He laughed.
Why not? He'll return it to her in the morning, and she won't complain. She won't complain about anything anymore and she had him to thank for that. Why couldn't they send thank-you cards back from the afterlife? he wondered. If they could, he would cover a wall.
EIGHT
Terri overslept.
She had not set her alarm clock either. It was the phone that woke her and thankfully so, she thought when she opened her eyes and saw the clock. She threw off her blanket and sprung up like a jack in the box.
"Dr. Barnard," she said swinging her legs over the bed after she had seized the receiver.
"Terri, forgive me for calling so early," she heard Will Dennis say. She knew it was he before he added, "It's Will Dennis." He had that distinct a voice.
"Oh. No, it's fine. Actually, I'm glad you called. I forgot to set my alarm." Will Dennis laughed.
"Even doctors oversleep, huh?"
"Especially doctors. How can I help you?" she followed, trying not to sound impatient. She would have to shower and dress in twenty minutes and like a character on a television commercial, grab some breakfast bar on her way out and to the office. Grandma Gussie's single-story Queen Anne-style house was just outside Centerville, so fortunately there wasn't that long a commute to the office. When she was little, she called it the Gingerbread House because of the color of the shingles and the shutters.
"One of my ADA's was summoned to a situation regarding a Kristin Martin from Loch Sheldrake last night. The on-the-scene officer's report has your name on it. How did you come to be the one attending to the victim?" The sheer coincidence of it was obviously not lost on Will Dennis, whose voice sounded full of wild suspicions.
"I was on my way home from dinner when I saw the patrol car and the vehicle. The officer asked me to look at her when I told him I was a physician."
"So you had time to examine her?"
"Barely. She went into a convulsion quickly. I can't tell you what happened to her except to say it was probably heart failure. What caused it is another..."
"Well, there is evidence of sexual intercourse," he said quickly, "so considering the condition she was in when she was discovered, we would have to consider an assault, but the report from the autopsy I was just given over the phone has thrown me for a loop, as they say."
"Oh. What was it?"
"The official diagnosis is going to be an extreme case of wet beriberi." She could feel herself holding her breath involuntarily. That diagnosis had lingered like a persistent itch she refused to scratch or acknowledge.
"Wet beriberi," she repeated as though she had to say it to confirm that she had heard it.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Doctor, but isn't that caused by a vitamin deficiency?"
"B1, thiamine," she said.
"The report claims not a trace of it in her body," Will Dennis said. "Isn't that very unusual?"
"Not a trace? Yes. A very low level would be common in the Third World, a chronic alcoholic, breast-fed babies, but not a trace?"
"That's what they're telling me, which was basically what was on Paige Thorndyke's autopsy report, not a trace of vitamin C in that case. Can you offer any sort of explanation, Doctor?"
"I'm not any sort of expert for this, Mr. Dennis. I just know what any family physician would know."
"I realize that. I'm calling you solely because of the coincidence of your being an attending physician on both these bizarre cases. I wanted you to know about it, first, and then, maybe later, we can talk."
For a second or two, she couldn't speak and then her voice returned.
"Yes, of course. I'm on until five today and then I'm going to the hospital to do rounds," she said.
"You have a worse schedule than I have," he kidded. He was silent a moment. "I really don't know what to make of all this. That's why I'm reaching everywhere. I mean, if someone dies because of malnutrition, I don't see how I can indict anyone unless it was a child and a parent situation involving criminal neglect. And yet, as you pointed out, this sort of phenomenon is too unusual in a highly developed country. We're out here a ways and some people think we're still hicks, but two otherwise healthy young women dying of vitamin deficiencies within a week's time...."
"I understand your concern," she said. "If I were you, I'd have the same and start to bring in some real medical experts," she said. It sounded too much like she was trying to get him off her back, however. "Of course, I'll be glad to add anything I can to any investigation."
"Thank you. What time do you actually begin at the hospital?"
"As I said, I'll leave the office about five and grab a quick bite in the hospital cafeteria before starting my rounds about seven."
"Okay, I'll stop by the hospital and catch you at dinner. The way this is going it might be my only chance to grab dinner tonight, too. Even hospital food has some nutrition in it, right?" he added.
"Right. Although I'm beginning to wonder if it matters all that much where we eat," she quipped.
He grunted.
"If you have a quiet moment, give some thought to what you saw last night, what if anything the girl managed to say, that sort of thing."
"She didn't say..."
"For now, Doctor, I would appreciate it if you would keep what I have told you confidential," he interjected before she could finish. "I have no idea where I'm going with this or what I'm looking for and that makes me a very nervous man," he concluded, thanked her, and hung up.
Makes you nervous, she thought. What do you think it does to me?
She had just backed out of her driveway when her cell phone rang. She had it on speaker and flipped the lid.
"Dr. Barnard," she said.
"Say Doc, you make house calls?" Curt asked.
"Not today," she said dryly. They often had humorous conversations before either of them said anything remotely serious, but she was far from that mood. He heard it in her voice.
"I was hoping to hear from you this morning," he said, a little more irritation in his voice than she expected.
"I overslept. I'm actually rushing to get to the office."
"Oh. Hope it wasn't something I said or did. I did think I would hear from you before you turned in, remember?"
"No. I had a problem last night on the way home, Curt."
"What? What happened?"
"I came upon a woman in trouble. A police car was on the scene and I tried to administer medical aid, but she died shortly after I had arrived."
"Holy shit! What happened to her? Who was she?" he asked rapidly. She thought about Will Dennis's request to keep the information confidential.
"She had heart failure," she replied. That was at least partially the cause. "Her name is Kristin Martin and she's from Loch Sheldrake."
"Loch Sheldrake? Yeah, I know of a Martin family there. They have a tourist house, one of the last remaining old-time borscht belt properties," he said. "A bed and breakfast type."
"Did you know the young woman?"
"No. Dad did something for the family years ago. I think there was a dispute over a submersible well or something. Heart failure. Jesus. Was she very fat or something?"
"No, Curt," she said. "I don't know the exact cause yet," she said, deciding not to tell him what she already knew. It was still too bizarre and inexplicable.
"Will I see you today?" he asked. "I'm in the office all morning and then I'm off to court, but I have time for lunch, I think."
"I have a full day, Curt, and tonight's my night for hospital rounds, remember?"
"No, but I hope I won't have to get sick to see my wife," he quipped.
"And I hope I don't have to sue anyone to see my husband," she fired back. He laughed, but it was forced.