by Peche, Alec
The trooper looked even more skeptical with her choppy explanation, so she decided to call Jake to see if he was available to speak with the trooper.
“Let me call Special Agent in Charge Jake Porter in the Denver FBI office and you can speak to him instead of looking at me like I am a crazy woman.”
“Ma’am I didn’t mean to offend you, but you have to admit your story sounds far-fetched,” said the trooper apologetically.
She dialed Jake’s number and was pleased when he answered the phone. She provided a quick update to Jake on Bogachev’s actions and condition then asked him to speak to trooper Hanson and explain the case in cop language. Ten minutes later the trooper ended the call and handed her phone to her.
“Let’s go check on Mr. Bogachev and see if the Agents need anything. If they don’t, I’ll give you a ride back to your residence.”
“Thank you. I would very much appreciate a ride.”
Three minutes later they were on their way out of the hospital. Jill had no coat and was covered in Bogachev’s drying blood. Yuck. On the up side, the man was still alive and well guarded by the agents.
The storm hadn’t let up yet so the ride was slow. Trooper Hanson asked her numerous questions all the way back to the cabin. In theory he had no official role in the case, but it was so unusual he couldn’t resist asking questions about it.
When she arrived back at the cabin, there was a swarm of local law enforcement as well as FBI agents documenting stuff. Jake’s friend, who had lent them the cabin, was also there, amazed at the destruction, which he was documenting for insurance purposes. He was making arrangements for an emergency shipment of plywood so he could close up the cabin while he worked on remodeling it back to its original beauty before bullets and a grenade had changed its face.
Jo was also walking around the scene amazed that she had slept through it all. She had emerged from her bedroom after the ambulance had left chagrined that even a grenade in the next room had not shaken her out of her dead sleep.
Jill was looking for Nathan wanting to see how his throat was. She found him inside a warm inner bedroom lying on his back, ice around his throat. Jill went over to kiss him softly and check on the swelling and bruising.
“Hey babe, how are you feeling?”
In a hoarse voice he responded, “Like a two hundred pound man tried to choke the life out of me. What does the bruising look like?” and he lifted up the ice bag.
“Well, you have bruises around your neck, but the most important thing is that you can breathe. I performed my share of autopsies on people choked to death. In some cases their windpipe is smashed. I think your throat is swollen and it will stay that way for a few days until the bruises start going away. Thank you for going out the back window and circling around to get this guy. He was pretty close to blowing us all to bits. You saved all of our lives.”
“You’re welcome, but I am going to avoid talking if you don’t mind. Did he make it alive to the hospital?”
“Yes, I left him with two agents at the hospital and they were taking him into surgery. We need to move everyone back to the lodge so that Jo, Marie, and Nick can leave as scheduled. The lodge had a spa with a steam room that might feel good for your throat. You just stay and rest here and I’ll organize our team outside and come and get you when we are ready to move. I just need to change out of these bloody clothes,” so saying she kissed him again and did a quick swap of her clothing, taking the bloody ones with her to toss in the garbage.
“We need to get back to our lodge as this one is not habitable,” remarked Jill. “Also our luggage is there and Jo, Marie, and Nick are leaving for Denver in three hours. Is everyone ready to move and who can give us a ride?”
David responded that the same friend who had transported them last night was available. He added that his friend was very curious about the all the activity that morning and he would be there within half an hour.
“Great! I want to settle Nathan in at the lodge and see my friends off to the airport. So if you don’t mind David, I would like to send my team back to the lodge first as it seems that the roads are still open, although the driving will be slow. They are on a tight time frame if they still want to make their flights."
“Jill, that is fine, and I’m sure it will be fine with my friend. I’ll walk him through this scene and that should put both of us in his good graces. We all want to thank Nathan for saving our lives, but we quickly left him alone when we saw it was too painful to converse.”
“He knows and perhaps the steam room at the lodge will do wonders for his throat.”
