"I'll be careful. See you Thursday, I hope."
David hung up the phone and resumed his silent monologue.
How did the killer know he was involved-if it was the killer who ran him down? Had he been seen in the amphitheater? Surgery? The lab? And he had to know where the parking space was-or, if not, he had to go look for it. In either case, he most likely knew there was still one there.
David dodged answers that came at him like flashes from a strobe. He settled on a few and also concluded he would not inform the others of the ambush; they might somehow limit his movements.
He ran through a list of possible suspects as well. At the top was Dr. Ted Tanarkle, the pathologist. The blood led to his department. He was off for the day. But, killing like that? Why, for God's sake? And taking a swipe at his good buddy?
Oak Lane. 10 Oak Lane. He sideslipped into the driveway of his yellow, four-room ranch which was cloned in a cul-de-sac. From out back, heavy oak trees hung over it, trees which David had often spoken to. He would level with Kathy about his silent conversations and, although certain she had rolled her eyes whenever she turned away, he couldn't recall that she had ever challenged his sanity.
Inside, after his sink ritual, he slipped on a shoulder rig containing a semiautomatic Beretta Minx.22 and gathered up his attache case. On the ten-minute ride back to the hospital, he told himself that most likely no one had ever seen him open the leather case, and he liked that. Not much visible in it except an Undercover.38 Special wrapped in terry cloth and some extra rounds of ammo. Hidden behind a retractable panel beneath its lid, however, were a whistle, a small cylinder of Mace and a Scout knife. He also liked the fact that the case announced he was in his detective mode, often parodying, "Some wear two hats; I carry two bags." He would smile. "Two guns, too." He had a name for his case: Friday. Nothing to do with Joe Friday or Girl Friday, just the day he bought it.
A quarter mile from the hospital, a formidable complex crammed into the eastern hillside, David's eyes caught its commanding clock tower on the horizon, a reflex he was certain all visitors shared. Six-fifteen. This wasn't the first time he admired the hundred-year-old structure, a landmark continuation of the elevator shaft still in use for the administrative section of the building complex. Half again as tall, it sported silent clocks on three sides, shaded by a copper cupola; and, in David's mind, it pierced the sky like a foundation pile in reverse. Architecturally, it was the only feature of the hospital he liked, tested and timeless amidst a mishmash of wings and additions, red brick against greys and tans and glass.
Inside, he discovered that Suite 7, the locker room and both hallways on either side had been cordoned off. Also, the stairs to Pathology. Kathy and Nick stood talking to a police officer.
"Aha, there you are," she said, "we're starved." "You're through?" David asked.
"Yep."
"At both scenes?"
"Sparky's not done but we are. He just started with Cortez. Let's go eat. Is the cafeteria still open?"
"Better be. Sure, let's go; I can do my thing later. I'd like to see the legitimate surgeons at the operation before they go off gallivanting or something. Hope they're still around."
"Are you kidding?" Nick said. "We detained everybody within earshot, like good police are supposed to. We already interrogated the doctors. They're in the caf right now. They wanted to go home but we told them to wait for you."
"You mean you're running interference for me?" Nick nudged Kathy with his shoulder. "She said I'd better or she'd make my life miserable."
"Who's the supervisor here?" David asked, his smile improvised.
"I just arrived, so she is until I get the lay of the land. Eventually, I get brutal."
They sat in a corner of the cafeteria, their meals on trays before them. Elongated planters defined rows of tables. They deaden the noise, David had once been told. Here and there, young men coated in white and collared with stethoscopes either gobbled down food or fiddled with their pagers. Nurses in multicolored uniforms picked at salads. Recognizing the Chief of Surgery who sat with his associate several tables away, David spread out his fingers to gesture he would visit them in twenty minutes. They ate in silence, avoiding each other's look. Even from a distance, David could see splotches of black blood on the scrub suits beneath their unbuttoned lab coats.
He addressed Nick. "Shall we compare notes?"
"Compare with Kathy," Nick answered, winking.
