Quality DNA

by Beth Martin

  A small sign announced future luxury offices for rent. There were a few picnic tables with workers sitting, eating lunch, and talking noisily. At the end stood a mobile food truck selling tamales, french fries, and donuts.

  “So which one is he?” Jamie asked as they approached the small crowd of construction workers taking a break for lunch.

  “I don’t know. Let’s just take a seat and maybe he’ll find us,” Irene whispered. She straightened her blouse before walking up to the tables surrounding the stand.

  They stood observing the crowd for a moment before taking a seat at a table.

  “Maybe we should order some food?” Jamie said.

  Before Irene could respond, a man walked up to them. “You, uh, you Angel’s friend?” He looked to be in his late forties and was short with a stocky build. He wore jeans and a long sleeve denim shirt paired with a orange safety vest, just like all the other workers wore.

  “I am,” Irene said, standing to shake his rough hand. “My name is Irene Crow and this is my wife Jamie.”

  Jame gave him a cautious smile as she also shook his hand, saying, “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “I’m Julio Martinique. I manage one of the construction crews here. We’re working on an office building.”

  Irene did her best to keep her expression serious. She was glad the man in front of her was at least employed.

  “Did you finish school?” she asked.

  “I graduated, yes,” he said. “Most of my training has been on the job.”

  “Are you healthy?”

  He scratched his head with his hand. “Yes.”

  “And are both of your parents still living?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Does any of your family have any genetic conditions?”

  “No.”

  “Cancer? History of heart attack?”

  “No, and no.”

  “Geez,” Jamie said, laying a hand on Irene’s arm. “Give the poor man a chance to talk. I’m sure Julio has plenty of questions for us.” She nodded at Julio, letting him know it was safe to talk.

  “Uh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never really done this before.”

  “Neither have we,” Jamie said, smiling as she grasped Irene’s hand.

  “Okay, well. I’m not entirely sure how a threesome is supposed to go. So, do I come to your place, or what?”

  Irene’s face fell and Jamie let go of her hand. “Threesome? We aren’t interested in a threesome. We’re looking for a sperm donor.”

  He smirked. “Well, I mean, how else are you going to get it up in there?”

  “You leave a sample in a cup,” Irene said flatly.

  He stepped back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No. No way. If you want a baby off of me, we do this the old-fashion way.”

  Jamie bit her lip and looked at Irene. “I’m sure we could work something out…”

  “Okay, I’ve heard enough,” Irene said as she stood up abruptly. “Thank you for meeting with us, but I’m afraid this isn’t going to work. Come on, Jamie, let’s go.”

  Julio raised his hands in defense. “Your loss, ladies.”

  Irene stormed back to their car half-dragging Jamie with her. They got in and Irene slammed her door. Once the car started navigating back to their apartment, Jamie started yelling at Irene.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “I am so sorry,” Irene said. “I really thought Angel would have recommended someone who was willing to work with us.”

  “Oh, he was willing. You’re the one who blew up the deal.”

  Irene stared at her wife in disbelief. “You wouldn’t seriously sleep with that man?”

  “He’s right. That’s what it takes to make a baby,” Jamie spat.

  “It’s disgusting.”

  “It’s biology. And if you don’t remember, I used to sleep with men, too.” They sat in silence for a moment, staring at the road ahead. Jamie crossed her arms and looked out the side window.

  Irene finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “I’m sorry. I’m just not willing to go that far to have a child.”

  Jamie wiped a tear from her eye. “Well I am.”

  six

  Annette sat uncomfortably on the examination table. She was supposed to undress and put on the little gown, but it wasn’t nearly enough to cover her now that she had gotten positively huge. Instead, she kept on her blouse and draped the paper blanket over her unclothed bottom half.

  “You ready to have this baby?” the doctor asked as she came into the small exam room. After carefully interviewing each of the doctors at the Seattle OB/Gyn office, Annette had picked Dr. Trimble to deliver her baby. Her graying curly hair and demeanor of an endlessly patient grandmother suggested she was older, but her smooth skin and fit figure were more in line with her actual age of thirty-four. She rubbed her hands together, warming them before placing them on Annette’s belly.

  “Everything feels good,” she said. “Baby is in position, head down. Though she does feel pretty low. Have you had any discomfort walking?

  “Yes,” Annette said. She had every discomfort: her hips, legs, back, feet. It all hurt all the time.

  “We’ve got you on the schedule for next Saturday, so if your baby can wait that long, I’ll see you and meet your daughter then.”

  Annette nodded. Now was her chance to ask questions, but she had already exhaustively searched everything there was to know about birthing babies and caring for infants using her device.

  Dr. Trimble slipped out of the exam room, leaving Annette to get dressed. She had time to get back to work, but there wasn’t much going on at the office. Well, there was, but nothing for Annette to do. Pat would be taking over during her maternity leave and had already picked up most of her work duties.

  Annette decided to take an early weekend. Her last weekend without child. She would celebrate starting with some ice-cream. She was starving.

