Illegally Dead Page 19

Tony grabbed the front of the stretcher and guided it through the double doors.

  "Good to see you, man," the paramedic said, squeezing another breath into the heart attack victim. "Jennifer okay?"

  "I took her home Friday. She had a good weekend. What's the deal here?"

  "The patient was on the floor in her living room when we arrived. I don't think she was down for more than a couple of minutes though. The poor old man called 9-1-1 when she said she felt sick. Then he tried to do CPR. He didn't have a clue but he must have gotten a little perfusion."

  Tony shined a light into the patient's eyes. "Reactive."

  "We've been getting good pulses on the compressions since we picked her up."

  "Let's get her on our stretcher." Tony pointed to the nearest major event room. "Paula," he called to the secretary, "get Dr. Messing out here, STAT."

  "Yes sir." Paula hit the intercom to Messing's office.

  Tony helped guide the ambulance stretcher in next to the more stable ED stretcher. "Stop CPR."

  The three men, two paramedics and Tony, lifted the heavyset woman in one motion and transferred her. The paramedics rolled their gurney out of the way. Tony positioned himself next to the woman's chest and resumed the chest compressions. "One, two, three, . . ." Tony counted, delivering the compressions.

  Nick trotted into the room.

  As one of the paramedics updated Nick on the woman's condition, the team settled into the routine of a Code Blue. It would be the first of several codes that day.

  ***

  Abigail stretched and threw back the sheets. First, she was meeting Thorne for breakfast. They'd planned to spend the morning together, looking at furniture perhaps and learning what they both liked. Later, she'd go to her apartment to rest and get ready to work the night shift.

  Chamberlain took fewer new patients since the trouble began. He seemed to be waiting for the inevitable, planning on being charged with murder. She suspected he turned patients down, referring them elsewhere. As a result, they were making use of the opportunity and spending more time together. When his practice picked up again, they wouldn't see as much of each other.

  Abigail showered and slipped into an ankle-length black and pink flowered skirt and bright pink sweater. She pulled her hair back with a pink plastic headband she had swiped from her niece. After applying a touch of makeup and a soft shade of lipstick, she was ready. She hurried out of her apartment and down the outside stairway to the parking lot. Thorne was always on time, unless he was with a patient. He'd be pleased to find her waiting outside.

  Abigail watched Thorne's BMW turn the corner and stepped into the driveway. When Thorne stopped the car, she stuck her head in the window and kissed him on the lips. "Chamb, you look handsome today. Can you imagine we get to spend a Monday morning together without leaving town?"

  "It's marvelous, Abby. Climb in and we'll get something to eat." He walked to the other side to open the door for her. Before he allowed her to get in, he pulled her close, running his hands down her back to her hips. "We should have spent the night together last night. I need you so much."

  "We could have breakfast here instead of going out."

  "Let's go to my place. I have a carton of fresh eggs and a couple of different cheeses."

  "Planning ahead?"

  He smiled and steered her into the car. "Climb in."

  Abigail settled into her seat and clipped on her seat belt. The morning sun glared through the window as she flipped the visor down. "Why do we have time to do this on a Monday? That's a first."

  "Truthfully, I haven't been getting as many patients lately. With the murder investigation going on and the damned detectives running around asking questions. Where do I go? What do I do? My usual referring physicians are iffy about sending patients to me. A surgeon's practice is dependent on maintaining good relations and a credible reputation." He swung onto the main street heading in the direction of his apartment. It wasn't far.

  "Yes, but other physicians know you. They have to believe you wouldn't hurt anyone."

  "Maybe yes, maybe no. Physicians tend to be fair-weather friends. They don't want patients to think they associate with a killer. I wouldn't either."

  "Are you turning down cases as well? Afraid you'll have to desert them in the middle of treatment."

  "A few." He swung onto Flamingo Drive and accelerated to fifty miles an hour.

  Abigail closed her eyes and relaxed against the plush leather seat, deciding to put the depressing thoughts aside for the time being. "Do you have bagels?"

