“Okay,” Koesler agreed, “but what may be unique about what Whitaker told you was the part about the security guard who challenged him from a distance down the corridor and then seemingly disappeared. If that part is true, then it would add a lot of credence to his overall story, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, but how could it be true?”
“There’s a patient named ... let me see, I’m sure she’s still here.” Koesler checked the current patient list he’d picked up earlier. “Yes, here she is: Alice Walker. I was sure she’d still be here. Sister Rosamunda made sure she’d stay here long enough to have her infected feet taken care of.
“Okay, on the night in question, the night that Whitaker claims he altered a patient’s chart and was challenged by a vanishing guard, this Alice Walker’s life was saved by what had to be that same guard.
“The official story had it that Mrs. Walker was having a before-bedtime snack when she started to strangle on some crackers. At that point, or so the guard claims, he happened to be passing her room when he heard choking noises. He claims he came to her rescue and with the Heimlich Maneuver saved her life. That’s the story the guard told and the story that went around the hospital.
“However, the next morning, I heard Mrs. Walker’s confession and brought her Communion. And, after Communion, she told me quite a different story of what had taken place.
“According to Mrs. Walker—and I have no reason to doubt her—the guard did not ‘just happen’ to be passing her room when she began coughing. He had been in her room a considerable time. He was . . . um . . . carousing in the other bed with someone, a nurse or an aide, Mrs. Walker couldn’t be sure. The curtain had been pulled around her bed.
“Anyway, at about the time she began choking, the guard didn’t apply any Heimlich Hug. He fell out of bed, rolled across the floor, hit her bed, knocking her out of it; she fell on top of him and that dislodged the food that had been stuck in her windpipe.”
Koznicki could not help himself. He began to laugh. It was several minutes before he was able to compose himself.
Somehow, when Alice Walker told the story, Koesler had not found it all that funny. Now, as he recounted it to Koznicki, it seemed ludicrous. Only gradually, inspired by the Inspector’s example, was Koesler able to get control of himself.
“And she has told no one but you?” Koznicki asked, finally.
“As far as I know. You see, Mrs. Walker is on the same floor as the pneumonia patient . . . uh . . . Millie Power. So it makes sense. Bruce Whitaker could have been tampering with Mrs. Power’s chart when he was discovered by the security guard who challenged him. Now, what could possibly distract the guard from checking out the person who was fooling with some patient’s chart?”
“I see. Yes, that does make sense. It is possible, then, that Mr. Whitaker has been telling us the truth. You say that this Mrs. Walker is still in the hospital. So her statement can be taken officially. It will be a simple matter to locate and speak to the guard. Now, then, let us get to the bottom of this.”
* * *
Mrs. Walker’s statement was taken. And, as Koznicki suggested, it was a relatively simple matter to summon George Snell from his bed, which he had entered only a short time previously after finishing his tour of night duty.
Koznicki had set up temporary headquarters in an empty room adjacent to Dolly’s office. Thus, one room removed from Sister Eileen’s office, he was in the hospital’s central location. The Inspector was indeed determined to get to the bottom of this, and quickly.
George Snell was interrogated in the presence of Father Koesler and Snell’s supervisor. On his way back to the hospital, Snell had pondered how he would respond. He knew of Inspector Koznicki and understood the futility of any attempt to fool the Inspector. Snell decided that he would answer all direct questions truthfully. But he would not expand on any answers he gave nor would he volunteer any information.
The questioning quite promptly got down to the night Bruce Whitaker claimed to have been in the process of altering Millie Power’s medical chart when he was briefly interrupted by a security guard. According to the log for that evening, the guard had to have been Snell or no one. Either it was Snell, or Whitaker had invented the story.
Snell remembered the incident clearly. Yes, there had been someone in the nurses’ station who seemed not to belong there. Yes, he had challenged the man.
Why had Snell not followed up on his verbal and long-distance challenge? Snell weighed that one momentarily. He was not particularly adept at extemporaneous lying. He knew that. All in all, he considered the truth would serve best here. And, after all, he had determined to be truthful.
Yes, he had been distracted by someone. No, not a nurse; a nurse’s aide. Honest to God it had not been his idea in the first place.
It took a while before Snell was able to convince Koznicki—and even longer to convince the supervisor—that this impromptu roll in the hay had been the aide’s idea. Yes, they had used the empty bed in Alice Walker’s room. Snell had thought she was out of it. At least the aide had assured him the patient wouldn’t know what was going on.
No, Snell had not heard the patient choking. The aide heard it. Well, no, he hadn’t exactly fallen out of bed. He had been attempting . . . well . . . maybe it would be just as accurate to say he had fallen out of bed. And yes, the rest of it happened about the way Mrs. Walker had recounted it.
In fact, that’s why Snell had been convinced the aide was right about the patient’s not knowing what was going on. Mrs. Walker had not contradicted any of their story about how Snell had just been passing by when he heard her choking and had performed the—he still had difficulty with the term—yes, the Heimlich Maneuver.
Now, the essential question: Was the man Snell had challenged Bruce Whitaker?
Snell studied the mug shots Koznicki offered. The four photos were equally divided between Whitaker with and without toupee.
“Yeah, that’s the guy.” Snell tapped the pictures of Whitaker covered. But, even more startling, he recognized Whitaker sans toupee as one of the two performers on the television channel Snell had assumed was porno cable. That was the bastard who had successfully executed the one and only Snell Maneuver! For that occasion, Whitaker had been wearing nothing, including his rug.
However, Snell kept this latter information to himself. At this point, he did not care what else Whitaker had done or what the police had charged him with. As far as Snell was concerned, Whitaker’s sin that cried to heaven for vengeance was his carrying off the Snell Maneuver without a license. Or impersonating George Snell during the execution of the Snell Maneuver. Or something like that.
No, Snell told Koznicki nothing about the TV caper. No volunteered information. Besides, this was a matter of honor, a score that must be settled privately between the two of them. As near as Snell could figure it, this matter had the same sort of enormity as when one man stole another man’s horse in the Old West.
After advising him to remain available for further questioning, Koznicki dismissed both Snell and his supervisor. The Inspector then summoned the detectives who had been interrogating hospital personnel. Father Koesler’s observations having lent credence to Whitaker’s claims, Koznicki had called in several detectives from the Third Precinct as well as three from Squad Seven of his own homicide division. Lieutenant Ned Harris of Homicide was coordinating the investigation and now reported to Koznicki.
Once again, Harris made no attempt to mask his distaste at having to check out leads from this priest—the perennial amateur. However, to be fair—and when it came to police work Harris was nothing if not objective—Koesler’s leads had checked out.