"I think I'll stop by and see Renaldo." Tony reached for the calendar. "Do you mind if I take this with me?"
"No, go ahead. Give it to the cops."
Tony drove down the street in the direction of Renaldo's house. He wanted to find out the truth, whatever it was. If Juan were clean, Tony would take great pleasure in telling Howard. The rub was, exonerating Juan would imply he was murdered, further incriminating Thorne in the detectives' minds. Maybe it would turn out Juan hadn't paid off his supplier and had died for it.
Tony stopped in front of a small house with fresh white paint and a manicured lawn. A Porsche Boxster sparkled in the driveway. He glanced up and down the street, eyeing the late model Corollas, Civics, Escorts, and pickup trucks. Not another vehicle was worth more than twenty grand when it was new. Tony paused to consider the disparity in vehicle value, finding it interesting. Renaldo had some cash.
Without knowing what to expect, he rang the doorbell. He knew he should turn the calendar over to Howard and let him do the investigation. Still, he needed to pursue the lead, needed to help get this settled, and get Thorne's name cleared.
A middle-aged man in a silk bathrobe answered the door.
"I'm Tony Conte. Are you Renaldo?"
"Ya. What do you want?"
"I just visited with Juan's widow. Maria said he paid his debt to you. I'd like to verify that."
"Let me see some identification."
"I'm not a cop, just an interested friend." Tony handed Renaldo a business card. "I used to work with Juan. I knew him for a long time."
"I heard he had an accident."
"He was full of cocaine. Maria said he wasn't using anymore."
"I believe that."
"Did he pay back all the money he owed you?"
"Everything. He wanted to be clean, clear of his past indiscretions. He promised to pay me back by October, but he paid earlier. I heard he sold half his furniture and Maria's car to pay me. Sad, but the dumb-ass shouldn't have gotten in over his head."
"I thought he was more of a recreational user, not into it really big."
"At first that was true, but then he decided he liked it. He missed work, got short paychecks. He borrowed the money he needed to live and support his habit from me. When his bosses found out and Maria threatened to leave him, he went into treatment. At least I think that's how it came down. I know he quit using."
"If he was paying you back, why was he getting all those phone calls demanding the money?"
"He wasn't paying me at first. He told me to stick it up my ass. The man raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders, "What could I do? I gave him some encouragement. I have expenses. I can't afford to support someone else's habit."
"Did he owe anyone else?"
"Not that I'm aware of. He wasn't one of those guys with a supplier on every corner. He'd come here to party, or we'd go to a club downtown." Renaldo put his hand on the doorknob. "Anything else? I'm busy."
Tony retreated a step. "No. Thanks for the help."
"Don't come back."
***
"Court will reconvene at nine o'clock tomorrow morning." The judge slammed his gavel on the top of his bench and stood. Everyone in the courtroom scrambled to their feet.
Howard remained standing in front of his chair as the small audience filed from the courtroom. Hansen took his time shuffling papers. Villegas hurried past, ignoring the spectators, his family, and his legal counsel.
Howard crowded into the elevator with Hansen and a group of men in well-tailored business suits. He recognized a couple as spectators from the Villegas trial.
"Epstein, you plan on staying with me for the entire hearing?" Hansen asked in a clipped, condescending manner.
"Hernandez and I plan to share the pleasure of your company. The more points of view the better."
"Whatever. I want to live through this thing."
"We need to have this conversation somewhere else."
Hansen grabbed at the left side of his abdomen. "Ouch. Felt like something stuck me."
"Where?"
"Here." He rubbed the area through his suit jacket. "Felt like a pin. Maybe it was a muscle twinge. Yeah, it was a muscle twinge. I worked out too long last night."
"Want to stop in the men's room and check?"
"I don't feel a thing now." He rubbed his side again. "It's okay."
Howard steered Hansen toward the parking lot. "Now what?"
"Follow me home, then you can go about your business. I need to stop by the office for a few minutes on the way. That okay with you?"
"Fine."
