Sleight of Hand (23 page)

"Would you consider making a public plea to your wife to stop her persecution of Virginia?  To seek help for her addiction, just as you have?  It might be an important first step to bringing her back home to you."  His voice was soothing, trying to coax King to take that final step.

King cut his eyes at the Senator and for a moment he thought he'd lost his prey.  But then he saw a look of cunning cross the surgeon's face.

"That would strip Ella of everything that matters to her," King said slowly, as if tasting each word, considering their palatability.

"Not everything.  She'd still have you."

King nodded his agreement.  "Then she'd see.  We're destined to be together, forever."

<><><>

Cassie drove back to the gas station.  Still no answer at the second Jurassic home, probably Virginia's mother, she realized.  From what Stella said, Mary Jurassic probably wouldn't be very helpful.  

She looked up Michael Stainsby's address, a hotel downtown, and got directions from the attendant.  The hotel was a five-story brick building that exuded an oppressive atmosphere.  The smell of decay, alcohol and urine all mingled together to assault her senses as she entered the lobby.  The desk clerk didn't look up when she asked for Stainsby, just gestured toward the stairs and muttered, "Three-oh-two."

The stairs were slippery with rainwater combined with decades of grime.  She climbed to the third floor and knocked on Michael Stainsby's door.

After a few moments the door was opened by a grey-haired man bent over with a wracking cough.   He straightened, and she saw that through the grey stubble and alcoholic flush the man wasn't as old as he first appeared.

"Mr. Stainsby?"  He nodded with uncomprehending eyes.  "My name is Cassandra Hart.  Could we talk for a few minutes?"

Stainsby blinked several times.  His eyes were bloodshot and a bright yellow trail of mucus oozed from their inner corners.  Cassie didn't touch anything as the man gestured for her to follow him into the room.  She edged just inside the door, ensuring a speedy exit if she needed one.

Stainsby stumbled onto the bed, reaching over to the nightstand for a can of Schlitz.  Cassie guessed that it wasn't happy hour yet, happy hour being whenever the hard stuff came out.

"It's about your daughter, Elizabeth, and your wife, Virginia."

Stainsby said nothing, merely hung his head.  When he looked up, tears were leaking from his eyes.  He sniffed loudly and wiped his face on his sleeve.

"My poor little girl," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"How'd she die, Mr. Stainsby?" She tried to guide the man into some coherent path of conversation.

"Lizzy was the sweetest little baby.  She never cried, always had this big smile for me when I came home from work."  He looked up, his roving eyes finally focusing on Cassie.  "I stopped drinking right before she was born, got a job, didn't miss a day, didn't touch a drop–" His voice trailed off.  "But it didn't do no good.  She still died.  And it was all my fault."

"What happened?" 

"God, that was the worse night of my life."  More tears and sniffs.  "Lizzy was a sweet baby, but she was always sick.  Virginia was forever taking her to the doctor's.  Twice we almost lost her.  Would have if it wasn't for Virginia.  She saved Lizzy's life, gave her mouth to mouth.  Virginia was always the smart one.  It was just too bad for her that she married a loser like me."  He hung his head again.  Cassie decided to take a new approach.

"How did you and Virginia meet?"

"Virginia Jurassic she was then.  Asked me out to her folks house to build a wheelchair ramp."  He straightened up.  "I was a carpenter, a damned good one.  She'd had to leave nursing school to take care of her pa once he'd had his stroke.  She'd keep me company while I worked on the ramp.  Talked about finishing college, maybe even going to medical school, become a doctor.  She had a whole house full of medical books.  Virginia would've made a good doctor.  But she knew her mother wouldn't ever let her go, not with her father needing so much."  He stopped for a moment, caught up in faraway memories.

"Funny, they only used that ramp the once after I finished it.  And that was to take his body down to the funeral home."  Stainsby shook his head.  "Guess Virginia's luck was as bad as mine.  She ran away after her father died, and we got married.  She was going to try to finish school, but Lizzy came along and needed so much of  her attention.  She was the most beautiful little baby."  His sigh echoed through the barren cell of a room.

"Tell me about the night Lizzy died," she coaxed him.

