The Society (31 page)
“They don’t. I checked.”
“I can check with the nurses in the ICU.”
“No!
We’ve
got to find them, but we need a cop there with us when we do. A cop or someone from the DA’s office. And also someone in authority at your hospital. So, for God’s sake, don’t go looking for them, because if you luck out and actually find them, you’ve ruined everything. We’ll need a tight chain of custody. Listen, I know someone in the DA’s office who owes me a favor. Maybe he’ll come. Meanwhile, see if you can get someone from your hospital to meet us in the lobby there at, say, eight tonight. Call me if you can’t pull that off.”
“I’ll do my best. I know a state police detective I might be able to get.”
“Terrific. For this search, the more witnesses the merrier. It’s the shoes, pal! It’s always the shoes!”
Will slipped the phone back in his briefcase and turned dramatically to Silverman.
“We need to talk, Sid,” he said.
Sid Silverman flatly refused to represent the hospital in the search for Will’s OR shoes. Instead, he led Will to attorney Jill Leary’s office, stayed long enough to ensure she would be available at eight, and left with another warning that when his business with Leary was finished, Will was to wait outside the hospital until Micelli’s group convened in the lobby. Learning that the infamous Law Doctor was representing Will did nothing to brighten Silverman’s day.
“I thought Micelli just sued doctors,” he said.
“He’s making an exception in my case.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s because he believes I could be innocent, Sid.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“You know what I think? I think Micelli’s right. I think the shoes are how I was poisoned. And I think you’re frightened to death that you might be wrong about me and wrong in the way you’ve treated me. And when we find out that he’s right, and you’re wrong, I want my staff privileges back on the spot. And you know what else I want, Sid? I want you never to speak
to
me or
about
me again.”
It took most of half an hour for Will to bring Jill Leary up to speed on the pharmacology of fentanyl and on the evolution of his relationship with Augie Micelli. Given her outwardly severe demeanor, she was surprisingly kind and, from what he could tell, nonjudgmental. Still, he felt distracted and rushed his account wherever he could. He hadn’t yet had the opportunity to call Patty and invite her to meet them at the hospital, and he also needed to track down Susan to see if something could be set up involving the two of them and Charles Newcomber.
“Tell me something,” Leary said. “If what your lawyer believes happened is actually what did, don’t you think that whoever is responsible would have gone out of their way to locate your OR shoes and dispose of them?”
It was a good question—a very good question, in fact. Will took some time to think his answer through.
“I guess it’s possible they did just that,” he said finally. “But if the police don’t have my clothes from that day, and they’re not in the ICU and not in the ER, then either a clothing bag with my name on it was thrown away accidentally, or someone took it. And since I can’t imagine housekeeping just chucking a patient’s belongings’ bag away without giving it to a nurse, we would have to deal with the likelihood that whoever poisoned me got rid of it.”
“I suppose at first blush I can buy that logic,” the lawyer said, her smile genuine and warm. “Well, it’s my night to make dinner for my husband and kid, so I’d better run. I’ll see if I can poke any holes in your theory on the way home, and I’ll see you back here tonight at eight.”
“Terrific.”
“And, Dr. Grant?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry this is happening to you.”
Using a hospital phone, Will tried Patty at home and on her car phone. They had agreed that so long as his home, his cell, and his office phones were tapped, they would try to avoid talking on them. When they did connect through one of those phones, it would be strictly business. Use of the word
danger
meant that Will would call her car phone from someplace safe.
When Will arrived at the office of Fredrickston Surgical Associates, Susan was seeing the last of her patients. It had been more than a week since he had been there, and the staff greeted him with edgy warmth. It was, he knew, a natural reaction. The more time that passed without his exoneration, the more doubt that accrued.
“Doin’ fine,” he said to the receptionist before she even asked. “Not to worry. I’m doin’ fine.”
He failed to reach Patty again, this time using the phone in Gordo’s office. Then he sat at his uncharacteristically ordered desk, bending and unbending a paper clip as he tried to remember what normal felt like. What would life be like now if he had simply said no when Tom Lemm and the rest of the Society had so skillfully maneuvered him into the Faneuil Hall debate?