Soon they had piled into David’s friend’s massive SUV for the ride back to the lodge. They would be in different rooms since the clean-up of their suite had not yet occurred. Jill was sure that the lodge would be thrilled to learn that while they had the sprinkler damage, at least they didn’t have the bullet and grenade damage. She hoped they would continue to view her as a good customer.
There was no need for a hotel room for Nick, Jo, or Marie. Angela was staying with Jill and Nathan for her final night in Colorado. They used the bathroom to get refreshed while Jill took Nathan down to the steam room. The bruises were beginning to look really bad around his throat and she was extremely grateful that the FBI agent had shot Bogachev when he did.
Jill said to Nathan, “This steam will either make you feel better or worse, I really can’t guess, but we’ll leave quickly if you start feeling worse.”
Nathan nodded in agreement as they settled into the warm foggy interior. Jill added eucalyptus oil to the steam and Nathan nodded his agreement that it improved his throat. They stayed there for a half an hour then returned to the room to say goodbye to Marie, Jo, and Nick. Hugs were exchanged all around.
“Jill, you are going to have to increase our contracts soon for hazardous duty pay,” declared Marie. “The chairlift and grenade events were more excitement then I wanted in a second job!”
“Next time, get me out of bed so I don’t miss any excitement! I never used to be a heavy sleeper; I am still astonished that I slept through a grenade blast,” said Jo.
Jill was laughing when she said, “That is exactly why we don’t get you out of bed - not even a grenade wakes you up when you’re in a deep sleep!”
“Most of all we need to thank Nathan. He saved all of our lives by having the smarts to sneak around back and stop Bogachev from tossing that second grenade at us. I am so sorry your throat is so sore,” said Angela, her voice a mixture of awe and concern.
Nathan then whispered slowly, “You’re family - what else would I do but try and save you?”
Marie added, “You know they say ‘when you save a life, you are responsible for it.’ So it is a good thing that we’re family.”
Nathan just smiled and nodded.
“Jill, thanks for asking me to join you on this case,” said Nick. “I thought the violent criminals and adventures in your last case in Belgium and the Netherlands was just a unique experience. Now my conclusion is that seemingly quiet murders hide the most heinous criminal minds.”
They all left and soon it was just Angela, Nathan, and Jill sitting back in the steam room, glasses of wine in hand, relaxing and enjoying the quiet companionship of friends, mountains, and the satisfaction of taking down murderous villains.
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Acknowledgements…
Thanks to my friends, families, and readers who have expressed joy in my prior mysteries. It's such a motivation to tell a new story!
For my editor, Chereese Graves, thank you for helping me make this story better for my readers by exposing the holes in this tale and errors that I have since fixed with this reprint.
Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, won’t you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer?
Thanks!
Alec Peche
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictit
iously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author and the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in review.
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Death on a Green
Prologue
The two men were alone in the locker room. They had just finished changing into their street clothes from the green sweaty scrubs that they had both had on for the past five hours. One of the men looked tired having just provided anesthesia while worrying about both the patient and the surgeon operating. The patient was fine; the surgeon had barely made it to the closure of the surgical incision.
“You just made it to the closure. What would you have done if you couldn’t have finished this case? Doug asked.
“What do you mean? I was fine. I could have continued another hour. My work is just more complicated than your and requires deeper concentration,” boasted Bradley.
“You paused several times during the surgery as if you had forgotten what your next step was. The surgical technician was holding out the appropriate instruments and you were not taking them out of her hands. The patient was under anesthesia for thirty minutes longer than the other five surgeons doing this exact same procedure.”
“That idiot surgical tech was handing me the wrong instruments - that’s why I wasn’t taking them out of her hands. As for the extra anesthesia time, I was being more careful than my fellow surgeons, and I take my time sewing the incision shut. I try to reduce my patients’ scars.”
“Those are all excuses. You know you barely avoided making several serious mistakes.”
“You know I don’t want to work with you anymore. I am going to request the office schedule any other anesthesiologist but you for all my future cases.”
