The children were accounted for as well.Nicky and Julie were going to spend the night with friends. Brian would be withNancy's parents. It was strange to think that tomorrow afternoon, when he sent themoff, he would be looking at each of them for the last time. They would have atough time of it, but not nearly as tough as if their family became destituteand their father went to prison.
Perhaps there really is anafterlife, hethought now. Perhaps I'll be able to look in on them every single day.
He stacked the photos up and reviewed eachone for a final time. Then he wrapped them with a rubber band and set them in adrawer. The lists he tore up and threw in a plastic bag full of trash, which hewould put in the barrels in the garage. Finally, he went once more to thewasher and dryer to check on his handiwork. The twine that ran from theloosened hose out the basement window was in place. One pull and the hose wouldcome free. Cutting the twine off and discarding it would be his next to lastact on earth. The last would be innocently setting his hand on the back of thedryer.
Kevin knew that Harry Corbett suspectedwhat he was planning to do. There was nothing subtle about the Vietnam story hehad told that night in the car. And in fact, he had thought a great deal aboutwhat Corbett was trying to tell him, that his situation wasn't hopeless. Thatwas all well and good for Corbett to say. He didn't have three kids to providefor.
Kevin had spoken with him several timessince then and had been careful to sound upbeat and positive. He did notbelieve Corbett intended to act on his concerns. What was there for him to do,anyway? A little more than twenty-four hours and it would all be over.
Kevin inspected the setup he had createdaround the washing machine and dryer. The police would come over and file somesort of report. But there was no way anyone could prove this wasn't anaccident. Absolutely none.
He sighed the relief of a man who had justcompleted a job and done it well. Tonight he would have a wonderful dinner withhis family. And later on, he would make love to Nancy, as he had never madelove before.
Chapter36
The late summer heat wave that had beenblamed for brownouts, accidents, and deaths throughout the city had finallybroken. The early evening temperature was in the mid-sixties, with a decentbreeze and the threat of rain. Harry dropped Maura at her car at exactly sixand then returned to the parking-space condominium to await his eight-fifteendeparture. The BMW's dashboard clock had been out of commission for years, andneither he nor Evie had ever bothered to get it fixed, so he was using hisCasio to keep track of time. He was nearing the garage when Maura called tocheck in, test her cellular phone, and report that traffic from her apartmentto the bridge was only moderate. Her next call would be the one at eight-twentythat they had prearranged.
'This is it, Harry,' she said. 'You'llsee. By ten o'clock tonight we'll be ready to go to the police. They'll have tobelieve us this time. Just hang in there.'
'You hang in there. And please becareful.'
Harry parked in his spot and walked out ofthe garage. A police cruiser was moving slowly along, half a block away,perhaps looking for him, perhaps not. Thanks to Ray Santana, there was nowabsolutely no place where he could safely go. He returned to the BMW, flippedon the radio again, and waited.
WINS, the all-news station, was stillbroadcasting updates every ten minutes or so on the bizarre developmentssurrounding the gunman at Manhattan Medical Center. The real Max Garabedian hadbeen taken into police custody, questioned, and released. He had returned tohis 103rd Street apartment and was refusing to speak to the press untiladvised to do so by his attorney. In a prepared statement, read by his lawyer,Garabedian denied knowing anything of the man admitted to Manhattan MedicalCenter under his name. He denied having any relationship with Harry other thanpatient/physician, but called Harry 'an intelligent, dedicated doctor,' andexpressed his determination to hold off any judgment until the truth came out.
Harry gave passing thought to trying tocall Garabedian from his car phone. But this was no time for him to be doinganything at all except sitting and waiting until eight-fifteen.
There was more. Ray Santana had not beencaught. Authorities were at a loss to explain how a gunman in pajamas with noshoes or socks could have made it out of the hospital with security police anddozens of NYPD officers ringing the place. The broadcaster, clearly losing abattle with self-restraint, opined that this was New York, after all. Maybe theoddly clad fugitive had simply stepped on to the streets of Manhattan andblended in.
At seven o'clock, MMC public-relationsdirector Barbara Hinkle held a news conference, excerpted on WINS. The hospitalshe said, was grateful no one had been hurt in the unfortunate incident.Hospital officials would have nothing further to say until a preliminaryinvestigation into the near-calamity was completed. She did add that hospitalauthorities as yet had had no luck reaching Dr. Harry Corbett, the physicianwho admitted the gunman to Grey 218.
'I am sure you all know,' she said, 'thatDr. Corbett has been under a great strain lately as a result of the tragicdeath of his wife. I have been told he has been under a physician's care forhis grief reaction, as well as for some post-traumatic stress issues related tohis heroic service in Vietnam …'
Post-traumatic stress!
'Hospital Barbie speaks with forkedtongue,' Harry said aloud.
Clearly, MMC's spin doctors had alreadymet and decided on their strategy for dealing with the collective disastersbrought down on their house by Dr. Harry Corbett — post-traumatic stress. Harrywondered what name they would come up with if anyone ever demanded to know whohis shrink was.
'. . We at the hospital are speculatingthat Dr. Corbett borrowed the name of Max Garabedian in order to hospitalizesomeone he cared about who was very ill but without health insurance,' Hinklewent on, 'possibly a fellow Vietnam veteran. The plan backfired when hispatient went haywire.'
'Nice,' Harry said. 'Not bad.'
And not that far off, either, he thought.
The rest of Hinkle's press conferenceadded nothing of substance except that nursing officials were looking into theidentities and backgrounds of the special-duty nurses brought into the hospitalby the gunman.
For forty minutes, nothing new wasbroadcast. Then, with just half an hour to go before Harry was to leave, one ofthe many mysteries connected with the case was reported solved. An electriciandoing work on the heating system of the hospital had been found by amaintenance man, bound and gagged in the subbasement. He had been robbed atgunpoint by a man answering the fugitive's description. His clothes and shoeswere taken, along with twenty-five dollars from his wallet. The wallet was thenreturned to him. Police were checking it for fingerprints, as well as thehospital room where the gunman was a patient for three days.
'He was nervous and scared, I think,' theelectrician said. 'But he was decent enough to me. He gave me back my walletbecause he said he knows what a hassle it is getting a new driver's license. Hedidn't hurt me. But I think maybe he would have if I didn't do as he asked..'