by Diane Weiner
Travis whispered, “Sara, do you mind if we get going? I’m beat.” He looked at the dresser. After we move the dresser, of course.”
Feeling worn out herself, she was eager to comply. “I’ll help.” Together they put the dresser in its new home, Scott’s old bedroom turned guest room.
“Mom and Dad, we’re going to head home.”
“Okay. This was fun. You’ll have to be back soon.”
“Of course.” She kissed her parents and grandfather goodnight.
“Thanks for including me,” said Travis. “Goodnight.”
Travis didn’t say a word the whole way home. He looked more serious than she’d ever seen him, or perhaps that’s how he looked when he was worried. Not his usual self. Snow fell on the windshield.
“Home, sweet home,” said Travis. “I’ll walk you in.”
Travis turned on the lights and walked through the rooms. “I don’t see any boogey men in the closets.” He made sure the interior door to the garage was locked. “Turn on the alarm behind me. Goodnight.”
As she was closing the door, he turned around and said, “I had a really nice time tonight.” Then continued walking to his car.
Although it felt a bit lonely after being with her family, Sara was glad to be home.
Her hand had been stiff and bothering her all night. She scooped up Panther. “I might have to stay after all. I don’t know how I’ll cope, giving up the orchestra, but I’m getting worse, not better. Come on. Let’s go to bed.” She put Panther near her ear. His purring always soothed her.
Just before she turned out the bedroom lamp, she looked out the window at the snow floating through the night sky like wisps of cotton. She had an excellent view of Travis’s driveway. What’s that black car doing parked in his driveway?
The front door opened and a man in a trench coat stood in the doorway talking to, more like arguing with, Travis. She couldn’t hear from across the yard, even when she cracked open the window. Travis slammed the door shut, then she heard the engine rev. The stranger sped away. Who was that? Am I being completely stupid by trusting Travis?
Chapter 24
Sara woke up with two goals for the day. She planned on going by the shop to help her father, and she wanted to touch base with Travis over pursuing Jailyn’s alibi. Could anyone who was at the clinic that night vouch for her being there all evening? She couldn’t directly ask Phil or he’d accuse her of telling him how to do his job. She’d already made that mistake.
Peeking out the blinds, she was surprised Travis’s car was already gone. It’s early for him to go into work. Does his early departure have anything to do with the private phone call he took outside in the freezing air last night? Or the argument he had with the stranger wearing the trench coat? I know he’s hiding something, and he’s an amateur at it.
She knew how it felt to harbor a secret. My parents showed no signs of suspecting I have a health issue or that I may be leaving behind the career I’ve worked so hard to attain. Not until I told them. It felt good to have it out in the open.
After breakfast, she scraped the snow off her windshield and drove over to Baron Oboes. Both her grandfather and father were huddled over worktables, tools in hand. She paused at the door, catching part of their conversation, feeling her heart sink.
“I don’t think we have a choice. We can cover our bills for only a few more months.”
“If we work quickly enough, we can deliver the oboes on our backlist and that’ll cover the bills,” said Grandpa.
“But we haven’t been keeping up. Look how far behind we are. We’re losing business because no one can wait that long for an instrument. Frasier Woodwinds made us a generous offer.”
Sara walked in. “You can’t throw in the towel, Dad. I’ll help. Once I get a bit of practice, I can work fast.”
“We’re swimming against the tide, Sara.”
“Let me see the list.”
“You’re better off helping with repairs. The learning curve on instrument making is steep.”
“But it’s not like I don’t know how to do it. I worked alongside you my whole life before I left for college.”
Her father hesitated for a moment. “Okay. Come on. Let’s start with measuring the wood. The bore has to be exact. Not that I have to tell you. Attention to detail has always been your strong point.” His tone suggested he would take all the help he could get to have the family business survive.
He handed her a list of coordinates on a graph. She hoped she could keep her hand in check, now that she convinced her father she was capable. She took a piece of wood and started the process. It’s like riding a bike. I’ve got this.
While she worked, she thought about the case. Jailyn Peters had a convincing enough alibi to keep her off the police suspect list. If she and Travis could poke holes in her alibi, Jailyn would be right back on that list. She hoped to ride over to the clinic later with Travis and find witnesses who worked alongside Jailyn Peters the night of the murder. In spite of the alibi providing sign-in sheet, could witnesses verify Jailyn Peters was at the clinic every minute of that shift? Or was it possible she slipped out unnoticed, killed Ellie, and returned to work?
She felt Grandpa breathing on her shoulder. “That’s good. Turn the lathe just a bit.”
“Like this?”
“Yeah. Now check the measurements for the next section.”
She looked at the graph. “Wait a minute!” She opened the drawer with the logbook and flipped to the page of numbers. Connecting the darker numbers created an oboe shape. She’d been interrupted last time she realized it.
“Grandpa, do these numbers make sense as measurements?”
“Not really. The proportions are similar, but the numbers don’t work.”
Her father said, “How’s the practice oboe coming along?”
