[Gina Mazzio RN 01.0 - 03.0] Bone Set

by JJ Lamb

  Gina shifted in the chair as Alexandros’ dark eyes appraised her. She knew she’d dressed haphazardly, thrown on clothes with no thought as to her appearance. But once she put on her white staff jacket, no one would even notice, but she hadn’t even looked in a mirror, and she knew she probably was a mess. Although she’d done nothing wrong, she felt like a little kid sitting before the principal.

  With jittery fingers, Gina tried to arrange her short, curly hair, tried to ease her tension-ridden back.

  “So what’s happening?” Alexandros’ face relaxed, she gave Gina her full attention.

  Gina had promised herself that she would be calm, explain the situation without being her usual bombastic self, but the words sprang from her mouth, like water spewing from a broken faucet, “I think Shelly Wilton may be dead. I tried to call her last night. All night. Right up until I left this morning. No one answered. No one.”

  “Dead?” A frown etched Alexandros’ forehead. An expression of concern, then disbelief feathered her face. Gina knew she had to slow the torrent of words. She had to get herself under control.

  Alexandros placed both palms on the desk, leaned forward, and stared hard.

  “What on earth are you talking about, Gina Mazzio?”

  “He called. Again. That same maniac who called on the advice line Friday. Told me Shelly was dead. Cut up into pieces. For God’s sake. Cut up!”

  “Friday? Why haven’t I heard about this before?”

  “I tried to report the first call when it happened, but you’d already left for the weekend. Then we couldn’t seem to get together Monday, so I left a written report on your desk.” She pointed at Alexandros’ IN box. “Now it’s happened again.”

  “Oh, shit!” Alexandros riffled through the papers in the box, pulled out a sheet of paper. “You’re right. Here it is.”

  “You haven’t read my report?”

  Alexandros held up a hand. “Give me a moment. Let me scan this.”

  When she finished she said, “Sounds like a crank call to me.”

  “You and everyone else, including the police.”

  “What did the police say?”

  “I just told you … they shucked it off as a crank call.”

  “And last night, it was the same guy?”

  “Damn straight!”

  “The same kind of bizarre call?”

  Gina glared at her manager. “You don’t get it, do you? He called my home! He said more people would die.”

  “Did you slip up and somehow give him your full name Friday evening?”

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Sorry. But did you try the police again?”

  “Of course. I’ve left several messages with a Detective Yee. But I haven’t heard back.”

  “Let me know what happens when you do.”

  “And that’s it, that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I don’t see there’s much else we can do.” Alexandros’ eyes continued to appraise her. “You know, you never did tell me why you and Harry didn’t get married last weekend.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with the price of onions in Maui? I know you think I’m a numskull when it comes to male-female relationships, but this phone thing has absolutely nothing to do with my love life.”

  Alexandros started to speak but Gina interrupted, “Why on earth would you even bring up my personal life?”

  “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt,” Alexandros said, leaning back in her chair.

  “Do I look like someone who would make up a ridiculous story just to divert attention from the fact that my love life sucks?” She stood and looked down at her manager. “Do I?”

  “Sit down, Gina!” After a beat, “Please!”

  Gina plopped back into her chair. She knew if the tables were turned, she would want to know what was going on. She would never react this way to such a disturbing story, no matter how far out it sounded.

  “Well?” Gina said.

  “You’re right, I owe you an apology.”

  Damn straight!

  Gina shifted in the rigid chair. She needed to calm herself. As usual, it wasn’t working. Her sleep-deprived, caffeine-soaked brain was holding her hostage. She took a couple of deep breaths.

  “I probably should get back to the phones.”

  “Right,” Alexandros said, “we’ll talk later, after you’ve heard back from the police.”

  * * *

  Gina stared at Shelly’s empty chair, her brain on autopilot as if another entity was taking the advice line calls. Only yesterday Shelly was sitting there, laughing and giving her a lot of lip about not getting married.