  ··OOO··

  Irene combed over the details of George Clark’s medical records looking for any sort of clue or abnormality. He had been in perfect health until seven years ago when his doctor referred him to Dr. Tanaka, who later diagnosed him with cancer. He underwent a bilateral orchiectomy, the removal of both testicles, and required no other treatment. The cancer had been caught in the early stages and George made a full recovery.

  The only thing that stood out to Irene was that his normal doctor, Dr. Singh, referred George to a surgeon before doing any diagnostic tests. Other than that, everything seemed to line up with what he had told her.

  Angel walked up to her desk and leaned against it. He took a pen from her cup of writing implements and started twirling it between his fingers. “Sorry about my pal Julio. He said you guys didn’t really get along.”

  “Heh, you could say that again.”

  “Well, still, sorry it didn’t work out.”

  Irene collected her papers together and stuck them back in the folder. “I need someone to come with me to Santa Teresa Hospital.”

  He stabbed the pen back in the cup. “Sure, I’ll come. Let’s take my car.”

  When they arrived at the hospital, they both flashed their credentials from their devices to get past the front desk. Marble floors led to a glass elevator which overlooked the inner courtyard. The hospital was clearly well-funded, likely from generous private donations. They got off on the fourth floor and located the office for Dr. Schumacher, the head of oncology.

  “You’re lucky to have found me in my office,” Dr. Schumacher said as he let Irene and Angel in. “I was just about to make my rounds.”

  “We’ll only take up a minute of your time,” Angel said as he sat down. The office had touches to make it feel more comfortable and less clinical. The walls were a deep green, there was a plush rug on the floor, and instead of harsh, fluorescent lighting, several lamps gave the room a warm glow.

  “We wanted to ask you about a particular patient,” Irene said, handing him the medical records
from inside her folder.

  Dr. Schumacher put on a pair of glasses and read through the records briefly before handing them back. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with this patient.”

  “I’m actually more interested in the doctor who performed his surgery,” she said, flipping to that particular detail in the file before handing it back.

  “Hmmm, Dr. Tanaka? Can’t say I’ve heard of him.” He turned to the monitor on his desk and said, “Look up Dr. Tanaka.” He glanced over the screen and said, “He is a urological surgeon with privilege at this hospital. Looks like he’s based in LA.”

  “Could you give us his contact information?” Irene asked.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll send it directly to you.”

  Irene felt her device buzz in her pocket, letting her know she received the message. “Could you also tell us if Dr. Tanaka performed the same surgery on any other patients at Santa Teresa?”

  “Yes, I can tell you that. I just need to take a peek at your subpoena first.”

  “We’ll have to come back with that,” Angel said, giving Irene a curious glance. “Thank you so much for your time, doctor.”

  As they walked out of the hospital through the grand hallway, Angel whispered, “You really think there’s a conspiracy?”

  Irene shook her head. “I’d like to rule it out.”

  ··OOO··

  “You can’t go to LA,” Annette pleaded into her device. She was already emotional and anxious anticipating the arrival of her baby. Instead of going into work and sitting in her office doing nothing, Annette had decided to start her leave early. She sat in her bed propped up by a mountain of pillows. Her set-up would have been ideal if she didn’t need to get up and use the bathroom every thirty minutes.

  “I’m investigating a pretty important case,” Irene’s voice came over Annette’s device. “I’ll only be gone for a couple days. I’ll be back before the eighteenth.”

  “You promised you’d be here for me when I give birth,” Annette said, tears streaming from her eyes.

  “And I will be,” Irene said.

  “What if my baby comes early?”

  “If you go into labor, give me a call. I’ll be on the next flight there. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You know that.”

  “I know,” Annette said between ugly sobs. “I’m just so uncomfortable. I don’t want to be pregnant anymore.”

  “No, you want your baby to cook for as long as she needs. Take good care of yourself while I’m gone. I’ll have Jamie check in on you, and I’ll call everyday, okay?”

  “Thank you,” Annette said, wiping away the tears. She hated how easily she got emotional like this.

  “I’ll let you know when I land in LA,” Irene promised.

  After the call disconnected, Annette tossed her device on the bed next to her. She wondered if Irene would be able to remain so calm if Jamie were the one expecting.

  Laying around waiting was boring. She picked back up her device and asked, “Are there any good TV shows I haven’t seen yet?”

  “New this week, the detectives of New York city investigate a serial killer with no face. Watch the latest episode of From the Beat to the Court.”

  “Good enough,” Annette said, settling into her pillow pile as the episode started playing on the large screen on her bedroom wall.

  ··OOO··

  After touching down in LA, Irene started obsessively researching Dr. Tanaka, trying to learn everything she could about him. He had gone to medical school at Shoreline University where he was an average student. He had been an active member of his fraternity. The first ten years of his career had been spent with Doctors Care, traveling around the world and working in understaffed facilities. After that, he did a fellowship at Santa Teresa to specialize in urological surgery. A few years in Seattle were followed by him settling down in Los Angeles. Now in his mid-sixties, it looked like his medical practice hadn’t slowed down.

  Although it was impossible to get a list of his patients, his web brochure highlighted that he had done thousands of urological surgeries and had unmatched expertise.

