"The old doc who took care of him was in a Nazi camp. He was a kid, but he remembers the smell. He told me it was something he could never forget."
Five
Early Monday morning, Howard Epstein pulled into the Sawgrass PD parking lot. He had worked through the weekend without uncovering a clue, and he dreaded the coming week. His partner, Alfonzo Hernandez, would return from vacation today. He'd welcome the help.
Howard waited several minutes sipping coffee and staring out the window of his Firebird. From where he sat, he saw the courthouse across Flamingo Drive to the east. In his rearview mirror, he glimpsed a portion of the sprawling Sawgrass Mills Mall. He flipped open the visor mirror and slipped his tie around his neck. It was his favorite with colorful parrots sitting amidst variegated foliage on a navy background. Pushing the four-in-hand knot against his collar, he remembered Tony saying something about the situation with the judge and the lawyer not fitting, not feeling right to him. Howard thought Tony had a sixth sense and resolved to call him as soon as possible.
As Howard opened the door, an old Cougar screeched into the adjacent parking spot. The brakes on the wreck squealed and the car jerked to the left. Alfonzo's typical grand entrance.
"Hey man, how's it going?" Alfonzo stuck his head out the open window. As usual, he had pulled into the space from the wrong direction.
"Al, you son-of-a-bitch, you almost ripped my door off."
"Almost, my man, almost." Alfonzo climbed out of the car through the open window. Given his bulk, it was a significant feat for the thirty-six year old Cuban. He stood five-ten and weighed close to two-forty—mostly muscle.
"Cute."
"Shit, the handle broke yesterday. I'll stop and get it fixed today."
"Why don't you trade it in? Or better yet, have the pile of crap towed." Howard scowled at the car.
"What, and get a shiny new one like you with a shiny new payment book? No way. Besides, I replaced Janice's car while I was on vacation. I don't want her and the kid riding around in a shit-trap like this."
The two detectives walked the short distance into the building. They looked as different as their cars. Howard sported a tailored suit. Alfonzo wore baggy jeans and a sloppy tee shirt with a huge BOSS logo emblazoned across his chest. He hadn't changed his grooming habits since his days as an undercover narcotic cop, and he hadn't bothered to get a haircut while he was on vacation, or shave for that matter.
"Did we get the Kelsey case?" Alfonzo asked, settling down to business.
"You know it. The captain is breathing down my neck, and the judge wants results but couldn't find time to meet with me until after court today. His weekend plans were more important than finding his assailant."
"Maybe he doesn't want you to find the guy."
"Could be. There have always been allegations Kelsey is dirty. I overheard a conversation a few months back about there being an investigation. It must have come up empty, or we'd have heard about it."
"What do you have?" Alfonzo asked, his tone impatient.
"Nada. Not a damn thing. You just can't get any information down here on the weekend."
"And you think you could get good information in your precious Boston on the weekend? Come off it, Epstein. You'd park your friggin' cah next to the friggin' yahd, and you'd still find nobody home to answer your friggin' questions."
Howard held the door open, allowing Alfonzo to enter first. The two men sprinted the stairs to the second floor.
The rapid growth of the city created expansion of the police department. Rows of office cubicles for detectives crowded the once spacious conference room. Epstein and Hernandez occupied prefab spaces across a narrow hall from each other. Though the area was new, it was already shabby from constant use.
Alfonzo flopped into his chair and propped his feet on his littered desk. "Where do we start?"
"I want to call Conte first." Howard glanced at the single piece of paper on his desk top before initialing it and dropping it into his empty out-box. He retrieved a notebook from his suit pocket and opened it.
"What does Conte have to do with this case?" Alfonzo scowled.
"Nothing. Brisbane refused to explain the symptoms of cyanide poisoning to me, and the medical examiner wasn't forthcoming, so I stopped to see Conte. As it turns out, he was on duty when Valentine arrived in the Emergency Department. He said something didn't fit, but he couldn't put his finger on it. I want to see if he can tell me more now. It's been a couple of days since I talked to him."
