Breach of Ethics Page 14

  “Sweetheart, you don’t want to hear what I’m thinking. If I ever get my hands on the guy who did this to you—”

  “Nick, I’m fine. That’s not what’s important now. We need to find out if the Gailworths knew that Lowe was going to recommend leaving Natasha with them.”

  “You mean, did they know about it before he was killed?”

  “Right. Even if they didn’t like the idea of having her diet monitored, at least they would have retained custody. Gailworth would still have his golden goose.”

  “And their motive for doing away with Lowe would be watered down considerably. What about now? Is Lowe’s note going to be considered during the custody hearing?”

  “We don’t know. We’re not even sure the note is still in the chart, or whether Dr. Snyder has seen it. Cleo is going to follow up and let me know.”

  “Did either of you keep a copy of that note?”

  “I didn’t, because I thought I’d have the flash drive, but I’m sure Cleo did. She’s obsessive about keeping copies of everything.”

  “Sounds like we’ve covered everything, then.” Nick stood and put his notebook in his pocket. “Will you be able to sleep?”

  “I’d better. I won’t be getting much sleep tomorrow night.”

  He took my hands, pulled me up from my chair and drew me close. I felt my core melting as he rocked me gently in his arms. He took my face in his hands, kissed my forehead, both cheeks, and then moved to my lips, gently at first, then with a surge of passion that left both of us trembling.

  The moon, bringing in the tide.

  “Do you want me to stay?” he whispered.

  “I wish you could,” I answered, “but my knees are killing me.”

  Chapter 15

  Wednesday morning I was ready for work when I realized I needed a purse. I didn’t have a spare and I couldn’t borrow from Amah without some explaining. In a box of hiking gear, I found a black canvas fanny pack. Since all I had to put in it was my phone and car keys, it would do until I could afford something else.

  At eight o’clock Sanjay D’Costa walked into the library unannounced. The curly lock of his jet black hair that stood up in a corkscrew at the back of his head was my first clue that his role as acting administrator was taking its toll. The usually well-groomed man must have slept poorly. He blinked behind his dark-framed glasses as if he were clearing sand from his eyes.

  “Hello, Miss Machado, may we speak?”

  “Of course.” I gestured toward one of my visitor’s chairs. “And please call me Aimee.”

  I wondered if this visit had anything to do with the fire drill scheduled for the middle of the night. Sanjay got right to the point, speaking in his lilting accent.

  “I have spoken with Cleo Cominoli about our fire drill that will take place tonight in the emergency room. She tells me that our home office has made a special request, to which I have agreed.”

  “I see.” Little did he know that he had approved a clandestine snooping session in Quinn’s office. I waited for Sanjay to elaborate.

  “Also I have agreed that it is good for Ms. Cominoli to have a set of keys to the administrative suite for the duration of Mr. Quinn’s absence. Very wise in the event of trouble.”

  While he talked, I realized there was a photo of Harry and me sitting on the corner of my desk. It faced in my direction, so Sanjay could see only the back of the frame. I raced through my memory, reassuring myself that I had never shown him the photo. It wouldn’t do for him to see it today, just hours before Harry was fixed to masquerade as an employee of TMC’s fire alarm company.

  “Is there anything else?” I asked.

  “Just one thing.” He leaned an elbow on my desk, his face hovering over the picture frame. I struggled to keep eye contact, praying he wouldn’t take a sudden interest in the photo.

  “What’s that?” I began fiddling with the few folders and papers in front of me, hoping to feign an act of compulsive neatness so I could casually pick up the photo and tuck it into a drawer.

  “I’m hearing from the police regarding the data on our security cameras. They are still unconvinced that there has been no tampering.” Sanjay seemed affronted. “It is as if they do not trust me. Can you imagine how that makes one feel?”

  Of course I can. The police don’t trust me either.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t understand why you’re telling me about this.”