Hansen trotted to the next row of cars in the parking lot. He stopped next to a bright yellow Corvette.
As Howard watched from a distance, Hansen caressed the lustrous finish, then opened the door. He reached for a recipe-sized white card stuck under his wiper blade. He turned over the card and slumped to the ground. Howard ran to his side.
A block-lettered message read, "You have been injected with the venom from the Loxosceles reclusa spider, also known as the brown recluse. You can expect to be in agony within a few hours. The agony will be no less than that felt by your victims in court, victims who have been suffering from your bite for far too long."
Hansen crossed the thin line to panic as he cringed next to his prized car. Tears rolled from his eyes, and his body shook.
Twenty-two
"Tony, what are you doing here?" Abigail looked up from the clipboard she held in her hand. "You working?"
"I ran into the supervisor in the hall. She said you were falling behind. Jennifer's sleeping and will sleep most of the night, so I said I'd come down for a few hours."
"The kids?"
"I put them to bed before I came back to the hospital. Ma's with them. My kids prefer their Nonna to me any day. She spoils them rotten."
"She thinks it's a grandmother's prerogative."
"Please, spoiling everyone is her prerogative." Tony rolled his dark eyes. "I have a clean set of scrubs in my office. I'll change and be out to give you a hand."
He reappeared a few minutes later wearing a set of lightweight navy scrubs. Unaware of the attention he attracted, he rolled his shoulders and stretched his muscles as he walked. He felt tense. It had been a long day, and he was worried about Jennifer.
At first, she accepted the diagnosis in her usual matter-of-fact manner. That evening she became morbid, planning her funeral and wanting to write letters for each of the kids. He requested additional sedation for her, then lay next to her, and cuddled her until she fell asleep. Maybe tomorrow she'd feel more hopeful. He intended to be at her bedside when she awoke in the morning.
"Abigail, what do you want me to do for you?"
"If you don't mind, you can take the man in bed four. His name is Brent Hansen. He believes he was injected with spider venom." She handed Tony a copy of the note Hansen found on his windshield.
"Weird."
"He's Hansen from the law firm. Howard Epstein brought him in a few hours ago." Abigail went on to repeat what Howard reported about the incident.
"Did Howard see who did it?"
"They were in a packed elevator at the courthouse. He thinks one of the passengers jabbed Hansen with a small needle."
"Howard told me he had to go to the Villegas trial to protect the little wimp lawyer."
"As it happened, Hansen had every right to be afraid for his life. Someone sure had it in for him."
"What are we doing for him?"
"His primary ordered a surgical consult. He thinks the area should be excised. The problem is Chamberlain is the surgeon on call, and Hansen refused to be seen by him. The next guy in line is across town at some meeting and won't be here for another hour."
"There's not another surgeon available?"
"Prentice, but Hansen refused him as well. He wants to wait for Hull to get here."
"Could be a painful decision."
"It already is. Hansen rubbed the site, then took a long time to get here.
Howard urged him to come sooner, offered to call an ambulance, but after Hansen recovered from the initial shock of getting stuck and seeing the note, he said it didn't hurt, and he had things to do. As a result, his tissues absorbed the venom. Now he's in intense pain. The site is packed in ice, we've given him steroids, and he's medicated with Demerol."
"Damn. His primary is sure it's spider venom?"
"Not positive. Hansen allowed Nick Messing to take a look. Nick has seen brown recluse bites before. He's reasonably sure that's what was injected." Abigail pointed to the next two rooms. "Take those patients, too, please. They're both waiting for sutures. Drunk. They tried to carve each other up. They won't give you the grief they gave me."
"They look quiet."
"No kidding. There's a cop sitting around the corner in the room with them."
"Merda. It's not even Saturday night and the knife and gun club is meeting." Tony snatched the charts from the counter and went in to see Brent Hansen. He found him wide-eyed and staring at the ceiling.
"Mr. Hansen, try to relax." Tony stood close to the stretcher and touched the man's forearm.
"Who are you? You the surgeon who's going to cut this out of me?" Hansen's knuckles went white as he gripped the side rails on the stretcher.