"Okay, but I don't want him hanging around." Alfonzo moved his feet from the chair to the telephone directory on top of his desk.
"Why, you afraid he'll make us look bad again?" Tony and Alfonzo had an ongoing conflict. Because of the close working relationship between ED staff and police, they were often in the position of rubbing shoulders. Tony invariably angered Alfonzo by discovering a fact crucial to the case.
"Screw you, Epstein."
"Nice vacation you must have had, pal." Howard turned away and pulled the case file from his top, left desk drawer. Flipping it open, he scanned the scant information. The telephone on his desk jangled, interrupting his thoughts. He was delighted at the interruption since he didn't want to get into it again with Alfonzo over Tony Conte. Howard pushed the speaker button. "Epstein."
"Howard, Tony. Listen, I know what was bugging me. The smell of almonds. I didn't think much of it at the time, but Valentine smelled like almonds when we were coding him." He explained about Valentine's traditional victory celebration.
"So?" Howard asked.
"After I talked to his wife, I put the almond smell out of my mind. But you said the doc downtown identified the smell when Kelsey was in the ED. That's how he knew to check for cyanide—the smell of cyanide is bitter almond. That's what I smelled during the code. Not everyone can smell it, but I can. Bitter almond, not just almond."
"And you're sure it wasn't the Amaretto?"
"That's what I thought at the time. I went to the liquor store this weekend and bought a bottle. Had some. It's a different smell, not bitter at all."
"You're telling me you think Valentine was murdered?"
"Yes, I think whoever tried to poison the judge killed him. Maybe the judge didn't get enough of the poison to drop dead on the spot."
"Tony, thanks. I'll stop by the ED later. Maybe you can pull Valentine's chart and see if there's anything else in there we need to know."
"Can do. But come late and bring a subpoena for the chart. I'm still at home now. I have to take Jennifer to the doctor, then I'll head to the hospital."
"Is everything all right with her? I mean, I hope it's nothing serious."
"As do I, my friend."
Click, the line went dead.
Howard swiveled in his chair to face Alfonzo. "Want to rethink your attitude about Conte?"
"The bastard pisses me off," he groused.
"You're way off base. He has a talent for this sort of thing." Howard watched as Alfonzo loaded his coffee with cream and several packets of sugar.
"Shit, man. It's your job, not his." Alfonzo held out a cup. "Coffee?"
"Sure." He accepted the brew and sipped it black. He didn't want to get in the middle between Alfonzo and Tony again. On the other hand, Tony seemed distracted. Howard might be able to take the information Tony had to offer and run.
"And, besides, how does a nurse know that he's one of the few people who can smell cyanide?" Alfonzo glared at Howard, his expression belligerent.
"Al, cut the crap. You know about Tony's military background."
"What's the big deal?"
"He would never say beyond commenting he had training in unconventional warfare ops. I asked, straight out." Howard sipped at his coffee—bitter. "He said he doesn't tell anyone, not even Jennifer, only God."
Alfonzo shrugged and held up a hand. "Conte aside, where do we go from here?"
"First, I'm going to call the medical examiner and tell him about the bitter almond smell on Valen
tine."
"He didn't do a post on Valentine?"
"He passed on it. At a recent physical, the doctor told Valentine he was a walking time bomb, a heart attack waiting to happen. Now, the ME will have to exhume the body to run his tests," Howard said.
"Gruesome. The family will go through the ceiling. I remember meeting Irene Valentine once. She's a real piece of work. She was inflated about being the wife of a locally famous state attorney. Then, he left the State Attorney's office. I wonder what she thought of that." Alfonzo drained his coffee and reached for a refill. "More?" He held out the pot.
"No, I've had enough of that crap to float the USS Constitution." Howard motioned away the proffered vessel. "Tell me more about Irene Valentine. Why did you meet her?"
"Valentine was a real bastard as a state attorney. I remember this case a few years back, soon after I went into narcotics. Valentine was hot on the suspect, one I wasn't sure was even a player in the case." Alfonzo stirred the sugar into his coffee then raised the cup to his lips, stopping to sip before continuing. "Good. Anyway, Valentine summoned us to his house one evening to discuss the case. He'd had the flu or something and hadn't been into the office. But he refused to give us any leeway in the investigation either. His wife sat in on the conversation. I remember her scowling at me every time I contradicted Valentine."