  Everything was all just as Shelly had left it the night before: papers scattered across the desk, pens and pencils flung here and there. A wilted rose that one of the RNs had given her was hanging limply in a bud vase half filled with cloudy water.

  Sadness curled around Gina’s heart; she couldn’t stand to look at the drooping blossom any longer. She reached over, grabbed it, and tossed it into the trash.

  “Have you spoken to Shelly this morning?” Gina asked Tina between calls.

  “No.”

  “I just wondered,” Gina said. “It’s not like her not to call in sick.”

  “Are we talking about the same nurse?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Tina gave a wide smile, her green eyes flashing with mischief. “I’ve known her to hook up and forget to call in at all.”

  “Hook up?”

  “Oh, shoot! The woman is a bar hopper. You never know who that chick might take a shine to … have a few drinks … shack up … and forget all about work.”

  “I never thought she was that way. We walked out together last night. I offered her a ride home, but she wanted to walk.” Gina reached over and put an incoming call on hold. “She said she didn’t trust my little Fiat and that’s why she wouldn’t go with me.”

  Tina laughed. “Probably hoofed it to The Hideaway looking for some one to take her home for the night.”

  Gina bit down too hard in the middle of her pencil, then picked splintered wood from her mouth. “How come you’re so savvy and I’m totally in the dark about what Shelly does or doesn’t do?”

  “We used to spend a lot of off time together. Besides, most days you’re floating around somewhere up there near the ceiling because of Harry. You don’t hear or see half of the things going on around you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Gina snapped.

  “It means you’d better pick up that ‘Hold’ call.

  * * *

  The Ob/Gyn manager sat across from Alan Vazquez, the Ridgewood Administrator. Lexie Alexandros had thought long and hard about calling him for a meeting. In the end she hadn’t; she’d merely arrived unannounced at his office in the administrative wing of the hospital.

  Vazquez had a corner suite with a view of Golden Gate Park. It was a beautiful view even though the day was dreary with another winter storm coursing through the city.

  Among the array of diplomas on the wall behind him, the one that interested Alexandros the most was the certificate from UC Berkeley. Even if he was a business major, she couldn’t place this straight-laced, humorless man on that particular campus.

  He must have been a barrel of laughs during his college days

  Just as she was rethinking her visit, he looked up and gave her a serious, if distracted, smile.

  “So, Ms. Alexandros, how are things going in your part of the Ridgewood world of medicine.”

  The administrator’s shirt was heavily starched; he wore a traditional rep tie that would never dream of encountering a stray splatter of food.

  “Things are going well, the department is within budget.” She laughed softly, but realized business humor was not his thing. He stared at her, waiting for the reason for her visit. “There was an incident last Friday that I thought you should know about.”

  “Last Friday?” He leaned back and steepled his f
ingers under his chin, and questioned her by raising a single eyebrow.

  “It involves one of my RNs. Gina Mazzio.”

  Vasquez’s hands abruptly fell to the desk and he flipped opened a notebook to a fresh page. “And what has our Ms. Mazzio gotten herself into this time?”

  Alexandros didn’t like his tone; it made her even more uncomfortable. The administrator’s obvious distaste for Gina flavored every word he said. She’d come to him for advice but it was apparently the wrong thing to do. She had no choice but to go on.

  “Well, it seems that last Friday night a man called on her advice line and intimated he might have killed somebody. Then last night he called her at home and said that one of Gina’s co-workers, Shelly Wilton, was murdered.”

  “Do you believe her story?”

  “I have no reason not to. But it does seem a little surreal.”

  “Well, let me tell you something: That nurse Mazzio is a nutcase. Why do you think we bounced her out of the hospital and into the clinic?” He shoved the notebook to the other end of the desk. “Now it seems she’s going to be disruptive no matter where we put her.”

  “She’s under a lot of stress; she was supposed to get married last weekend and it fell through.”