  “Because tonight when you and Cleo take the fire company man into Quinn’s office, you will, of course, be recorded on the cameras as they show you going into the administrative suite. The police will want to see that footage. They will have someone from their forensics team to look at it as soon as the fire drill has ended. They will see that the cameras work as they should during the nighttime hours as well as during the day. They will have to take my word that there was no tampering of the cameras the night of Dr. Lowe’s death. You see?”

  It seemed to me there were holes in his theory, but I didn’t want to prolong our conversation. Harry’s photo was still on my desk.

  “I see, but I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

  “As I told Cleo, I’m sure you will both act professionally at all times while you are being recorded, but I wanted you to be aware that you will be seen by the cameras. Of course you see how it is important that we show our hospital’s administrative personnel in a good light, so you will want to comport yourselves accordingly.” He leaned in again, his chin nearly resting on the photo.

  “Of course,” I said. “If that’s all, I really should get back to my work. I have a lot to do.” In desperation, I pulled out the can of furniture polish and clean dust cloth I kept in my bottom desk drawer.

  “Excuse me if I am impeding your work.” Sanjay leaned back to give me more leeway for my tidying.

  “Thank you.” I gave him my best smile, scooped up the photo along with a pad of sticky notes and a stapler, and dropped them in a drawer. Then I shot a squirt of polish at the corner where the photo had been and started buffing.

  Sneezing twice, Sanjay finally took the hint. At the exit door he paused. “So, Aimee, will I see you tonight at the fire drill?”

  “I don’t think so. I expect Cleo and I will head up to the fourth floor as soon as the employee from the fire alarm company arrives.”

  As soon as the door closed behind Sanjay, I dropped into my chair and dialed Cleo. I asked what she thought of Sanjay’s news about the security cameras.

  “I don’t like it. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to call and warn you. Someone else came in right after he left. Do you think we should abort?”

  “No. We might never have another opportunity to get Harry in there.” Then a new wrinkle in our plan came to me. If video of our entry and exit from the administrative suite was going to be scrutinized right away, we wouldn’t want to have to explain going in too soon. We would have to wait until just before the drill started and get out right after it ended. I’d never timed a fire drill, but they didn’t seem to last very long.

  “Cleo, do you know how much time we’ll have once we get inside Quinn’s office?”

  “The drills usually take about ten minutes. Maybe a little longer in the emergency room. It depends what’s going on. At one in the morning it should be fairly slow, unless some drunk driver leaves a bar with one too many for the road.”

  “God forbid. But I was hoping we’d have more time. Now that our cover story is going to be recorded on camera, we can’t count on more than fifteen minutes. We’ll get Harry inside a couple of minutes early. When the alarm sounds we’ll have ten minutes until the all clear and maybe another two or three to get back out into the corridor where the cameras will pick us up again.”

  “Sounds about right. Are you going to ask Harry if that’s enough time?”

  “I’ll tell him, but it’ll have to be.”

  “Okay, instead of midnight, let’s meet in the TMC parking garage at twelve thirty. We’ll review our pl
an there, then take the elevator to the fourth floor. I’ll have the keys with me. The drill starts at one o’clock, so we won’t have an excuse to unlock Quinn’s office much earlier. We can justify at least five minutes’ lead time.”

  “Every minute helps. I’d better hang up now and get to work.”

  “Wait,” Cleo said. “I have news about Natasha Korba. As of this morning she’s out of Pediatric ICU and in a private room in the Pediatric Unit on the second floor.”

  “That’s great. Have you heard how long before she’ll be discharged?”

  “No idea, but Sybil Snyder isn’t going to take any chances on discharging that little girl too soon.”

  “Not with Hector Korba circling like a tornado about to touch down. He’ll be incensed if Natasha goes home with the Gailworths and has a relapse.”

  I asked if she had talked to Jerrylu Stanley in the Health Information Office.

  “I did. She said Sybil Snyder has seen the printout of Lowe’s note about Natasha’s custody. She told Jerrylu that technically, Lowe’s informal note wasn’t part of the medical record. She asked her to remove it from the chart, but to keep it safe.”

  “You made a copy for yourself, right?”

