Illegally Dead Page 3

  "Mark," Tony said, pushing away the paperwork in front of him on the counter, "why did you refuse to settle your lawsuit?" Tony stood and raised one foot onto the chair he vacated. He leaned forward, supporting his weight on the elevated knee.

  "I don't think we should bend over and take it up the keister. When we settle, they don't have to work for the money they steal from us."

  "But in this case, don't you think it'll end up costing your insurance company more money? It sounds like the jury will believe the claim is valid."

  "Maybe. The plaintiff's lawyer will play it up and make it appear I neglected the man. He's not really injured, and you know as well as I do that elevating the arm was the appropriate thing to do."

  Tony flicked the stray lock of dark hair off his forehead. "What do your experts say?"

  "Our neurologist examined Cray and said his fine motor coordination is intact, almost perfect." Olson pulled at his goatee. "He's sure Cray's faking, and if there's no injury, there's no basis for a claim. At least that's my understanding."

  "Did another orthopedic surgeon examine the patient?"

  "Sure, and he agrees with me."

  "It's a matter of who the jury believes, you and your expert or the patient and his expert."

  "That's about the size of it. The thing in our favor is we have strong testimony scheduled from people who saw him using his injured hand to make movements on his PDA that required fine coordination. The lawyers and I figure it's worth the gamble. How much money could they give him?"

  "Merda, I can't blame you, but you never know about juries. They can do surprising things."

  "That's a fact. A patient sued me once before. I repaired the guy's elbow after he crushed it in a motor vehicle accident. He had a marginal result because he was diabetic and smoked two packs a day. His arm didn't heal. Never mind all that. His damn lawyer managed to get him a hundred and thirty thou by playing on the sympathies of the jury and by twisting around things in the record. I wanted to strangle the bastard."

  "I can understand why you're angry." Tony straightened to his full height and smoothed his scrubs. He towered over Olson.

  Chamberlain Thorne approached the two men. "Hey, paesano." He nodded to Tony, calling him friend. Then he gestured to Olson. "What's going on?" Thorne asked Tony.

  "Not a whole-hell-of-a-lot," Tony said, extending his hand in a welcoming handshake. Thorne was one of his favorite physicians. "We were discussing Mark's difficulties with the legal system."

  "I can relate," Thorne said.

  "It seems we all can. I'm being sued by Carlson, too," Tony said.

  "You, why?" Olson recoiled a half-step and focused a narrow gaze at Tony.

  "They allege that if I had personally advised the attending physician of Carlson's history of ulcers, the physician would have altered the treatment plan, and the patient might not have died."

  Thorne looked from Tony to Olson. "I was on that case. Trust me, we knew about his history of ulcers. In fact, we started him on preventative therapy as soon as we admitted him to the unit upstairs."

  "What happened?" Tony asked. "I read through the chart yesterday and didn't see anything unusual, though I have to admit I focused on my little piece of the pie."

  "He had some mild side effects to the drugs. We offered alternatives, but he refused. Then he started to have gastric distress and bled. It's all in the record."

  "Why the suit?" Tony asked.

  "You don't know?" Appearing from behind a nearby patient privacy curtain, Nick Messing joined the discussion.

  "What should I know?" Tony knitted his brow.

  "Carlson's wife is a secretary with the law firm. They went looking for loopholes in the chart, and they're suing everyone with any hint of involvement."

  "Yeah, pal, they're looking for the sympathy vote. Widow with child—a secretary who can't support herself." Olson squinted and wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something disgusting.

  "Tell me, do you know whose courtroom your case will be heard in?" Nick said, keeping his gaze on Olson.

  "Kelsey's. Why?" Olson said.

  Thorne raised his eyebrows. "That's where mine was. He was personal friends with Valentine and pretty much called everything in favor of the plaintiff."

  "Just what I need, a judge who's personal friends with the stockbroker's lawyers," Olson said.

  "Maybe not the whole firm. Besides Valentine had an apparent myocardial infarct and died on Monday," Nick said.

  "I heard, I heard. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy." Olson stroked his goatee. "Chamberlain, I'll see you next week on the golf course." He tipped his chin to Nick and hurried down the hall.

