“Yes, as Jeanette so astutely pointed out over dinner, that would get his project axed and his medical license suspended. But that’s just a slap on the hands; I thought you wanted more than that.”
“Okay, I see what you’re saying. He’d slide.”
“Right. Or, go somewhere else and set up shop again. State licensing boards do not communicate well with one another.” Charles sipped his coffee. “Another angle is the medical malpractice we kicked around earlier. Jeanette has enough data here to prove the study stats were skewed to show good-to-excellent results for the Epi procedure. She knows that there are patients who have been harmed physically. We need to find them and convince them to pursue legal action against Rutherford.”
“That’s still only a civil matter. That’s money damages and a suspended medical license. We need to get him off the streets before he kills again.”
“Well, we’ll have all the other stuff in the works. Things could be leaked to the press. But a neat little side theory to the medical malpractice is, if we can use those stats and the testimony of the harmed patients to show he knew his procedure was more likely than not to harm patients and that he continued to do it anyway, we could force the Prosecutor to charge him with criminal battery or criminal recklessness with intent to do bodily harm. With enough counts, he could do some jail time. At least enough until we convince the feds or the World Court to skewer him for larger crimes against humanity.”
“Let’s do that.”
Both men turned to see Jeannie standing in the doorway.
“I know where we can find some of the damaged patients.” She walked in and sat in her seat. “Dr. Payton has seen many of them in the regular Eye Clinic at the Med Center. You’d think some of them would be mad enough to pursue legal means, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, you and Dr. Payton could mention it to the patients, but no lawyer could,” Charles said. “That would be ambulance-chasing.”
“I understand.” Jeannie looked at Scott. “After we got home this afternoon, I called Dr. Payton.”
“I thought you were napping.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She picked up the tortured napkin and started to pleat it again. “I was thinking you were right. I can’t go back to work at the Epi Study. So I called Dr. Payton for a job. She hired me over the phone. She also said she had a patient who’d just come into the clinic who is bilaterally blinded. She was a patient of Dr. Rutherford’s and had the Epi procedure done. Maggie asked me to testify for the poor woman. I said I would. And for any others who wanted to sue the bastard.”
Scott sat next to Jeannie. “Honey, did Maggie offer you the job only if you’d testify?”
Jeannie gasped and looked up from her tedious pleading. “No. She offered me the job first. Then she was just telling me about the influx of Epi study patients, and this poor woman’s case came up. But I would’ve offered, even if she hadn’t asked me. The woman is only in her mid-30s. She is legally blind because of Rutherford. We have to stop him from ruining any more lives.”
Charles slapped the papers on the table. “Excellent. Once we know who her lawyer is, we can put a bug in his ear and see if he won’t take the criminal charges to the Prosecutor while pursuing his civil damages. Fighting a two-front battle ought to keep Rutherford busy.”
“It’ll make him damn mad, too,” Scott growled.
He turned to Jeannie. “Cher, I’ve been thinking. After we take Little Bits to the Retreat House, maybe you should go to my mama in the bayou.”
“No.” Jeannie’s face darkened with anger. “I’ll be damned if I’m gonna cut and run. I’m staying here. I’m going to work for Maggie Payton as her assistant, and I’m gonna testify for as many of those poor souls as I can.”
“Jeannie…”
“Look at the time.” She glanced at the clock on the wall behind Scott’s head. “You’re gonna be late for work.”
“Shit.” He jumped up to leave, but stopped and pinned Jeannie with a glance. “We’re not through discussing this, darlin’.”
She remained mulishly silent, concentrating once more on her now shredded napkin.
Scott glanced at Charles. “Keep her safe, Carter, and try to talk some sense into her.”
Charles’s laughter followed him out of the apartment into the courtyard.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I’ve got everything under control, Manuel.” Seated in the library of his town home on Lake Ponchatrain, Rutherford spoke on his secure phone. “I’ve fixed it so Randolph will take the blame for the failed study and everything else attached to it.”
