She wrote notes on his record. ‘You realize your insistence on putting yourself in positions of high risk is itself evidence of reduced cognitive function?’
‘I put myself in bad situations before Bicho shot me too,’ he said. ‘I volunteered to go undercover on the narcotics squad.’
‘True.’
‘And I married Nancy.’
‘Ha. It does seem you’ve always liked the risk of pain. But that’s different from pain tolerance. In your condition – with frontal lobe impairment – you might be able to tolerate far less than you think.’
‘Are you telling me to quit the work I do? Because I’ve already heard that. But this is who I am.’
‘No – no, I get that.’ The warmth of her smile surprised him. ‘I guess I’m telling you to avoid getting shot. Your body can’t take it. Your brain definitely can’t.’
‘That sounds like good advice,’ he said.
She gazed at him with pressed lips. ‘You know, you’re still riding high on the excitement from this thing. But you may crash. A little thing can trigger it. Be prepared. You’ll need to adjust.’
‘Except for some tics and twitches, I think I’m doing all right,’ he said. ‘More than all right.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ she said.
An hour later, when Kelson arrived at the door to his office, his phone was ringing inside. Men and women – on break from classes at the computer training company – surrounded him in the hall. He fumbled with his key. Dropped it. He scooped it up and tried again. The phone rang inside. A red-haired woman with a wide, freckled face approached from across the hall. She took his key and opened the door.
‘I couldn’t bear watching,’ she said. ‘You all right now?’
‘Never better.’ He stepped inside. ‘Which isn’t quite true – but is sort of, since I wish it was.’ He closed the door.
When he reached his desk, the phone stopped ringing.
He dropped into his chair.
Then his cell phone rang.
Dr Jeremy Jacobson was on the other end. ‘I thought you’d like to know, the patient who died while in Wendy Thomas’s care received her full antibiotic treatment. The post-mortem tests have confirmed it. Ms Thomas is in the clear. Her nursing supervisor left a message for her, but I thought inasmuch as you seem to represent her – and in light of our conversation – you might also convey the news. It’s good news for her.’
‘And for you and the hospital, which is why you called.’
‘We’re convinced Ms Thomas did her job correctly,’ the doctor said. ‘We’ve lifted her suspension. The patient also had a severely enlarged heart – and evidence of earlier heart disease.’
‘I know,’ Kelson said.
‘You do? Well, will you also relay the message to Ms Thomas? We expect her back on her regular schedule, starting immediately.’
‘I’ll tell her if I can,’ Kelson said. ‘Did you send your boys after Jennifer Kowalski’s insurance money this morning?’
If Kelson’s change of subject – or his knowledge of the dead patient’s name – surprised the doctor, he gave no sign of it. ‘Of course not. Our collections department handles insurance payments.’
‘What if a patient is uninsured? Do you send out your sons to strong-arm employers and relatives?’
‘There are also contract collection services, and, as I’m sure you know, hospitals like ours swallow a lot of unpaid fees. What’s this about?’
‘You’ll want to talk to your boys about their visit to Lakeside Tow – and about their lousy driving. There’s something going on that shouldn’t be.’
‘I’ll tell you what’s going on. We’re a busy hospital with a high patient load and occasional staff shortages – including a shortage of qualified nurses like Wendy Thomas. We attempt to remain personable and compassionate through all the business of making people healthy. Hence my call to you.’
‘Hence?’
‘Yes, hence.’
‘Well,’ Kelson said, ‘I appreciate the call. It confirms what I thought, and it’ll make Wendy Thomas happy.’
The doctor said, ‘My pleasure always. I wish you well, Mr Kelson.’
Kelson had promised to call Jose Feliciano in the evening but saw no reason to wait. He took his phone to the window. The sun had broken through the clouds, and afternoon light glinted off the cars passing on the street below. ‘This could be a better place,’ he said. ‘Or it could be worse.’ He dialed.
When Jose answered, Kelson said, ‘Tell Wendy she can go back.’
