“Of course,” she said.
“You guys made the diagnosis on the second plague case just fine,” he said.
“It’s easy when you suspect it,” Nancy said. “But we didn’t do so well on the third case.”
“I was going to ask you about that,” Jack said. “What did the gram stain look like?”
“I didn’t do it,” Nancy said. “Beth Holderness did. Do you want to talk with her?”
“I would,” Jack said.
Nancy slid off her stool and disappeared. Jack took the opportunity to glance around at the microbiology section of the lab. He was impressed. Most labs, particularly microbiology labs, had an invariable clutter. This lab was different. It appeared highly efficient with everything crystal-clean and in its place.
“Hi, I’m Beth!”
Jack turned to find himself before a smiling, outgoing woman in her mid-twenties. She exuded a cheerleader-like zeal that was infectious. Her hair was tightly permed and radiated away from her face as if charged with static electricity.
Jack introduced himself and was immediately charmed by Beth’s natural conversation. She was one of the friendliest women he’d ever met.
“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here to gab,” Beth said. “I understand you are interested in the gram stain on Susanne Hard. Come on! It’s waiting for you.”
Beth literally grabbed Jack by the sleeve and pulled him around to her work area. Her microscope was set up with Hard’s slide positioned on its platform and the illuminator switched on.
“Sit yourself right here,” Beth said as she guided Jack’s lower half onto her stool. “How is that? Low enough?”
“It’s perfect,” Jack said. He leaned forward and peered into the eyepieces. It took a moment for his eyes to adapt. When they did, he could see the field was filled with reddish-stained bacteria.
“Notice how pleomorphic the microbes are,” a male voice commented.
Jack looked up. Richard, the head tech, had materialized and was standing to Jack’s immediate left, almost touching him.
“I didn’t mean to be such a bother,” Jack said.
“No bother,” Richard said. “In fact, I’m interested in your opinion. We still haven’t made a diagnosis on this case. Nothing has grown out, and I presume you know that the test for plague was negative.”
“So I heard,” Jack said. He put his eyes back to the microscope and peered in again. “I don’t think you want my opinion. I’m not so good at this stuff,” he admitted.
“But you do see the pleomorphism?” Richard said.
“I suppose,” Jack said. “They’re pretty small bacilli. Some of them almost look spherical, or am I looking at them on end?”
“I believe you are seeing them as they are,” Richard said. “That’s more pleomorphism than you see with plague. That’s why Beth and I doubted it was plague. Of course, we weren’t sure until the fluorescein antibody was negative.”
Jack looked up from the scope. “If it’s not plague, what do you think it is?”
Richard gave a little embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know.”
Jack looked at Beth. “What about you? Care to take a chance?”
Beth shook her head. “Not if Richard won’t,” she said diplomatically.
“Can’t someone even hazard a guess?” Jack asked.
Richard shook his head. “Not me. I’m always wrong when I guess.”
“You weren’t wrong about plague,” Jack reminded him.
“That was just lucky,” Richard said. He flushed.
“What’s going on here,” an irritated voice called out.
Jack’s head swung around in the opposite direction. Beyond Beth was the director of the lab, Martin Cheveau. He was standing with his legs apart, his hands on his hips, and his mustache quivering. Behind him was Dr. Mary Zimmerman, and behind her was Charles Kelley.
Jack got to his feet. The lab techs slunk back. The atmosphere was suddenly tense. The lab director was clearly irate.
“Are you here in an official capacity?” Martin demanded. “If so, I’d like to know why you didn’t have the common courtesy to come to my office instead of sneaking in here? We have a crisis unfolding in this hospital, and this lab is in the middle of it. I am not about to brook interference from anyone.”
“Whoa!” Jack said. “Calm down.” He hadn’t expected this blowup, especially from Martin, who had been so hospitable the day before.
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Martin snapped. “What the devil are you doing here, anyway?”
“I’m just doing my job, investigating the deaths of Katherine Mueller and Susanne Hard,” Jack said. “I hardly think I’m interfering. In fact I thought I was being rather discreet.”
“Is there something in particular you are looking for in my lab?” Martin demanded.
“I was just going over a gram stain with your capable staff,” Jack said.
“Your official mandate is to determine the cause and the manner of death,” Dr. Zimmerman said, pushing her way in front of Martin. “You’ve done that.”
“Not quite,” Jack corrected. “We haven’t made a diagnosis on Susanne Hard.” He returned the infection-control officer’s beady stare. Since she wasn’t wearing the mask she’d had on the day before, Jack was able to appreciate how stern her thin-lipped face was.
“You haven’t made a specific diagnosis in the Hard case,” Dr. Zimmerman corrected, “but you have made a diagnosis of a fatal infectious disease. Under the circumstances I think that is adequate.”
“Adequate has never been my goal in medicine,” Jack said.
“Nor mine,” Dr. Zimmerman shot back. “Nor is it for the Centers for Disease Control or the City Board of Health, who are actively investigating this unfortunate incident. Frankly your presence here is disruptive.”
“Are you sure they don’t need a little help?” Jack asked. He couldn’t hold back the sarcasm.
“I’d say your presence is more than disruptive,” Kelley said. “In fact, you’ve been downright slanderous. You could very well be hearing from our lawyers.”
“Whoa!” Jack said again, lifting his hands as if to fend off a bodily attack. “Disruptive I can at least comprehend. Slanderous is ridiculous.”
“Not from my point of view,” Kelley said. “The supervisor in central supply said you told her Katherine Mueller had contracted her illness on the job.”
“And that has not been established,” Dr. Zimmerman added.
“Uttering such an unsubstantiated statement is defamatory to this institution and injurious to its reputation,” Kelley snapped.
“And could have a negative impact on its stock value,” Jack said.
“And that too,” Kelley agreed.
“The trouble is I didn’t say Mueller had contracted her illness on the job,” Jack said. “I said she could have done so. There’s a big difference.”
“Mrs. Zarelli told us you told her it was a fact,” Kelley said.
“I told her ‘those were the facts’ referring to the possibility,” Jack said. “But look, we’re quibbling. The real fact is that you people are overly defensive. It makes me wonder about your nosocomial infection history. What’s the story there?”
Kelley turned purple. Given the man’s intimidating size advantage, Jack took a protective step backward.
“Our nosocomial infection experience is none of your business,” Kelley sputtered.
“That’s something I’m beginning to question,” Jack said. “But I’ll save looking into it for another time. It’s been nice seeing you all again. Bye.”
Jack broke off from the group and strode away. He heard sudden movement behind him and cringed, half expecting a beaker or some other handy piece of laboratory paraphernalia to sail past his ear. But he reached the door to the hallway without incident. Descending a floor, he unlocked his bike and headed south.
Jack weaved in and out of the traffic, marveling at his latest brush with AmeriCare. Most confusing was the sensitivity of the people involved. Even Martin, who’d been friendly the day before, now acted as if Jack were the enemy. What could they all be hiding? And why hide it from Jack?