  Nick said, "Chamberlain, I didn't know Olson was being sued by the same firm as you."

  "Both times. They're the ones suing all of us. They focused their practice on the medical staff of this hospital though they get cases from all the hospitals west of the turnpike. They're the biggest, richest, most successful bunch of thieves in town."

  "How are they getting clients?" Tony asked.

  "By word of mouth, I guess," Nick said. "The news of big settlements travels fast. And, I have suspicions they have a mole or two in the hospital to provide them with leads."

  Four

  Tony pointed to a tall scraggly bottlebrush tree standing outside his yard between the fence and a retention pond. "Kids, look over there. See the big bird?"

  It was Friday evening, and the Conte family gathered around the table on the patio. The January weather was warm again, warm enough to have the little kids outside in short sleeves. Jennifer, who had missed another day of work, leaned back against the lounge chair Tony had placed next to the table.

  "Where, Dad?" Jeffrey asked, squinting into the late afternoon sun.

  "Jeff, in that tree, there, the one with the red puffs in it." Tony pointed again. A large, dark-brown bird of prey perched near the top. The Osprey's huge wings spread against adjacent branches. The hooked beak made a fearsome silhouette against the setting sun. "It's drying its wings. It must've been fishin' in the pond."

  "I wonder if he comes here often." Jennifer sat forward, craning her neck in the bird's direction before leaning against the chair. "I'm too tired to get up and look."

  "Which tree, Daddy? Which tree?" Monica yelled.

  The Osprey flapped his wings and took flight. It soared high over the small lake and settled into the branches of a tall pine across the water.

  The resulting squabble between the siblings prompted Tony to send them into the yard to run off their energy.

  Bella charged through the house and followed them into the yard. A wild game of tag ensued, girls against the boys, Monica and Bella versus Joe and Jeff. The odds favored the girls.

  "Jen, you still look pale but your cold is gone. I don't think we should wait two weeks for you to see the doctor again. I'm concerned." Tony pulled his chair closer to Jennifer so he could keep an eye on the children and hear her soft voice at the same time.

  "I know. The lump isn't getting any smaller. I think it's getting bigger, and I found another one under the other arm this morning. Here." She pointed then guided his hand. "There."

  He slid the other hand under her left arm. "They feel the same."

  "I thought so, too." She looked at Tony and paused before continuing. "What do you think, baby?"

  "I think you're going in to see Corvasce on Monday. I'm calling her now."

  "Tony, come on. It's late. Her office will be closed."

  "Then I'll call her at home. She told me, if we had any questions to call her."

  "When were you and Mary Corvasce talking about me?"

  "A . . . a . . . ah, j . . . just the other day. I stopped her and we chatted. I asked what she thought of your lump." Tony looked away, afraid to meet her eyes. She could see right through him. He couldn't lie to her and get away with it.

  "And?" He stuttered when he felt nervous.

  "Ah, Jen, she said it could be your c . . . c . . . cold, but she was
concerned. She wanted to be sure I encouraged you to follow-up, that's all." He knew he'd blown it. Jennifer could read his worry.

  "Did you ask her why?"

  "No, baby, honestly I didn't."

  "And, why not?" She took his hand in hers. "Why not, Tony?"

  "Because, I didn't want to hear the answer. Not then."

  "It'll be okay. We'll deal with anything that happens. We always do."

  He nuzzled his face into her long silky hair. The faint scent of apples from her shampoo filled his senses. He imagined her in the shower with those apple scented bubbles piled high on her head, laughing and healthy, sharing her favorite shampoo with Monica. Not wanting to bear the thought of her being sick, he sunk his face deeper into her hair. Oh, God, he thought, please let this be nothing.

  ***

  With dinner completed and the children in bed, Tony and Jennifer snuggled together on the worn family room sofa. From where they sat, they could see over the upstairs walkway bridging the entry foyer.

  "Mary said for us to meet her in her office first thing Monday morning. She'll be there before office hours. If we're there by eight-forty-five, she'll see us first." He pulled Jennifer closer and tucked a lightweight, pink blanket around her shoulders. The blanket was Monica's favorite. It smelled like baby. "Okay? Warm enough?" He kissed her forehead.

