Yes, Koesler concluded reluctantly, Scott would have to be included.
But what would his motive be? There was the rub. As far as Koesler could figure, there was none. Scott was good at his work, happy at his work, and seemed to have come to terms with the contradictions of life at St. Vincent’s. Indeed, rather than wishing ill to Sister Eileen, he was one of her staunchest champions.
No, on second thought, Koesler decided, at least for the moment, to cross Scott off his list of possible suspects. Which left Dr. Kim as the leading nominee. And as Koesler once more retraced his rationale, he nodded to himself. Yes, that was it.
The priest emerged from his reverie far more assured than he had entered it. He returned his attention to what was going on in the room just as Lieutenant Harris completed his summary of what the investigation had revealed.
“So,” Koznicki said, “what we have here is a suspect who may be telling us the whole truth, the entire story. Or he may not. But at least with the corroboration of some of the bizarre ingredients of his confession, the likelihood that he speaks truth grows.
“If what Mr. Whitaker says is true, then he had proceeded in a most roundabout way to attempt to focus media attention on this hospital for the purpose of exposing what he believes to be, in the context of Catholic medical moral ethics, immoral. But all he has managed to do is to come up with such an incredible, confused, ridiculous story that, to this point, the media are having a field day making a fool of our bumbling suspect.
“On the other hand, if what Mr. Whitaker claims is true, there is someone else in this hospital, who, for whatever reason, has been following our suspect, correcting his mistakes, improving on his schemes. But”— Koznicki spread his hands palms up—“who? And why?”
During Koznicki’s summation, Father Koesler had been fidgeting in his chair, like an eager schoolboy who knows the answer.
And now, like a benevolent schoolmaster, Koznicki recognized him. “I believe Father Koesler may have something to add at this point.”
Koesler, well aware that he was among police professionals and not one of them, spoke as deferentially as possible. “I am almost embarrassed to say anything about this matter. And I wouldn’t, except that . . . well, I’ve been part of this hospital’s personnel for a little while, even if only on a temporary basis. So I got to know many of the people here. And it’s just my familiarity with the situation here that prompts me to speak.”
Lieutenant Harris looked heavenward. He was convinced the priest had nothing of substance to say. He just wished Koesler would get on with it.
Even Koesler was aware that this was becoming awkward. Everyone in the room knew he was out of his depth. There was no need to belabor the point.
“What I’m getting at,” Koesler finally explained, “is that I think I know who tried to kill Sister Eileen.”
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence.
Harris cleared his throat. Was there a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth? “Nobody tried to kill Sister Eileen,” he stated.
“But . . .” Koesler was bewildered. “. . . but she was the patient being operated on. It’s perfectly possible—probable—that the tank was supposed to explode while the operation was in progress.”
“Immaterial,” Harris said.
“But—” Koesler felt his face redden.
“You see, Father,” Harris’s tone was that of an adult explaining something simple to a child. “At the time the tank was tampered with, there was no way of knowing who would be the first patient in that room. No way of knowing, even, if the first patient would need the use of the nitrogen tank.
“Sister Eileen collapsed and was taken immediately to the operating room from emergency. The tank had to have been tampered with before she was brought in as a patient in need of emergency treatment. Whoever sabotaged that tank could not have known that Sister Eileen was going to be operated on, let alone that she would be first and that the nitrogen tank would be needed for her.
“So,” Harris concluded rather pleasantly, “nobody was trying to kill Sister Eileen.”
In the brief silence that followed, Koesler considered how many kinds of fool he was.
Before he lapsed into another contemplative state, he heard Inspector Koznicki say, “As I was saying, if Mr. Whitaker is telling the whole truth— and, to be perfectly honest, I now believe he is—then there must be someone else in this hospital following him around remedying his mistakes. But who? And why?”
“I’m not that ready to believe Whitaker,” said Harris, “though if, as you say, there is someone else, I suppose he or she would be trying to accomplish the same thing as Whitaker.
“But I can’t think of why anybody would want to, or who would be doing it.
“Personally, I think Whitaker did it all and now is doing nothing more original than trying to alibi out of it by blaming some nonexistent person for picking up some loose ends that were never there in the first place.”
Harris quickly was tiring of this case. He wanted to get back to homicide cases, which were what he was being paid to work on. God knows there were more than enough homicides in Detroit to work on. The only reason Harris and the other homicide detectives were here was because Inspector Koznicki had called them in. And the only reason Koznicki had entered this case was the coincidence that he’d been the inspector on Code 2400 the night all this had happened.
As the officers discussed the possibilities in the hypothesis that there had been a second person involved, Koesler’s mind had taken another tack suggested by something Harris had said.
All right, thought Koesler, if Sister Eileen was not the target in the operating room, why would someone bother to improve on the bumbling Whitaker’s ineffectual plan? Why would someone complete the alteration of a medical chart to actually accomplish what Whitaker intended? Why indeed?
Unless . . . unless the two were in basic agreement. Both wanted to create a media event. And why? Because both wanted the same thing: the exposure of the medical moral practices of St. Vincent’s Hospital. And who might that second person be? Someone who would for some reason be attracted to and in agreement with either Whitaker’s ultimate goal . . . or a side-effect of that goal.
And that would be . . .
Of course!
Koesler stood abruptly. “Excuse me.” He had no idea what was being discussed at the moment, nor who was speaking. He knew only that there was urgency in getting to the bottom of this conundrum.
One thing was certain: With his movement and the tone of his voice, he had everyone’s attention.
“Uh, excuse me, but I think I have it now. “ There was no time for further preamble. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just outline my reasoning. If I’m correct, I think it may be important to take some action quickly or something terrible may happen. But first, let me sketch what I believe did happen.
“Bruce Whitaker came to this hospital with one purpose: to create a media event that would focus attention on St. Vincent’s. And through that coverage, he hoped to expose certain practices, which, as a matter of fact, are not in strict accord with official Catholic teaching.
“I was made aware of these practices, and I must say that, on the one hand, given this hospital’s purpose and other circumstances, I do not disagree with what’s being done here.
“On the other hand, there has been some fudging with official Catholic teaching. There is a tendency in this archdiocese, particularly when it comes to the core city of Detroit, to look the other way when it comes to certain, one might describe them as fringe, precepts of Catholic morals and dogma.