“Dad, I’m wondering if the dark numbers in the log book are measurements. Grandpa thinks the numbers wouldn’t work. What do you think?”
Her father held the book under his lamp. “The ratios aren’t what we use. Grandpa’s right about the numbers.”
She was sure there was a connection. “Great Grandpa liked puzzles you said. Maybe it’s some kind of a code.”
“You can play around with it when you have time, but if you truly want to help…”
“Sorry, Dad. I’ll get back to work.”
Once she got her skills up to par, she knew they could conquer the backlist. Especially if Grandpa was able to work too. He may have off days, but she was impressed with the speed and accuracy he exhibited this morning. In fact, since he’d been spending time with Gail, any signs of early Alzheimer’s had greatly diminished. Before she knew it, it was past lunchtime.
“I have to get to my appointment, but I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Her father said, “What appointment? Are you sick?”
“Um, no. A hair appointment. I’m due for a trim.”
“Thank you for helping. You’re right. A little practice and I think we can get you up to speed. It’s too bad that by the time you really get in the groove you’ll be heading back home, hand good as new.”
“I love your optimism, Dad.” She kissed him and Grandpa.
“Things have a way of working out, honey.”
She got to the hospital on time for her visit, but was told Travis was running late and not yet in his office.
“Should I wait or reschedule?”
The receptionist said, “I’d give him another half an hour or so. It’s up to you. It’s unlike him to be late.”
“I know. I’ll go get a cup of coffee and check back.”
I could have stayed and helped at the shop had I known this. Travis’s car was gone this morning. If he wasn’t at work, where did he go? She wondered if he’d even been at home last night. Grandpa’s tease about him having a mistress or a second wife might not be as far off the mark as she’d thought. She wished she didn’t care.
She pushed the elevator button. When the door opened, Gai
l Capelli exited holding a small vase with roses.
“Mrs. Capelli, are you okay?”
“Yes, of course. I was visiting my friend. The one with the metal poisoning I told you about.”
“That’s right. She’d had the artificial hip joint put in. How’s she doing?”
“Better. She’s starting to get her energy back.”
“What was the story again?”
“The company used artificial joints that hadn’t been adequately tested. The combination of materials leached metal and made some patients extremely ill. My friend lost her hair, got rashes…I’m glad they figured it out, but now they have to re-operate to replace the joint.”
“Can they do that?”
“As she told me, it can be complicated, especially if tissue has already grown around it. Plus, she’s elderly and surgery always has risks.”
“My mother mentioned someone at church who was losing her hair after a hip replacement. I wonder if it was for the same reason.”
“Was it Pam Hanson? Poor thing wears a wig now. And not one of those made from real hair either. Everyone can tell.”
“They recalled all the faulty joints, right? Grandpa may be needing that surgery sometime soon if his hip keeps hurting like it does.”
“After the massive recall and the lawsuits, I’m sure the FDA is looking over their shoulder. Must have cost the company billions to trash all that inventory.”
“And the company is based here? Did you remember the name of the company?”
“Yes, I did, after thinking about it last time we discussed this. Medivision. The Montagues own the office building and they manufacture over at a warehouse by Cusa Farms.”
“Who is your friend’s surgeon?” Sara had a feeling she already knew.
“Dr. Peters. Jailyn Peters.”
“Was she implicated in the lawsuit?”
“Heavens, no. My friend tells me Dr. Peters was as angry as anyone. Had no idea the joints were faulty. She threatened to go after them herself.”
The elevator doors opened again. “I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. Want to join me?”
“I’d love to but I’ve got plans. You know that neighbor your mother feeds?”
“Yeah. Jacob, right?”
“Yes. The poor man is having a hard time dealing with his wife’s death and of course I went through the same thing. Your mother brought me over to his place and introduced us. I’m going to go over and visit, perhaps take him out for a late lunch if he’s up to it.”
“That’s so sweet. Is Grandpa going with you?”
“No, he has to work. He and your father have been putting in long hours trying to keep the business afloat. Frank says you’ve been a great help.”
Nice to know I’m doing something useful with my time. “Okay, well, have fun. That’s very sweet of you to care enough to help him out.”
“You can’t really understand unless you’ve gone through it yourself.”
“Grandpa was devastated when Grandma died. It took him a long time to even get out of bed. We were afraid we were going to lose him too. He’s been much happier since the two of you have been spending time together.”
Gail’s cheeks blushed. “Yes, we’ve spent long hours sharing stories. I’d better get going.”
Sara headed to the cafeteria and sat down with coffee and her phone. She searched for information about the lawsuit and checked patient comments about Jailyn Peters.
Jailyn Peters had a mixed bag of reviews. Some praised her for giving them their lives back thanks to her surgical skill. A few commented on her businesslike demeanor and lack of bedside manner. Here’s an interesting one. A patient’s daughter writes that Dr. Peters killed her mother by implanting a recalled hip joint. How can she prove that?