"What happened? You were right, and he was wrong?"
"It went the other way. Then I remember seeing her at the dude's trial. I went in to watch the verdict By then, I knew Valentine was right, and the wife was there. She sat in the back of the courtroom looking pleased about her husband's victory. I remember her giving me a real up-yours kind of look when I walked past her."
"Sounds like she was a big fan of her husband. Why would she object to the autopsy? You'd think she'd want us to catch his murderer."
"I don't know for sure. I ran into her in Publix a couple of years ago. She recognized me. I told her she must be proud of her husband's successful private practice."
"And?"
"It was weird. She said she was proud of him when he worked in the State Attorney's office. She accused him of being an ambulance chaser. Then she said if he was only chasing ambulances, it wouldn't be so bad."
"Hum." Howard rubbed his chin and reached for his coffee cup. "I think I'll make that call to the ME." He dialed the familiar number as he tried to wring one last drop from the coffee cup.
Six
"Jennifer, Tony, come in." Mary Corvasce opened the hallway door leading to the examination rooms. "I apologize. The office staff doesn't get here until ten on Mondays."
"I hope you didn't have to wait for us." Tony liked Jennifer's gynecologist. He had known her to be forthright and honest with her patients and respectful of the clinical staff. He looked at her. She was tall for a woman, somewhat stocky, her black hair laced with gray. He doubted she'd ever color it. She was far too honest.
"I've only been here a few minutes myself." She guided them into the first room on the right. "Jennifer slip off your clothes and put on a robe. I want to do a complete exam and be sure there's nothing else going on." She handed Jennifer a flowered paper gown. "Tony, give her a hand. She looks exhausted. Then you can sit outside until we're done."
With the exam completed, the couple waited for Corvasce in her private office. Pictures of babies, several with thank you notes inscribed in the backgrounds, covered the walls. Her desk held models of body parts she referred to when talking to her patients. It was a comfortable room, but Tony knew they were waiting for a serious discussion.
"She . . . she . . . found more lumps. I have lots of swollen nodes," Jennifer said, her eyes filled with tears,
Tony dropped to his knees in front of Jennifer and pulled her close. She buried her face in his neck. He felt her tears running under the back of his shirt. Wordlessly, he held her, rubbing her back.
"What are we going to do, Tony? What about my babies?"
"Jen, you're jumping to conclusions. Let's see what she has to say."
"She's thinking Hodgkin's Disease. She says my other symptoms seem to fit. We're in here to talk about a referral and a biopsy."
"Jen, we'll survive. You said it yourself. We've been through a lot together, and we can manage this as well." He held her close, squeezing his eyes closed to contain his own tears. Oh my God, he thought, this is worse than I imagined. Jen, Hodgkin's? What will we do?
Mary Corvasce appeared in the doorway. "With all due respect, I think you're being premature. We need to rule out Hodgkin's. And I'm a gynecologist, not an oncologist. It's my thought, preliminarily. Perhaps, I should have kept it to myself."
"We need to know. It's far better than thinking up all the possibilities ourselves," Jennifer said.
"That's my opinion as well. Meanwhile, I've called Dr. Thorne. He wants you to get a chest film and CT scan today, then he'll readjust his schedule and do the biopsy Friday if necessary." She looked at Jennifer. "Jen, you're to go to his office tomorrow for an exam and blood work. By this time next week, we'll know what we're dealing with."
Corvasce's partner, Julio Villegas, appeared in the doorway. He smiled, displaying large, straight teeth and pink gums. "Here to have another baby?"
"Unfortunately not." Jennifer took a breath and squared her shoulders. "I have a couple of lumps Mary checked for me."
Villegas, a slight man in his fifties, raised a questioning eyebrow at Mary Corvasce. He delivered the first two of the Conte children.
"I've arranged for Thorne to biopsy the nodes on Friday," Corvasce said.
