Lie Still (38 page)

“Did she go someplace?”

“She doesn’t seem to be at home. And she didn’t show up for her shift this afternoon.”

“Really. Well, I don’t know where she may have gone.

Wish I did, though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve got a few questions for her myself.”

“How’s that?”

I thought a second. Maybe I was stepping into a hole.

“She kind of dumped on me yesterday.”

“When you last saw her?”

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“No, just before that. She filed a report with the hospital people about a case we worked on in the ER that went really sour. She pretty well fried my ass. And for no reason I can think of.”

“Over a patient? A case?”

“Yeah. A teenaged boy with asthma. Kind of a messed-up kid. We were treating his asthma and he curled up his toes and tried to die.” I waited.

“She ‘dumped on you’ . . . Did you two—you and this nurse—have any disagreement about the boy? About the way things went?”

“No, not at all. At least I didn’t think so at the time. She was concerned about what people were going to say, wanted my opinions. She made me dinner, though. She certainly didn’t seem pissed at me.”

Another pause. He said, “The woman at the hospital was concerned there had been, maybe, some kind of disagreement between you two.”

A silence. He smiled slightly and sipped his coffee. He waited.

I said, “No. Not directly. I mean, yesterday afternoon, the last time I spoke with her, was at the hospital. When I found out about her report I went to the ER to see . . . well, if you’ll excuse me, see what the fuck she was trying to do to me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I tried to be friendly but she wouldn’t talk and I kind of blew up at her. I guess I shouldn’t have done that. I went back out there later, to try to sort of apologize, but she was gone.”

“And?”

“And? And what?”

“How are you feeling toward Miss Benoit now?”

Again I hesitated. My proclivity for hyperbolic responses to obvious questions—“I feel like throttling her”—would not be a good idea. “Well, let’s just say I’m waiting for an explanation.”

“Have you thought of any possible explanations?”

He was using the same open-question techniques we had LIE STILL

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learned in medical school “How to Take a History” lectures.

Again I paused. I thought,
Maybe I screwed it up and she’s
calling it the way it is,
but again kept that to myself. I said,

“Well, Officer, I had thought we were on good terms. Then we weren’t. I’m wondering why I’m getting two completely different sides of the same woman.”

He smiled. “Sometimes they’re like that.”

I nodded my complicity. “Do you know that she’s missing? I mean, how do you know she’s not visiting her mother or something?”

“Maybe that’s all it is.”

“But you drove up here first thing after you’re called, to talk to me, just to be sure.”

He shrugged. “Covering all possibilities, is all.”

“But did you go to her house? Go check on her?”

“For a missing-persons check we send a uniformed officer to knock at the door.”

“Did he find my jacket and notes there?”

He was silent.

“On the couch?” I said.

“Sorry?”

“She said I left them on her couch. Or at least that’s where she said she would leave them for me. Though I couldn’t find them. Maybe your officer found them?”

“You were at her house?”

“Yeah. When they told me she had gone home sick, I drove back to her house. I really wanted to find out what she thought she was doing.”

“You wanted to confront her again?”

“Not exactly. I realized I’d handled it wrong the first time.

I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought, except that she was the only one who would know what she was doing to me.”

“You’d been there before?”

“She invited me there for dinner. Night before last. She said she needed to talk to me about the case that had ‘gone bad.’ That was when she seemed, like I said, so worried about what people would think or say.”

“Uh-huh.”

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DAVID FARRIS

“And I guess I left my jacket there when I left. Brown leather. Aviator type. Torn lining. It had some billing stuff from Scottsdale and my copy of the chart notes from the asthmatic case in the pocket. Inner left pocket. And I called her the next morning to see about it. Asked her to bring it to the hospital where I could get it from her, but she seemed in a hurry. Said she would leave it on her couch for me and told me where to find a key to let myself into her house. It all seemed odd.”

“Did you go get it?”

