“No.”
“Well, this lawyer, Mr. Wang, is making a claim on behalf of the Estate of Nadia Turkenov for the sum of ten million dollars plus future care.”
“Does your guy owe it?”
“We don’t think so.”
“What’s it based on?”
“My client, Dr. Sewell, had a medical event. An infection in his brain. During the time, he was comatose he died and went to heaven. And then came back to write about it.”
“Sure he did,” said Thaddeus. “I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me right there. This sounds to me like a wild ass scam, Mr. Lambre. Not interested.”
“Wait. Let me tell you the rest of it.”
Thaddeus looked at his watch. He had told Katy he would take her into town for a vegan lunch on San Francisco Street. There was a place she loved. He’d give the guy three more minutes before politely hanging up.
“You’ve got three minutes, Mr. Lambre.”
“My client is a graduate of Harvard Medical School and is board-certified in neurosurgery and psychiatry.”
“So he didn’t start earning until he was probably forty years old. Too bad.”
Lambre ignored the comment. “He fell ill and was admitted to the best hospital in Boston, where he stayed unconscious for about six days. During that time, according to the brain scans, my client was medically brain dead.”
“No brain wave activity?”
“No brain wave activity.”
“What was the diagnosis?”
“An infection of the lining of the brain.”
Thaddeus knew his medicine from previous medical malpractice cases. “Pneumococcal meningitis? Was that it?”
“You’d have to look at the records. I think so.”
“So what happened? How’d he come out of it?”
“That’s the strange thing. The doctors had given up. They had recommended to the family that life support be withdrawn. On the morning the ventilator was to be unplugged, the patient suddenly opened his eyes.”
“Residual damage?”
“None. It was amazing. He went from total brain death to total consciousness without deficit in the blink of an eye.”
“So what’s Attorney Wang’s claim about? How is your doctor involved with Wang’s client?”
“Well, that’s just it. He’s not. But what Wang is claiming is that his client’s sister, this Nadia Turkenov, saw my client on TV, read his book called The Doctor Is In…Heaven, and decided to pop some pills and try for a near death experience herself.”
“Holy shit. Why would she do that?”
“Dead husband. Lonely. Desperate. Hell, who knows why anyone does anything? Long story short, she wanted to have a near death experience. Hoping to talk to the dead, I guess.”
“My God.”
“Hey, I just represent people. That doesn’t say anything about what I do or don’t believe. It’s a business.”
“Still, what a crock!”
“That’s right. So she evidently OD’d on something. She’s a nurse. And she’s still in a coma and the family is mad as hell at my client for giving bad medical advice.”
Thaddeus came upright at his desk.
“Bad medical advice? They’re claiming medical malpractice for—what, a near death experience? Like your guy recommended it?”
“I don’t know. But we’re taking it seriously. His publisher is up in arms and threatening to pull my client’s inventory from the shelves. We can’t let that happen, Mr. Murfee. My client has an amazing story to tell and he should be allowed to continue telling it without threats from people like this with dollar signs in their eyes. Can you help?”
“Why me? I’m up here in Flagstaff. Your guy is L.A. Based.”
“Nadia Turkenov is in your hospital. Her brother, the conservator, has a used furniture store in Flagstaff.”
Thaddeus shook his head. “You know, I have to be honest. I’m very skeptical about the whole near death thing. I don’t believe in stuff like that at all.”
“How can I convince you? It wouldn’t mean you would have to believe. Just defend someone who does. Would you review the medical records if I sent them to you?”
“I don’t know. My own wife—”
He had started to tell the man about Katy and how sick she was when it suddenly occurred to him that information about death and dying might be exactly what Katy needed to hear right now. After all, she was dying and she had no hope for anything beyond death. Katy was a fatalist. She had no religious faith and didn’t want any. Still, what if something like this gave her some hope?
He knew he would regret it…but. He fought back his words of skepticism and said he would review the records. The Hollywood agent told Thaddeus he would have the records the next day and hung up.
Thaddeus sat back at his desk. From this position he could look straight out at the San Francisco Peaks, perhaps two miles off, where the aspen groves made their run up the side of the mountains, up and up until the tree-line, where the green cover thinned to gray and the volcanic mountainside emerged and ran on up to the snow-line where the snowcaps began. He knew he would take her ashes there when she passed away. He knew that’s where she had chosen to come to rest. Four months ago, she had been told she would be dead in six months. Which meant she had maybe sixty days left. He winced and turned away from the sweeping vista. Even now, she was upstairs, slowly taking her bath and getting dressed for their lunch date. Had never quit fighting it, and he was proud of her for that. And he loved her more than ever for that.
He would ask her to review the records with him, for she was a doctor too. Who knew where that might lead?
But more than anything, she demanded to stay active.
Maybe this would be a chance to do that.
11
“I’m telling you, Murfee, I think what hustlers like us oughta do is just rob a frigging bank and get it over with!” said Shep Aberdeen. Shep was a stout, muscular man from Durango, who practiced criminal law and raised whiteface cattle. He was all of six feet, with brown hair kept long in back, rimless spectacles, and very white, very even teeth. He was a stroke victim, but the paralysis had been all but overcome and his speech was clear as ever.