  "Do you think it's necessary to inconvenience her?"

  "Please, the sooner we get this taken care of, the better it'll be."

  The ringing of the telephone interrupted their conversation. Tony sprang to his feet, hoping to stop the racket before it awakened the children. "Hello," he said into the receiver. "Hey, Howard. What's up." He listened, frowning. "Sure, I'm home. Come over." He hung up the telephone and rejoined Jennifer on the sofa. "That was Howard Epstein."

  "I figured. What did he want?" Jennifer snuggled close to his shoulder. "We haven't heard from him for a while."

  "He's on his way over. He has something on his mind." Tony stared into the vacant fireplace.

  Jennifer hauled herself off the sofa. "Meanwhile, baby, I'm headed to bed. Have a nice talk with Howard."

  "Need any help?" He stood.

  "Nah, I'm fine. Stay out here so you can grab the door when Howard gets here."

  Tony watched her shuffle across the room and through the kitchen. Without her usual spunk, she looked old and drained. He felt she was seriously ill. And, he still hadn't told her about the lawsuit. That was sure to worry her. He knew she didn't like the unknown.

  Tony glanced at his watch. He had a few minutes before Howard arrived. He stretched, pushed the coffee table to the side, and assumed a ready stance. He began a kata. He concentrated on his movement, each choreographed step and punch correct, powerful, and as beautiful as ballet. As he worked, he felt the stress leave his body. He resolved to do whatever needed to be done, whatever he had to do for his wife and family. I've been through worse than this, he thought. He survived what happened in the Gulf War, and he knew he could handle a family illness and an annoying lawsuit. Kiai! The traditional shout came out as an explosive, yet nearly silent, blast of air punctuating the potent sidekick he directed at his imaginary opponent.

  Beads of perspiration appeared on Tony's brow. The call from Howard puzzled him. Without warning, the local homicide detective called. While it was true they were on friendlier terms than in the past, a late night social call was unusual. Howard had mentioned Judge Kelsey. Kiai. He lunged into a strike. He didn't think he had the time or energy to get involved. He'd make sure Howard understood. He returned to his ready stance and began another kata.

  A restrained knock interrupted his concentration. He stopped in the middle of the form and answered the front door. He didn't want to risk Howard knocking louder or ringing the bell and waking the household. It was almost ten. This must be important.

  "Come in." Tony allowed the detective to enter. Despite the late hour, the detective wore a gray jacket over navy slacks, crisp white shirt, and knotted tie. Typical.

  Howard was just under six feet, trim, muscular, and in his early thirties. His brown, curly hair and ready smile gave him a youthful appearance he used to his advantage, often catching a witness or suspect unaware and getting extra information.

  "It's been a while." Tony extended his hand. "Want a beer?"

  "Sure, why not? I'm off duty, finally."

  "Tough day?" Tony motioned toward the family room and detoured to the kitchen.

  Howard looked around. "Thanks for letting me come to pick your brain."

  "What's left of it." Tony handed him a Coors Light. Condensation beaded on the side of the cold bottle. He produced a folded paper towel. "Here, put it on this."

  Howard relaxed against the sofa. While Tony watched in amusement, Howard refolded the paper towel, squaring the edges. He set the dripping bottle in the center of the towel. Before he could get a word out, Bella jumped into his lap and furiously licked his face and neck.

  "Bella, off. Sit." Tony grabbed her collar and lifted her away from Howard. He laughed when she scooted back over to Howard without leaving her sitting position. "I told you once you had a friend forever."

  Howard rubbed her ears, finding the place she liked best. "You still like that, girl?" He smiled with satisfaction when the golden retriever settled down, resting her large head on his feet. "I do like this dog."

  Tony sat in his recliner chair and then leaned forward to get a frontal view of Howard's face. "Howard, what can I do for you?"

  "I'd like to discuss a couple of things. But the main issue is I'd like to understand what happened to Judge Kelsey."

  "He was the judge on Thorne's case. There's been a lot of talk at the hospital. It creates a sensation when a local plaintiff's attorney comes into the Emergency Department DOA after one of our favorite docs loses a lawsuit to him."