"No sir, I'm Tony Conte, your nurse. Dr. Hull won't be here for a while yet." Tony lifted the ice pack covering Hansen's wound. The left lower quadrant of Hansen's abdomen was red and swollen, and a large white blister protruded from the middle of the inflamed tissue. Tony suspected Hansen received a large dose of the venom. The wound was close to his intestines, not in an arm or leg, so Tony knew Hansen's life could be in danger—his decision to wait for Hull fatal.
"Isn't there someone else who can do it? It hurts so bad." The little man grimaced from pain.
"Dr. Thorne is in the building waiting for his case to start in the operating room, but you didn't want to see him."
"I'd rather die. He paid someone to kill me like he did with Valentine and Henninger."
"I'll get you another pain shot and pack on more ice. Maybe that will dull the pain and make the waiting easier." And the ice may slow the spread of the poison, Tony thought, hurrying to get the medication.
***
Jennifer awakened to see Tony reading at her bedside. "Morning."
"Morning. How do you feel?" He squeezed her hand.
"Better." She turned slowly in the bed until she faced him. "You been here all night?"
"No, I went downstairs and helped Abigail with the usual rush."
"You'd better go home and get some sleep."
"Later. I need to work until seven. Ma will be over with the kids after dinner. I'll come back and stay the night."
"I don't need you to get sick, too. Sleep at home. Get your rest. They'll take fine care of me here."
"You're right, but . . ."
"But nothing, sleep at home."
"Yes, ma'am. Want me to help you get cleaned up?"
"That would be oh so . . .o . . .o nice." She batted her eyes, then stifled a laugh. "Always be sure to tell your patients not to laugh after surgery."
"Hurts doesn't it?"
"You'd better believe it." She pushed the button on the pain pump sending a small dose of morphine into her IV. "They'll be taking this out today and giving me pills. I'd better get my money's worth."
***
Tony met Abigail leaving the Emergency Department. "On your way home?"
"No, I'm breakfasting with Chamberlain in the doctor's dining room first. He was in surgery all night with a trauma patient."
"How's Hansen?"
"You just missed him. I sent him to the sixth floor for observation. He's still in intense pain, and the bite is swelling. He's developing a fever."
"Hull didn't excise the area?"
"No, Hull felt it was too late. We missed the window of opportunity."
"Oh?"
"The real issue is whether the venom starts to kill the tissues. With the wound on the side of his abdomen, it's a short distance until the organs are involved. If he lives, he'll have a long haul before he's fit again."
"I envision a lot of plastic surgery."
"Maybe abdominal surgery, too. Chamberlain said if the tissue gets necrotic and gangrene sets in so close to the gut, he might lose part of his bowel."
"Poor man."
"Truly. He should have let Chamb take care of it when he was available rather than waiting for Hull."
"Better for Chamberlain he didn't. Hansen already thinks Chamberlain paid someone to stab him with the needle."
"You're probably right." She pushed her glasses to the top of her head and rubbed her eyes. "Meanwhile, Epstein is waiting in your office."
"So early?"
"He's been here since six-thirty. He just missed you. He checked on Hansen, then wanted to wait for you."
Tony slipped past Abigail in the doorway. "Sleep tight." He picked up two cups of coffee in the lounge and went straight to his office, avoiding the morning commotion at the nurses' station. The charge nurse would look after things until he was available.
"Hey, Howard."
"Paesano." Howard accepted the cup Tony offered. He took a sip. "Stuff tastes like shit."
Tony tasted the coffee. "It does, as a matter of fact."
"What do you know about brown recluse spiders?" Howard asked.
"Not a whole lot. We looked it up in the medical library last night. We ended up on the Internet. There's been a lot of research done with the venom because it's one of the spider venoms that's easier to extract, at least that's what one article said." Tony settled into the chair behind his desk. He touched the space bar on his PC, and the screen sprang to life. He clicked the browser icon, then clicked a bookmark. He pointed to the screen. "Okay, this is the drill. The bad guy probably got the venom from a research lab."