  “Of course. You know me. It’s under lock and key.”

  “I wonder if Snyder will use Lowe’s recommendations in the custody hearing.”

  “Up to her, I guess. Let’s keep our fingers crossed for Natasha.” I heard worry in Cleo’s voice. “So far, the courts have decided in favor of the mother and stepfather every time Korba has tried for custody.”

  “I guess there’s nothing we can do to help that situation. It’s frightening to think the little girl’s life could be at stake.”

  “Back to the fire drill,” Cleo said. “One more detail. Be sure to get Harry out of the hospital pronto. I told Sanjay I’d give him a written report about that panel in Quinn’s office, but we can’t take any chances that he’ll decide to seek out our fire alarm guy to compare notes man to man.”

  “Oh, cripes. That cannot happen. I’ll take care of it.”

  After talking to Cleo, I took a few minutes to mull over Sanjay’s concern that the police might suspect him. I had told Harry that Sanjay was as innocent as a newborn lamb. Now I wasn’t so sure. People sometimes joke that they would kill for a coveted job. What kind of person would actually go that far? And how well did any of us really know Sanjay?

  Lola Rampley arrived at nine o’clock, dropped her purse in the bottom drawer of the volunteers’ desk and acknowledged me with her usual cheerful greeting.

  “Good morning, Aimee. Do we have any special tasks today?” She ran a finger over the smooth, shiny surface of her desk and looked up at me with a puzzled expression.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. My desk seems rearranged. The pencil holder is usually closer to the phone. “

  “Oh, that. Bernie Kluckert was cleaning yesterday. He must have polished the desk. The two of you have to share it, and it seems he’s sensitive to dust. Is there a problem?”

  Red dots appeared on her powdered pink cheeks. “No, of course not. We mustn’t let him become ill.”

  I couldn’t read her reaction to my mention of Bernie. Was she pleased or annoyed that he had become co-owner of the desk? If I discovered that Bernie’s interest in Lola was distressing her, he’d have to go. She was the most valuable volunteer I could ever hope for and I wasn’t about to risk losing her.

  “Lola, I have a few requests for printed articles from our forensic database. Do you want to start with those?”

  “Of course, my favorite task.” She rewarded me with a happy smile. “When they’re ready I’ll have you check them before they go out by messenger.” As a retired librarian, she relished being trusted with chores beyond the capacity of the other volunteers. The few patrons who dropped in asking for help requested an interesting variety of information, most of it easily found once Lola or I explained how to search our collection and other outside sources.

  With Lola’s work lined out, my mind turned to Harry and the fire drill. Would fifteen minutes give him enough time for whatever he was hoping to find in Quinn’s office? Another nagging consideration was Natasha Korba’s medical condition. Her surgery had been eleven days ago, and she had improved enough to leave the intensive care unit. How much longer before she went home?

  As soon as Lola’s shift ended at noon, I called Harry to tell him what Cleo had said about the timing of the fire drill.

  “Will fifteen minutes give you enough time?

  “What I’m looking for won’t take long to find,” Harry said. “It’ll be there or it won’t.”

  “Are you going to give me a hint?”

  “Sure. Think invisibility cloak.” He laughed. “I have to go. There’s a building inspector here who has no respect for my lunch hour. I’ll get back to you tonight around ten o’clock.”

  Just like my brother to joke around when I’m trying to keep my boss and maybe myself out of jail. He’d been just as cavalier a few months earlier when he was a murder suspect. Our parents must have used up all their worry genes when I was conceived. Harry seemed to meet every setback in life with the belief that all’s well that ends well. I met mine with the suspicion that catastrophe was just around the corner.

  With half of my lunch hour already gone, I hurried over to the main tower to see if I could get a peek at Natasha Korba. The news that she was out of intensive care was the one bright spot in a week and a half of turbulence. With luck, Dr. Snyder could convince the Gailworths they should at least let TMC’s nutritionist set them up with proper dietary guidelines for a vegan child.

  As I approached Natasha’s room in the second floor Peds Unit, I heard low voices.