‘Yeah, she got the message. She’s already gone for an early dinner before her shift.’
‘Wendy had nothing to do with the lady’s death,’ Kelson said. ‘The woman had heart trouble and a history of ignoring her health. I never caught up with Dr Madani, but Jacobson will handle it with her.’
‘What about the other people?’ Jose said. ‘What killed them?’
‘There aren’t others. I told you – no pattern. Nothing.’
‘And I told you, you’re looking at this wrong, amigo.’
‘I’m looking at it with the only eyes I’ve got. I see what’s there. I don’t imagine it.’
‘No, man, you’re blind,’ Jose said, and he hung up.
Kelson stared down at the street. Cars and trucks inched through afternoon traffic. Bundled men and women stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the light.
‘I see everything,’ he said to the world below him. He blinked. Then he closed his eyes for a count of ten and reopened them. Cars and trucks still inched through traffic. Bundled men and women gathered to cross the intersection. ‘Everything.’
His phone rang and he brought it to his ear. ‘Everything, amigo,’ he said. ‘Todos.’
A woman spoke. ‘Excuse me?’
Kelson recognized the voice but couldn’t place it. ‘Sorry?’
‘Mr Kelson?’ the woman said. ‘This is Caroline Difley.’
‘Still nothing.’
‘We met in the ICU at Clement Memorial. When you asked about the supply room? I was at the desk. You left a card?’
‘The blond orderly?’
‘Right …’ As if she regretted calling.
‘Hello, Caroline Difley,’ Kelson said. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I looked at the inventory records. Wendy signed for the cefoxitin. She couldn’t be responsible for the death.’
‘Great news, but old,’ Kelson said.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Jennifer Kowalski had a bad heart. Everyone did the right thing at the hospital. The woman had no chance.’
‘Where did you hear this?’
‘I pieced it together. I talked to a man she worked with at a towing company, and I talked to Dr Jacobson.’
‘Oh.’ Only a little disappointed. ‘It was funny, because there were a bunch of flags for other medicines but none for cefoxitin and none for the time when Jennifer Kowalski was a patient.’
‘Flags?’ he said.
‘We check inventory each month. Last month, a couple of the medicines were short. The month before, a couple of others were.’
‘That’s exactly what I didn’t want to hear,’ Kelson said. ‘What were the medicines? What days were they inventoried?’
‘I only paid attention to the cefoxitin,’ she said.
‘Can you look again?’
‘I wasn’t supposed to look this time. What’s wrong?’
‘I need to know if the medicines went missing around the time Patricia Ruddig, Josh Templeton, and Daryl Vaughn died.’
The orderly said, ‘Why would you think …?’ She stopped herself. ‘The dates aren’t exact. They’re just when the auditor counted the totals.’
‘They’re something,’ Kelson said. ‘Look at the records. Please. Let me know what you find. Medicines and dates.’
‘I can’t promise,’ she said.
When they hung up, Kelson swore at the phone.
Then he pulled out the notes he wrote about the othe
r dead patients. Patricia Ruddig – seventy-three years old, broken hip, heart attack, corner of Ainslie Street and Claremont. Josh Templeton – twenty-one years old, girlfriend named Melanie, car accident, stopped breathing, DePaul student from Fort Wayne. Daryl Vaughn – homeless, kidneys, bum. He swore at the notes too.
He spent the next two hours on his laptop, learning nothing more about Patricia Ruddig or Daryl Vaughn but finding pictures of Josh Templeton’s accident scene among the photos on his girlfriend’s Facebook timeline. Kelson recognized the bend on Lake Shore Drive by Diversey Parkway where the crash happened. The brown Camry was crushed on both the driver’s and the passenger’s sides. The passenger-side impact – the car wrapped around a light pole – did the worst damage. From Melanie’s comments, Kelson learned that the accident happened in the early morning hours of December 3, as Josh returned to school from visiting her. It didn’t make sense, she said. She couldn’t understand, she said. ‘Welcome to the club,’ Kelson told her.