  "Now that's what I like, a practical question." He turned left on the cross street just south of King Beverages. "They're in the bag on the floor in the back seat. I suspect they're still warm."

  "I'm hungry."

  "Me too." He smiled and licked his lips.

  "Chamberlain, you're a dirty old man."

  "Don't you like that?"

  "I love it." She ran her hand the length of his long thigh. "Maybe dessert first."

  "That's what I was planning." Thorne pulled into a parking place in front of his apartment and hopped out of the car.

  Abigail admired how his slacks rested on his narrow hips. His shirt clung to his body, showing his trim physique. She thought him beautiful.

  Thorne opened the door to the apartment and guided Abigail in. He took her purse from her hand, set it on an end table, and slipped the pink headband from her hair.

  "Hum," she said, "in a hurry."

  "Certainly am." He nuzzled his face against her neck.

  Abigail pulled away and admired his face. She ran her fingers over his cheek and across the square, jutting jaw. Stretching on her tiptoes, she kissed his neck, then pulled him to her height to kiss him again. Her slim fingers unbuttoned his shirt.

  "Now, who's in a hurry?"

  "You started it." She pushed his shirt from his shoulders, then tugged on it until it was free from his belt. She dropped it to the floor, then ran her hands down his chest and flat abdomen to the buckle of his belt. Bending first to kiss his navel, she unbuckled his belt and pulled at the tab to unzip his fly.

  "Want to move to the bedroom?" He pointed to the open blinds behind them.

  "Hummm, do you think anyone's around to mind?"

  "No, but . . ." He kissed her deeply and walked her to the bedroom. Once inside, he pushed the door closed.

  It was his turn. The pink stretchy blouse slipped over her head revealing full breasts escaping her pink satin and lace bra. He unclipped the front hooks on the bra, then guided her in the direction of the bed, watching as she kicked sandals off her soft feet.

  She stepped out of her skirt, leaving it in a pile on the floor. She stood before him, naked except for a pink satin and lace thong.

  "Lord, woman, how would anyone know that under your prim and proper exterior, this exists?" He ran his hands from her neck to her hips. He brushed her between her legs before bending to kiss her breasts. He eased her onto the bed.

  "Hum," she murmured, "forgetting something?"

  "No, I don't think so." He looked her up and down. "Seems to be all here."

  "Not me." She finished unzipping his pants, then waited while he toed out of his loafers.

  He slid his pants off his hips, and she tugged at them to pull them over his feet.

  "That's better." In a playful manner, she snapped the elastic on his boxers. "What's this?" She pushed them to his knees and tugged them off.

  His clothes mingled with hers on the floor. She caressed him gently, then held up her arms to invite him to join her on the bed.

  Later, after first urgent then creative lovemaking, they snuggled in the tangle of sheets. He kissed her again.

  "Chamberlain, aren't you tired?"

  "Why would I be tired?"

  "Gee, I don't know. But I'm hungry, and to tell you the truth, a little sore."

  "Guess we'll have to save the rest for another day."

  "The rest? You mean there's more?"

  "There's always m
ore. I just haven't dreamed it up yet. I'm working on it." He kissed her.

  She sat on the side of the bed. "Come and shower with me."

  ***

  The doorbell rang, interrupting their shower.

  "Wonder who that is?" Thorne reached for a towel, dried himself, then put on his pants and shirt. "Get dressed. I'll get it." Thorne opened the door and allowed Howard Epstein and Alfonzo Hernandez to enter his living room. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

  "Doctor, I have a warrant here for your arrest for the murders of Warren Valentine, John Henninger, Juan Iglesia, and the attempted murder of Brent Hansen." Alfonzo unfolded the warrant and handed it to Thorne.

  "Honey, who's there?" Abigail called from the bedroom.

  "Epstein and Hernandez. They've come to arrest me."

  "I'll be right out."

  "No, please stay there." Thorne's tone was flat.

  Howard pulled a small white card from his pocket. "Doctor, you have the right to remain silent . . ."

  After Howard had finished reading him his rights, Thorne said, "Can I have a few minutes alone with Abigail, please?"

  "Take all the time you need, doctor." Howard stepped aside to allow Thorne to leave the room.