"I'm observing."
Kathy, who had dug into a sandwich, looked up at Nick and said, "You know, you're one heck of a boss." David gathered she was finally able to insert the comment she hesitated making earlier.
"Like I said, give me time, I'll get worse."
David pitched in: "I find that hard to believe." He waited for a response and, hearing none, said, "I haven't found much except the obvious. You saw the stains, I take it?"
"They tracked to Pathology," Kathy said.
"Or through Pathology."
"There are stains on the other side of Pathology?"
"What I mean is," David said, "the killer may have gone through the department. That is, he didn't stop there. No, I don't think there's any blood on the other side."
"`Think'? Did you check?" Kathy asked.
"Well … no."
There was an awkward silence before David said, "See, I'm learning."
Kathy said gently, "We found no stains there." She buttered a roll. "Did you see the Chairman's body up close?"
"Unfortunately, yes, and it's hard to believe Mr. Killer did what he did. Right under our noses, too. He sure had…block your ears, Kath…balls." He watched her for a moment and then added, "You should be blushing."
"David, my darling, after years with you, I'm beyond that."
"You sure you didn't stop blushing before you met me?"
Kathy crimped her mouth in annoyance.
Nick said, "Now what do you see in a guy like that?"
"Oh," Kathy replied, "blond hair, blue eyes, gorgeous physique-but who's bragging? I don't know about that mustache though-it might have to go after the wedding this summer. That, and the little house."
"Samson's strength was in his hair, you know. I'm not Samson, but I am David."
"Don't shave it off," Kathy countered. They chuckled.
"And I like my small house," David said.
"Un huh."
They had dated on and off in college and then veered apart not only vocationally but romantically. It was a decision of David's choosing, colored by a fierce determination to train hard for a medical career, unencumbered by any serious personal relationships. They continued to exchange more than Christmas greetings but, by the time he was discharged from the Navy, Kathy had been married and widowed. Her husband and fellow police academy graduate had been shot and killed in a drug raid. And though he shared her grief, in the decade since her husband's death, David came to believe fate had gradually emboldened his love for her. Over half that interval, he had become a one-woman man. Plus now they worked together in police investigations.
Near the end of his meal, Nick removed his glasses and gesticulated with them as he spoke. "Dr. Brooks, in twenty-four years of detective work, I never came across an M.O. like this, so we can't round up the usual suspects. Besides, it's most likely an inside job, don't you think?"
"It seems that way, but we'll see"
"Do you know of anyone in this hospital who would kill so dramatically?" Nick continued. "Especially the surgery bit. He seemed to be making a point, not to mention thumbing his nose."
"Or revealing a machismo complex," David said. "There are lots of guys here with that. But driven to murder? I can't say that."
"Now, here's where you can top us, David," Kathy said. "Those were slices through those organs? Liver and-what-the spleen?"
"That's part of what killed him. Blood loss from there plus the arteries to the kidneys were cut clean. So he bled to death."
"Hold it, you guys," Nick said, "I'm having calve's li
ver here, remember?" He stared at his plate, then pushed it aside. "Think I've had enough. I'm going back for some coffee. You want some?" They both nodded.
David answered more of Kathy's anatomy questions and when Nick returned, he said, "Dr. Brooks, I've been wondering-how can you fit in criminal investigations with your practice?"
"What practice? That's gone, finis. I didn't like it so it didn't last long-maybe four years."
"I still don't understand the house calls."
"I make them full time. For other doctors. Well, not exactly full time-afternoons. But it's all I do. Except for today, and that's only because I had recommended Cortez."
"And except for karate, guns, communing with nature, the theater," Kathy said. There was a touch of resignation to her voice.
"Wait a minute, you go with me to the theater. And you probably know more about handling a gun than I do." "Maybe, but I don't collect them. You should see his basement, Nick."
"Almost every gun there was given over to me by Dad."
She stirred her coffee and said, "I've never thought of it this way before, David, but, you know, you're a series of contradictions."
