Terminal (27 page)

With flashing light and piercing siren, the ambulance roared out of the parking bay and disappeared around the building.

Janet turned to look at Marjorie, who was standing next to Dr. Mason. She was consoling him with her hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe it,” Dr. Mason was saying with a halting voice. “I suppose I should have prepared myself. It was bound to happen. But we’ve been so lucky with our medulloblastoma treatments. With every success, I thought just maybe we could avoid this kind of tragedy.”

“It’s the people in Boston’s fault,” Ms. Richmond said. She’d appeared on the scene just before the ambulance had left. “They wouldn’t listen to us. They kept her too long.”

“We should have put her in the ICU,” Dr. Mason said. “But she’d been so stable.”

“Maybe they’ll save her at Miami General,” Marjorie said, trying to be optimistic.

“It would be a miracle,” Dr. Atherton said. “It was pretty clear her uncus had herniated below the calyx and was compressing her medulla oblongata.”

Janet repressed an urge to tell the man to keep his thoughts to himself. She hated the way some doctors hid behind their jargon.

All at once, as if on some unseen cue, the entire group turned and disappeared through the swinging doors of the Forbes ambulance dock. Janet was left outside. She was just as glad to be alone. It was suddenly so peaceful by the lawn. A huge banyan tree graced the grounds. Behind the banyan was a flowering tree Janet had never seen before. A warm, moist tropical breeze caressed her face. But the pleasant scene was still marred by the undulating siren of the receding ambulance. To Janet, it sounded like a death knell for Helen Cabot.

T
OM
W
IDDICOMB
wandered from room to room in his mother’s ranch house, alternately crying and cursing. He was so anxious he couldn’t sit still. One minute he was hot, the next freezing. He felt sick.

In fact, he’d felt so sick he’d gone to his supervisor and told him as much. The supervisor had sent him home, commenting that he was pale. He’d even noticed that Tom was shaking.

“You’ve got the whole weekend,” the supervisor had said. “Go to bed, sleep it off. It’s probably a touch of the ‘snowbird flu.’”

So Tom had gone home, but he’d been unable to rest. The problem was Janet Reardon. He’d almost had a heart attack
when she’d come knocking on Gloria’s door minutes after he’d put Gloria to sleep. In an absolute panic he’d fled into the bathroom, sure that he’d been cornered. He’d gotten desperate enough to take his gun out.

But then the pandemonium in the room gave him the diversion he needed to get away. When he’d emerged from the bathroom, no one had even noticed. He’d been able to slip into the hall with his bucket.

The problem was that Gloria was still alive. Janet Reardon had saved her, and Gloria was still suffering, although now she was out of reach. She was in the ICU where Tom was not allowed to go.

Consequently, Alice still wouldn’t talk to him. Tom had continued to plead, but without success. Alice knew Tom couldn’t get to Gloria until she was transferred out of the ICU and put back into a private room.

That left Janet Reardon. To Tom, she seemed like a devil sent to destroy the life that he and his mother had created. He knew he had to get rid of her. Only now he didn’t know where she lived. Her name had been removed from the residence chart in administration. She’d moved out.

Tom checked his watch. He knew her shift ended when his would have ended: three
P.M.
But he also knew nurses stayed longer because of their report. He’d have to be in the parking lot when she came out. Then he could follow her home and shoot her. If he was able to do that he was reasonably confident Alice would break this petulant silence and talk with him.

“H
ELEN
C
ABOT
died!” Janet repeated through sudden tears. As a professional it wasn’t like her to cry over the death of a patient, but she was extra sensitive since there’d been two tragedies in the same day. Besides, Sean’s response frustrated her. He was more interested in where Helen’s body was than the fact that the woman was dead.

“I understand she died,” Sean said soothingly. “I don’t mean to sound callous. Part of the way I respond is to cover the pain I feel. She was a wonderful person. It’s such a shame.
And to think that her father runs one of the largest computer software companies in the world.”

“What difference does that make?” Janet snapped. She wiped under her eyes with the knuckle of her index finger.

“Not much,” Sean admitted. “It’s just that death is such a leveler. Having all the money in the world makes no difference.”

“So now you’re a philosopher,” Janet said wryly.

