Code Blue

by Janet Lane-Walters

  "We can't move her until Security comes." Susan lowered her voice. "She's dead."

  "What?"

  Susan inhaled. Why was Dr. Mendoza the doctor in the house tonight? He always behaved as though unexpected incidents had been staged to annoy him. "She's--"

  "Susan, Ms. Vernon's on the line," Kit said.

  Trish grabbed Mendoza's arm. "Come on. I'll go with you."

  Glad she didn't have to face the scene in the storage room again, Susan hurried away. She sat on the edge of the desk and took the receiver from Kit. "Leila, it's Susan. There's a problem here."

  "What has Barbara done? I heard Kit was tracking her."

  "She's dead. I found her in the storage room and I don't think it was an accident."

  "I'll be right there," Leila said. "What kind of injuries?"

  "She...her head..." A picture of Barbara's battered head and face flashed in Susan's thoughts. Acid burned her throat. She dropped the receiver and bolted for the utility room. There, she leaned over the sink. Even after her stomach was empty, she continued to heave.

  Footsteps sounded on the tile floor. Susan looked up. Leila looked as though she had run the entire distance from the Nursing Office.

  "Are you all right?" Leila asked.

  Susan gulped deep breaths of air. "I don't know. She felt ghastly." She blotted her tearing eyes with a paper towel and rinsed her mouth.

  Leila took Susan's arm and they walked to the nurses' station. "Come and sit down."

  Susan shook her head. If she sat, she would fall apart. She had to remain calm and strong. Who would see to her patients if she gave into the hysteria that threatened to erupt? Once again, flashes of the gruesome still life in the storage room surfaced. She shivered and rubbed her upper arms. Activity would keep the memories at bay.

  "Are you sure she's dead?" Leila asked.

  The sharp toned question acted like a splash of cold water. "Yes." The word exploded from Susan's mouth. "I checked her. So did Mendoza. Talk to him. I have to answer lights."

  "Are you sure you're up to facing patients?"

  "If I don't, who will?"

  Kit turned in her chair at the desk. "I sure wish I could have seen her instead of being stuck at the desk. Wonder who got her. Was she gross?"

  "I don't want to talk about her," Susan said.

  "You're going to have to." Kit pursed her lips. "Security called the police. I think you're in big trouble. The guard was upset because you and Mendoza messed with the body. He's afraid you tampered with the evidence."

  "I had to see if I could help her."

  "You did the right thing." Leila reached for the phone. "I'd better call Murry Johnson before someone else does. This could be a real problem for the hospital."

  "I bet they'll be major upset," Kit said. "You know, the guard took my key for the storage room and he wants the one from the narcotic ring. He's checking the rooms for an intruder. A bit late, I'd say. The killer's probably long gone."

  Or here among us. Susan's hand flew to her mouth. Had she said the words aloud?

  "I wonder what we were doing when she died?" Kit asked. "She wasn't exactly the most popular person on the unit."

  Susan walked away. Kit sounded like Barbara. Was the unit secretary planning to take the practical's place as gossip queen?

  "Aren't you glad this didn't happen during visiting hours? Just think of the mess that would have been." Kit's comments followed Susan from the station.

  She made a face and ducked into the first room of her district. Why was Kit making Barbara's death sound like an adventure? Finding the body had been a nightmare. Susan forced her lips into a smile and approached the first bed. "You rang?"

  "Fifteen minutes ago. When I heard that scream." The gray-haired man shifted his leg. The canvas-supporting sling shifted. Weights attached to pins embedded in his tibia clanged against the frame of the bed. "Is everything all right? I rang six times."

  "One of the nurses had an accident."

  "Where's your buddy?" the second patient asked.

  "She's the one who had the accident. What can I do for you?"

  The older man winked. "A lot, but my leg aches. When you have time, I'd like an injection."

  "And I'm due for my sleeping pull," the second patient said.

  "Give me fifteen minutes."

