Marvin scowled and he latched onto her arm again. “Let’s see what Amory has to say about it.”
“No!” Thelma tried to pull away. “I don’t want to go.”
“I’m not asking, I’m telling. You’ll do what I say or I’ll smash in your ugly face.”
* * *
Amory Mason poured 15-year-old Lepanto Brandy de Jerez into a lead-crystal snifter, held it up to the light, and gently swirled the contents around several times before inhaling deeply of the aromatic brandy.
Until a recent trip to Spain, he’d preferred French brandies, such as cognac, Armagnac, and Calvados, of which he considered himself a connoisseur. But it took only one dinner in Jerez de la Frontera to realize it had been a mistake for him to ignore all the gaudy bottles of Spanish brandy on store shelves.
The Brandy de Jerez gave him something new to talk about when dining with friends, whom he suspected had long ago become somewhat bored with his dissertations on French wine and brandy.
He sat back in his Eames chair and let the expensive brandy spin its magic within him.
It certainly wasn’t by luck that he was financially better off than the average person. Being cleverer was the key. Maybe he wasn’t a member of the one percent crowd, but he certainly was right up there basking in their glow. He relished the fact that he was one of the fortunate few who had enough money to do whatever he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it.
He sometimes wondered if that would have been the case if he’d had a family to take care of. He’d tried; married a lovely girl only a couple of years after graduating from the University of San Francisco. But his wife had had two miscarriages before they’d celebrated their third anniversary.
After waiting another year, they decided to try once more, and agreed that if that didn’t work out, they would adopt. She went almost full term this time, then a serious automobile accident killed both her and the baby.
It took Amory a long time to recover from the depression that followed.
The door bell rang; he looked at his watch.
He wanted to slam the glass down on the side table, but resisted the urge and set it down carefully; he didn’t want to lose the brandy, or the delicate, crystal-clear glass.
From the comfortable leather chair, he went to the front door and peered through one of the leaded stained-class panes. Marvin and Thelma Karsh were on his porch, staring back at him.
What the hell are they doing here on a Sunday night?
He turned the deadbolt and opened the door. Before he could say anything, Marvin Karsh blurted out, “Sorry to bother you this late in the day, sir, but we have a problem. A serious problem.”
“We all have problems,” Amory snarled. “And how many times have I told all the members of the organization to never come here without calling first?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Certainly not as sorry as I am.” He scowled at each of them in turn. “If this is some stupid personal problem, then turn around right now and go home. I have no time or interest for such nonsense.”
“No, sir, this isn’t about us,” Thelma said. “It has to do with a situation that could be a danger to the Holy Eye.”
“And you think it can’t wait until tomorrow, apparently.”
“No, sir,” Marvin said.
“Well, you’re here so I suppose you might as well come in.”
Marvin yanked at his wife’s arm, dragging her inside the house.
“Stop pulling at her like that, Karsh. For heaven’s sake, can’t you see you’re hurting her?”
He could see relief wash over Thelma’s face when Marvin let go of her. She gave her husband a hate-filled glare.
Amory walked them into the living room. Thelma’s face lit up as she eyed the furnishings. None of The Holy Eye members had ever been in the main part of his home. They always gathered in the basement and never went up the stairs to the living room. Unlike Thelma, Marvin’s eyes saw only the bottle of brandy sitting on a chair-side table.
I don’t think so, little man; beer or some screw-top rot-gut is more your style.
“So what is so important?”
Marvin, still wearing his grease-stained work pants, started to sit down on a spotless, cream-colored sofa.
“This isn’t going to be a social visit, Mr. Karsh,” Amory said. “Say what you have to say and then you and Mrs. Karsh can be on your way.” He watched Thelma, dressed in nursing scrubs, step between the couch and her husband. She wasn’t a pretty woman, but for some reason she’d caught his eye the first time the Karshes had attended a meeting of The Holy Eye.
“Thelma wants to stop doing the work of the Lord.”
Amory looked at her. “Thelma, I’m surprised. We’ve eliminated two women who would have gotten off scot-free without you. Your work has been so wonderful, so valuable.”
“Sir—”
“It’s Amory,” he interrupted. “Please call me Amory.”
She smiled shyly at him. “Amory, I’m willing to try something else ... try another method.”
“But why?”
Marvin jumped in. “She says one of the nurses has been watching her, and—”
“Have I asked you anything, Marvin? Anything at all?”
“No.” Marvin’s mouth hung open in surprise.
“Well, then keep your mouth shut until you’re spoken to.” He nodded at Thelma to continue.
“Well, there’s a new nurse in Women’s Health, and when I was preparing the KY jelly on Friday, she walked into the room. Almost caught me.”
“She didn’t actually catch you, did she?”
“No. But I’d just disposed of the extra-contaminated mixture in the trash.”
“So she doesn’t know anything then, does she?”
“She’s been following me, watching me.”
Amory sat back in his chair, lifted his snifter of brandy, and took a sip. Marvin’s eyes followed his every move. “Let’s wait a little longer, Thelma; let it play out for a while and see if she’s really suspicious, or if you’re worrying over nothing.” He set the brandy back on the table, sat up, and looked into her eyes. “Are you willing to do that?”