Then he realized she was right. It didn’t make sense. Diversey Parkway was north of the Lake Shore Drive exit to DePaul, and Josh was returning from Fort Wayne – from the south. He overshot his destination by a half mile.
But then he spoke to the laptop. ‘Maybe he was drifting to sleep while he drove. Maybe he rented north of campus. Maybe he was going to the Golden Apple for a waffle before heading home.’
He exited Facebook.
He turned off the laptop.
While he’d been searching online, the sky outside had turned dark.
He was hungry. ‘Hunger is good,’ he told the laptop, and he put it in the top drawer.
He peeked into the bottom drawer, touching the Springfield pistol, as if that would give him good luck.
He reached under the desktop and ran a finger along the barrel of the KelTec.
He got up, wrestled into his heavy coat, and tugged on his hat.
Then there was a knock at the door. Maybe the red-haired woman who’d helped with his key had come back to help him escape from his office. ‘Maybe I’ll ask her to dinner,’ he said.
He opened the door.
Rick Jacobson and his younger brother stood in the hall. The younger brother’s eyes were glazed. Rick planted his feet shoulder-wide. He looked as if he was daring Kelson to hit him or to give him a reason to hit back.
FOURTEEN
‘You almost drove me into a fire hydrant this morning,’ Kelson said when they sat across from each other at his desk. He’d pulled off his coat but left on his hat.
‘You mean when you almost front-ended us?’ Rick said. Everything on Rick’s face was tight and hard.
‘I mean when I made a controlled turn toward the driveway.’
‘Without a turn signal?’
Kelson showed him his bandaged arm. ‘How am I supposed to signal?’
‘My point.’
Kelson felt heat in his cheeks. ‘Did you come here to defend your bad driving?’
The younger brother said, ‘What did Dad hire you to do?’
Kelson smiled. ‘Your dad didn’t hire me to do anything.’
‘Bullshit,’ Rick said. ‘I walked into his office this afternoon when he was hanging up with you.’
‘Did you ask him if I was working for him?’
‘He said you weren’t.’
‘Does he usually lie to you?’
‘Since my mom died, I make sure he’s all right,’ Rick said. ‘I take care of him.’
‘He seems capable of taking care of himself. He runs the ICU and all. He knows the patients – takes an interest in their histories. He seems sharp.’
‘I won’t let anyone take advantage of him.’
‘How about you?’ Kelson asked the little brother. ‘Do you even have a name?’
‘Scott,’ he said. His inane smile suggested he found either Kelson’s question or his own name funny.
‘Do you work alongside Rick at the hospital, Scott? Or do the two of you just get together to shake down the employers of dead patients?’
Rick shook his head. ‘When a patient passes away and the hospital has incomplete information – about insurance coverage, burial or cremation wishes, even who should receive jewelry and clothing – staff members make the necessary calls. A lot of end-of-life decisions need to be made right away. Sometimes, no one answers the numbers our people call. Sometimes, we leave messages but no one calls back. Then we need to go out and talk to the survivors personally. We can hire out that work, but we prefer to do it internally. That’s sometimes me. Today Scott went with, that’s all.’
‘That sounds very innocent.’
‘That’s because it is.’
‘The guy at Lakeside Tow said the two of you were assholes.’
‘The guy at Lakeside Tow pulled a gun on us. You decide who’s the asshole.’
‘Burial or cremation?’ Kelson said.
‘What?’ Rick said.
‘You said that’s why you rushed out to Lakeside Tow. To find out if you should bury Jennifer Kowalski or cremate her. Or are you going to wheel her out on the parking lot for the birds?’
Rick eyed him as if figuring the best angle for a punch. ‘Burial,’ he said. ‘We tracked down her sister by phone – after several tries.’
The younger brother said, ‘What did Dad hire you to do?’
Kelson gazed at him. ‘You look stoned.’
Scott drew his head back.
‘Or drunk,’ Kelson said.
Rick said, ‘What does my dad want you to do for him?’
‘Nothing,’ Kelson said. ‘Look at my medical records. You’ll see you can count on me for the truth.’