“No. That’s what I said. I went there, last night. I had a meeting late yesterday with the hospital VP, then I went to the ER to talk to Robin. Like they told you, it turned into a little row. I got to thinking about wanting to find out if she really thought that disaster was my fault. So I went back out there; you know, try, try again. They told me she’d left work sick. Cramps and nausea. They had to call in another nurse to cover her shift. I had nothing else to do, so I drove out to her house, but she wasn’t there, even as late as it was. No jacket either. Maybe your guy had taken it.”

“No, he didn’t notice it in her house.”

“Maybe she stuck it in her car, meaning to give it to me at the hospital.”

“Maybe.”

There was a knock at the door. Will’s partner entered with barely a nod, a thick and awkward man. Will said, “This is Ken May.” We shook hands and he took a chair.

Will replayed the highlights of our conversation for his partner. I looked at the two of them. The big silent one had an intense stare and the faint hand tremor of early Parkinson’s. When he looked up at me I smiled thinly. He turned and looked out the window. His breathing seemed heavy.

Probably a smoker.

Will said, “And when, again, did you last speak with her?”

“I called her early in the afternoon, asked about the jacket.

I asked her for a date, if you must know, but she said she couldn’t. Didn’t really give a reason. Told me to pick up the jacket, told me where the key was, and said to call her again LIE STILL

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soon. Then there was our ‘conversation’ in the ER, if you can call it a conversation.”

Ken was staring at me again. Will said, “Had you been on dates with Robin?”

“Well, we were sort of starting up.”

“Were you lovers?”

“Does it make a difference?”

“Not to me personally, but romantic connections can be pretty important to get straight when people can’t be found.”

I said, “We were, two nights ago, for the first and maybe last time.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Say what?”

“ ‘Maybe the last time.’ ”

“You just told me she’s missing. She was acting squirrelly toward me when I asked her for a date, even before I met with her boss and found out about her lies. I’d say I’ve been jilted.”

He nodded. “Did she ever say anything to you about needing or wanting to go anyplace? Get away?”

“No. I don’t remember anything.”

“Visit friends? Family?

“No.”

“Do you know of any friends or family? Did she ever speak of anyone she was close to?”

“She mentioned her folks were rich, though I never heard where they live. She used to work in northern California. ER

nursing. That was about it. The other night most of the conversation was about the kid in the ER. I guess we never really talked about her family or friends.”

“Do you know of any way to reach her? Besides her home?”

“Through the hospital, I suppose. But I guess you would have tried that. Or the Nursing Board.”

“Yes.” Again, he waited. “Can you think of any reason she might have taken off ? Disappeared on her own?”

“Nope.”

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“No one was after her . . . ? Not in financial trouble . . . ?

Not pregnant . . . ?”

“Not that I would know about.”

Ken May got up and wandered around the room, breathing audibly, looking at things like a bored man whose wife had dragged him out shopping. Watching him, I said, “Look, I think I’ve already told you more than . . . well, more than I should have.”

“But you said you wanted to talk to her, too.”

“That’s true. That’s true. I really do hope you find her.”

“But you don’t expect her back?”

“You told me she has, what? Disappeared? Like I said, I didn’t really know her. Not that well. I wouldn’t know if she’ll show up or not.”

A pause. “When were you next scheduled to work?”

“Well, I had been scheduled for a couple of days later this week,” I said, “but it sounds like you know that that’s been canceled.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘were.’ ‘When
were
you next scheduled to work?’ ”

“Yes,” he said, “in the call we got from Ms. Marquam at the Glory Hospital, she told us your privileges, or whatever, there at the hospital are being reviewed. That was one of the things that prompted her concern.”

“Ah, it’s becoming clearer all the time. I guess I don’t know when I’ll be working.”

“You apparently had some problems over at Maricopa, too, when you were a resident there.”

“Yes, I was fucked over there, too. But that’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time.”

“Maybe I’m a shit magnet. But really I’d rather not discuss it. It’s not relevant anyway.” Ken May was wandering out of the room, going shopping for God knows what. I said,

“Do you need something?” He came back to his chair and flashed me a half-second grin.