He took a long draw on his scotch. It had been a tedious day, dealing first with the police, then Jeanette and her companion. He wasn’t sure she believed his story, but with Roth’s back-up plan in place it wasn’t necessary that she should.
“Byron! Are you listening to me?” Lopez’s voice sharp with anger penetrated his alcohol-numbed senses.
“Yeah, yeah. You told me so.”
Rutherford swallowed the bitter words he’d like to throw back at his partner. Instead he threw out some branches of conciliation. He still needed the greasy bastard. Plus, if anything was going to take their joint ventures down, it would be Lopez’s dabbling in drugs. Only bleeding heart liberals and social workers seemed upset that body-part trafficking existed.
“I never should have attempted to gain a name for myself in medicine while running SRP and One World’s joint business deals,” he said. “And, I especially never should have funneled body parts and laundered your drug money through my research project.”
Assorted emotions roiled through him at the thought of how close he’d come to being exposed. In fact, there was still a slight chance of danger. Maybe he should have a back-up plan, just in case Roth’s poison pill didn’t take out little Jeanette.
“Is Matthews state-side or with you?” Rutherford asked.
Eric Matthews was a vice-president of SRP and head of security, nice titles for his real job as Lopez’s personal enforcer. It had been Matthews who’d run down Stu Thomas.
“He’s state-side at the Atlanta office. I had him escort that last batch of pediatric hearts.” Lopez chuckled. “We made a lot of money on those. Not as much as on the drugs I smuggled in with them, but still a tidy sum.”
Rutherford grimaced. Killing children for hearts. He wasn’t usually so squeamish. But Lopez’s recent foray into filling pediatric transplant requests bothered even him.
His partner, however, had no qualms. Lopez rationalized that if One World didn’t kill the children and harvest their organs, the Brazilian police hit-squads would and burn the bodies. Manuel couldn’t stand waste.
Put that way, Rutherford was forced to agree, but he didn’t have to like it.
As for smuggling drugs in with them, well, old Manuel was nothing if not efficient.
“Byron, why do you need Matthews?” Lopez sounded irritated again. “What’s wrong now? What aren’t you telling me?”
“I need him to help Walter keep the lid on this deal in New Orleans.”
“Shit. You still have loose ends. The woman from the conference, right?” Lopez cursed in two languages. “You’ve got to stop thinking with your ayotes.“
“I’ll hire who I damn please.” Rutherford bit back harsher words. He took a sip of his drink. “Just send me Matthews. He’s going to be insurance. We’ve already planted the device to kill little Jeanette.”
Lopez grumbled some more, then said, “Fine. But keep me posted.”
An angry click ended the call.
Rutherford powered off his phone and threw it down on the sofa next to him. Finishing off the scotch in one gulp, he reached for the bottle on the end table and topped off his glass.
Staring out over the lake, he sipped and mulled over the potentialities in his current situation. He concluded that once Jeanette was out of the picture things would settle down.
She couldn’t have much time left. She had to take Roth’s tainted capsule eventua
lly — until then, he could keep the lid on this. After all, he had money and the power that went with it. No one would believe her story over his — not without corroboration. With Sally, Thomas and Randolph all dead, she had nothing. Nothing at all.
———
Jeanette carried a tray with fruit, cheese, crackers and a bottle of wine into the living room. Charles looked up from his notes, then cleared an area for her to set the tray.
After pouring each of them a glass of wine, Jeanette broached the topic she’d avoided all evening. “So, I bet you’re wondering about Scott and me?”
“No. He told me at dinner. It’s better this way. Brigitte would never accept me. She’s a Scott fan. And you would never be comfortable with someone whom your daughter didn’t approve of.”
Jeanette didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted that Charles was taking her newly discovered relationship with Scott so well. Her thoughts must have been obvious because Charles chuckled.