"Meaning?"
"It's nothing really earth shattering: you drive a Mercedes but you've got a tiny house up in splinter village. There's karate but you like opera. My heavens, you read mythology! What else? Oh, the gun collection but you adore animals. And how about the business of talking to your trees?"
"Kathy, don't! What is this? We've got dead bodies here and you're talking mythology?"
Kathy reached across the table, grabbed his hand, rose up and kissed it. "Don't be hurt. It's part of what I love about you." She sat back in her chair but still stroked his hand with the tips of her fingers.
"You two want me to leave?" Nick asked.
"Sorry, Nick," Kathy said. She drew back her hands and explored David's face. "You look tired," she said, "and when you're tired, you get effusive. Why not give him the whole spiel?"
"You mean effuse it to him? And I'm not tired."
"Effuse the spiel?" Nick said. They giggled like teenagers over a raunchy joke. David sensed most heads turning their way.
He shrugged and whispered, "We'd better cool it, folks." They shifted in their chairs. Kathy swept away some crumbs.
"Okay, Nick," David said, "the background, quick and simple. After the Navy, I tried private practice but it wasn't for me. They were looking for a full-time doctor here, working on the administrative side of things in conjunction with Dr. Tanarkle. So I signed on."
"The pathologist?" Nick interrupted.
"The pathologist. Terrific guy. He taught me a lot-especially forensics. Shipped cases to me or recommended me because he knew I was interested."
"And he's now a suspect."
"Now a suspect. God, I pray it doesn't pan out." David crossed his fingers in the air. "Anyway, despite Ted, the challenge was never there and I did miss patient contact, so I quit after being assured by enough of my colleagues that they'd use me for house calls. I latched onto Belle who works out of the Hole in the morning and sets up my afternoon schedule. We usually have lunch here and then she comes with me on the calls. Handles the paper work plus all the other details. And here I am-been at it for a year, now. So far, so good, and I have more time for snooping … ah, sleuthing … and those other things Kathy blasted."
"I didn't blast them."
"I mean, referred to." This time, David reached for Kathy's hand and said, "So she's doing what she likes, I'm doing what I like, we're racing each other to forty and we're getting hitched in six months."
"Married. And you're the one who said `blasted.' "Married and hitched."
"You're so into control."
Nick ran his hand over his scalp. "Now, just to firm up this investigation," he said. "Of the three of us, I'm needed the least for day-to-day operations, so you two take over. But keep me posted. You know, the press, city hall. They're all watching."
Kathy glanced at David and said, "And between the two of us, I need your help more than you need mine, so you sort of take over. Keep me posted, too, and just remember, I love you, honey, but let's not blow it."
David, surprised but reassured, pressed on a rare twitch in his toe and said casually, "Don't I always keep you informed?" He believed the comment didn't fit and added, "It's bigger than what I've been doing."
"Well, you wanted more experience," Kathy responded. "You certainly know your way around the hospital. And it's not that you won't have forensic support from our department."
David felt obliged to indicate he'd check with them on a regular basis.
"That's important," Nick said. "We're really accountable to city government. And you're private. Besides, I've learned fast that we have a cut-every-year budget and we're short-handed. The entire police detective division is running on a shoestring. Crime scene search units are way understaffed, as you saw. Our homicide squad's been cut in half so Kathy here has twice as much to do." He counted on his fingers. "Electronic Unit, Polygraph Section, Forgery Squad-forget it. Sparky does it all. Precinct squads? We're lucky to have any at all; some have been moved to Narcotics and some to Sex Crimes. So you see, Dr. Brooks, we're simply enlisting your assistance at a time when things are piling up. You can be the point man, but it has to appear as though Kathy and I are. It shouldn't be a problem."
"I understand." David did, but he also judged it to be a half-baked endorsement. Homicides? Never sifted through them before. Nick knows it. Certainly Kathy knows it. So even if our investigations run parallel, they've given me some slack. They've talked this over plenty. Obvious. But, as Nick said, they've got other things, plus they're hurting. Me? Give it full attention, maybe take some afternoons off, beat them to the punch. Yeah, that's it. Problem is though, beating the killer to the punch.
