be at work tomorrow. She’s all cut, cut into pieces.”

  “Why are you doing these terrible things; why are you calling me?”

  There were several beats before he responded. “I do it for Father.”

  “Father?” Gina clutched her pillow to her. “Like God?”

  “Not God. Father. What he says must be done.”

  Gina looked around the room, tried to focus on a single object, something that would allow her mind to stop jumping from one thought to another.”

  “You’re cutting women up because your father tells you to?”

  “No, he…”

  She waited, then said, “He what?”

  “He … he promises to tell where Mother is, but he never does. I beg him, but he won’t tell me.”

  She heard the wheeze. Small squeaks grew in timbre until Gina was struggling to stop a sudden tightness in her own chest. She could barely speak.

  “What can I do? You haven’t even told me your name.” Her hand was dripping wet from clutching the receiver tighter and tighter

  “Help me make it stop.”

  The line went dead.

  ₪ CHAPTER 12

  Car keys in one hand, a piece of toast in the other, Gina tried once more to call Pepper Yee before leaving for work.

  “I have your other two messages, Ms. Mazzio,” the police receptionist said. “I’ll give them to Detective Yee as soon as she comes in.”

  “It’s really important. Can’t you radio her?”

  “She’s in the field, ma’am. If this is an emergency, give me the information and we’ll have someone else handle it.”

  Gina needed to leave immediately if she expected to meet with her manager before her shift at Ridgewood began. “Just tell her it’s important that I talk to her.”

  “Like I told you, ma’am, I have your messages … all of them!”

  Gina started to respond, then hung up the phone.

  * * *

  The caller’s words continued to echo in Gina’s head as she pushed through the doors to the Clinic: “They’re going to keep dying.”

  Three large mugs of high-test coffee were propping her up – the only thing that kept her going after being awake most of the night. Her eyes were dry and scratchy, felt like they’d been stretched to their limits in all directions.

  She tapped lightly on Lexie Alexandros’s office door, knowing that her manager habitually came in early. A wavy shadow moving back and forth b
ehind the frosted glass confirmed she’d been right.

  “Come in!”

  Gina slipped into the office. Alexandros didn’t look up from her computer keyboard, pointed to the uncomfortable hospital-issued armchair opposite her desk. Gina sat, waited impatiently for her manager to finish.

  Alexandros was a couple of years younger than Gina: about thirty, with long, dark blonde wavy hair, and a trim body. As the manager typed, engrossed in the monitor, she curled and uncurled a flyaway strand with a nail-bitten finger. Finally, she looked up.

  “Sorry! Had to finish entering a report while everything was still fresh in my mind, otherwise I’d have to go back to my handwritten notes later and start from scratch. And you know what my handwriting is like.”

  Gina shifted in the chair as Alexandros’ dark eyes appraised her. She knew she’d dressed haphazardly, thrown on clothes with no thought as to her appearance. But once she put on her white staff jacket, no one would even notice, but she hadn’t even looked in a mirror, and she knew she probably was a mess. Although she’d done nothing wrong, she felt like a little kid sitting before the principal.

  With jittery fingers, Gina tried to arrange her short, curly hair, tried to ease her tension-ridden back.

  “So what’s happening?” Alexandros’ face relaxed, she gave Gina her full attention.

  Gina had promised herself that she would be calm, explain the situation without being her usual bombastic self, but the words sprang from her mouth, like water spewing from a broken faucet, “I think Shelly Wilton may be dead. I tried to call her last night. All night. Right up until I left this morning. No one answered. No one.”

  “Dead?” A frown etched Alexandros’ forehead. An expression of concern, then disbelief feathered her face. Gina knew she had to slow the torrent of words. She had to get herself under control.

  Alexandros placed both palms on the desk, leaned forward, and stared hard.

  “What on earth are you talking about, Gina Mazzio?”

  “He called. Again. That same maniac who called on the advice line Friday. Told me Shelly was dead. Cut up into pieces. For God’s sake. Cut up!”

  “Friday? Why haven’t I heard about this before?”

  “I tried to report the first call when it happened, but you’d already left for the weekend. Then we couldn’t seem to get together Monday, so I left a written report on your desk.” She pointed at Alexandros’ IN box. “Now it’s happened again.”

  “Oh, shit!” Alexandros riffled through the papers in the box, pulled out a sheet of paper. “You’re right. Here it is.”

  “You haven’t read my report?”

  Alexandros held up a hand. “Give me a moment. Let me scan this.”

  When she finished she said, “Sounds like a crank call to me.”

  “You and everyone else, including the police.”

  “What did the police say?”

  “I just told you … they shucked it off as a crank call.”

  “And last night, it was the same guy?”

  “Damn straight!”

  “The same kind of bizarre call?”

  Gina glared at her manager. “You don’t get it, do you? He called my home! He said more people would die.”

  “Did you slip up and somehow give him your full name Friday evening?”

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Sorry. But did you try the police again?”

  “Of course. I’ve left several messages with a Detective Yee. But I haven’t heard back.”

  “Let me know what happens when you do.”

  “And that’s it, that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I don’t see there’s much else we can do.” Alexandros’ eyes continued to appraise her. “You know, you never did tell me why you and Harry didn’t get married last weekend.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with the price of onions in Maui? I know you think I’m a numskull when it comes to male-female relationships, but this phone thing has absolutely nothing to do with my love life.”

