Sleight of Hand (28 page)

"Denise had to get home to the kids," Jacob told him, handing Drake a cup of coffee and taking one for himself as well.  "She said you needed my help."

Drake nodded, draining the cup without tasting it.  He quickly explained to Jacob about Charlie Ulrich and Hart's crusade to protect the boy.  To his surprise, Jacob merely arched an eyebrow and nodded when he detailed Hart's suspicions of Virginia Ulrich.

"Munchausen's by Proxy.  We did a story on that a few years back," the former editor said, closing his eyes as his almost encyclopedic memory roamed.  "Lady in Toledo killed three of five kids before the doctors could prove anything.  She killed herself before the trial started.  Another in Parma, a babysitter, no a foster mother, was poisoning the kids she was supposed to be taking care of.  And there was the lady in Philadelphia–I think nine or ten kids died.  Called it SIDS but it wasn't."  

He opened his eyes and looked up at Drake.  "Of course, the big controversy now is that a lot of doctors are saying that it really doesn't exist.  In England, they've overturned hundreds of convictions of women accused of Munchausen's.  Nasty business.  Your lady friend certain?"

"She can't prove it, but she's certain."

"And you?  This could get ugly–case in Toledo polarized the entire city.  Some said the doctors and prosecutors drove the mom to suicide, others said she was a homicidal maniac.  You up for that?"  His eyes darted to the door, and Drake knew he was thinking of Muriel.

"If someone was trying to kill Hart because of her suspicions, then the only way to keep her safe is to prove them."  Drake frowned.  Making this public was also a good way to put Hart back in the sights as a target.  Someone's sights.  He would just have to find out who before anything happened.  Anything more, that was.  "And the only way to keep Charlie safe is to get him away from his mother."

Jacob nodded.  "I'll bet that's where I come in, right?"

"Right.  I thought you might be able to put some pressure on Children and Youth, convince them to place Charlie into protective custody until we get to the bottom of this."

His uncle considered.  "Would a sympathetic judge help?"

Drake inclined his head.  Uncle Jake was better connected than even he imagined.  "Yes."

"Let me make some calls."  Jacob moved to the corner of the room and pulled out his Blackberry.  

Drake sat down, then bounced to his feet once more.  What was he supposed to do now?  He couldn't sit here all night.  He quickly discovered that the room was twenty-seven paces by thirty-two.  There was no reading material newer than nine months old, and the free coffee was designed to erode the stomach lining in the most efficient way possible.

Jacob's glares soon chased him out into the hallway where he continued his pacing.  He rounded the corner and came up short in front of a set of sliding doors labeled "Pediatric ICU".

Once he entered, he really understood why he hated hospitals.  All those kids, surrounded by beeping machines and plastic tubing going in and out of their bodies.  Drake shuddered and looked around the windowless room.  He recognized Virginia Ulrich from Hart's description.  She hovered over a small boy, dwarfed by the large ICU bed, his leg swathed in bandages.  

Two nurses talking at the desk looked up when he entered.  "Can we help you?" one of them, Gail Robbins her nametag read, asked.

Drake joined them and produced his credentials.  

"Detective Drake," the other nurse said in a melodic Island accent.  "You probably don't remember me, I'm Rachel Lloyd.  I'm a charge nurse down in the ER."

Drake looked again at the woman with the dark complexion, her ebony hair pulled back in an elaborate configuration of braids.  "Yes, I do remember.  How are you?" 

"Dr. Sterling warned us about Charlie, but I didn't know the police were involved as well," Gail continued.  "We've been watching him closely.   Dr. Hart hasn't even been up here today."  

"You don't have to worry about her," Rachel put in.  "I heard that she'll be suspended.  Tomorrow there's an Executive Committee hearing about her."

Drake tried to hide his surprise at the nurses' condemnation of Hart.  "Has Dr. Hart been a problem?"

The nurses exchanged glances.  "She's an excellent doctor, always has our patients stabilized before sending them up," Gail said hesitantly.

"But that's her problem," Rachel interjected.  "She's too good in some ways.  Never asks for help, doesn't trust anyone–has to do everything her way.  That's how she got into this trouble in the first place.  I told her that protocol on pediatric patients was to call Peds to place difficult lines, but she insisted that there was no time, that he needed fluids immediately.  So she placed the intraosseus line and now it's infected."

