'I am not embarrassed to say that EvieDellaRosa and I were in love,' Sidonis went on. 'For years, she and HarryCorbett had had a marriage in name only. The night before she entered thishospital, the night before she was murdered, she told him about us. I know thatfor a fact. That gives him a motive. A two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollarinsurance policy gives him another. The nurses have already testified to hisopportunity. And certainly the method chosen was one only a physician wouldknow. Now, it's remotely possible that Dr. Corbett is as innocent as he claims.It's remotely possible that every crazy alternative explanation he has come upwith actually happened. But even his innocence does not change the fact thattwo of our patients with strong connections to him are dead. The newspapers arehaving a field day at our hospital's expense. The public confidence we haveworked so hard to build is plummeting.
'Harry Corbett owes this hospital therespect and consideration to remove himself from the staff until this wholematter is resolved one way or the other. Since he has refused to honor thatresponsibility, this group must take action. I promise you here and now, I willnot continue to practice at an institution without the gumption to stand up foritself and do what is right for its staff and patients. Thank you.'
Drained, or apparently so, Sidonis usedthe backs of chairs to help him return to his seat. Mel Wetstone inhaleddeeply, then let out a sigh. Harry felt flushed and self-conscious. Sidonis hadthreatened the hospital and the board of trustees with a massive blow to theirtwo most vulnerable areas: reputation and pocketbook. World Famous HeartSurgeon Quits Hospital Over Handling of Doctor Doom. Harry could just seethe headlines in the Daily News. He leaned over to his lawyer.
There was a commotion outside the room.The doors burst open and Owen Erdman's staid secretary rushed in.
'I'm sorry, Dr. Erdman,' she saidbreathlessly. 'I tried to explain to them, but they wouldn't listen. Sandy'scalled security. They're on their way.'
She stepped aside as a small mob marchedinto the room. Leading the way was Mary Tobin, and close behind her was MarvLorello. Next came all the other members of the family medicine department,along with a number of Harry's patients, some with their children in tow. Twodozen people in all, Harry guessed. No, closer to three. Among themhe recognized Clayton Miller, the man whose severe pulmonary edema he andSteven Josephson had reversed by removing almost a unit of blood. The groupcrowded into one end of the conference room. Then several people moved asideand Harry's patient Mabel Espinoza stepped forward. Two of her grandchildrenclung to her skirt.
'My name is Ms. Mabel Espinoza,' she said.Her Latino accent was dense, but no one ever had trouble understanding her. Shefaced the hearing with the stout dignity that had always made her one ofHarry's favorites. 'I am eighty-one years old. Dr. Corbett has cared for me andmy family for twenty years. I am alive today because he is such a wonderfuldoctor. Many others could say the same thing. When I am too sick, he comes tosee me at my home. When someone cannot pay, he is patient. I have signed thepetition. In less than one day, more than two hundred have signed. Thank you.'
'This was your Mary's idea,' Wetstonewhispered to Harry. 'I never thought she could do anything like this, though.'
Another woman stepped forward andintroduced herself as Doris Cummings, an elementary-school teacher in a Harlemschool. She read the petition, signed by 203 of Harry's patients, enumeratingthe reasons Harry was essential to their well-being and that of their families.
'. . If Dr. Corbett is removed from thestaff of the Manhattan Medical Center without absolute just cause,' thepetition concluded, 'we the undersigned intend to take our health care toanother hospital. If leaving the Manhattan Health HMO is necessary andpossible, we intend to do that as well. This man has been an important part ofour lives. We do not want to lose him.'
Marv Lorello whispered in Cummings's earand motioned toward Owen Erdman. Cummings circled the table and set thepetition in front of the hospital president. Across from Harry, a distinguishedwoman named Holden, who was a past president of the board of trustees, brushedaside a tear. Standing to her right Mary Tobin was beaming like a mother at herchild's graduation.
Next, Marv Lorello spoke on behalf of thedepartment of family medicine, describing Harry as an invaluable friend andpowerful example to those in the department, especially those newly inpractice. He read a statement signed by every member of the department, ineffect threatening to move their services to another facility if Harry shouldbe removed from the hospital staff without absolute, legally binding proof ofhis misconduct. He set the document on top of the petition in front of OwenErdman. Then the group trooped out of the hearing.
There was no further discussion. The votewas a formality, although two of the twelve submitting ballots did endorseHarry's removal from the staff. Caspar Sidonis left the room as soon as theresult was read.
'Dr. Corbett,' Erdman said coolly, 'thatwas an impressive show of regard for you. It would be tragic to learn that suchloyalty is not deserved. Have you anything further to say?'
'Only that I'm grateful for the vote. I aminnocent, and I intend to prove that, and to find this man. I would hope tobegin by posting this likeness around the hospital.'
'Absolutely not!' Erdman snapped. 'Mystaff will discreetly distribute that sketch to our department heads. But wewill not lay ourselves open to the public suggestion that a murderer could justwaltz into our hospital, disguise himself behind one of our floor polishers, andmurder one of our patients. I demand your promise of cooperation in thisregard.'
Harry looked over at Mel Wetstone, whosimply shrugged and nodded.
'You have my word,' Harry said.
'In that case,' Erdman concluded, 'youhave our blessing to continue with your work.'
'Are you going home?' Wetstone asked asthey headed out of the hospital.
'No, I'm headed to the office. I thinkMary deserves a lunch.'
'Dinner at the Ritz would be more likeit.'
Chapter28
The thermometer, mounted on the wall justoutside the Battery Park IRT station, was in direct sunlight. Still,ninety-four degrees was ninety-four degrees. As he entered the station, dampand uncomfortable, his briefcase in one hand and his suit coat scrunched in theother, James Stallings cursed his penchant for dark dress shirts. He loved theway they looked on him, and the statement that they made among hiswhite-shirted colleagues. But on a day like today, wearing royal blue wassimply dumb.
But then again, he had been doing a lot ofdumb things lately.
The station was mobbed. Tourists fromEllis Island and the Statue of Liberty jostled with passengers off the StatenIsland ferry and a crowd of kids in their early teens wearing Camp CitysideT-shirts. Almost everyone was talking about the heat. Stallings shuffledthrough the turnstile behind two Cityside girls, who were giggling about a boybeing disallowed on their field trip. Caught up in their conversation,Stallings tried to piece together what it was the boy had done and where theywere all headed. But before they could, the teens took up with a dozen othercampers and moved like a jabbering phalanx down the broad stairs.
There was a train waiting at the platform.Battery Park was at the beginning of the run, so there were almost always emptyseats, even at rush hour. Today, though, it was standing room only. Fromsnatches of irritated conversation around him, Stallings discerned that therewas a delay of some sort. And of course, while the cars themselves wereair-conditioned, the platforms were not. Thick, steamy air billowed in with thepassengers and overwhelmed what little cooling the system was generating.Beneath his arms, Stallings's shirt was soaked through. He glanced out thewindow at the crowd still pouring down the stairs and across the concreteplatform. Loomis was supposed to wait ten minutes before heading back to Crown.It had probably been close to that already. Not that it really mattered if theyended up on the same train. Especially different cars. But Stallings, who hadnever been the nervous or paranoid type, was frightened — irrationallyfrightened, he kept trying to convince himself.