“My peers worry about working with you. If you get sued for surgical technique, then they likewise get named in the suit. They don’t want their names dragged into court with yours. I am going to request the medical staff office do a quality review of your surgical outcomes.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No just giving you advanced notice of what I plan to do. You and I have worked together for more than ten years and you know that going behind people’s backs is not my style. I am really worried about patients under your care. I don’t know what your problem is. I don’t know if you’re ill, if you have an alcohol or drug problem, or if you lost your confidence in the operating room, but your surgeries are getting more dangerous with each passing month. You’re a different surgeon than you were a year ago. I wouldn’t allow you to operate on a family member and if that is my opinion, I should be concerned for the patients served by this hospital.”
“Let me put you on notice that I am going to report you to the medical staff office for causing a hostile work environment in the operating room. Your threats are interfering with my concentration. I’m going to ask them to review the quality of your work.”
“That is fine. I always welcome an evaluation of my anesthesia technique. Maybe I’ll learn something that will make me a better physician.”
Doug looked at Bradley while he made these last comments. He could figuratively see steam coming out of his ears and if his eyes had been a laser like what they used in the OR, he would have been blinded by now. He placed a hand on Bradley’s arm and asked, “Are you okay? You look un-well.”
Bradley shrugged his arm away from Doug’s hand and said, “Just get the hell out of this room and out of my life. You’ll regret if you report me to anyone. I am a brilliant surgeon and how dare you say otherwise.” He finished the last sentence nearly yelling at Doug.
Doug could see he wasn’t reaching Bradley, so he dropped his dirty scrubs in the laundry basket and picked up his satchel to leave.
Bradley tossed a parting shot at him, “You’re regret that you ever brought this conversation up. You can’t tell lies about me. I am a brilliant surgeon.”
Doug didn’t say anything, he just closed the door gently on the locker room and walked away thinking about his next steps. Next to delivering bad news to a patient or their family, the next conversation he hated to have was about another physician’s performance. It had been his experience that they couldn’t see the poor performance on their own and thus each time he had such a conversation it usually brought up anger and denial. Unlike medical school where you had evaluations in terms of tests or physician Specialty Boards where you had to take a test and stand before your peers to discuss your knowledge, once you finished your medical training there was no regular ongoing evaluation of your skill and knowledge. Bradley was from the old school. He had not taken his Boards so there was no recertification every five to ten years. He had graduated from medical school and completed his training before Boards were created in his specialty and thus his skill had not been evaluated in almost thirty years by a group of his peers. He had been grandfathered in as an older surgeon and did not have get Boarded. He would give Bradley a week to take action on his own now that he had planted the seed. Doug would also make sure he wasn’t paired with him for any upcoming surgeries in the week ahead.
He approached his car thinking about the week ahead. It was Friday night and he wasn’t on-call for the week-end. On Monday, he had taken the day off to participate in his favorite golf outing. He enjoyed the outdoors, the chance to play golf, an opportunity to support one of his favorite charities, and just the general tone of this particular outing. It was fun, and really non-competitive which was a good thing given all of the alcohol that was served throughout the course. He also enjoyed the competition of hitting close to the chicken wings chafing dish plugged in on the fairway, the wooden cow, or the bar stool. It was important to have a sense of humor when golfing.
Bradley was still sitting in the men’s locker room in the operating room. He needed to check on his patient and speak to the family to tell them all was well. Because of his stupid argument with Doug, he had to sit here and get his temper under control. He was going to have the surgical tech written up for a poor performance, and then he was going to move on to Doug. He had checked the schedule and knew he had three days to figure out what to do about him. Taking some deep breaths he stood up to go speak with the family, and then he was going to head home to spend some time thinking about his comments. Why had he said such things? He was the best surgeon at this hospital. No patients had died under his care and if he was taking longer, it was because he was more careful and his wound closure was better than anyone else. He scoffed at Doug’s words in his mind, closed the door on those thoughts and reached out to shake the hands of his patient’s family.