Stainsby finished his can of beer and added it to the stack by the bed.  "Virginia had her at the doctors for a real bad cough–croup she said.  The baby woke up coughing, and Virginia was 'bout worn out, so I said I'd give her her medicine.  Virginia said she told me to read the label and give half a teaspoon, but I never did read too good." 

His body began to shake and his voice broke.  "I guess, I didn't even grab the right bottle or measure it right–I don't know."  He was silent for a minute.  "Virginia found Lizzy dead in the morning.  They told me I gave her the wrong medicine and way too much, so she stopped breathing.  It was all my fault," he wailed, his voice cracking like an adolescent's.

Cassie looked down at the remnants of a man before him.  She had an idea who was behind Elizabeth's death and doubted that it was this poor, ignorant wretch.  How hard would it be for Virginia to get up either before or after Stainsby and give the baby more medicine?  Maybe she even mixed it in the baby's bottle. 

"Mr. Stainsby, did the doctor's examine Lizzy's body after she died?"

"Yeah, they took her away and cut her up.  They cut up my little girl!"

"Can I have your permission to look at Lizzy's medical records?"  Cassie risked contamination by grabbing a sheet of yellowed stationary from the pad beside the telephone and wrote a quick authorization.  She held it before Stainsby and watched him sign it with a shaky hand.

"You gonna lock me up for what I did?" the father asked.  "You gonna give me my just punishment?"

All she could do was shake her head.  "No, Mr. Stainsby.  I'm not with the police."  She left Stainsby to the purgatory he'd created for himself.

<><><>

Virginia changed the dressing on Charlie's leg and applied the tape to it.  The site where Cassandra Hart had drilled the needle into Charlie's bone was getting infected, just as she had told the doctors it would.  She pulled off  her gloves and tossed them into the trash can, then went over to the nurses' station to wash her hands.

The baby was kicking a lot and her back was sore from sitting for so long.  Virginia walked around the corner to the side hallway that contained the isolation cubicles.  As she passed Antwan Washington's room, she noticed that Tammy Washington sat alone by her son's side.

She was always alone.  Other than Virginia, no one seemed to talk to Antwan's mother.  The nurses blamed Tammy for Antwan's illness.  And Tammy certainly had done nothing to earn anyone's friendship.  She hadn't even thanked Virginia for the work Scott Thayer had done on her behalf in bringing suit against Hart–all pro bono.  In fact, Tammy seemed to be having second thoughts about suing Hart at all.

The woman didn't seem to understand how to survive in this environment.  Tammy was totally out of her element here.  She just sat there, rocking with her comatose child, instead of fighting for him, gaining allies from among the staff or asserting her rights as a parent.

Virginia shook her head.  She'd done everything she could to help Tammy Washington, but Tammy seemed content to allow the doctors to have their way with her son.

Virginia had more important things to worry about. 

She knew Charlie would be gone soon; she had come to accept that fact.  And who knew how long Samantha would live?

Children lived and children died–that was the reality of her life.  Paul didn't understand, but what would he know, spending all day in that office of his?  He didn't appreciate how hard she worked, how difficult her life was.

Thank goodness for Dr. Sterling and his staff.  They seemed to understand.

Virginia completed her circuit around the PICU and ended back at the nurses' station.  The desk clerk came over and smiled at her.

"Mrs. Ulrich?"

"Virginia, please."  The girl looked barely old enough to be out of high school, Virginia thought.  But she was good at keeping things organized and helped Virginia when she needed to reach Dr. Sterling or one of the other specialists to discuss Charlie's case.

"There's a phone call for you on line two."

"Thanks Marina."  Virginia crossed behind the barrier and took a seat behind the desk at the doctor's dictation area.  No one else was there–the doctors were hardly ever around, it seemed.

"Hello?"

"Virginia dear?  This is your mother.  How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mom.  Why are you calling me here?  You know how busy I am whenever Charlie's sick."

"I know, I'm sorry.  I just wish I was well enough to come visit in person."

"Did you want something, Mom?"

"Oh yes.  I just had the strangest phone call from your aunt."

"Stella? Whatever did she want?"

"That's what was so strange.  She said she heard about Charlie being so sick.  I didn't understand all of it, but it seems that some lady doctor from Three Rivers came by to visit Stella and was asking about you."  