  “Probably because she wasn’t minding her own business.” He pulled a tissue out of a box and blew his nose. “Married? To that male nurse who used to work in ICU?”

  “Yes. Harry Lucke. I hear only good things about him.”

  “Well, if he’s that close to her, chances are he’s going to be a pain in the neck, too.” He blinked away what appeared to be a discomfiting thought. “Anyway, forget Lucke – tell me more about Mazzio’s latest misadventure.”

  Alexandros hesitated. The administrator was tense, sarcastic, territorial. “I thought we were lucky to have her in the Advice Center.”

  “Lucky? Is that what you think?”

  “She does good work: patient surveys have her at the top of the list, and her stats for handling calls are the best in the region.”

  “Regardless, she’s nothing but trouble,” Vasquez insisted.

  “You couldn’t prove it by me.”

  “Trust me, Ms. Alexandros – Gina Mazzio almost brought down this hospital with her costly union negotiations and there are other matters that I don’t wish to discuss. How the hell she has the time to cause so much disruption and still do her job as a staff nurse is beyond me.”

  “What did she do?”

  Vasquez turned towards his window, his face a bright red. “I’ve told you all I intend to, other than to repeat that she’s a troublemaker. I would have fired her on the spot if it hadn’t been for the union – they stick their noses into every part of our operations. It wasn’t worth the hassle at the time. Maybe it is now.”

  “There’s nothing to fire her for. She’s worried, that’s all.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But do let me know the minute you’ve heard from your murdered Nurse Wilton.”

  Vasquez turned back to the desk and tapped the top of his notebook. When he spoke again, his voice was reasonable, but there was an undercurrent of menace accenting every word:

  “I want to hear from you if anything …let there be no mistake … I said if anything more comes up about Ms. Mazzio. Is that clear?”

  Lexie stood and headed for the door.

  “Perfectly.”

  Chapter 13

  Gina tried to remain rational, but a mixed agenda fragmented her thoughts. First, it was Harry, then the grisly telephone calls, then the possibility that Shelly was dead, and now a killer might be stalking her.

  “Indifference is the epitome of evil,” she mumbled as she walked to her car, her step a little firmer. She tried to live by that quote from Elie Wiesel, and since coming to Ridgewood, she’d definitely pushed Wiesel’s credo beyond anything she’d ever dared before. But maybe a little indifference at this point might relieve some of the pressure.

  So far she’d landed on her feet, but what would tomorrow bring? The direction of her life had changed again mid stride – she was disconnected, unsure, and way over the edge.

  She fired a backward glance, first to see if anyone was following her, then to observe the gloomy, ominous hospital in the fading light.

  Ominous?

  When had she begun to feel that way?

  Being away from the Bronx and her marital memories were only part of the equation. Coming to Ridgewood was supposed to be the answer to everything — a teaching institution, a place she could learn new techniques, meet world-class doctors and researchers, be involved in advanced studies. Most of all, she hoped it would be a place where she would receive the respect a professional deserved. Instead of being enclosed in the hospital’s protective circle, she’d been slapped in the face, hard.

  A year ago, her union involvement had turned unhappy nurses into proud people, excited to be a part of such a progressive staff. Morale was never been better. But instead of thanks, she’d been tossed out of the hospital, with its intense patient involvement and tight staff relationships, and shunted off to the isolation of Ob/Gyn Advice, a service she never once contemplated.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like being an advice nurse – it was a challenging job. It simply wasn’t what she’d signed on for.

  Ridgewood had betrayed her.

  She yanked up the collar of her coat against a sudden sharp breeze. It had rained heavily earlier and the beads of moisture covering her car flew into the wind as she opened the door and settled into the damp seat.

  She pulled out her cell and punched in Shelly Wilton’s home number – one she now knew by heart.

  Still no answer.

  The key slid into the ignition smoothly and, for a change, the car started without its usual complaints.

  “Hah! Take that, Harry Lucke.” She loved the recalcitrant Fiat and hated it when Harry kidded her about it being old enough to be classified as an actual antique.