  Susan left the room and repeated the scene with slight variations in the other rooms of the district. She hated to lie, but there was no reason for the patients to know one of the nurses had been murdered. What could they do but worry?

  When she returned to the nurses' station, she had a list of requests for pain medication and sleepers for eleven patients. She and Julie reached the desk at the same time.

  "Will we ever get done?" Julie asked.

  Susan looked at Trish and the two practicals who were seated at the desk charting. "You will. I'll be here for hours. I have all the charts to write." She remembered the expected admission and groaned. "Kit, what's happening with the new patient?"

  "The ER thinks we're having a silent code. Ms. Vernon backed me up. They weren't pleased, but they agreed to hold the patient until nights arrive. The police are here. No one can leave until they've been questioned."

  "You're kidding," Julie said. "I have a date."

  "He'll have to wait." Kit smiled slyly. "We're all suspects."

  Once again, Susan heard echoes of Barbara in Kit's voice. "The police will have to wait until my patients are settled. After all, this is a hospital." She nodded to Trish and opened the med room door.

  She's dead. Waves of relief suffused Trish's body. She beat the fingers of her left hand against the desk. The fingers of her right hand touched the pill in her pocket. Should she take it now or wait? She always carried an amphetamine for emergencies, and tonight certainly qualified as one. Since the police wanted to question everyone, timing was essential. She needed the rush, but taking the pill too soon would put her on the downside when she talked to them. Too soon and her eyes would give her away.

  Trish's stomach knotted. What should she tell them about Barbara? Should she reveal her knowledge and tell them that the practical hadn't been just a harmless gossip? But if she did, they might learn she had been one of Barbara's victims.

  Her body shook as she rose and walked into the med room. Had Barbara left records?

  Trish waited for Susan and Julie to leave. Then she closed the door and stood at the sink. She couldn't worry about Barbara now. She had to believe she was safe. Her supplier had more to fear from discovery than she did.

  Trish pulled the pill from her pocket. As she swallowed the medication, the med room door banged against one of the med carts. She jumped. Her heart raced in imitation of the rush the medication would bring.

  The way Trish jumped when the door hit the cart made Susan gasp. Though usually hyperactive, the thin nurse's edginess was palpable. "Sorry. Are you all right?" Susan asked.

  "Headache." Trish dropped a paper cup in the trash and reached for the door.

  "We'll all have one before the nights over." Susan opened the controlled substance book and checked to see that she had signed for all the sedatives and narcotics she had just dispersed. An error in the count tonight would be more than she could handle.

  Moments later, she entered the nurses' station and pulled the district's rack to the desk. Julie huddled in a chair at the doctors' desk. Leila stood at the desk with the hospital's assistant administrator. They talked to two men.

  The police. Though she had done nothing wrong, her body tensed. She bent her head and began to chart.

  Leila slipped into the chair beside Susan. "You'll be questioned first. Murry wants you to consider your answers carefully."

  "What can I say but the truth?"

  Leila raked her fingers through her hair. "About Barbara? Probably nothing someone else won't say but don't paint her too dark. Murry's concerned about adverse publicity."

  With good reason, Susan thought. Outside of war, how often was a nurse killed
while on duty? An icy lump settled in her chest. The killer probably worked here. Though she didn't want to believe that, a stranger's presence in the hospital after visiting hours would be noted.

  "Good luck," Leila said. "Be careful."

  Why? As Susan trudged to the lounge, exhaustion rounded her shoulders. Should she tell the police about the afternoon's tension-filled scene in the lounge? What about the secret Barbara had threatened to reveal? When she opened the door, she hadn't reached a decision.

  Two men stood at the credenza. The broad-shouldered black man turned. "Mrs. Randall, I'm Greg Davies." He indicated the other man. "Ben Malone...would you like coffee?"

  She cleared her throat. "Yes, please. Milk, no sugar."

  "Take a seat at the table. We'll be taping your statement. Any problem with that?"

  She shook her head and gripped the back of the chair. Fear and uncertainty filled her thoughts. Why did she feel this way when she had done nothing wrong? Her legs felt as unsteady as they had when she had discovered Barbara's body.