“Jeanette,” he said. “We were trying to make something out of an initial physical attraction. But, the more we learned about each other, the harder we tried to make our wants and needs mesh. And they never would. I’m career, not family-oriented. While you like your career, you cherish your family life. I’m not ready for that. To be honest, with my family background, I may never be ready.”
Jeanette laughed. “We did try to force square pegs into round holes, didn’t we?” She reached over and patted his hand. “My excuse is that you were different. Different from Paul — and Scott — who are enough alike that they could’ve been twins. I guess I thought by ignoring what was right in front of me, I thought I could side-step being hurt again.”
“I can understand that. Avoidance is a common response to emotional pain. Look at me and my family.” Charles grinned. “I avoid the heck out of them.”
“Well, in my defense, I never knew Scott was interested in me in that way. He never even hinted at it.”
“He’s more than hinting now. Trust me. He basically told me to butt out…” Charles waved off Jeanette’s gasp of outrage. “No, in a nice way, mind you. Don’t get mad at the man. I think he’s got it pretty bad for you. It must have killed him to watch you date me. I know it would have bothered me if I were in his shoes.”
Jeanette had no reply. She still hadn’t come to terms with Scott’s silence for so many years. A change of subject was in order.
“Charles, what do you think Dr. Rutherford’s chances are on being found guilty?”
“Guilty of what? The medical malpractice or the criminal battery charges?”
“Either.”
“With your testimony and that of other experts in the field and a sufficiently harmed plaintiff, I would say good-to-better-than good on the medical malpractice.” He leaned back on the sofa and massaged his forehead, wincing slightly. “As for the criminal charges, it would depend on who was prosecuting the case and if he could be bought.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Jeanette knew New Orleans’ justice system was highly dependent on whom you knew or could buy. Dr. Rutherford had both options fully covered.
“Jeanette, do you have any allergy meds? Mine seem to be wearing off. There’s something in the air today that has messed me up something awful. My sinuses are just pounding.”
“I’ve got some sinus medication. It’s prescription, but it’s just like Claritin only a stronger dosage. Would that be okay?”
“Yeah, I take Claritin.” Charles groaned. “It will do just fine.”
As Jeanette hurried from the room, she cast a worried glance over her shoulder. Charles had gone from being just fine to pain-stricken in a matter of moments. New Orleans was not a good place to live with allergies. Her symptoms were mild compared to his. In fact, she hadn’t needed the capsules at all for the last month. Charles must be allergic to early summer grasses or something.
Opening the medicine cabinet, she reached up to the second shelf. Odd, she could have sworn the bottle had been behind the aspirin the last time she used it. She didn’t like leaving the sinus medication in the front since the capsules were so much like Brigitte’s ear decongestants. She was always afraid her daughter would try to self-medicate and didn’t want her grabbing the more powerful meds.
She made a mental note to speak to her daughter about messing around in the medicine cabinet. She pulled the bottle she needed out, then shut the cabinet door.
“Here they are. Help yourself.” Jeanette handed Charles the bottle. “Do you want a glass of water?”
“Nah. I’ll just take them with the rest of my wine.” Charles popped open the bottle, shook one out and downed it, quickly followed by the rest of his drink.
“Are you sure that was a good idea? Those aren’t meant to be mixed with alcohol,” Jeanette said before she could stop herself.
“No need to mother me. I know they shouldn’t be taken with wine, but all it will do is make me drowsy. From what Scott said, I have guard duty tonight. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Damn right, you’re staying here. I won’t let you drive.” Jeanette walked into the kitchen and raised her voice so that Charles could hear her. “Do you want to cushion that combo with anything? Milk for instance?”
“No, thanks.”
She re-entered the room. Charles had picked the Rutherford file up and was glancing over some of the papers, jotting down notes on a pad lying next to him on the couch.
“What are you doing?” She sat in the arm chair perpendicular to him.