"You should have seen Dr. Sterling's reaction to that," Gail said.  "I thought he was going to hit the roof.  But, I have to admit, by the time Charlie got up here, his perfusion was much better and we were able to place a femoral line without any problems."

Drake wasn't certain that he understood all of the medical subtleties.  "So Dr. Hart did the right thing and it helped Charlie?"

"Well, yeah, but you have to understand that an IO is a very painful procedure.  And Dr. Sterling is very protective of his patients–especially the Ulrichs, they've been through a lot."

"And Dr. Hart's other patient?"

"Antwan?  He's a sad case.  Dr. Hart saw him a few days ago and diagnosed an ear infection.  Apparently the mother never gave him the antibiotic, and he came back with meningitis.  Dr. Sterling called CYS to report the mom's neglect, but Dr. Hart came up here and talked to the mother.  She told her it wasn't her fault, that she hadn't done anything wrong because no oral antibiotic could have treated the bacteria that was growing."

"Was she right?"

"Yes, but that's beside the point.  She's always coming up here, following her patients she calls it, but it seems more like she doesn't trust us to take care of them after they leave the ER.  None of the other ER docs do that, they realize that when it comes to kids, we've got the best doctors in the city."

"Like Dr. Sterling?"

"Oh yes.  He's the best.  It's too bad he doesn't see as many patients now that he's chairman of the department.  He's devoted to his patients."

"That's why he was so upset about the way Dr. Hart treated Charlie," Rachel said.   "And Virginia is so nice, she'd never complain unless it was really bad.  She even came down to the ER after Charlie was admitted to thank me and to express her concerns about the way Dr. Hart interacted with her and Charlie.  She said she was so happy when Dr. Sterling arrived and took over–that she got the idea that Dr. Hart thought she was lying about what happened."

Gail shook her head.  "Virginia is one of the best mothers we have.  It's so helpful that she has a medical background and can understand better what the doctors are doing.  She probably just intimidated Dr. Hart because she is so assertive and knows what the proper care for Charlie is."

Rachel nodded her agreement.  Drake looked past them to Charlie's bed space and was surprised to see Virginia Ulrich nonchalantly reach up and turn off the monitor connected to Charlie.  Then she began to rummage through his bedside table, pulling out various medical supplies.

"Should she be doing that?" he asked the nurses.

"Yes, it's time for Charlie's dressing change.  Virginia likes to do it herself, it comforts her and it's a big help to us.  You see, Detective, we treat entire families here, not just the patient."

"So I see.  Well, thank you for your help, ladies, I'd better be going."

"Don't you want to meet Virginia?"

"Not right now, she looks busy.  I'll be back later when she has more time to talk."

"Don't worry, Detective.  We'll keep a close eye on Charlie for you," Gail said.

Drake nodded and left the ICU. He paused outside the doors, thinking about the small boy who had set all this in motion.  What if Hart was wrong, and he was yanking a sick child away from his loving mother?

He moved into the stairwell, Hart's favorite thinking spot, and sat down on the top step. 

Footsteps echoed up the stairwell and a few moments later Hart appeared, carrying a bulging garbage bag.  She stopped on the landing below him, tilted her chin up at him.  "Everything all right?" 

He nodded and patted the step beside him.  She joined him.  "What's in the bag?" he asked.

"A surprise for your mother."

"She's still sedated, you know."

She smiled.  "I know.  You want to come see?"

He nodded and helped her to her feet.  She kept hold of his hand, and he took a deep breath.  There was no red haze now, just a tingling deep inside–the same feeling he'd felt when he watched Nellie and Jacob together.  

Drake gathered her into his arms and held her there, his head bowed over hers, inhaling her scent.  Allowed himself to be transported to a place where all his loved ones were safe, and he had no worries of mothers harming their sons. 

"It's going to be all right, Mickey," she whispered.  "Everything will be all right.  I promise."

Now Drake believed.  A weight dropped from his heart.  Hart never made a promise she couldn't keep.  He swallowed back tears of relief and clung to her, able to relax for the first time in weeks.  