  "Suppose it does." Howard raised a bushy eyebrow and sipped at his beer. "Anyway, Kelsey went to the Emergency Department downtown that night with what he thought were symptoms of the flu."

  "That's not unusual. A severe strain is going around the community. Many people are getting it, even after they've had the vaccine." Tony's beer tasted fresh. He took another sip, waiting for Howard to continue.

  "That was the case with him. He's an older man who worked in the State Attorney's office for years before assuming the bench. He went into the ED sick to his stomach and throwing up. The report said he complained of feeling dizzy and his blood pressure was low. The ED doc smelled a faint aroma of burnt almonds, and he had blood drawn to check for cyanide. He treated him for cyanide poisoning before the lab results came back with confirmation."

  "Interesting."

  "The Doc applied pressure to get the results immediately, because he's a judge. Low levels of cyanide were present. The medical examiner said it was enough to make the judge sick, not enough to kill him."

  Tony leaned forward in his chair. "Interesting. I don't think I've ever heard of someone local being murdered with poison."

  "It happens more frequently than you might realize, but not as often as it once did. The pathologists can find most poisons nowadays. That's what makes this odd. Why poison a man with something as obvious as cyanide?"

  "Beats me." Tony listened, wondering why he was hearing it at all. Still, there was something unsettling. He couldn't put his finger on it. "What was the source of the poison?"

  "We don't have a clue. Kelsey sat on the bench all day. He made a condolence call to Valentine's wife, then went out to dinner. He said he felt poorly but didn't feel ill until later that night. He called a friend and went to the Emergency Department. Kelsey is okay now, but he is, as you might imagine, more than anxious to learn who tried to do him in." Howard drained the beer and set the empty in the center of the folded towel.

  "He was a state attorney. Maybe one of his criminals decided to get revenge. You read about that happening all the time."

  "That sort of crap happens on television." The detective reached for the beer, the
n withdrew his hand. He reclined against the sofa as Tony went to the kitchen and returned with a fresh brew. After accepting the drink, he took a sip and continued. "Then there's the matter of how the judge ingested the poison. You don't just say, 'Here Judge, drink this poison.'"

  "Maybe a waiter where he goes to dinner is an ex-con." Tony drained his beer and set the bottle aside. "Why are you telling me about this?"

  "For one thing, I hoped you'd explain some of the effects of cyanide to me. The ME explained, but he was rushed, and I didn't ask him to repeat it. I asked our forensic scientist, Brisbane. He blew me off. Besides, he's not medical." Howard leaned forward on the sofa and petted Bella. While he rubbed her ears, he said, "Second, I was thinking, as I drove over here, that isn't it odd that Valentine has a heart attack and Kelsey gets poisoned on the same day? They were known to be good buddies. They were both in the State Attorney's office at the same time. Valentine decided criminal law wasn't his bag and went into civil law when the field was wide open out here. Kelsey stayed for several years."

  "It doesn't seem like the judge getting poisoned and the lawyer having a heart attack has any connection. Lots of people witnessed Valentine's collapse, and Thorne gave him CPR right there." He described the scene in the courtroom. "When I called the ME, he declined the case, said he'd accept the death certificate from the attending physician."

  "The guy who lost the lawsuit then tried to save the plaintiff's counsel. That's rich."

  "It's the kind of man Thorne is. Medicine first."

  "Here's the information the medical examiner gave me." Howard removed a printed sheet from the breast pocket of his jacket and handed it to Tony. "Explain it to me."

  "Cyanide can get into the body as a gas—like the Germans did to the Jews, orally—like secret agents chomping on a capsule, or through the skin. It causes asphyxiation by not letting the blood cells carry oxygen. It's similar to how carbon monoxide works. The victim breathes rapidly, gasps for air, gets dizzy, flushes, gets headache, nausea, vomiting. I guess if they didn't get a high enough dose it would be easy to think it was the flu." Tony pointed to the flyer. "Someone in the ED downtown must have been quite astute to think about poisoning and not just diagnose the obvious in flu season."