‘Carl was certain and I don’t care if Francini’s got access to the Federal gold reserves. His wife had a malignant tumour and that’s what caused her condition.’ said Macandrew angrily. ‘Bringing in the best neurosurgeon in the country isn’t going to change anything apart from make the numbers in his bank account fall like leaves in October.’
‘That’s what I wanted to hear,’ said Klinsman. ‘We’ll be having a meeting with Francini and Weber after he’s had a chance to examine Jane tomorrow. Probably some time in the afternoon. Keep it free will you.’
Macandrew put the phone down. He’d had more than enough for one day. He told Reception he was going home.
Macandrew’s landlord was still away and the house was completely silent as he looked out of his room window and noticed for the first time what a beautiful day it had been. The sun was going down and the western sky had become a deep red. The sky directly above however, was still unbroken blue and marked only by a thin vapour trail from a jetliner heading east. It was too high to be heard.
He wished he could rid himself of the uneasy feeling that the Francini case had left him with but it persisted. The fact that someone thought he was incompetent bothered him; even it happened to be a guy like Francini. But he could see no easy way round the problem. He poured himself a large drink, put Miles Davis on the stereo and turned it up a little louder than usual.
Saul Klinsman called at four the following afternoon to say that Weber had finished his examination of Jane Francini and her medical records and case notes. Would Macandrew care to join them in his office? Macandrew was surprised to find not three men in the room but four. Klinsman introduced him to the two he didn’t know.
Weber was pretty much as he expected, expensively dressed in a light grey suit, pale lavender shirt and deep purple tie which set off his tan and swept-back silver hair to advantage. His handshake was firm and his smile a tribute to the dentists’ art. His voice had the practised modulation of a TV news anchorman.
The second man, Joel Kirschbaum, was introduced as Francini’s attorney. He was slim and dark and avoided eye contact. It was difficult to put an age on him because of premature baldness and a naturally sallow complexion but if Francini had retained him it was odds on that he was both experienced and good. His handshake however, was limp and wet.
‘Well, Doctor, what did you conclude?’ Klinsman asked Weber as they all sat down. He was doing his best to appear relaxed.
‘Mrs Francini is a very disturbed lady,’ replied Weber. He turned to her husband. ‘Frankly, Mr Francini, I would be offering you false hope if I were to suggest to you that I could do anything about her condition. I’ve examined the scans and the case notes and the path lab’s report and I have to agree with the conclusions of the Kansas University Medical Centre that Mrs Francini is suffering brain damage brought on by an aggressive, malignant tumour, which they successfully and skilfully removed. I’m sorry.’
Macandrew felt the tension in his shoulders relax.
‘But has it been confirmed beyond all doubt that Mrs Francini’s current condition is due to the tumour?’ asked Kirschbaum. He kept his eyes on the desk in front of him as if totally absorbed by the pencil he was turning end over end. The fact that he seemed to avoid looking at anyone directly made it difficult to know who the question was aimed at.
Weber looked uncomfortable when he concluded that it was aimed at him. He said, ‘I suppose not, in the strict sense that the conclusive evidence in this case is pathological and I haven’t seen it personally...’
‘So, just for the sake of argument, it is conceivable that Mrs Francini’s condition may have been caused by the removal of the tumour rather than the tumour itself? I mean, it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility?’
‘Now just a minute...’ interrupted Klinsman.
‘Well, Doctor?’
‘I have seen nothing at all to suggest that,’ replied Weber.
‘But, as you say, you haven’t actually examined the tumour yourself?’
‘Well, no,’ agreed Weber.
‘Our chief of neuropathology made the diagnosis,’ Klinsman interrupted again. ‘He is a very experienced man. Just what are you suggesting, Mr Kirschbaum?’
‘Collusion,’ interrupted Francini, cottoning on to Kirschbaum’s line of questioning. ‘It’s a stitch-up. They’re covering each other’s ass.’
There was silence in the room for a few electric moments while everyone wondered of they had heard correctly. Francini repeated it. ‘Collusion,’ he said. ‘The bastards have fitted it up between them.’
Macandrew gripped the sides of his chair until his knuckles showed white. Klinsman shot him a warning glance. Kirschbaum tried to warn his client not to say any more. Klinsman intervened with, ‘Counsellor, my colleague and I understand the anguish Mr Francini feels over his wife’s condition but he is going too far. If he persists in making such scurrilous accusations we will have to consider legal action ourselves.’
‘You are right, Doctor,’ said Kirschbaum, ‘My client is under a great deal of stress and I am sure he did not mean to suggest what he appeared to.’
Francini snorted.
‘It appears to me,’ said Weber, ‘that this whole thing could be cleared up quickly and scientifically by an independent analysis of the tumour that was removed from Mrs Francini.’
‘How would they know it came from Janey?’ snarled Francini.
‘The lab could establish that too,’ said Weber. ‘They could run DNA tests on both the patient and the tumour.’
There was an uneasy silence for a few moments before Klinsman took the initiative. ‘Perhaps this would be the way out of our dilemma, gentlemen?’ he said. ‘Clear away any lingering doubts?’
‘Fine by me,’ said Macandrew.
Kirschbaum and finally Francini himself nodded in agreement.
‘What will happen to Janey?’ asked Francini, his eyes looking down at the floor.
‘I suggest that we make moves to have your wife moved to Farley Ridge Sanatorium, Mr Francini,’ said Klinsman quietly.
‘The funny farm,’ said Francini.
‘Medical advances are being made every day, Mr Francini,’ said Weber kindly. ‘You shouldn’t give up hope.’
Francini got up and left the room. Kirschbaum said, ‘Can we agree on arrangements for the tumour analysis?’
‘Of course,’ said Klinsman. ‘I’m sure Doctor Lessing will be happy to comply with whatever you have in mind.’
Kirschbaum turned to Weber and asked, ‘Perhaps the lab at the Mayo Clinic would be prepared to carry out the analysis, Doctor?’
Weber said, ‘As long as these gentlemen have no objection.’
‘Of course not,’ said Klinsman.
Macandrew nodded his agreement.
‘Would you like to speak to Dr Lessing before you go?’ Klinsman asked Weber.
Weber shook his head. ‘I think not. Pathology isn’t exactly my field. I’ll have our pathologist call yours and they can work out the details between them.’
‘Then that would appear to be it,’ said Klinsman.
Weber looked at his watch. ‘If I get a move on, there’s a chance I can get back to Rochester tonight.’
‘I’ll go find my client,’ said Kirschbaum.
Macandrew was left alone with Klinsman. He accepted the whisky that was handed to him and said dryly, ‘That was a bundle of laughs.’
‘It’ll all be over when the Mayo lab confirms the diagnosis,’ said Klinsman. ‘Put it behind you, Mac.’
‘Something tells me Francini won’t lie down. He’s determined to blame me whatever he hears. He hates me; I can see it in his eyes.’
‘Some people are like that,’ said Klinsman. ‘Come to think of it, a lot of people are like that. They need someone to blame. There’s no such thing as fate or an accident. Someone always has to be at fault and they have to be hunted down and punished. It becomes an obsession with them. You see people screaming their joy outside the courthouse after a guilty verdict’s announced. They’ve lost their kid or their wife and they’re jumping up and down and cracking open champagne because some bastard is going down for it. Strange.’