Thaddeus had stopped by his old friend’s office on North Agassiz following a Monday morning court appearance. Thaddeus had just asked Shep what he thought about a snake oil case like the near death experience doctor. Shep had replied they might just as well rob banks as take on those kinds of cases.
“So I take it you’re not a near death believer?” Thaddeus said.
“My great-great-great grandfather sold glass beads to the Indians in Massachusetts. I’ve got a rich vein of the con running through me. But near death experiences? What the hell does that even mean?”
Thaddeus spread his hands. “Believe me, I’m trying to get my head around it too. But the guy’s selling a shitload of books. He’s number one on the bestseller lists.”
“Sure he is. Everyone wants to know what heaven looks like. Shit, even I do.” Shep slumped behind his kidney-shaped desk, cut from ironwood and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. To his left was the flag of the United States; to his right the state flag of Colorado—Durango transplant that he was. Shep took off his eyeglasses and pinched his nose. He was drinking from a Starbucks cup and puffing a Winston from a hard pack, one of four packs scattered across the ironwood.
Thaddeus leaned up to the desk. “Well, he’s moving books. But here’s what I want to ask you since you’ve lived around here forever. How is a northern Arizona jury going to view a doctor who says he died and went to heaven? We’re pretty conservative around here, right?”
“Damn right. Blue as hell. Your man has a tough row to hoe. You asked for my advice, so here it is. I’d turn the damn case down. It’s a hot potato. I wouldn’t touch it. Besides, life’s too short. Look at it this way: your wife’s very sick. She needs you more than the snake charmers need you. Let him find someone else to get this lady’s case dismissed. You don
’t need this, Thad.”
“Funny you should mention Katy. I told her about the case and she went all doctor on me. She wants to see the guy’s medical records. So they’re sending them to us and she’s going to review.”
“Sort of keeping her hand in, is she?”
“Something like that. Besides, I thought it might hold some…interest for her. Given her prognosis. No, I’m saying that wrong. It sounds opportunistic of me and it’s definitely not meant to be. I’m just at a loss about what else I can do for her and so I figured this might be a chance to let her look at a spiritual approach that might be interesting to her. Or hopeful. Or hell, I don’t know!” Shep’s eyes never left the young lawyer’s eyes even when they filled with tears.
“You’re trying to give her hope. Even false hope. I get that.”
“No, no, no, no. Not false hope. I’m just—it’s just—well, maybe it is false hope. The truth is, I don’t know what the hell to think about it. But this much I do know: she’s chomping at the bit to see the guy’s records. So that’s something.”
Shep leaned back and stabbed his cigarette out in the amber ashtray. “I don’t know how I would act if I were in Katy’s shoes. Maybe I’d still need to feel I was useful. I don’t know. But if she’s chomping at the bit then what the hell. Go for it.”
“That’s my thinking. We’ll at least go over the records. So, if I do decide to jump in, I’m thinking I would like to associate you on the case.”
“Me? What the hell for? You’ve done damn well around here without me. Took our friend Angelina Steinmar to trial and won that one. Took that Turquoise case and won that. You’re two-and-oh without me, son. How about if I just make myself available for you to bounce things off of? That do it for you?”
Thaddeus grinned. “I would really appreciate that, Shep.”
“Then you’ve got yourself a bouncer, little friend. Shake on it.”
The two men shook hands across the desk. Shep then sat back and eyed his friend with barely concealed curiosity.
“So tell me, Thad. Have you read this doctor’s book?”
“I started reading it online.”
“Does it stack up?”
Thaddeus shrugged. “That’s just it: stack up against what? I don’t have any experience with near death. Nobody does. But I Googled it and there’s a shitload of information out there. There are websites full of stories who say they died and came back to tell about it.”
“No lie?”
“Yes, and I mean lots of them.”
“What do the doctors say about it? Hell, they see death every day. They oughta have some kind of news for us.”
“That’s where I’m at right now. It gets very complicated, Shep. Have you heard of quantum mechanics?”
“Quantum what?”
“It’s the measurement of very small things. We’re talking very small. Anyhow, the physicists in this area of physics, some of them think human consciousness exists inside microtubules in the brain.”
“Whoa up, Hoss, you’re losing me here. Micro what?”
“Small cells in the brain that have a certain helical structure.”
Shep half-smiled. “Sure they do.”
“Let me go on. These scientists believe that human consciousness is linked to universal consciousness, so when we die our consciousness leaves these microtubules and returns to the universal consciousness. At least, I think that’s what they’re saying. There’s lots of math and formulas that make zero sense to me.”
“Not my circus, not my monkey,” said Shep. “I wouldn’t be telling a jury this kind of stuff. You’d lose them on the first turn around the track. Keep the focus on whether this Nadia woman had a legal right to try something she read in a book and sue the doctor if it didn’t work out as she hoped. Keep it simple, stupid.”
“Agree. I’m just telling you some of what’s out there. Anyhow, Katy’s reading all this stuff now as fast as she can get her hands on it. There’s a guy named Rachmanoff and another guy named Penrose. She’s read everything she can find by these guys. Then there’s another doctor, a woman, who died and went to heaven.”