  "I understand you found her." Greg Davies said. "We'd like to ask some questions about what you saw."

  Susan eased into the chair. "What--" Her voice squealed and broke. She gulped a breath. "What would you like to know?" The storm of emotions she had experienced earlier arose again. For a moment, she felt dizzy and she feared she would faint.

  Greg Davies pushed a Styrofoam cup across the table. "Take your time and tell us everything you noticed when you entered the storage room."

  Her throat constricted. She saw the practical's crumpled body, the bloody wounds and the staring eyes. She gulped a swallow of coffee. Then with the impersonal voice she used when reporting a patient's condition to a doctor, she related the story.

  Ben Malone held a pen between the index fingers and thumbs of both hands. "About the keys? How many sets are floating around?" As he spoke, he rolled the pen.

  Susan wiped her sweaty palms on her uniform. "Kit has one. There's one on the narcotic key ring and the nurse manager has one. Security would know if there are any others." She lifted the cup. "The door is usually kept open on this shift."

  "Is this general knowledge?"

  "I guess so."

  "Was it open tonight?"

  "I passed the hall several times, but when you're expecting to see something, sometimes you see it when it isn't there."

  "What about when you found the body?"

  She swallowed. "I had to unlock the door."

  Greg Davies nodded. "Where were the other nurses?"

  "In the station...except Julie Gilbert. She was waiting for me in one of the rooms across the hall." She stared at the table. Why had he asked that? Did he suspect one of her coworkers?

  "When was the last time you saw Mrs. Denton?"

  Susan closed her eyes. "Around nine. Just after I started med rounds. She was leaving a patient's room and going on break."

  "With some of the other nurses?"

  "Kit said she didn't go with them. She often left the unit."

  "Any idea where she might have gone?"

  Susan shook her head. "Some evenings, she visited every unit in the hospital. Gossip rounds."

  Greg Davies smiled. "Your supervisor told us Mrs. Denton was a gossip. Did she have any special story tonight?"

  She dropped her hands to her lap so their shaking wouldn't be noticed. How could she answer and not compromise her friends?

  "The stories?" Ben Malone asked.

  "She had so many, but mostly generalities."

  "What about the past two weeks?"

  "I was on vacation."

  Ben Malone leaned forward. "Surely she told you something this evening that you remember."

  She rubbed her hands together. "We worked in the same district and she tried to fill me in on two weeks in one lump. I tuned her out like I always do. Oh, she said someone tried to mug her in the parking lot."

  "When?"

  "Saturday night, I think."

  "Did you touch anything in the storage room?"

  The sudden shift startled her. A few minutes passed before she collected her scattered thoughts. "The light switch, the door, the ortho cart. It blocked the way to the shelves. That's why I didn't see her at first. I touched her to look for a pulse." She gulped a breath. "To see if...if she was dead."

  Greg Davies leaned back in the chair. "Notice anything else?"

  "The money."

  "Any idea how it got there? Could she have been blackmailing someone?"

  "It's a possibility, but I can't imagine who. Maybe I don't want to believe she would."

  "What about enemies?"

  Once again, Susan paused to consider what she knew about Barbara's relationships with the others. Julie, Trish, Leila. None of them had liked the practical. Trish had even suggested someone plug Barbara's mouth. Had Trish been the one?

  "A lot of people didn't like her. She wasn't a nice person but I can't imagine...imagine someone deciding to kill her."

  After a series of questions that revealed how little she knew about Barbara's private life, Greg Davies walked her to the door. "If you think of anything, just call the station and ask for Ben or me." He looked at his notebook. "Send Kit Carbonari in."

  Susan passed the message to Kit. Before returning to the charts, she tried to catch Julie's eye. The younger nurse presented a picture of misery.

  Though she noticed Susan's attempt to gain her attention, Julie kept her head bent. What am I going to do? She feared Larry had given Barbara the money that had been scattered around her body. Julie loved him. For that reason, she had to keep her knowledge secret.