  “I’m beginning to believe you’re obsessed with this doctor,” Angel said.

  Irene didn’t even look up from her device, rereading the information on Dr. Tanaka. “He’s got to be the key. Everything that George and Rose Clark have said has been true.”

  “Or they just cover their lies really well.”

  Her device buzzed, letting her know she had a message. “We’re about to find out. Dr. Tanaka just invited us to come meet him at his house.”

  “House? Does the man not have an office?”

  He didn’t have an office. Dr. Tanaka worked out of several hospitals, but had no home base to call his own.

  From his name and picture, Irene knew he was of Japanese descent, but she still didn’t expect the traditional Japanese-style house nestled high in the Los Angeles hills.

  The rental car parked itself in front of the large dwelling, and Irene and Angel got out. “This guy must be doing pretty well,” Angel commented.

  Irene had seen pictures of the doctor and immediately recognized him when he came to the door. They came inside and took off their shoes, lining them up with the other pairs of footwear sitting just inside the entrance.

  The palatial structure felt much more intimate inside. Looking around, Irene realized they were walled in with screens and sliding doors, and not able to see the entirety of the space. Dr. Tanaka invited them to sit with him at a low table. The floor mats were surprisingly comfortable, and let off a pleasant, earthy fragrance.

  “Thank you for having us,” Irene said, starting the conversation.

  “I heard you traveled from Seattle to see me. I’m afraid you may find you have wasted a trip.”

  “Tell us about your patient, George Clark,” Angel said.

  Dr. Tanaka looked down at his wrinkled hands resting on the table before looking up at Angel. “I’m afraid there is nothing to tell that isn’t already in the file. Mr. Clark presented with abdominal pain. His primary physician referred him to me. I did a scan which showed a small mass in his right testicle. I did a bilateral orchiectomy. No further treatment was needed.”

  “What happened to Mr. Clark’s, uh, genetic material?” Angel asked.

  “His testes? They were discarded as biological waste.”

  “In your medical opinion, how could Mr. Clark have fathered his wife’s new baby?” Irene asked.

  “The only way would be artificial insemination with previously frozen sperm.”

  “Did Mr. Clark have any frozen sperm?” Angel asked.

  “Although I don’t know any specifics, it’s the most likely scenario. Mr. Clark appears to have the means to pay a private lab to freeze and house a sample off the books,” Dr. Tanaka answered.

  “Have you ever treated Mrs. Clark?” Irene asked.

  “No, I have not.”

  Irene nodded to Angel to let him know she had asked all the questions she needed answered.

  “Thank you for your time, doctor,” Angel said.

  Dr. Tanaka stood up and led them back to the front door. “I wish I could have been more help.”

  Irene was disappointed. George could have fathered Lily with frozen sperm housed somewhere other than Verilicorp. Of course someone with his means wouldn’t have put all his eggs, or in this case sperm, in one basket. He probably had samples at every blackmarket cryogenic-freezer business.

  Something shiny caught her eye as she walked by the entrance. The sun flashed against the glass of a framed photo. The picture was of Dr. Tanaka and another Asian man with a cello. She almost didn’t recognize the younger-looking cellist in the old photo.

  “Is that D. Young?” she asked.

  “Yes, it is,” Dr. Tanaka said, a smile spreading across his face. “He actually played at my wedding. We try to stay in touch.”

  As they walked back to the car, Angel said, “That was a waste.”

  Irene slid into the car b
efore responding. “I thought so as well, until I saw that picture.”

  “Why? What does a cellist have to do with this?”

  Irene pulled up directions to their hotel on her device and held it to the dash. The car engine started up and they drove back to the hotel.

  “I actually met D. Young earlier this year. He was one of the other men with excessive progeny,” she said.

  “So what? It’s just a coincidence.”

  “Here’s another one,” she said. “D. Young was the second case like that I had gotten this year, so I checked to see if there was any link between the two.”

  “And?” he asked.

  “He was hospitalized for exhaustion a while back. It was all over the news. One of the residents of the hospital was credited with treating him. That resident was Dr. Mosley, the other excessive progeny offender. On top of that, this was seven years ago, around the time George had his cancer procedure done. They were all at the same hospital at the same time.”

  “You think two doctors, a musician, and a CEO colluded to somehow get around excessive progeny laws?” Angel asked.

  “It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

  “Irene, it is stupid. You need to close this case and walk away. Start obsessing about making that baby of your own.”

  ··OOO··

  Irene had already called Annette and Jamie. Neither conversation had gone well. Even though Irene felt the trip to LA had been worthwhile, neither woman close to her agreed. She walked outside of her hotel to get some fresh air, at least as fresh as the city could offer. When her device played an ad for a restaurant as she walked by, she decided to go in and just take a seat at the bar.

  She ordered a beer and nursed it for a while. Watching the bubbles rise up through the amber liquid, she wondered how many beers this day deserved.

  “Must be a bad day if you’re already drinking alone at four in the afternoon. Do you mind?” The other patron motioned at the seat next to her.