“What’s in the back?” he said.

“My stuff.”

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He grinned again, then resumed looking about the room, paying particular attention to the ceiling.

“Is he always this much fun?” I said to Will.

“He needs more exercise. Sitting still makes him nervous.”

“Well, he’s spreading it around. Should I have a lawyer present?”

“You could, if you want, but they charge an awful lot. And no one is accusing you of anything, and you’re telling me you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“No. I have not.”

He rubbed his face. “Do you know what kind of car Miss Benoit drives?”

I thought a second. “Chevy Camaro. An old one.”

He sat waiting.

“I followed her home the other night.”

“What color?”

“It was dark. I mean, it was night. The car’s dark, too, though. Dark blue, I think.”

“Ever been in her car?”

I thought. “No.”

“Never gotten a ride someplace? Sat with her in a parking lot for a cigarette?”

“Don’t smoke.” Ken May was now staring at me again and breathing in big rumbly breaths. “Nope—never been in her car.” I waited.

“To the best of your memory—I mean you did, apparently, see a fair amount of Miss Benoit’s skin—did she have any identifying marks of any kind?”

“Not that I saw.”

“No scars? Tattoos? Birthmarks?”

“Nothing I saw.”

They watched me. I waited. Detective May said, “May I use the toilet?”

I hesitated, then said, “Yeah.” As he walked past I almost added, “Leave the door open.” I took a deep breath

“How’d you do that?” Borden asked, pointing at my hand.

“This?” I held up the makeshift bandage on the back of my hand. “I cut myself during the code in the ER. When that asth-290

DAVID FARRIS

matic kid arrested. Things weren’t going well. I was flinging something and caught my hand on a wall bracket.” I peeled the bandage back for Will to see the cut.

He looked at it intently.

“What did you say you cut it on?”

“A wall bracket in the Glory ER.”

“How long did it bleed?”

“I don’t know. Fifteen, twenty minutes. When we got the resuscitation done I put a bandage on it and it quit.”

“Was it bleeding the other night? Last night?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Okay. But, it would be helpful if you’d be willing to come down to the station to give us a blood sample.”

“I didn’t think I was being accused of anything.”

“You’re not. But on the chance we find any evidence anywhere, it’s always a good idea to know what came from whom. You know, a hair or something that, turns out, came from one of the good guys. That kind of thing.”

I nodded, doubting he was as convinced of my innocence as he wanted to sound.

Then he added, “What are you planning in the next few days?”

“I don’t know. Work is up in the air.”

“Not going to be leaving town?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

He smiled thinly and reached into a pocket. “Here’s my card. It would be good if you could keep in touch. Let us know what you’re up to.”

I nodded slowly. “Hard to imagine going anywhere right now, really. With the kid that went bad in the ER . . . He’s in the Pediatric ICU at Maricopa.”

“Yeah, that’s what we’ve heard.”

“I’m trying to stay on top of it. They may be making decisions . . .”

“When will that be?”

“In a few days.”

Ken May came back to the couch. They looked at each LIE STILL

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other, then at me. Borden said, “Would you be willing to sit for a polygraph?”

“A lie detector?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I thought those were . . . I don’t know, useless. Discredited.”

“Not at all. We use them all the time. The ACLU thinks it’s better to have the bad guys out on the streets, so they’ve made sure we can’t use them in court. But that doesn’t mean we can’t use them to fill in pieces to the puzzles.”

“Well, not to be rude, but what’s in it for me?” I was wondering if I was to be required somehow to have another personal visit with the officers.

“Well, you said you wanted to help us find your missing girlfriend. And, if you haven’t done anything you would want to hide, this is the quickest, easiest way to help us clear you.”

“Clear me,” I said, “of suspicion?”

He shrugged.

“Is this something I have to do? Or something you think would be a good idea?”

“It would be a good idea.”

Questions were coming faster than answers. I did want to find Robin, but I needed some time to think. “I’ll call you,”