"Publicly, it will seem like a natural," Nick continued. "An M.D. sleuth whose stomping grounds are where the crimes were committed. And, if this is what you want, have a go at it, and you're lucky, you know, because we've, like, come to you. Back in San Diego, we had guys knocking down our doors to get a little business."
Yeah, they talked it over all right. That's how Kathy would put it: "Tell him he's lucky, Nick."
Kathy said, "I'm confident you're ready to handle it. Just remember it's not just another 10–65."
"Why does everybody in law enforcement always bring up Missing Persons with me?"
"Because that's what you always complain about. And, really, that's about all you've handled till now."
"Not so. I never told you I had a 10-91H when you were at that convention a couple months back."
Kathy stifled a laugh poorly. "A stray horse?"
"Sure, rode him back to the farm, too."
"You would."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because you never rode a horse."
"I have now." They got up to leave.
"And incidentally, Kath, speaking of horses, if you were one, you'd probably be a Shetland." David held his arm at a right-angle over her head. "Have you cleared five feet yet?"
"I'm way past that."
"What? Half an inch?"
"No, a full inch," she replied with an exaggerated nod. She stomped her foot in the process.
David reminded them he would walk over to see the Surgical Chief and his associate. He shook Nick's hand and kissed Kathy lightly on the lips. "Thank you both."
"So long, cowboy," she replied.
David joined the two surgeons halfway across the room. They stood when he arrived, and he felt the air crackle with tension. The Associate's face was scarlet. David continued his handshake with the Chief as he spoke: "Ned, Steve, thanks for waiting. Sorry-must have been agony witnessing that butchering."
"I feel awful about it," the Chief said. "Two murders like that, and what's it do to our new program?"
"I know. Look, I won't keep you long. Okay for just two questions?"
"Take all the time you need, David."
"Well, first a
nd foremost, how'd that creep end up taking Cortez's place?"
"We blew it," the Chief said. "I thought Steve here would be meeting with him before the procedure and he guessed I would."
"Not `guessed,' the Associate snapped. "You told me you would. I can still hear your words."
The Chief scowled. "We'll talk about that later. Anyway … "
David broke in as if to minimize their bones of contention. "Did either of you recognize who the imposter was?"
"We never saw his face," the Chief answered. "He came in wearing a surgical mask. Later, I took it upon myself to ask the same thing of the nurses and technicians. They saw him only masked. Even beforehand, while he scrubbed. I checked at the desk; nobody saw him come in. And, I'm kicking myself for not arriving sooner, but, as I said, I assumed Steve would be here. The guy never said a word during the surgery … if that's what you call it … never asked for an instrument, just reached out. You know how it works, the scrub tech automatically snaps them into your hand."
The Chief exhaled as if blowing out a match. He continued: "Earlier, when I said, `Good afternoon, Dr. Cortez,' he just nodded. But, I figured, hell, he's the dignitary. He's the one getting our organ transplant program off the ground. Don't interfere with his concentration. And, David, as I look back, his eyes were so eerie. They never stopped moving around. They were everywhere. How anything had a chance to register with him, I don't know."
"Tell me, did he seem to know what he was doing?"
"To the point when all hell broke loose, I suppose he did. But, you know the usual procedure, David. After his initial incision, I entered the peritoneum for him, just like a resident would. He never got to the pancreas, but he sure knew where the renals were."
"And the liver and spleen," the Associate said.
"And the liver and spleen. Everything happened so damn fast. It was like his punctuation mark," the Chief said. "You saw what he did?"
"Yes."
David rose. "I said I'd bother you with only a couple questions, and that's all the information I need for now." He looked at his watch. "It's after seven and you two must be bushed. Thanks for waiting-I'll be in touch. And, oh, by the way, how did the transplant brouhaha settle out with Bowie County across town?"
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