"How?"
"Either he knows someone, or maybe he knows how to extract it himself."
"How do they get it?" Howard asked.
"Kill the spider and scrape out the little venom sacks. I saw them do it on TV." Tony sipped his coffee and continued. "Anyway, the site looks like the venom was injected with a fine needle, perhaps an insulin needle. That's why the stick didn't hurt more than it did. The puncture didn't go deep, maybe a quarter of an inch, but it's deeper than if the spider had done the deed himself."
"Don't you mean her?"
"Huh?" Tony raised an eyebrow.
"Her? Don't the females of the species inject poison?"
"With the brown recluse, it's both. So we don't know . . . him . . . her . . . who gives a shit?"
"Go on."
"Some people are tolerant of the bite, and the venom has no effect. Most get a swelling with a blister in the middle, like Hansen has on his abdomen. Other folks develop a systemic reaction, meaning all their body systems are involved, and they suffer fever, chills, nausea, things like that."
"Hansen had a fever," Howard said.
"Abigail told me. It's not a good sign. The fever seems to be starting earlier than usual, confirming a large dose of venom, at least that was Nick's opinion. I expect he'll be in ICU before the end of the day."
"Then what happens?"
Tony made a face. "Yuck . . . The venom contains an enzyme that destroys cells, digests them. The spider only drinks liquid so he has to liquefy his food first. The cells slough away, exposing the underlying tissues. Sometimes the wound develops into a mess resembling a volcano. Then, gangrene sets in."
"How big does the sore get?"
"Huge, maybe as large as a man's hand. People have lost limbs to amputation because the wound didn't heal, and gangrene took over."
"That's horrible."
"Especially when you understand you can't amputate the part Hansen has involved." Tony drained his coffee, then dropped the empty into the trash. "Odd someone pulled the stunt right under a police detective's nose."
"Stranger things have happened. We're checking the people in the elevator, of c
ourse, but most of them were lawyers and clerks. I recognized a couple of spectators from the Villegas trial."
"Know who they were?"
"Hansen's dad, and the other guy, I don't have a clue. He sat in the back of the room. No one we've interviewed identified him. I suspect he's the culprit."
"What did he look like?"
"Middle age, lawyer looking, medium height, a little heavy, no glasses."
"Pretty brazen."
"Could be someone who dressed to look the part so he could do the deed. He's probably long gone by now."
Tony stared at Howard.
"Maybe we should ask your friend, Thorne, who he paid and where he bought the venom."
"Are you guys trying to blame Thorne for everything? The man's insurance will pay the claim from the last lawsuit. He has no personal loss of funds."
"He's angry. Maybe he wants to kill off everyone in the firm."
"I agree with you someone is trying to eliminate the lawyers in that outfit. I also think the murders are connected to their specialty . . . I mean . . . I saw a copy of the note. It's obvious someone is trying to put them out of business. But not Thorne. No way."
"You say?"
"Vaffanculo!" Tony spit the curse. "You're getting to be as bad as Hernandez."
Howard grimaced. "Look at it this way. Thorne hated Valentine. Why wouldn't he?"
"Valentine loved to play Robin Hood, taking money from rich physicians and giving it to the poor patients, taking his forty-plus percent along the way.
"Your friend and his girlfriend had lunch at Sprouts on the day Henninger was killed? We didn't know at first because Courtney wasn't there for the lunch trade. The hostess said Thorne went back to the kitchen to talk to the chef himself."
"So? You said he frequented the kitchen there, had for a long time." Tony stared at Howard and rose to his feet, towering over the seated Howard. "Circumstantial."
"But the new chef was at work at the time."
"Oh."
"Opportunity."
"Motive?"
"Revenge. I don't know. Money. His insurance premiums will increase after the settlement. We're working on it." Howard stood. "By the way, we discovered Thorne stops at the same deli almost every morning for a bagel and coffee. Sometimes he eats it there. Sometimes he takes it with him. It's the same place Iglesia stopped every morning . . . Every damned morning, Tony."
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