“Hey, big fella, I heered you wuz waitin’ fer me.”
Susan sidled into Will’s office and took the chair opposite him. She was unpretentiously elegant in an ankle-length skirt with a bright African print and a beige silk blouse. Her sorrel hair was, as usual, pulled back in a tight bun.
“Thanks for sticking up for me at that session today,” Will said.
“I wish that fop Silverman had given me the chance to say more. I’m sure this has been hell for you.”
“I’m ready to have it be over, that’s for sure. Maybe tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
Will recounted the call from Micelli and the search that was to commence at eight.
“You’re welcome to come along, Suze.”
“If I thought it would make any difference, I would. I hope you know that, even though, believe it or not, I am being taken to the Bruce Springsteen concert tonight.”
For emphasis, she bit on her lower lip and played a few notes on an imaginary guitar.
“I didn’t know you were into The Boss.”
“Let me put it this way—everyone I know is excited that I’m going, so I am, too.”
“You’ll love him.”
“Anything’s possible. Hey, before I forget, what’s going on with Grace Davis and her X-ray?”
“That’s actually what I wanted to see you about.”
“Grace’s husband told me she had a BB in her chest that wasn’t in her mammograms.”
“Exactly. She was shot by her brother when she was a kid.”
“You saw the mammograms?”
“I did that day you agreed to let me take over her case. I can’t be sure the BB wasn’t there, but it seems unlikely I would have missed it. Yesterday I went to see Dr. Newcomber, the mammographer at the Excelsius Health Cancer Center.”
“He’s an odd little duck.”
“You’ve met him?”
“A couple of times. I think he’s gay, but other than that I have no read on him.”
“Well, what I think happened is that he read her films correctly, then mistakenly put someone else’s films in her jacket. I just didn’t notice that the name on the jacket and the name on the films were different.”
“Someone who also had a left upper outer-quadrant cancer?”
“I guess. It’s the only explanation I can come up with.”
“If that’s the case, I must have missed the name difference, too. I studied those films before I did her surgery.”
“It’s possible. The name on the film isn’t something we go out of our way to check.”
“I suppose.” Susan’s nonplussed expression made it clear she was searching for other explanations. “So, what happened when you went to see Newcomber?”
“Are you ready for this? When I asked to review Grace’s films with him, he got really frightened. He was gripping the edge of his desk so tightly I thought it was going to splinter. Then he said he needed a notarized release from Grace to show me anything. Then, when I said that was a ridiculous demand to make to a fellow physician, without any warning he reached in his desk drawer and pulled a gun on me.”
“A what?”
“A snub-nosed revolver. He threatened to shoot me if I didn’t get out, and it seemed he was just panicked enough to do it. His face was flaming red and his hand was shaking. I half expected to see smoke coming out of his ears.”
“If he had done that to me, he wouldn’t have had to bother pulling the trigger, because I would have just died on the spot. So, what do you want to do?”
“I want to see him again, this time with you in tow and clutching a notarized release from Grace Davis. And if he makes a move for that right-hand desk drawer, I’m going to launch myself over his desk, rip off that god-awful hairpiece of his, and ram it down his throat.”
“Goodness. The dark side of Will Grant.”
“Believe me, there is one. No one’s ever pointed a gun at
me
, either.”
“Should I call and make an appointment with him?”
“The cancer center’s not that far away from here. I favor just showing up. Maybe I’ll sort of hang back in the corridor until you’re through the door of his office, then I’ll slide in behind you.”
“Nine
A
.
M
. okay?”
“Fine. I’ll meet you here and we can drive over together.”
“And the notarized release?”
“Jill Leary, that hospital attorney, will be here tonight when we look for the shoes. If she can’t or won’t do it, I’ll figure out something.”
“I hope this search works out for you, Will. I’m sick of people getting angry at me because you’re not here to take care of them and they have to settle for me.”
“That’s nonsense. Just keep your fingers crossed tonight while you’re at the Fleet Center screaming for Springsteen.”