  Alfonzo said, "What if he goes out the window?"

  "He won't. Relax. Let the man have a minute with his girlfriend."

  Inside the bedroom, Thorne held the crying Abigail in his arms. "Easy baby, it'll work out."

  "You knew, didn't you?"

  "Yes. They've been by a couple more times to ask questions. Hernandez is convinced I'm guilty. He believes I killed those people for revenge."

  "Can't they see you couldn't do that?"

  "Obviously not." He kissed her forehead. "Please stay in here until we're gone." He reached in his pocket for his car keys. "Here, take yourself home. I'm sure I'll be out on bail in a few days."

  She took the keys.

  "I need you to call Prentice, my parents, and my ex-wife and daughter. You'll find the numbers in the address book on top of my desk. Call my lawyer and tell him I'm on the way to the police station."

  She wiped the tears from her face.

  "What else can I do?"

  "Talk to Tony. Maybe he can help find a way out of this."

  ***

  As Tony watched Abigail Stern walk, unsmiling, in his direction, he remembered his promise to return Howard's call. First, however, he needed to give the shift report to Abigail. He checked his watch. It was six-thirty in the evening. She was his scheduled relief and would work from seven this evening to seven in the morning.

  One look at Abigail, and it was apparent she'd been crying. The heavier than usual application of makeup failed to hide the dark circles under her eyes. "What's up?"

  "Oh, Tony, you don't know, do you?"

  "What?"

  "They arrested Chamberlain for murder. Can you believe it? How could they?"

  "Vaffanculo, that stronzo, Epstein." Tony took a big controlled breath. He surmised Howard knew earlier Thorne's arrest was imminent. That was the information Howard withheld. He continued, keeping his voice calm. "They must have a warrant."

  "You believe he's a murderer? I thought you were our friend." An angry flush crept from the white collar of her uniform until it met her blond bangs. Abigail's face narrowed under her wire-framed glasses.

  "I didn't say I believed it. I said they got a warrant. He's been the prime suspect."

  "I spend too much time with him to not know what he's like. Then they came and interrupted us this morning, Chamb didn't have any cases so we were . . ."

  "More information than I need." Tony blushed.

  "Please help him. Chamberlain didn't do it."

  Merda, my wife has cancer, I have three kids, and this job, Tony thought. I don't have time to play amateur detective and don't need to go poking around and get the cops on my back—again. "Of course I will," he said, a note of resignation in his soft voice.

  "Thank you. You have your own problems right now, too. But I'll help you at work or at home, anything to make it easier for you."

  He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to his side. "I'll check around. Do what I can. No promises."

  Twenty-five

  Tony met Howard in Sam's Deli. The early morning breakfast crowd had finished, leaving the after-golfing seniors to drift in. Alfonzo was in court, so Howard arrived alone.

  Tony sipped his coffee and glared across the table at Howard. "Vaffanculo, how could you arrest the man? He didn't kill those people."

  "I don't know that. In fact, I believe Thorne did kill them." Howard set down his cup and returned the angry stare.

  "You were looking for Backus and DiGiovanni. How can you arrest Thorne when you haven't even found them?"

  "I wanted tell you yesterday. We located them in a Georgia jail, where they've been since before the first murder. The perfect alibi."

  Frowning, Tony raised a hand in acquiescence.

  "Hernandez is convinced Thorne is the man, and Judge Kelsey is convinced Thorne is the man. The judge, by the way, demanded the arrest."

  Tony's face flushed but he controlled his tone of voice. "You let the victim dictate the arrest. Interesting."

  "The Assistant State Attorney seems convinced as well."

  "Let me get this straight. You guys think Thorne poisoned the Amaretto in the booze store, then slipped poison sprouts to the chef at the health food restaurant. Then what did he do, put coke in Iglesia's cream cheese at breakfast? Give me a break." Tony gazed at Howard in exasperation.

  "Something like that."

  "Very circumstantial. No witnesses. What about Hansen?" Tony asked.