“Thad, I need to get back to work. Your stuff is making me dizzy.”
Thaddeus laughed. “No, the damn cigarettes are making you dizzy, Shep. How in the hell do you justify smoking after you’ve already had a stroke?”
Shep smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Let’s just say I’ve already had my own near death experience.”
“What about it?”
“What about what?”
“Did you see heaven on the other side?”
“Heaven is a field full of whiteface cattle on an inky blue sky autumn day. That’s as close as I ever hope to get.”
“I hear that.”
“Guys like us, we don’t go to heaven. We go to court. Later, little friend.”
“Later, Shep. And thanks.”
“You’ve got it.”
12
The records arrived in two stuffed transfer file boxes. Thaddeus lugged them inside from the porch and manhandled them into his office. He called upstairs to Katy and let her know the records were awaiting her. Wearing loose-fitting jeans and a Stanford sweatshirt, she came into the office ten minutes later.
“I’m groggy,” she told her husband. “Just had my Demerol about a half hour ago.”
“Are you up for this?” he asked.
“Uh-huh. How about grabbing me a cup of coffee? That will help the scales on my eyes.”
“You’ve got it. I’ve got the boxes open if you want to shuffle through.”
“Mmmm.”
She came around to his desk chair and lowered herself down, steadying herself with the armrests as she performed the almost exhausting task. Anymore, a shower required a thirty-minute nap after. A trip downstairs required preparations and pain meds, followed by a nap on the sofa in Thaddeus’ office, where she kept a comforter.
Thaddeus returned with two mugs of steaming coffee. Black for him; cream for Katy. He arranged her mug where she could easily reach it from his chair and went around to the side chair for himself.
“Well?” he said. “How do we start?”
“We don’t. I do.”
“Oh. All right, then, you go through and tell me what we’ve got? Do I just sit here?”
“No, you skedaddle up to the office for the day and let me read.”
“No, I’m staying with you.”
“Then stay right here. I love having you in the same room.”
“And who is going to do your bidding if I give you some time to read?”
“The service will have a nurse here at ten o’clock. I’ll manage until then.”
“If you say so. But you know I hate to leave you without help.”
“This is not just a request.”
“It’s an order. All right,” he said and pushed up from his chair. “I’ll just take my coffee and go.”
“Please do. And change out of that damn NAU sweatshirt. You’ve had that on all week.”
“Understand,” he said with a smile. “Actually, I was planning a shower first.”
“That would be nice. You smell like a men’s locker room.”
“How would you know what a men’s locker room smells like?”
“You don’t want to know. It has something to do with the men’s football team, though,” she said with a chuckle. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime, when you’re in the mood for titillation.”
“TMI, lady. I’m outta here.”
“Just as well. Now, hush.”
She reached into the box with a Roman numeral one on the side and pulled out the nearest manila file. She opened and began reading.
Fifteen minutes later, when she looked up, Thaddeus could still be heard upstairs, making his preparations for the office.
She leaned back and smiled. The kids were all in school and she would be alone until about ten. In a way she was apprehensive about being alone for ninety minutes until the nurse arrived
. But in another way she was excited to think she could still manage time alone.
It was empowering and exciting, what had once been mundane.
* * *
Thaddeus had replaced his Mustang with a Dodge 3500 4x4 with crew cab and Cummins diesel since coming to the ranch. It had the trailering package so he could move horses around when he took the kids to Colorado for a week of riding and camping. He smiled as he drove toward Flagstaff. Those had been the best times he’d ever had, him, Katy, Turquoise, Celena, Sarai, and Parkus. The trailer hauled eight horses, which included two as pack horses, and everyone’s tack and camping gear. Given that they now had four kids, Thaddeus had foregone bucket seats up front for a bench seat, where Parkus would ride and play his never-ending electronic games.
As he neared town, Thaddeus punched in the speed dial for Katy.
She took the call.
“It’s me. How are you doing?”
“Well, I’m still alive, so there’s that.”
“Yes, there’s always that,” he said with a sigh. Anymore, she hated when he asked how she was. But it totally set him off. He loved her, damn it, and if he couldn’t stay close to her, then what? He was hurting too; but, as he thought through it, he decided to let her have it her way.
“I’ll tell you how I’m doing if anything has changed,” she promised. “You don’t have to ask me over and over all day.” He had agreed, but now he violated that basic principle of communicating with a dying wife. It was just something he couldn’t not do.
“I meant, how are you doing with the records?”
“You did not, Thaddeus. You wanted to know how I’m doing, doing.”
“You’re right. How are you doing, doing?”
“Don’t ask. It’s not pretty. But I’m upright and reading. It’s pretty amazing so far, what Dr. Sewell went through.”
“Can you tell me any of it?”
“Let me finish up with the boxes, then we can talk.”
“I’ll just have to wait. Patience was never a strong suit with me. Please remember that.”
“How about this? I’ll call you at noon and then we’ll have coffee and talk again when you get home at five?”
The Near Death Experience (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 10) Page 5