"Good man. Good move. I'm sorry to hear there's a problem." He turned to Tony. "I just heard the other day that Thorne lost his case, and now he's being sued again."
"That's true. In fact . . . I . . . I . . ." Tony remembered he had yet to tell Jennifer about the lawsuit.
"In fact, what?" Jennifer prodded.
"I was just going to say I don't blame Thorne for being angry."
"Bet Thorne wishes he'd walked the other way and not tried to save Valentine. Serves the SOB right. Valentine, I mean. He's really gone after the medical staff at Sawgrass. Like we were his personal source of income." Villegas' face flushed from neck to hairline. Even the fine wrinkles of flesh over his buttoned collar turned purple. "His firm is behind a suit against me, a bad baby suit. You know the doctor never wins those things."
"What's the story with it?" Tony stood to talk with the physician face to face, laying his hands on Jennifer's shoulders.
"Same old thing. Labor wasn't progressing, I suggested a C-section, the mother refused, then the baby had a problem. They allege I should have been more emphatic about the section."
"That's a tough one."
"You know what I think? We need to get up off the floor so those damn lawyers quit walking all over us." Villegas' red face tightened into deep furrows. "I ran into the youngest partner of the firm, Hansen, at a party. He was cordial, friendly. I told him to go to hell. Do you know what he said?" Villegas shuddered. "He said, 'Hey pal, lighten up. It's just business.'" Villegas waved his hands in the air as he shouted. "The bastard said it was just business. And, he said, 'You have insurance. What's the beef?'"
"Some attitude," Jennifer said under her breath.
"Tony," Villegas continued, "Thorne tells me they even pulled you into his newest suit."
Jennifer turned around. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth grew taut. "You never told me."
"J . . . Jen, I didn't want to give you more worry. I have it under control. I was going to tell you."
Jennifer faced Corvasce. "Mary, thank you for seeing me. I'll keep you posted. Julio." She extended her hand.
"I'm sorry." Villegas sounded contrite. "I just figured it was common knowledge by now."
"It's okay. I've been trying to figure out how to bring it up anyway."
***
It took Tony longer than he expected to get Jennifer back home and settled. As he cornered onto Sunrise Boulevard, he thought she was more stressed abou
t the pending lawsuit than her upcoming biopsy. He had thought he was protecting her by not telling her. Now it seemed she felt he was cutting her out of his life, preparing for her to be sick or maybe even dead. He promised himself to be more careful in the future.
Tony headed north on Flamingo. Mary Corvasce's manner concerned him. She appeared convinced they were dealing with a lymphoma. He didn't know enough about the disease. He planned to research it on the Internet later in the day.
Tony entered the Emergency Department through the almost empty waiting room—quiet for a Monday morning. Inside, he found a few of the patient treatment rooms in use, but most of the nurses sat around talking. A quick scan of the shelves told him the routine assignments were complete. Abigail had taken charge in his absence.
Abigail smiled when she saw him approaching the station, "Someone from Risk Management called a few minutes ago. The hospital lawyer is upstairs and wants to see you."
"I'll go now." Tony stopped and leaned over the desk to examine the assignment board. "Anything going on here?"
"Boring." Abigail smiled at him then pointed to the board. "We had one call in, besides yours that is. I didn't try to replace her. Another RN will be here at eleven."
"Works for me. I'm going to Risk. If all hell breaks loose here, page me." Tony hurried down the hall.
A few minutes later, he sat across the small Risk Management conference room table from Michael Hoch, senior partner in the firm of Hoch, Hill, Hanover and Hudson. The firm was a major player in the industry and had more than twenty lawyers specializing in every area of healthcare law in the local office. Still, Tony was surprised to see the firm's top man on the case. Tony settled into his chair.
As he waited for Hoch to get on with the meeting, he studied him. The man was immense. He towered over Tony by at least six inches. His wide shoulders stretched his expensive suit when he moved and his frameless glasses seemed to disappear into the broad bones of his face. His protruding forehead appeared more prominent due to his receding hairline and low set eyebrows.
Illegally Dead Page 4