“Did you ask Dr. Thomas about this?”
“I did, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he abruptly terminated the conversation.”
“I’m not surprised. We all found Dr. Passero an insufferable bane, but particularly Dr. Thomas. None of us wanted her on the task force for the simple reason that if she were, she’d gum up the works for the entire M and M Committee. The task force is a purposely small, decisive working panel whose major role is to choose the cases to be presented at the full committee meetings. If she were on the panel, she’d be insisting every death and every patient mishap be presented, which is clearly impossible because there is only so much time for the full committee hearings. If the task force can’t do its job, nor can the M and M Committee, and if we have no M and M Committee, we lose our hospital accreditation. And if we lose our accreditation, there can be no Medicare and Medicaid payments. If that happened, we’d be forced to close our doors. It’s as simple as that.
“Listen, it’s been a pleasure to meet you, but I’ve got to get back to the OR because there are still several cases going on that I’m supervising.” Carl put his full coffee cup down on the counter as if he had lost the taste for it. “If I think of anything else that you should know about Dr. Passero, I have your card, and I’ll call.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Jack said. He was about to pose one last question to inquire about the M and M Task Force in terms of its membership, but without another word nor even another glance over his shoulder, the Anesthesia Department head abruptly headed for the exit and disappeared.
After pausing for a moment, dumbstruck at the precipitous ending to the conversation, Jack followed. His brief tête-à-têtes with both doctors had not been what he’d expected, and he wondered if a conversation with Peter Alinsky would be similar if he dared to try to contact the man. Once out in the hallway and by looking through the windows of the double swinging doors leading into the OR complex, he could see Wingate heading down the central corridor. It was, Jack thought, rather surprising how similar the interactions had been with both doctors, although the anesthesiologist hadn’t gotten quite so demonstrably irritated.
He shrugged. He hadn’t learned much for his efforts besides that Sue Passero wasn’t universally as liked and respected as had been suggested by Carol Sidoti and Keven Strauss. If a homicide had to be considered, such a fact could very well take on a definite significance in terms of motive, especially with how emotional Henry had grown.
Jack regretted not learning anything new about the medical serial killer issue. Although he had been severely tempted to bring it up with both Henry and Carl, he felt he couldn’t, at least not until he had more information. Before approaching anyone with such a horrendous possibility, he would have to have at least some confirmation whether it was true, above and beyond hearing that Sue was convinced it was. He also wanted to have more of an idea of who it might be. From having glanced at the articles in her Hospital Mortality folder, he knew that anyone on the hospital staff, from orderlies to nurses to doctors, had the opportunity to be a serial killer since all had direct access both to patients and the potential means. With the sheer number of articles that Sue had amassed, there were many more medical serial killers than he realized, and those were only the ones who had been caught. Jack shuddered at the idea of how many additional people there might have been over the years who hadn’t been exposed simply because hospitals are places where death is anticipated, so it isn’t always questioned as much as it ought to be. On top of that was the issue of private equity getting progressively more involved in medicine and wanting to squeeze as much profit as possible out of hospitals by reducing the number of nurses per patient and thereby reducing supervision, making the deed easier for would-be medical serial killers.
Heading toward the elevators while replacing his pandemic mask, Jack tried to get his mind back on track. Although he felt he’d accomplished what he could by taking the time to talk to the two doctors, now it was time to visit the ED in hopes of running into Ronald Cavanaugh. Jack knew he had to return to his primary mission: figuring out the cause and mechanism of Sue’s death.
Chapter 19
Tuesday, December 7, 6:31 p.m.
As Jack descended in the elevator toward the ground floor, he found himself shaking his head at what a successful diversion he’d managed to find. Since arriving at work that morning and stumbling across Sue Passero’s case, the annoying issues on the home front seemed picayune, even a bit egotistic, and certainly manageable, so in one sense he’d accomplished his goal. Yet it was at a definite emotional cost. He’d had many complicated cases in his forensic career, but none had been as emotionally troubling as the one he was now caught up in, especially if his gnawing intuition turned out to be correct. If he was totally honest with himself, he’d have to admit that from the moment he closely examined Sue’s heart and was struck by its normality, the fear that he was dealing with the homicide of Laurie’s friend was a distinct possibility.
Occupied with these thoughts, he wasn’t as attentive as he should have been to his surroundings as he crossed the main hospital lobby on his way to the Emergency Department. It wasn’t until he’d practically bumped into his archenemy, Martin Cheveau, that he remembered he was supposed to be vigilant about not being recognized at the MMH, especially having already been officially escorted out of the hospital not that many hours before.
“Jack Stapleton?” Martin questioned in an artificially high-pitched voice. He had his hands spread wide, palms up in total amazement. “What the hell are you doing back here after having been summarily kicked out?”
“I guess it’s a kind of addiction,” Jack said. “It’s such an intriguing place. I just can’t stay away.”
“You are impossible!” Martin said, angrily changing his tone. “And I can assure you that the president is going to hear about this.”
“I would hope she has more important issues to deal with than a civil servant medical examiner legally investigating the death of one of the hospital staff. Besides, I’m almost done, and I’ll be on my way, so no need to bother yourself.”
Martin sputtered as Jack walked on, heading for the ED. Clearly infuriated, Martin hurried after him. Now, even more angered from being ignored, he said he’d see to it that the president lodged a formal complaint with the mayor’s office. Jack winced at this specific threat, knowing it was a possibility, as it had happened in the past. But the damage had been done, and he couldn’t think of any way to appease the irate Microbiology Department head.
To Jack’s relief, Martin finally gave up as Jack pushed through the swinging doors into the ED. But Jack’s relief was short-lived as his phone buzzed, indicating he’d gotten a text. When he looked at the screen, he saw it was from Laurie. Pausing, he guiltily read the message. It said the meeting with the mayor-elect was finally over, and although she had gotten his text, she wondered if he was still in the building.
He texted back he was on his way home and that he looked forward to hearing about how it had gone. He certainly didn’t mention where he was now. When that text got a thumbs-up from Laurie, he pocketed his phone and continued on into the ED main waiting room. As he expected, the ED was far busier now than it had been on his earlier visit. He wasn’t surprised, knowing that symptoms people had ignored all day often drove them to Emergency around evening mealtime.