  “This is an abomination,” Abel Gailworth said. “They want our child to eat flesh. He stood next to Natasha’s bed with his wife at his side. Melissa’s face was pale and drawn. Natasha was staring down at the meatloaf on her meal tray, sobbing.

  Chapter 16

  The Gailworths spotted me frozen in the doorway like Lot’s wife turned to salt.

  “Excuse me, wrong room,” I said.

  As I backed away out of the parents’ line of sight, I still had a view of Natasha lying on the bed. I spotted an IV line for medications and fluids taped to the back of her hand, which was to be expected. She would still be on antibiotics and probably supplemental iron to encourage red blood cell production.

  Dr. Snyder’s instructions to the dietary department obviously had not been compatible with veganism. The meatloaf on Natasha’s lunch tray had set Gailworth off. I’d researched enough cases like Natasha’s to know she had been receiving nourishment through a feeding tube during her entire stay in the Pediatric ICU. In a regular room in the Peds Unit, she would be observed to make sure she could eat and drink on her own. The meatloaf was likely part of the first solid meal Natasha’s parents had seen.

  Abel Gailworth walked out of the room and down the corridor toward the nurses’ station. I peeked in and saw Melissa, a thin, thirty-something woman wearing a blue gingham dress. She was devoid of makeup, with dark blond hair in a braid down her back. She held her thin, fragile-looking daughter in her arms, crooning to her and kissing the top of her pale blond head. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but Natasha was nodding and wiping tears off her cheeks. They both looked so vulnerable and desperate that I wondered what it was like for them, being forced to follow Gailworth’s dangerously unorthodox religious dogma. Were they disciples or captives?

  How could Melissa not know she was living with a fraud or worse? How could she put her child at the mercy of that man? I felt a rush of sympathy and understanding for Hector Korba. He had to know at least as much as Nick and I knew about Gailworth’s shady past. If Korba had tried to convince Melissa that her husband was an opportunist and a con man, he had obviously failed. As long as Melissa Korba Gailworth stood by her man, Hector had little to use in court to challenge custody
.

  As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I realized it was wrong. Korba’s best hope was to build his custody case by proving that Natasha’s severe iron deficiency at the time of her surgery constituted child endangerment. That would explain his intense interest in the outcome of the Ethics Committee meeting. He had seen the minutes and knew they were useless. He needed the backing of the doctors involved in Natasha’s care. Lowe’s death had constituted a severe setback to Korba’s game plan. Now there was only Sybil Snyder to testify on his behalf. Could he count on her? Or would she follow Lowe’s lead, recommending Natasha remain with her parents?

  From my vantage point in the corridor I watched Gailworth use his charm on the pretty young woman working at the nurses’ station. He leaned toward her, spoke too softly for me to hear, and reached out his hand to touch her arm. Whatever he said caused her to laugh, obviously pleased by his remark. He laughed, too, then dipped his head deferentially, as if bashful in her presence. What a crock. But she fell for it and picked up her phone, no doubt calling the Dietary Department. He stood listening until she hung up. She apparently reported that the diet issue had been addressed. He reached out and took her hand in his, then covered it with his other hand. Even from the distance where I stood, I saw the rosy blush that tinted her cheeks.

  As Gailworth turned away from the nurses’ station and started back toward Natasha’s room, I caught the self-satisfied smirk on his face. I slipped out of sight into the empty patient room next to Natasha’s. From there I could still hear what was being said.

  “Melissa, we’ve got to get her out of this unholy place.” The urgency in Gailworth’s words might have been concern for his stepdaughter, but I had my doubts. The hospital setting was chipping away at his control over Natasha. Whether he was overzealous about his beliefs or just determined to protect his investment, he wouldn’t tolerate Natasha being out of his sphere of influence much longer.

  I headed for Cleo’s office to describe what I had witnessed. She gasped when I repeated what Gailworth had said about getting Natasha out of the hospital. My lunch hour was long gone, so I headed back to the library, leaving Cleo to follow up on Natasha and the Gailworths.