  The light moment passed quickly. She’d made up her mind – she was going to contact the police again, and this time she wasn’t going to be brushed aside. Pepper Yee would have to listen to her, show some real interest. Either that or she was going to become the biggest pain in the ass Yee had ever encountered. It was past time to really get into the cop’s face.

  When she arrived at the police station, it was pouring rain again. She looked fruitlessly for her umbrella in the car, then pictured it in the locker room at Ridgewood. She was drenched before she reached the station entrance, and in rotten humor.

  She signed in with the desk sergeant, asked to see Yee.

  “I’m off soon,” said the roly-poly officer, ogling her. “Won’t I do?”

  “Sergeant, I’m in no mood to have you hitting on me.”

  “Com’on, beautiful, give a guy a break. I’m just looking for a little conversation and companionship.”

  Gina read his nametag. “I’m sure you are, Sergeant Ober. I’m not!” She shoved the sign-in clipboard back at him so hard it bounced off his rotund gut. The sheet was now covered with dots of moisture from her dripping hair and arm.

  The cop tried to stare her down and gave her a sleazy smile while punching in numbers on the desk telephone. Gina stood her ground, her eyes burning into his as she tapped her finger on the counter.

  He spoke, then hung up. “Detective Yee’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

  * * *

  Pepper Yee scrawled Gina Mazzio’s name on a scratch pad, frowned at it, and punched the Hold button to resume her telephone conversation with her lieutenant:

  “We got a hot tip about a suspect,” Yee said. “Not only that, we nailed a name … a guy we think is a key player. I need to connect the dots.”

  “A raid?”

  “Not necessarily. I’m thinking more like a sting operation … maybe set up a phony buy. But, if I can’t bring that off, it’ll have to be a raid.”

  “I hope that nets us something,” the lieutenant said. “We need to hook into the source for all th
ese unaccounted for cadavers and body parts.”

  “That’s what I’m shooting for.” She drew circles around Mazzio’s name, put a star at either end of the note. “Give me a few more days to look for a go-between – someone who knows all the players and can be coaxed—“

  “—or coerced.”

  “Right. Someone to play nice with us.”

  “Make it quick, Yee. Complaints coming in about these bodies have been increasing monthly. We need to act quickly on this.”

  “Top priority, Lieutenant.”

  “Good! I’m counting on you, Yee.”

  “Yes sir!” She was also counting on being at the top of the list when the next First Grade slot opened up.

  * * *

  The desk sergeant continued to glance at Gina in between dealing with people stopping at his desk and taking phone calls.

  About ten minutes had elapsed when a tall, skinny blonde, definitely non-Asian, came through a set of swinging doors.

  “Yee,” the detective said as she came around the counter and offered a hand.

  “Gina Mazzio.”

  “The advice nurse from Ridgewood General, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Nice to meet you. That doesn’t always happen in my line of work.”

  “Mine either.”

  “Thought I’d be Chinese, didn’t you?”

  Gina forced a small smile. “Crossed my mind.”

  Yee led Gina back through the swinging doors and wove a path through a haphazard placement of desks that nearly filled the large room. She stopped at an untidy cubicle in a far corner of the area.

  “Have a seat,” Yee said, pointing to a straight back wooden chair. She plopped into a castered desk chair with well-worn vinyl upholstery. “Got your messages. Sorry I haven’t gotten back to you. It’s been a killer couple of days, if you’ll pardon the pun.” She pushed her hair back and re-clipped it. “What’s going on?”

  Gina unfastened her raincoat belt, undid the buttons, and sat down. She gave the room a closer look: it was grungy, like no one had really cleaned it in a long time; take-out cartons rested on several desks, and, from the aromas coming from the detective’s desk, Gina would have bet Yee’s dinner was stashed in one of the metal drawers. She glanced at her watch: About the same time she’d called Friday night. Maybe Yee was eating her dinner as Gina had suspected when she called.