Sara searched through medical malpractice cases and lawsuits. While not easy to sift through, she found three different lawsuits naming both Dr. Peters and Medivision. The suits claimed defective hip and knee joints contained metals that leached into the blood stream making the patients sick—just as Mrs. Capelli said. The implication was that Dr. Jailyn Peters implanted them knowing they were defective, or at the least that it was her responsibility as a doctor to have picked up that they were defective. A class action lawsuit against Medivision is pending.
Medivision is right here in Hudsonville. I wonder how many other patients were affected and don’t even realize it? She found the recall notice and noted the model numbers of the affected joints. Looking at the wall clock, she realized it had been more than thirty minutes. If she hoped to get her appointment in with Travis, she had to get moving.
When she got to his office, the receptionist told her to go right in.
“Sara, I’m sorry about being so late. I had to cancel my other appointments, but I wanted to be sure you’d get in a session.”
“Where were you?”
“Business.”
“What sort of business?”
“Sara, it’s private. You need to respect that. Now, give me your hand.”
She complied, but wasn’t happy about his evasive answer. “It’s getting worse. I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m going to schedule an appointment with a neurologist to rule out underlying conditions. This isn’t simply a hand problem. Unlike carpal tunnel or tendonitis, focal dystonia is a glitch in the signal from your brain to your hand.”
“So you can’t help me?”
“I didn’t say that. I want to try medication. I work closely with the internist down the hall. I’d like you to schedule an appointment with him. If that doesn’t work, Botox injections have been somewhat successful, but it’d be hard to confine the target area.”
“Medication?”
“There are also neurological retraining exercises to try. I have to research them further. And we can consider changing how you play the instrument. Perhaps adjusting how you hold it.”
“It’s worth a shot. I read about an oboist with this problem who had the thumb rest repositioned. Is this going to get worse?”
“Typically it stabilizes. I’m confident we can make progress.”
“What about acupuncture?”
“You can try that as well. Complementary treatments have their place alongside traditional medicine.”
“On another note, I did some research. Jailyn Peters has been named in several lawsuits involving Medivision devices.”
“I remember when that whole scandal came out, shortly after I moved here.”
“Do you think it’s possible Dr. Peters still uses those faulty joints?”
“I can’t imagine it. Besides, they’re no longer on the market.”
“What happens to the recalled joints?”
“Well, I imagine they are destroyed or melted down. I never thought about it really.”
“What if the devices weren’t destroyed? I mean, that’s a ton of revenue going to trash.”
“The FDA has been all over Medivision since the recall. They’re constantly being inspected, and it’s a good thing. It reassures the public that it’s safe to use their products again. Otherwise, they’d be out of business, even after cleaning up their act.”
“Gail’s friend had hip surgery less than a year ago. Dr. Peters was her surgeon. She’s in the hospital now receiving treatment for metal poisoning. Wasn’t that after the recall?”
“Let me check the data base.”
“Can you do that?”
“I can see who had hip and knee replacements. They are all assigned initially to me post op.” He sat at his desk. “I can only go back a year. I’m not sure how helpful this will be.” He scrolled down the list on the computer, Sara reading over his shoulder. “Here’s one of Jailyn’s patients. Jot down the name.”
Sara grabbed a note pad and started writing.
“Here are two more. One is Jailyn’s patient. The other is Dr. Arnold’s.”
He continued. “Arnold, Arnold, Arnold…Here’s Peters.”
By the time they finished, they had f
ive names on the list.
“Where should we start?”
“I have to respect their privacy, legally. If I currently am seeing them, I’ll ask a few questions next time they come to the office. Frankly, I haven’t heard any complaints since the recall.”
“Why don’t you call them?”
“Sara, I can’t push this or I can get into hot water. Last thing I need is to get sued. Be patient.”
“What about taking a ride to the Medivision factory?”
“And do what? Sneak in? Look how well that worked when you went to the cabin to spy on Preston.”
“You’re a physical therapist. Can’t you claim to have interest in their new products or something?”
“Let me work on it. What are your plans for the afternoon?”
“Actually, I have to get a birthday present for Grandpa. There’s a mall less than half an hour’s ride from here. Do you want to come?”
“Have you ever met a man who voluntarily goes to a mall? Unless, of course, he’s trying to win someone over.”
Her pulse quickened. Did he mean he had thoughts of winning her over? Stop acting like a school girl. That’s what happens when you aren’t working and have too much time on your hands. Besides, he’s a jerk. Remember the accident?
“Or, if he needs to buy a present as well. It’s my one-year anniversary working at the hospital next week and I wanted to pick up a little something for the nurses and receptionist in my office.”
“That’s very sweet of you. Let’s go.”
Chapter 25
The mall was small by San Francisco standards. Sara remembered how huge it seemed growing up when she and her Mom spent entire days shopping, eating lunch at the deli in the food court, getting cinnamon pretzels from the booth near Sears…I always imagined having my own daughter to shop with. That window is closing. I’ll wind up without a career and without a family.
They circled the parking area three times before finding a space. Not unusual, she supposed, as it was almost holiday season.