“Yeah, she’ll do it,” Marvin said. “I’ll see to it that she does as you say.”
“Was I talking to you?”
“Well, she’s my wife.”
“You don’t own this woman ... she’s not a piece of luggage for you to push around. Understand?”
Marvin clamped his mouth shut.
“So, give it a little longer, Thelma. Okay?”
She smiled at Amory and nodded.
Chapter 31
Harry’s right ... Helen has got to be the best thing that’s ever happened to Vinnie.
Gina could see remnants of the once-dark circles under Vinnie’s eyes as he and Helen walked through the hospital garden. But he was smiling, animated, and there was a definite sparkle in his eyes. Gina hadn’t seen him that way in a long time.
And Helen? She was absolutely radiant. It looked like the weekend had been good for everyone
It was difficult coming back to work after three days goofing off, having to explain about her car accident to everyone. But she hadn’t said anything about the cut brake line and was now having second thoughts about mentioning it to Vinnie and Helen. Right now they looked so happy, why burden them with this whole Dominick scenario?
But her ex- husband hated Vinnie, too. It wouldn’t be right if she didn’t at least warn her brother that the creep might be in San Francisco.
The three of them sat on one of the benches outside of the hospital cafeteria – Gina’s favorite spot. The sun was toasty and it was so pleasant. She wished Harry could have come, but once again the ICU was having a busy run and he’d told her he would have to eat lunch on the fly.
Vinnie’s gaze settled on Gina. She knew the look.
He’s probing, searching, trying to figure out what going on with me.
He knows me too well.
“How’re
you feeling, sis?”
“I’m okay. I guess I lucked out ... could have been hurt a whole lot more.” Listening to her own silly laugh almost made her wince. This was never going to work. Vinnie would see right through her.
Then, as if on cue, “Okay, what’s up, big sister? Let it all out before you burst a blood vessel.”
Helen looked surprised. “What do you mean? I thought this was going to be a nice laid back, brother-sister-Helen get-together. What are you talking about, Vinnie?” She stared hard, first at one, then the other. “Gina?”
“Yeah, well, seems the Fiat losing all of its brake fluid was no accident. The line was deliberately cut.”
“Are you kidding me?” Vinnie plopped his sandwich down next to him. “Who would want to do a shitty thing like that?”
“Harry thinks neighborhood kids might have done it.”
“Is that a usual prank for teenagers?” Helen said. “Never mind. I take it back ... who knows what kids will do.”
Gina took a deep breath and said, “I think it was Dominick.”
Like the aftermath of a bombing, Helen and Vinnie went deadly silent.
Gina watched her brother’s face morph from relaxed into violent anger. Red splotches blossomed across his cheeks.
“Of course I don’t know that for sure, but in the last few days I’ve been uneasy ... knowing something was wrong ... feeling something bad was going to happen.”
“I will kill that loser if he takes even one step in your direction, Gina. I’ll do it with my bare hands if I have to.”
Helen wrapped her arm around Vinnie’s shoulders, tried to calm him. “I thought the guy was still in prison.”
“He’s been out for more than a month,” Gina said. “But we all know there was never any doubt that he would eventually come for me. It was only a matter of time.”
“Yeah, but the guy’s such a loser,” Vinnie said, “I don’t see how he could find two coins to rub against each other, let alone come up with the scratch to come out here. Besides, isn’t he on parole?”
“That may not be enough to stop him. Anyway, I got in touch with an investigator friend of mine at the police. He’s going to do some nosing around.”
“You talking about that cop, Mulzini?” Helen said. “It’s been at least a couple of years since I’ve seen him, but he was terrific.”
Vinnie held up a palm. “Mulzini or no Mulzini, I’m moving back in with you and Harry. I’m not taking any chances.”
“I can take care of myself, Vinnie. I’m not letting this tear your life apart.” Gina bit down hard on her lip. “I shouldn’t have told you ... you were both so happy before I dropped this into your laps.”
Helen looked at the two of them, frowned, then checked her watch, and stood. “Well that’s settled. Vinnie and I are both rooming with you and Harry until we straighten this out—”
“No, Helen, you’re not.”
“Gina, you of all people know how I am when I make up my mind. Almost as bad as you are. So, we need to think about sleeping arrangements and meals. Let’s see, uh, Gina, you’ll be responsible for making and serving breakfast in bed on Sundays, unless I’m working, of course...
Gina and Vinnie looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Hey, bro. It’s still not going to happen. I can’t handle disrupting your lives. You two stay put. Please!”
* * *
When Gina returned to the clinic, Taneka and Thelma were in the nurse’s station having a heated discussion. As Gina got closer, she picked up on the gist of the situation.
“Thelma,” Taneka was saying, “you were the med assistant working with both Carrie and Elyse. You’re going to come under extreme scrutiny.”
“What about you and Gina?” Thelma countered. “You were the RNs present and responsible when the procedure was done. Why pick on me.”
“I’m not picking on you, Thelma. I’m merely alerting you. We have two dead patients ... patients that shouldn’t have died.”