Susan stood and held up four sets of crossed fingers.
“Just practicing,” she said. “Hey, one more thing, could you give me the names of a couple of Springsteen’s songs? In case you couldn’t guess, I really don’t know much about him except that he’s a hunk.”
“‘I’m On Fire,’ ‘Born to Run,’ and ‘Badlands’—all theme songs of mine at the moment. For that information, I want a T-shirt.”
“See you in the morning, Doc. If my date’s impressed with those titles, you get your shirt.”
“Detective Kristine Zurowski, please. Tell her it’s Detective Moriarity calling.”
Her phone on hands-off, Patty was mired in traffic halfway to Serenity Lane in Dover. The cartons she had taken from Ben Morales’s study rested on the backseat of the Camaro. Although she hadn’t made it through all of Morales’s papers, what she had read and learned from Wendy Morales had her head spinning. Morales had blocked a merger attempt by Boyd Halliday and Excelsius Health. Not long after that, he was murdered. Now it was time to see if she had stumbled onto a pattern. One memo, nearly lost within reams of paper, suggested that the new corporation, which would include Morales’s Premier Care, would also include Cyrill Davenport’s Unity Comprehensive Health.
“Hey, Patty, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Kristine.”
“Someone just told me you got taken off the big case.”
“The rumor mill is really cranking. You heard about it almost as soon as I did.”
“That thug Brasco?”
“He had some help from our CO, but yes. They thought some new blood was needed.”
“Blood with Y chromosomes?”
“Possibly. No, make that
probably
.”
“You should file a complaint.”
“Maybe someday. Right now I’m complaining the only way I know how, by staying on the case without their knowing it.”
“Yea, Patty.”
“Thanks. So, Kristine, have you guys made any progress?”
“Nada. The going theory is that these are vengeance killings, but what else is new? We have the alphabet letters, but no one’s been able to crack them yet. We hear HQ is putting together a task force to centralize all information. I thought you might actually be involved in that.”
“Only by not being on it. Listen, as far as the letters go, I can make you a hero. Brasco and the cryptographer have come up with
Remember Clementine
. The code-breaker is ninety-something percent certain that’s it. They think Clementine might be the name of the killer’s mother.”
“You believe that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. The killer sure as hell wants us to believe that, so I’m at least a
little
skeptical.”
“Clementine,” Kristine mused. “You know anyone named Clementine?”
“Only the one who is lost and gone forever.”
“Dreadful sorry. It does sound a little bogus to me.”
“See what I mean? I’m going to ignore Clementine for the time being and keep heading in this direction.”
“You need a buddy?”
“Do yourself and your career a favor and steer clear of me for the time being. If I can ever get out of this one-twenty-eight traffic, I’m on my way over right now to speak with Gloria Davenport. That’s actually why I’m calling you.”
“She know you’re coming?”
“Yes. I wanted to clear my visiting her with you first, though, being as she’s in your bailiwick.”
“Consider it cleared, especially after giving me Remember Clementine.”
“I also want to know anything you’ve got on her.”
“You think she’s got something to do with her husband being blown up?”
“No, but you may be closer than you realize.”
“Well, we’ve interviewed her twice. The first time she was intoxicated, and the second time she was merely drunk. She handles her booze impressively well, though, I’ll give that to her. And she puts up a pretty good front. No one here including me is suspicious of her except for the fact that she is, as of the explosion, one wealthy woman.”
“How wealthy?”
“You saw where they live. I don’t know how much the stock she’s about to inherit is worth, but I can tell you that as of this moment the company is privately owned, and I must believe that a good chunk of those tens of tens of millions once possessed by her husband now belong to her.”
“Interesting.”
“Listen, you’ll keep me up to speed?”
“If I know it, you’ll know it.”
It was nearing six when Patty pulled up the driveway of 3 Serenity Lane. Cocktail time. As she approached the front door, she was thinking, at least in part, of how good a gentle gin and tonic with a wedge of lime would taste, provided she could put her feet up on something at the same time.