Jack didn’t know who at the hospital had alerted the administration of his presence, but he had a good idea who would be informing Bingham that he’d been there. Jack entertained no illusions about Kelley complaining about him again.
Jack wasn’t disappointed. As soon as he came in the receiving bay, the security man stopped him.
“I was told to tell you to go directly to the chief’s office,” the man said. “Dr. Washington himself gave me the message.”
As Jack locked his bike, he tried to think of what he was going to say to Bingham. Nothing came to mind.
While ascending in the elevator, Jack decided he’d switch to offense since he couldn’t think of any defense. He was still formulating an idea when he presented himself in front of Mrs. Sanford’s desk.
“You’re to go right in,” Mrs. Sanford said. As usual she didn’t look up from her work.
Jack stepped around her desk and entered Bingham’s office. Immediately he saw that Bingham wasn’t alone. Calvin’s huge hulk was hovering near the glass-fronted bookcase.
“Chief, we have a problem,” Jack said earnestly. He moved over to Bingham’s desk and gave it a tap with his fist for emphasis. “We don’t have a diagnosis on the Hard case, and we got to give it to them ASAP. If we don’t we’re going to look bad, especially the way the press is all stirred up about the plague. I even went all the way over to the General to take a look at the gram stain. Unfortunately, it didn’t help.”
Bingham regarded Jack curiously with his rheumy eyes. He’d been about to lambaste Jack; now he demurred. Instead of speaking he removed his wire-rimmed spectacles and absently cleaned them while he considered Jack’s words. He glanced over at Calvin. Calvin responded by stepping up to the desk. He wasn’t fooled by Jack’s ruse.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Calvin demanded.
“Susanne Hard,” Jack said. “You remember. The case you and I have the ten-dollar double-or-nothing bet on.”
“A bet!” Bingham questioned. “Is there gambling going on in this office?”
“Not really, Chief,” Calvin said. “It was just a way of making a point. It’s not routine.”
“I should hope not,” Bingham snapped. “I don’t want any wagering around here, especially not in regard to diagnoses. That’s not the kind of thing I’d like to see in the press. Our critics would have a field day.”
“Getting back to Susanne Hard,” Jack said. “I’m at a loss as to how to proceed. I’d hoped that by talking directly to the hospital lab people I might have made some headway, but it didn’t work. What do you think I should do now?” Jack wanted the conversation to move away from the gambling issue. It might divert Bingham, but Jack knew he’d have hell to pay with Calvin later on.
“I’m a little confused,” Bingham said. “Just yesterday I specifically told you to stay around here and get your backload of cases signed out. I especially told you to stay the hell away from the Manhattan General Hospital.”
“That was if I were going there for personal reasons,” Jack said. “I wasn’t. This was all business.”
“Then how the hell did you manage to get the administrator all bent out of shape again?” Bingham demanded. “He called the damn mayor’s office for the second day in a row. The mayor wants to know if you have some sort of mental problem or whether I have a mental problem for hiring you.”
“I hope you reassured him we’re both normal,” Jack said.
“Don’t be impertinent on top of everything else,” Bingham said.
“To tell you the honest truth,” Jack said, “I haven’t the slightest idea why the administrator got upset. Maybe the pressure of this plague episode has gotten to everybody over there, because they’re all acting weird.”
“So now everyone seems weird to you,” Bingham said.
“Well, not everyone,” Jack admitted. “But there’s something strange going on, I’m sure of it.”
Bingham looked up at Calvin, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. He didn’t understand what Jack was talking about. Bingham’s attention returned to Jack.
“Listen,” Bingham said. “I don’t want to fire you, so don’t make me. You’re a smart man. You have a future in this field. But I’m warning you, if you willfully disobey me and continue to embarrass us in the community, I’ll have no other recourse. Tell me you understand.”
“Perfectly,” Jack said.
“Fine,” Bingham said. “Then get back to your work, and we’ll see you later in conference.”
Jack took the cue and instantly disappeared.
For a moment Bingham and Calvin remained silent, each lost in his own thoughts.
“He’s an odd duck,” Bingham said finally. “I can’t read him.”
“Nor can I,” Calvin said. “His saving grace is that he is smart and truly a hard worker. He’s very committed. Whenever he’s on autopsy, he’s always the first one in the pit.”
“I know,” Bingham said. “That’s why I didn’t fire him on the spot. But where does this brashness come from? He has to know it rubs people the wrong way, yet he doesn’t seem to care. He’s reckless, almost self-destructive, as he admitted himself yesterday. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Calvin said. “Sometimes I get the feeling it’s anger. But directed at what? I haven’t the foggiest. I’ve tried to talk with him a few times on a personal level, but it’s like squeezing water out of a rock.”
15
Terese and Colleen climbed out of the cab on Second Avenue between Eighty-ninth and Eighty-eighth streets a few doors away from Elaine’s and walked to the restaurant. They couldn’t get out right in front because of several limos inconveniently double-parked.
“How do I look?” Colleen asked as they paused under the canvas awning. She’d pulled off her coat for Terese’s inspection.
“Too good,” Terese said, and she meant it. Colleen had discarded her signature sweatshirt and jeans for a simple black dress that revealed her ample bust to perfection. Terese felt dowdy by comparison. She still had on her tailored suit that she’d worn to work that day, not having found time to go home to change.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” Colleen admitted.
“Relax,” Terese said. “With that dress Dr. McGovern doesn’t stand a chance.”
Colleen gave their names to the maître d’ who immediately indicated recognition. He motioned for the women to follow him. He started to the rear.
It was an obstacle course of sorts to weave among the densely packed tables and scurrying waiters. Terese had the sensation of being in a fishbowl. Everyone, male and female alike, gave them the once-over as they passed.
The men were at a tiny table squeezed into the far corner. They got to their feet as the women approached. Chet held out Colleen’s chair. Jack did the same for Terese. The women draped their coats over the backs of the chairs before sitting down.
“You men must know the owner to have gotten such a great table,” Terese said.
Chet, who misinterpreted Terese’s remark as a compliment, bragged he’d been introduced to Elaine a year previously. He explained she was the woman seated at the cash register at the end of the bar.
“They tried to seat us up in the front,” Jack said. “But we declined. We thought you women wouldn’t like the draft from the door.”
“How thoughtful,” Terese said. “Besides, this is so much more intimate.”
“You think so?” Chet questioned. His face visibly brightened. They were, in reality, packed in like proverbial sardines.
“How could you question her?” Jack asked Chet. “She’s so sincere.”
“All right, enough!” Chet said good-naturedly. “I might be dense, but eventually I catch on.”
They ordered wine and appetizers from the waiter who’d immediately appeared after the women had arrived. Colleen and Chet fell into easy conversation. Terese and Jack continued to be teasingly sarcastic with each other, but eventually the wine blunted their witticisms. By the time the main course was served, they were conversing congenially.