“All of us Irish are philosophers,” Sean said. “It’s how we deal with the tragedy of our lives.”

They were sitting in the cafeteria where Sean had agreed to come when Janet called him. She’d called him after report, before she left for the apartment. She’d said she needed to talk.

“I don’t mean to upset you,” Sean continued. “But I’m truly interested in the location of Helen’s body. Is it here?”

Janet rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not here,” she said. “I don’t know where it is truthfully. But I suppose it’s over at the Miami General.”

“Why would it be there?” Sean asked. He leaned across the table.

Janet explained the whole episode, indicating her indignation that they couldn’t do an emergency craniotomy at the Forbes.

“She was in extremities,” Janet said. “They never should have transferred her. She never even made it to the OR. We heard she died in the Miami General emergency room.”

“How about you and me driving over there?” Sean suggested. “I’d like to find her.”

For a moment, Janet thought Sean was kidding. She rolled her eyes again, thinking Sean was about to make some sick joke.

“I’m serious,” Sean said. “There’s a chance they’ll do an autopsy. I’d love to have a tumor sample. For that matter, I’d like to have some blood and even some cerebrospinal fluid.”

Janet shuddered in revulsion.

“Come on,” Sean said. “Remember, we’re in this thing together. I’m really sorry she died—you know I am. But now
that she’s dead, we should concentrate on the science. With you in a nursing uniform and me in a white coat, we’ll have the run of the place. In fact, let’s bring some of our own syringes just in case.”

“In case of what?” Janet asked.

“In case we need them,” Sean said. He winked conspiratorially. “It’s best to be prepared,” he added.

Either Sean was the world’s best salesman or she was so stressed out, she was incapable of resisting. Fifteen minutes later she found herself climbing into the passenger side of Sean’s 4×4 to head over to a hospital she’d never visited, in hopes of obtaining the brain tissue of one of her patients who’d just expired.

“T
HAT’S HIM
.” Sterling pointed at Sean Murphy through the car’s windshield for Wayne Edwards’s benefit. Wayne was a formidable Afro-American whose services Sterling enlisted when he did business in south Florida. Wayne was an ex-Army sergeant, ex-policeman, and ex-small businessman who’d gone into the security business. He was an ex from as many things as Sterling was, and like Sterling, he now used his varied experience for a similar career. Wayne was a private investigator, and although he specialized in domestic squabbles, he was talented and effective in other areas as well. Sterling had met him a few years previously when both were representing a powerful Miami businessman.

“He looks like a tough kid,” Wayne said. He prided himself on instantaneous assessments.

“I believe he is,” Sterling said. “He was an all-star hockey player from Harvard who could have played professionally if he’d been inclined.”

“Who’s the chick?” Wayne asked.

“Obviously one of the nurses,” Sterling said. “I don’t know anything about his female liaisons.”

“She’s a looker,” Wayne said. “What about Tanaka Yamaguchi? Have you seen him lately?”

“No, I haven’t,” Sterling said. “But I think I will. My
contact at the FAA told me the Sushita jet has just refiled a flight plan to Miami.”

“Sounds like action,” Wayne said.

“In a way, I hope so.” Sterling said. “It will give us a chance to resolve this problem.”

Wayne started his dark green Mercedes 420SEL. The windows were heavily tinted. From the outside it was difficult to see within, especially in bright sunlight. He eased the car away from the curb and headed for the exit. Since a hospital shift had changed half an hour earlier, there was still considerable traffic leaving the parking area. Wayne allowed several cars to come between his car and Sean’s. Once on Twelfth, they headed north over the Miami River.

“I got sandwiches and drinks in the cooler in the back seat,” Wayne said while motioning over his shoulder.

“Good thinking,” Sterling said. That was one of the things he liked about Wayne. He thought ahead.

“Well, well,” Wayne said. “Short trip. They’re turning already.”

“Isn’t this another hospital?” Sterling asked. He leaned forward to survey the building Sean was approaching.

“This area is hospital city, man,” Wayne said. “You can’t drive a mile without running into one. But they’re heading to the mama hospital. That’s Miami General.”

“That’s curious,” Sterling said. “Maybe the nurse works there.”