  Alexandros started to speak but Gina interrupted, “Why on earth would you even bring up my personal life?”

  “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt,” Alexandros said, leaning back in her chair.

  “Do I look like someone who would make up a ridiculous story just to divert attention from the fact that my love life sucks?” She stood and looked down at her manager. “Do I?”

  “Sit down, Gina!” After a beat, “Please!”

  Gina plopped back into her chair. She knew if the tables were turned, she would want to know what was going on. She would never react this way to such a disturbing story, no matter how far out it sounded.

  “Well?” Gina said.

  “You’re right, I owe you an apology.”

  Damn straight!

  Gina shifted in the rigid chair. She needed to calm herself. As usual, it wasn’t working. Her sleep-deprived, caffeine-soaked brain was holding her hostage. She took a couple of deep breaths.

  “I probably should get back to the phones.”

  “Right,” Alexandros said, “we’ll talk later, after you’ve heard back from the police.”

  * * *

  Gina stared at Shelly’s empty chair, her brain on autopilot as if another entity was taking the advice line calls. Only yesterday Shelly was sitting there, laughing and giving her a lot of lip about not getting married.

  Everything was all just as Shelly had left it the night before: papers scattered across the desk, pens and pencils flung here and there. A wilted rose that one of the RNs had given her was hanging limply in a bud vase half filled with cloudy water.

  Sadness curled around Gina’s heart; she couldn’t stand to look at the drooping blossom any longer. She reached over, grabbed it, and tossed it into the trash.

  “Have you spoken to Shelly this morning?” Gina asked Tina between calls.

  “No.”

  “I just wondered,” Gina said. “It’s not like her not to call in sick.”

  “Are we talking about the same nurse?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Tina gave a wide smile, her green eyes flashing with mischief. “I’ve known her to hook up and forget to call in at all.”

  “Hook up?”

  “Oh, shoot! The woman is a bar hopper. You never know who that chick might take a shine to … have a few drinks … shack up … and forget all about work.”

  “I never thought she was that way. We walked out together last night. I offered her a ride home, but she wanted to walk.” Gina reached over and put an incoming call on hold. “She said she didn’t trust my little Fiat and that’s why she wouldn’t go with me.”

  Tina laughed. “Probably hoofed it to The Hideaway looking for some one to take her home for the night.”

  Gina bit down too hard in the middle of her pencil, then picked splintered wood from her mouth. “How come you’re so savvy and I’m totally in the dark about what Shelly does or doesn’t do?”

  “We used to spend a lot of off time together. Besides, most days you’re floating around somewhere up there near the ceiling because of Harry. You don’t hear or see half of the things going on around you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Gina snapped.

  “It means you’d better pick up that ‘Hold’ call.

  * * *

  The Ob/Gyn manager sat across from Alan Vazquez, the Ridgewood Administrator. Lexie Alexandros had thought long and hard about calling him for a meeting. In the end she hadn’t; she’d merely arrived unannounced at his office in the administrative wing of the hospital.

  Vazquez had a corner suite with a view of Golden Gate Park. It was a beautiful view even though the day was dreary with another winter storm coursing through the city.

  Among the array of diplomas on the wall behind him, the one that interested Alexandros the most was the certificate from UC Berkeley. Even if he was a business major, she couldn’t place this straight-laced, humorless man on that particular ca
mpus.

  He must have been a barrel of laughs during his college days

  Just as she was rethinking her visit, he looked up and gave her a serious, if distracted, smile.

  “So, Ms. Alexandros, how are things going in your part of the Ridgewood world of medicine.”

  The administrator’s shirt was heavily starched; he wore a traditional rep tie that would never dream of encountering a stray splatter of food.

  “Things are going well, the department is within budget.” She laughed softly, but realized business humor was not his thing. He stared at her, waiting for the reason for her visit. “There was an incident last Friday that I thought you should know about.”

  “Last Friday?” He leaned back and steepled his fingers under his chin, and questioned her by raising a single eyebrow.

  “It involves one of my RNs. Gina Mazzio.”

  Vasquez’s hands abruptly fell to the desk and he flipped opened a notebook to a fresh page. “And what has our Ms. Mazzio gotten herself into this time?”

  Alexandros didn’t like his tone; it made her even more uncomfortable. The administrator’s obvious distaste for Gina flavored every word he said. She’d come to him for advice but it was apparently the wrong thing to do. She had no choice but to go on.

  “Well, it seems that last Friday night a man called on her advice line and intimated he might have killed somebody. Then last night he called her at home and said that one of Gina’s co-workers, Shelly Wilton, was murdered.”

  “Do you believe her story?”

  “I have no reason not to. But it does seem a little surreal.”

  “Well, let me tell you something: That nurse Mazzio is a nutcase. Why do you think we bounced her out of the hospital and into the clinic?” He shoved the notebook to the other end of the desk. “Now it seems she’s going to be disruptive no matter where we put her.”

  “She’s under a lot of stress; she was supposed to get married last weekend and it fell through.”

  “Probably because she wasn’t minding her own business.” He pulled a tissue out of a box and blew his nose. “Married? To that male nurse who used to work in ICU?”

  “Yes. Harry Lucke. I hear only good things about him.”