“I’m copying some of the bank codes on the off-shore accounts. I have a friend back in Jersey who is, for the lack of a more politically correct term, a hacker. I’m hoping he can get me some names, or even Social Security numbers, to fit the depositor codes. If we could link Rutherford to some known criminals, we might be able to interest the Justice Department sooner, rather than waiting for evidence on the body-part trafficking or drug smuggling to interest them.”
“Can I help?”
She needed to do something, anything. If she didn’t, she would think, and thinking right now meant she’d worry about the danger in opposing Rutherford or about her future relationship with Scott. Both subjects she’d rather not visit at the moment.
Bootsie, you’re a damn coward, girl. Nothin’ to be worrying about with Scott — and you know it. Now the other, I can’t argue with that.
“Sure.” Charles handed her half the file and tore a piece of the notepad paper off for her. “Start listing all the codes next to where there are deposits. Don’t need to list the same code twice.”
“I could’ve figured that out. Thanks.”
For the next ten minutes, she and Charles worked in a companionable silence. A light drizzle had begun to fall, and a fresh, rain-scented breeze wafted through the open French doors.
“Shit!”
Jeanette looked up from her assignment. Charles was so pale, she could see the veins through the skin on his forehead.
“Are your sinuses worse? Are you nauseated? I knew you shouldn’t have taken that capsule with alcohol.”
She put her papers aside.
“No-o-o.” Charles shivered visibly. “I don’t know. I feel so weak. Like I’ve got the flu or something.”
As Jeanette started to stand, Charles dropped the file he held. The papers flew about his legs and landed all around. Then he slid to the floor, his eyes half-closed and his breathing becoming more and more labored.
“Charles!” Jeanette hurried to his side then knelt by him. Taking his pulse, she found it rapid and weak. Was he having a reaction to the capsule-alcohol combination? He was too young for a stroke or heart attack.
“Jeanette… help… me.”
She put his wrist down, then stroked his arm. “Hold on. I’m calling 911.”
Rushing to the portable phone, she picked it up and dialed the emergency number as she hastened back to Charles’s side. Pulling the afghan from the back of her couch, she wrapped the rapidly weakening man in it.
“Damn. Don’t they answer this double-damn number.”
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency, please?”
“A medical emergency. My friend is having some sort of attack. His pulse is thready. 100 beats per minute. He’s losing consciousness. Please send someone fast.”
“They’re on their way, Ms. LaFleur. Is 56 Chartres Place still your correct location?”
“Yes. It’s Apartment 2A. Please hurry.”
“They’re less than three minutes away, ma’am. Please stay on the line until they get there.”
“I understand.” Jeanette sat on the floor, close to Charles, hoping her body warmth would keep him from going into shock.
“Ma’am. The EMTs would like to know if the patient has a history of cardiac problems.”
“I don’t know.”
Jeanette looked at Charles’s face and found him watching her, as if she were a lifeline. She saw knowledge in his eyes. He knew something was horribly wrong.
“Charles. Can you hear me?”
He blinked his eyes once.
“Does that mean yes?”
He blinked them once again.
“Do you have a family history of heart problems?”
He blinked his eyes twice.
“Operator. Tell the EMTs no history of heart problems.”
“Thank you. They just pulled up to your building. You can cut the connection, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
“Good luck, ma’am.”
Luck, Jeanette thought, as she shut off the phone, then gently lowered Charles to the floor. Charles needed more than luck. He needed a miracle.
A pounding on the door indicated the arrival of the emergency crew. She got up and ran to the door to let them in.
“Where’s the patient?”
Jeanette pointed toward the sofa. “On the floor. He slipped off the couch. I kept him warm, but I think he’s in shock anyway.”
The EMT who’d asked the question, nodded. “How long has he been like this?”
“It came on so fast. Maybe a total of eight minutes. Or less. You got here quickly.”
The EMT and his partner moved the coffee table out of the way. One of them started an IV, while the other took vitals.
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