‘Then what were you talking with him about?’
‘Nurses,’ Kelson said.
‘Nurses?’ Rick looked as if patience always took an effort. ‘We want you to leave my dad alone.’
Kelson said, ‘Why would I want to have anything to do with him?’
The brothers exchanged an uncertain glance.
‘I’m glad we settled that,’ Kelson said. ‘Thanks for stopping by.’ He stood up.
The brothers exchanged another glance and stood too. They watched as Kelson wrestled into his coat.
As they went to the door, Kelson said, ‘One thing, though. What happened to Patricia Ruddig, Josh Templeton, and Daryl Vaughn?’
Rick said, ‘Who?’
‘Patients who died in the ICU over the last couple months.’
Rick shook his head. ‘Never heard of them.’
‘See,’ Kelson said, ‘I don’t know if I believe you.’
They rode the elevator down together. When they walked from the building on to the sidewalk, they turned opposite directions without saying goodbye, Rick and Scott Jacobson to their green Land Rover, which they’d left, hazards blinking, in a loading zone, Kelson to the parking garage.
‘Tired,’ Kelson said, as he climbed the concrete stairs. The word echoed faintly off the stairwell walls, as if another man was confirming Kelson’s fatigue. ‘To be expected,’ Kelson said, and the other man confirmed it.
He came out into the dimly lit third level, and his phone rang before he reached his car.
‘Ignore it,’ he said.
He got in.
The phone rang.
He started the engine.
The phone rang.
He looked at caller ID. It said Nancy.
‘Huh,’ he said. He touched the answer button and said, ‘Hey.’
‘I just got home from the clinic,’ Nancy said. ‘Sue Ellen isn’t here.’
‘Where is she?’
‘That’s what I mean. She didn’t come back after school. This morning she said she was going by her friend Amber’s house, but—’
‘The one with breasts?’
‘What?’
‘Amber – the girl with breasts?’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘I didn’t think they got along any more. Did you call Sue Ellen’s number?’
&
nbsp; ‘Of course. I’m not an idiot.’
‘Sorry, that’s me.’
‘Don’t turn this into—’ She stopped herself. ‘I’m concerned.’
‘It’s early,’ he said. ‘Give her an hour. If it gets to dinnertime—’
‘You should be concerned too.’
‘I am. I express it differently.’
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘you express it wrong.’ She hung up.
‘Huh,’ he said again.
He drove to his apartment, shifting his self-talk between his worry for Sue Ellen, the weird visit from the Jacobson brothers, and his uncertainty about Patricia Ruddig, Josh Templeton, and Daryl Vaughn. He followed a gray-haired woman in a white faux-fur coat into his building and rode up the elevator with her, managing to talk to her mostly about the bitter cold afternoon and to make only two comments about baby seals.
Upstairs, he fumbled his apartment key into his door. Most evenings, Payday and Painter’s Lane greeted him as he stepped inside, meowing manically. This evening, a light was on in the kitchenette, the apartment smelled of frying meat, and he heard Sue Ellen explaining that ham was delicious.
He went to the kitchenette door. Sue Ellen held a spatula over a sizzling pan. Payday and Painter’s Lane sat on the counter and watched her.
Kelson said, ‘Hey, kiddo, what’s up?’
She gave him a big smile. ‘I’m making dinner for the cats.’
‘Your mom’s making you dinner. She thought you’d be home by now.’
‘How can I be home with her if I’m here? Anyway, this is home too.’
‘Good point. But you worried her.’
‘Mom? She never worries.’
‘She tried to call. Why didn’t you answer your phone?’
‘I loaned it to Amber. Amber’s mom took hers away because of Ravi.’
‘Ravi?’
‘Amber wasn’t supposed to go with Ravi, but she did, so Amber’s mom took her phone, and I loaned mine to her so she can talk with him.’ She flipped a piece of ham in the pan.
‘Life’s confusing,’ Kelson said.
She gave him that smile. ‘Yep.’
Head Case Page 7