  She pressed a bent finger against her teeth. Was he still in the hospital? She had to warn him but if she paged him, someone would remember he had been here for part of the evening. What could she do? Until she talked to him, she couldn't tell the police anything.

  Why had Larry asked her to meet him at the Oasis instead of at his apartment? An announcement of Barbara's death wasn't a message she wanted to leave with his answering service. Her teeth clamped on her finger to stop the questions, the fears, the scream, but nothing could stop her from thinking about Barbara's accusations.

  Two of the night nurses pushed a stretcher past the desk. Susan picked up an admission form and left her pen in the chart. Julie and Trish joined the group in the semi-private room across from the nurses' station.

  "On the count of three," Susan said.

  After the patient had been transferred to the bed, Susan reached for the admission form. One of the night nurses plucked it from her hand. "I know we're bitchy about doing your work, but she arrived on our time."

  Susan stepped into the hall. "She should have been here an hour ago, but there were problems."

  "Things do seem a bit odd," Beth said. "What's this about a silent code and why are the police occupying the lounge?"

  Susan inhaled. "Barbara was killed tonight."

  "Good grief," said another of the night nurses. "What happened?"

  "I don't know. I found her body in the storage room." Susan took a quick breath. Even that didn't help the queasy feeling in her gut.

  Beth shook her head. "How horrible. What did you see?"

  "I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to say. The police are still questioning people." She shivered. "I'd rather forget it happened."

  "How ironic," Beth said. "Barbara's missing what could have been her finest story. Look at what she did with the parking lot incident. Do you think there's a connection?"

  How, Susan wondered. She opened the care plan book. "Let me start report so I can finish charts and get out of here before the day shift arrives."

  Around her, she heard whispered comments as the other three members of the night staff tried to gain information about the death. Her thoughts drifted to Beth's comment about the attempted mugging. Had someone really warned Barbara by shouting my name, she wondered.

  Beth touched Susan's shoulder. "Just don't try to solve this the way you do all the other pro
blems around here."

  Susan shuddered. "The police can have this one. Murder is a bigger problem than petty theft or laziness... Room 512, Mr. Bliss."

  When Susan closed the care plan book, she reached for the stack of unfinished charts. As Kit and the practicals left, they waved.

  Fifteen minutes later, Trish entered the station. "Julie, your turn." The thin nurse stopped in front of Susan and leaned against the counter. "Aren't you finished yet? I was hoping we could walk to the parking lot together. Place gives me the creeps."

  Susan glanced up. "Don't wait. I'll be at least another hour."

  Trish shrugged. "I'd offer to help, but--"

  "You don't know the patients."

  Finally, Susan signed her name to the eleventh chart. She looked around the deserted station. One thirty. She grabbed her purse and walked down the hall. Leila sat outside the lounge.

  "Will you be finished soon?" Susan asked.

  Leila shook her head. "After the police leave, there's an emergency meeting of administration."

  "Right now, I wish Jim was home waiting for me."

  "Do you really? Think of how he'd react. Do you want to return to the bad old days when you couldn't breathe without his permission?"

  "Was it that bad?"

  "Think about it." Leila nodded. "You've grown so much since his death. I wouldn't want to see you slide back."

  "You're right. It's just...just..." She inhaled. "I hate the thought of being alone tonight. I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

  "Me either." Leila's hand moved toward her hair. "Being alone is the toughest part of being single. I'd stop by, but who knows when I'll finish here."

  "I told the police about the mugging."

  "So did everyone else. Go home. We'll talk tomorrow."

  "See you." Susan waved and walked away.

  Leila watched until Susan vanished around the corner and wished they could have talked about Barbara earlier this evening. The practical's death had come too late to solve the problems she had created. Somehow, Barbara had learned about the investigation into patients' complaints about her and about Leila's affair with Joe.

  The practical had threatened public exposure. Joe had asked Leila to put the investigation aside. How could she have done that without losing respect for herself and destroying her effectiveness as a supervisor?