Finally, after long moments where the only sound in the stairwell was their breathing, he moved back far enough to look at her.  Why had he waited so long to let her get close again?   Careless–might have lost her for good.

She smiled and raised his hand to her lips.  "Want me to read your palm?" she asked.  "Rosa taught me how when I was a kid."

"Only if it's good news."  

She nodded and kissed his hand once more before lowering it to rest over her heart.  She held it there until her pulse and his had synchronized, as if their blood flowed through one heart.  Then she turned his hand palm up and lightly traced the lines in it, staring with deep concentration.  

"Your life line is long," she intoned.  "But with several forks.  You'll meet many challenges and overcome them all, have several careers–"

"Gee, that's a surprise," he laughed.  She already knew about his art and his working with Ed Castro on the community clinic.  "Tell me something I don't know.  How's my love line?"

"I see sadness early on, but then it proceeds in a deep, straight furrow–no straying," she said, her face hovering mere inches over his hand.

"Is that my future or your command?"

She nipped at the flesh at the base of his thumb and turned to smile wickedly at him.  "Better be both." 

"I see.  Guess I'd better start working on finding my soul mate, then."  She slapped his hand away.  "I have a surprise for you, too."

"What?"

"I'm working to get Charlie Ulrich placed in protective custody."

"Really?  How?"

"I've a few journalist contacts who are nudging Children and Youth to take action.  With any luck, I'll have a court order by morning."

Her eyes widened as her face lit up.  "That's the best news I could have gotten."  She flung her arms around him.  "Thank you," she whispered.  "After everything that's happened because of me–thank you."

Drake held her for an exquisite moment, reveling in her warmth, loving the way her enthusiasm erased all his doubts.  

"Come on, I want to see what you brought my mother."  He held the door open for her, and they walked hand in hand down to the ICU.

<><><>

Drake watched as Hart slid her Grandmother Rosa's quilt from the bag and clasped it tight against her chest.  She buried her face in its rich velvets and inhaled as if she could smell the memories embedded in the fabrics.

"This quilt saved my grandmother's life," she whispered to Muriel as she smoothed the fabric over his mother's motionless body.  "This," she traced her fingers over the intricate, thick stitching that joined the kaleidoscope of fabrics together, "this quilt is magic."

She reached for Muriel's hands and lightly lay them beneath one of hers, moving them with the light touch of a Ouija board, fingertips caressing the soft textures of the textiles.  Drake's breathing became shallow.  

All he could see was the woman before him.  Are you casting a spell on me, Cassandra Hart? he wondered, powerless to resist the hypnotic allure of her voice.  He leaned forward, adding his hand to the two women's.  A tingle of energy shot through him as Hart linked her free hand with his, completing the circle.

"My grandmother Rosa made this
perina
when she was a young girl.  Her mother and her grandmother helped her, contributing pieces, some of them going back three, four generations."  Hart's voice took on a cadence in synch with their hands moving back and forth along the stitches.

"A
perina
?" Drake asked, his own voice subdued.

"The gypsy version of a bedroll.  A heavy blanket to lie on under the stars or roll up in when it grew cold.  The women would sew small treasures into the squares–pieces of gold and silver, bits of jewelry.  Insurance for when times got bad.  It was 1936 and Hitler was already rounding up the gypsies–or anyone that didn't conform to his idea of Aryan.  Rosa and her clan as well as several other families thought by traveling together they could protect each other, move outside of Hitler's sphere of influence.  Instead all they offered was a tempting target.

"It was the middle of a warm spring night when the soldiers came.  The gypsies fought.  All of them–men, women and children–but what good are knifes and rocks against machine guns?"

Hart's hand clenched around Drake's.  Her eyes had a dreamy, unfocused look as if she'd passed beyond him to another time.

"See that rust-colored spot?"  She pointed to a stained piece of ivory silk.  "That's the blood of a Nazi soldier Rosa killed with her knife.  Then someone clubbed her over the head.  When she woke, she was on the back of a truck filled with other women.  She was the only one there from her own family.  The other women told her the men were mostly killed or taken elsewhere.  They wouldn't tell Rosa what happened to the children, not at first at least."