Virginia clenched her teeth.  It had to be Hart, no one else would have the audacity to be prying into her private affairs.  

"Stella seemed to think that you were in some sort of trouble," Mary Jurassic continued, oblivious to her daughter's distress.  "Said the doctor talked with Sheila Kaminsky, too."

Sheila–she thought that idiot was locked up in a psych unit for good.  Nobody, not even Hart could consider her a reliable witness.  Not after Sheila tried to poison George.

"Virginia, you still there?"

"Yes, Mom, I'm here.  Don't worry, I'm not in any trouble.  Aunt Stella's got it all mixed up, is all."

"That's what I figured, dear.  I just thought I'd better call and let you know."

"Thanks, Mom.  Bye."  Virginia hung up the phone before her mother could begin to prattle on with one of her stories.  She didn't have time to listen to them, she had a sick child to attend to.

She drummed her fingers on the desk.  Should she call Paul?  This had to be a violation of the court order.  No.  She didn't want him to have to deal with Stella or the rest of her family.  

She'd take care of Cassandra Hart herself.

CHAPTER 19

The receptionist at the City Hall records office didn't need the scribbled note of release.  She was happy to give Cassie a copy of Elisabeth Stainsby's autopsy report and death certificate–they were matters of public record, after all.  All Cassie had to do was write a check to the city for twenty dollars and add an extra ten for copying fees.

Finally Cassie carried her hard won stack of papers over to a wooden bench in the marble waiting area.  It was almost three o'clock, and she hadn't eaten lunch yet, but she wanted to read them before she hit the road again. Rain coated the large window beside her in a sheet of grime.  People were rushing in, shaking their umbrellas and filling the high-vaulted area with giddy laughter.

She looked up from the dry details marking of the end of a child's life to see what was causing all the commotion.  Then she realized the couples were lined up before the marriage office.  A sign in front proclaimed that marriages were held between three and five every day except Monday and Friday.  She watched as a man with trembling fingers dropped the corsage he was trying to pin to his bride-to-be's red satin dress.  He bent down but not before a heavyset man stepped on the carnations, crushing them as he rushed over to traffic court.

The man held the ruined flowers in his hand, staring at them in incomprehension, but the woman just laughed and hauled him back up onto his feet, linking her arm with his.

Cassie smiled as the two of them crossed the marble lobby to the marrying judge.  Her cell phone chirped, and she snared it from her jacket pocket.  

"It's me," Drake's voice sang over the line, widening her smile.  "Have you already started dinner?"

She blinked and looked at her watch again.  She'd totally forgotten Drake was coming to dinner tonight.  Thank God for take out.  "No." 

"Good.  Would you mind terribly if I brought a guest?"  He went on without giving her a chance to answer.  "I forgot, my mom's flying in this afternoon.  I promised her she could meet you–it's okay, isn't it?" he finished in a rush.

His mother?  She made a small noise of panic and exasperation, but Verizon somehow mis-conveyed it as assent, because Drake began to thank her.  "Great, I knew you wouldn't mind.  We'll be there at seven.  I've got to go."

Cassie stared at her phone.   All the fancy options it boasted, but she still couldn't crawl through it and throttle the person on the other end.  If she could, it would be justifiable homicide.  No jury with any women on it would ever convict her.

As it was, she had to be satisfied with a muttered curse as she thrust the evil device into her pocket.  She turned her attention back to Elizabeth's autopsy findings.  

The Wheeling coroner had done a good job of documenting everything, even did a death scene visit.  The bottle with the liquid codeine in it was Virginia's.  She had gotten it refilled that week after a trip to the dentist.  But it was almost empty when they searched the medicine cabinet.

The amount of codeine they found in Elizabeth meant the baby must have been given almost the entire bottle.  Even if Michael Stainsby accidentally used a tablespoon instead of a teaspoon, it wouldn't have been enough to generate such a high of blood level.

But once again she had no proof–and Stainsby already admitted that any mistake was his. 

Where to go next with this?  Cassie could gather all the circumstantial evidence and innuendos in the world, but it wouldn't fly in a court of law.  She needed some solid, tangible evidence.