“Well patients die, don’t they?” Thelma said, her chin thrust out in defiance.
“Yes, patients die, but not unexpectedly like this. We’re talking about two healthy women who died from septicemia within twenty-four hours after surgery. Something’s very wrong about that.”
Gina watched a sudden transformation from defiance to wash over Thelma’s face. Her whole demeanor changed. “Thank you, Taneka. I understand what you’re saying. I’d better go now and get the room ready for the next TAB.”
“You’re right,” Taneka said. “Go ahead.”
Thelma barely acknowledged Gina’s presence. She turned and left the station.
“Why is Thelma so angry?”
“That’s a good question. It’s so unlike her.”
Gina kept her feelings about Thelma to herself, but she did want to hurry along and see how Thelma was dealing with readying the procedure room. But Taneka touched her sleeve, indicated she wanted to talk to her.
“Infection Control is going to be all over us, Gina, checking our protocols, procedures, and our techniques ... anything that has to do with TABs. They’ll check and double check everything we do from now on. I’m going to need your help getting us through this, okay?” She turned to a pile of forms in front of her. “And that’s on top of the usual pile of stuff that needs to get done each day.”
“Yeah, I’ll do what I can. Right now, I’d better get moving, make sure everything is properly set up for this afternoon’s procedure.”
Gina headed for the room where Thelma had gone to set up. Outside the door, she stood listening, heard nothing. She took a deep breath and flung open the door.
Thelma looked up at Gina, obviously startled by the sudden intrusion; she was holding a cotton applicator over a dab of KY Jelly on the tray.
“What are you doing, Thelma?”
The woman’s face lost its color; she started to say something, but couldn’t seem to get any words to come out.
Gina stepped into the room and closed the door. “I said, what are you doing?”
“I was just getting rid of the extra jelly ... I know how upset you got with me last time.” She threw the applicator into the trash. “I don’t know why I have such a heavy hand squeezing out that stuff.”
“I don’t either.”
“Well, everything’s set up now.” The medical assistant was obviously intimidated. That in itself was surprising – Thelma was usually antagonistic around her, never at a loss for words. She watched the woman as she quickly and silently slipped by her and left the room.
Gina went to the trash and saw the applicator there, covered with an excessive amount of KY jelly. Then she remembered something.
She was carrying a culture tube in her pocket again. Why?
Chapter 32
Jody Simms dashed past her mother, flew up the steps two at a time, and sprinted down the hall to her room. She slammed the door, locked it, and threw her back pack into a corner.
She'd gone back to school today, trying to feel normal again, but it had been the worst day of her life.
She took a couple of deep breathes to quiet herself, but it didn't help. Rushing to her desk, she slid into the seat, and booted up the computer. Her hands trembled as she brought up Richie’s website, hoping against hope that he hadn’t posted pictures of her. That it was all just whispered school gossip.
Would he deliberately hurt me like that?
But there it was. Just like she’d overheard in the hallway between the second and third periods.
A posted video opened with a close-up of Jody’s drunken, mascara-smeared face, laughing and singing. The camera zoomed in on her naked body and followed her as she jumped on a bed, fell to her back, and spread her legs.
She watched in horror as her on-screen image called out, “Richie come to Jody. Jody wants to eat you up.”
Jody covered her mouth, smothered her screams during the rest of the clip. She wished that man had never pulled her out of the water. That she’d dro
wned.
This was so humiliating. So bad, bad, bad!
What hurt most was that at the time she’d thought Richie had really cared about her. Now she saw the terrible truth: he’d played her so he could get into her pants.
Just a filthy little game for him and his friends.
That’s all any of it had meant.
She moaned, bent into herself and rocked over and over – pain lashed through her belly, through her chest; it wouldn’t stop.
“Jody! What’s going on in there?” Why are you home so early?”
Her mother was standing outside her door.
“Jody! Answer me! Open the door!”
“Go away, Mom! Leave me alone!”
“Sweetie, whatever’s wrong ... whatever it is, please talk to me. We can fix it. Just talk to me.”
Tears flooded Jody’s face. “You can’t fix this, mom,” she murmured. “Nobody can.”
“I’m right here, sweetie. I wish you’d talk to me.”
Jody’s stomach clenched into a ball; she ran to her bathroom, retched until her throat was raw, on fire.
She clamped a wet washrag against her mouth, stumbled back into the bedroom, stood in front of the full-length mirror and turned sideways. Her belly was growing almost before her eyes.
She made up her mind. There was no other way. And with that decision came a sense of peace. She would finally have some control over her life.
She tore off her skirt and panties and threw them into a corner, then flung open the doors to her walk-in closet. The TV special on teenage pregnancies streamed through her mind. The documentary had told her what she needed. But all she could see in the closet were hangers. She shoved and pulled at her hanging clothes. Then, at the back end of the rack, she found what she was looking for – a few empty wire hangers from the dry cleaners.
Her heart raced, her breathing was rapid. The small room started to spin; she grabbed for the door jamb, steadied herself, and took a couple of deep breaths.
Bone of Contention: A Medical Thriller With Heart (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 4) Page 13