  "We haven't found a tie there. It's possible Thorne paid someone to needle Hansen. How's Hansen doing today, by the way? I haven't checked. Yesterday it sounded like he might not make it." Howard picked at a bagel, then pushed it aside.

  "I called the hospital earlier. Hansen's improving. His kidneys kicked in again, and he's alert and talking to the staff."

  "Thank God for that anyway," Howard said.

  "So, no murder, but more importantly, no tie to Thorne."

  "We can interview Hansen. You never know what we might find." Howard drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

  "What are you guys doing?" Tony squinted, narrowing his focus. "You sidled onto weak ice, and now you're trying shore it up."

  "That's not how it is."

  "What's it like then? You just find the evidence supporting the police opinion. What about Gould and Atkins? Did you ever follow up on the circumstances of their deaths?" Tony scowled at Howard.

  "The Atkins case is active. Gould has been exhumed. The ME found digitalis in the muscle and reclassified the death as homicide."

  "Nice to tell me."

  "I learned about it myself yesterday."

  "You think Thorne did that, too?"

  "No. Thorne was in France on vacation at the time of those murders. We checked. Besides, no motive. And his prints don't match the prints in Atkins' car."

  "Stronzo, you believed for a moment Thorne killed those two lawyers."

  "Why not? I believe Thorne killed two other lawyers and a paralegal—and maybe hired someone to do Hansen. Gould and Atkins both specialized in malpractice and grew rich suing local doctors."

  "Vaffanculo." Tony punctuated the curse with a clenched fist directed upward and a loud slap against his biceps. "Guess I have to find the truth myself." He slid from the booth.

  "Tony, sit down." Howard held up his hand, signaling stop. "Please. I want to work with you. That's why I'm here."

  Tony sank onto the bench. He spoke without looking at Howard. "Are you guys going to let Backus and DiGiovanni rot in Georgia?"

  "No, they'll be here sometime tomorrow to face their parole violation charges. Interesting fact, though, it was DiGiovanni's prints in Atkins' car."

  "Come again?"

  "DiGiovanni will be charged in her murder. DiGiovanni told the Georgia police his
assignment was to work her over. He threw in the rape for fun."

  "The bastard. Who paid him?"

  "Don't know yet. I checked into his history, his original trial. He beat someone up, again a contract thing. It turns out he beat a lawyer and a plaintiff in a malpractice suit."

  "Don't tell me. Jerry Volney paid him to do the job."

  "How do you know that?" Howard asked, wide-eyed.

  "Hunch. Volney is in town."

  Howard raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know he'd moved back. What's he doing here?"

  "Selling practice management software to doctors and lawyers."

  Howard shrugged. "Volney has to make a living. The way I understand it, he can never get a license to practice medicine anywhere in this country. Besides, what difference does it make? There was something between DiGiovanni and Volney years ago, but we don't know the connection still exists. And, there's no connection between DiGiovanni, Backus, and the current victims. DiGiovanni and Backus were in jail."

  "I need to think about it. What about Gross?" Tony said.

  "He's was on the list of suspects, I suppose. But it's a stretch to go from feeding referrals to a bunch of lawyers to killing the whole flock of golden egg-laying geese."

  "I agree." Tony paused a minute, collecting his thoughts. "Will they let Thorne out on bail?"

  "Not on murder one," Howard said.

  "Why? There's no risk of him fleeing. His family's here. His girlfriend's here. His practice's here." Tony stood. "Give me a break!" He walked out, leaving Howard alone to finish his picked-over bagel.

  ***

  Trying to look inconspicuous, Tony edged past the pregnant women waiting for monthly exams and approached the counter in the OB/GYN waiting room. He wore tan Dockers and a light blue dress shirt with an athletic cut. The rolled sleeves revealed strong arms and wrists. He felt several of the women watch his every move. There weren't any husbands waiting with their wives today. The men would come with the late afternoon appointments.

  Tony tapped on the window.

  "Can I help you?" The receptionist, Roxanne, smiled. "Oh, Tony. Dr. Corvasce isn't here."

  "That's okay. I want to talk to Dr. Villegas. Does he have a minute, please?"