“Uh oh,” Wayne said. “I do believe we have company.”

“What do you mean?” Sterling asked.

“See that lime green Caddy behind us?” Wayne asked.

“It would be hard to miss it,” Sterling said.

“I’ve been watching it since we crossed the Miami River,” Wayne said. “I have the distinct impression it’s following our Mr. Murphy. I wouldn’t have noticed it except I used to have wheels just like it in my younger days. Mine was burgundy. Good car, but a devil to parallel park.”

Sterling and Wayne watched as Sean and his companion entered the hospital through the emergency entrance. Not far behind was the man who’d arrived in the lime green Cadillac.

“I think my initial impression was correct,” Wayne said. “Looks to me like that dude is tighter on their tail than we are.”

“I don’t like this,” Sterling said. He opened the passenger door, got out, and glanced back at the dumpy Cadillac. Then he bent down to talk to Wayne. “This is not Tanaka’s style, but I can’t risk it. I’m going in. If Murphy comes out, follow him. If the man in the Cadillac comes out first, follow him. I’ll be in touch over the cellular phone.”

Grabbing his portable phone, Sterling hurried after Tom Widdicomb, who was climbing the steps on the side of the ambulance dock outside the Miami General emergency room.

W
ITH THE
assistance of a harried resident in the emergency room who’d given them directions, it did not take Sean and Janet long to find the pathology department. Once there, Sean sought out another resident. He told Janet that between the residents and the nurses you could find out anything you wanted to know about a hospital.

“I’m not doing autopsies this month,” the resident said, trying to rush away.

Sean blocked his path. “How can I find out if a patient will be posted?” he asked.

“You have the chart number?” the resident asked.

“Just the name,” Sean said. “She died in the ER.”

“Then we probably won’t be autopsying the case,” the resident said. “ER deaths are usually assigned to the medical examiner.”

“How can I be sure?” Sean persisted.

“What’s the name?”

“Helen Cabot,” Sean said.

The resident graciously went over to a nearby wall phone and made a call. It took him less than two minutes to ascertain that Helen Cabot was not scheduled.

“Where do bodies go?” Sean asked.

“To the morgue,” the resident said. “It’s in the basement.
Take the main elevators to B1 and follow the red signs with the big letter M on them.”

After the resident hurried on, Sean looked at Janet. “You game?” he asked. “If we find her then we’ll know her disposition for sure. We might even be able to get a little body fluid.”

“I’ve come this far,” Janet said with resignation.

T
OM
W
IDDICOMB
felt calmer than he had all day. At first he’d been dismayed when Janet had appeared with a young guy in a white coat, but then things took a turn for the better when the two went directly to the Miami General. Having worked there, Tom knew the place from top to bottom. He also knew that Miami General would be crowded with people at that time of day since formal visiting hours had just started. And crowds meant chaos. Maybe he would get his chance at Janet and wouldn’t even have to follow her home. If he had to shoot the fellow in the white coat, too bad!

Following the couple within the hospital had not been easy, especially once they went to pathology. Tom had thought he’d lost them and was about to return to the parking lot to keep an eye on the 4×4 when they suddenly reappeared. Janet came so close, he was sure she’d recognize him. He’d panicked, but luckily hadn’t moved. Fearing Janet would scream as she had in the Forbes residence, he’d gripped the pistol in his pocket. If she had screamed he would have had to shoot her on the spot.

But Janet glanced away without reacting. Obviously she’d failed to identify him. Feeling more secure, Tom followed the pair more closely. He even rode down in the same elevator with them, something he’d not been willing to do when they’d gone up to pathology.

Janet’s friend pushed the button for B1, and Tom was ecstatic. Of all the locations in Miami General, Tom liked the basement the best. When he’d worked at this hospital, he snuck down there many times to visit the morgue or to read
the newspaper. He knew the labyrinthine tunnels like the back of his hand.

Tom’s anxiety about Janet recognizing him returned when everyone else but a doctor and a uniformed maintenance man got off on the first floor. But even with so slim a crowd to lose himself in, Janet failed to remember him.

As soon as the elevator reached the basement, the doctor and the maintenance man turned right and walked quickly away. Janet and Sean paused briefly, looking in both directions. Then they turned left.