“Well said. At least there is no worry there. And I assume there should be no trouble at the medical examiner’s office.”
“Right! No problem there, considering the medical histories of the cases.”
“Good. Thank the Lord for small favors.”
Langley stood up. “All right! I’ll get in touch with Clayton and have him make sure there are no problems over at L.A. University. As the premier academic institution in the area, if there is no problem there, it should be smooth sailing elsewhere.”
“I agree. Later, come back here. I want a more complete explanation of what is happening. I presume you know, since the algorithm is your baby.”
“No problem. It will be my pleasure!”
16
George was still upset about Sal’s horrific death and was glad he didn’t have a noon radiology conference to sit through, as it had been canceled for the first day of the new academic year. Such conferences always required a certain amount of socializing, which at the moment George didn’t think himself capable of. Passing the time in the ER’s isolated radiology viewing room was much less demanding and considerably less stressful.
As he sat staring into the middle distance, he wondered what on earth could have gotten into Sal to make him act so bizarrely. Sal had been a pretty calm individual. Could it have been the Alzheimer’s?
While George stayed hidden in the viewing room, he let Carlos do the running around that went with the territory of being a radiology resident assigned to the ER. George was happy to remain secluded, because the ER was still as chaotic as he had ever seen it, with construction workers cleaning up the debris and seeing to the broken windows despite the usual onslaught of patients. Some of the ER’s exam rooms could still be used, but the ones close to ground zero were out of commission, so the ER had temporarily taken over a portion of the nearby outpatient clinic building. The trauma rooms had not been damaged, and were still in use. But it wasn’t easy. With all of the construction people around, it was difficult to get the major trauma patients out of the arriving ambulances and into the proper rooms. Nevertheless, to her credit, Debbie Waters was making it happen.
Some time later Carlos breezed into the room, saying, “There’s a bunch of images that have to be read.” He dropped into the chair next to George and booted up the monitor.
“How is the ER shaping up?” George asked.
“They got rid of the wrecked car already. Most of the debris, too. And they have covered the broken windows with plywood. The scuttlebutt in the media is that the driver of the vehicle was trying to commit suicide.”
George looked at Carlos, shocked.
“They’re just speculating,” Carlos said, catching George’s expression. “You know the tabloids. Gotta juice everything up.”
George shook his head.
“One of the ER residents told me that they suspected some of the driver’s abdominal wounds looked self-inflicted,” Carlos added as he entered the first patient’s hospital number into the computer. “They found a utility knife in the car with blood on it. Can you imagine? The guy must have been nuts.”
George shook his head again. He had trouble believing Sal would do such a thing. And how could they tell what was self-inflicted and what wasn’t, considering that Sal’s body had gone through the windshield before smashing into the LED screen? Suddenly George asked, “How do they know the blood didn’t get on the knife as a result of the crash, considering all the gore. The victim had exsanguinated. Blood was over everything.”
“No clue.” Carlos shrugged as he pulled up the first image.
George didn’t like the thought of Sal being remembered as a crazy weirdo on a suicide mission, possibly trying to take innocent people to their graves with him. George decided to check things out for himself once he finished up with Carlos.
An hour later George emerged from the peacefulness of the reading room. He was impressed that the ER was pretty much back to normal except for all the plywood and the large hole in what had been the wall-size LED screen. After asking around a little with the orderlies he learned that Sal’s body had been sent down to the hospital morgue. With all the questions he had, he decided to pay a visit. It was a place he had never before had the occasion or the inclination to visit.
George rode an elevator down to the sub-basement. The doors opened onto a desolate hallway. It was eerily quiet in contrast to the rest of the hospital. Lines on the concrete floor of various colors gave directions to different destinations: power plant, refuse, recycling, storage for this or that. George followed the black line leading to the morgue. After a couple of twists and turns he found the place. But no one was home. An empty desk sat in the anteroom, where George expected to find one of the attendants.
Opening an inner door, George wandered in to look for someone. It was a lonely place, looking more like a set for a horror movie than a modern medical center. The place smelled weird, too. And quiet. He promised himself he would view Sal’s body as quickly as possible, then get the hell out.
The surroundings also reminded him of Pia’s visit to the morgue back at Columbia Medical School when she was intent on investigating the death of her research mentor. That had been a very unpleasant experience that had almost gotten him kicked out of medical school.
Suddenly a diminutive man dressed in a long, soiled white coat stepped out of a refrigerated room. Both were startled at their near collision. The man took a step back and momentarily raised his arms as if to defend himself. Apparently he didn’t encounter too many live people.
“Can I help you?” The guy’s tone wasn’t all that friendly, either.
“I’m looking for a body. The deceased’s name is Salvatore DeAngelis.”
“You family?” The guy still sounded annoyed. George thought the diener would have been happy to see a living human being.
“No. I’m — we were friends. Neighbors, actually.”
“Then you can’t see him. We don’t allow ‘friend’ visits. Just family members and approved personnel with direct business—”
“I work at the medical center,” George said, pointing to his white coat and name tag. “I’m a radiology resident.”
The man was clearly not impressed. “I have strict orders. No unauthorized visitors view the deceased. HIPAA rules. You should know all this. With all the celebrities in town, we have to be very strict, especially since the debacles over Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett. People take photos and sell them to the tabloids.” He looked down at George’s hands as if he might have a camera ready to start snapping away. “If I just let whoever in here to see any body they wanted—”
“I don’t want to see any body,” George interrupted. He couldn’t believe the guy. “Mr. DeAngelis was a close friend, and I’m a doctor on the staff.” George’s voice rose more than he intended. He took a deep breath and spoke in a more even tone. “The patient was involved in the auto accident in the ER upstairs this afternoon. I’m sure you heard about it. Well, I was there when he crashed. I helped identify him.”