Private Detective: BENNINGTON P.I.: A thrilling four-novel political murder mystery private detective series...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  I followed the priest to the main processing desk of the hospital and stood quietly as he inquired as to where Dedra Donnigan was being roomed. The friendly mid-30’s blonde woman behind the desk indicated she had been located to room 312. We were then told to make certain to check in at the third floor reception area as well in case Ms. Donnigan was unavailable for visitors.

  From there I was again following behind the priest, this time into the elevator on our way to the third floor of the hospital.

  “She’s not in ICU, which is good news. The third floor is just general recovery, so what you were told must have been accurate – she’s been stabilized.”

  I stood silently, my mind still struggling to grasp how serious Dedra’s illness truly was to have forced her into a hospital bed. She was tough, and not one to easily give up her freedom to move, or her dedication to the job.

  As the doors of the elevator opened, I stopped in the hallway, my hand lightly grasping the upper right arm of the priest.

  “What did you mean when you said you hoped they hadn’t removed her lymph nodes yet?”

  Father Barnes’s eyes glanced down the hallway toward the third floor reception desk.

  “My treatment requires the use of the body’s lymph nodes. It’s how the treatment is safely and most effectively disseminated throughout the body. Traditional cancer treatments too often remove the lymph nodes to try and localize the cancer, and prevent its spreading. While that method is well intended, and can assist in preventing the short term spread of the disease, it also negates my ability to fully utilize my methods – methods that have so far, proven quite effective. God has given us the proper hardware to combat disease Mr. Bennington, but our current science too often destroys that pathway in favor of injecting poison that will kill both the cancer, and far too often significant healthy tissue, and thus, the patient as well.”

  The priest began to pull away, but I tightened my grip on his arm, keeping him in place.

  “So why can’t you continue to treat Dedra outside your office? Why would you allow her to end up here?”

  Father Barnes’s eyes smoldered with rage.

  “I did not allow this, Mr. Bennington. My office contained all of my research, my paperwork, the formulations – everything. Years and years of research, trial and error, all of it was taken from me! And the only other one who might know…I have no idea where he is. He’s vanished. It’s been over a year. He warned me they would shut me down. I thought he was being overly paranoid. In fact, I was increasingly certain he had lost his grasp on reality. I wanted him evaluated to make certain he wasn’t a danger to himself or others.”

  Without my intending to do so, my grip tightened even further on the priest’s arm.

  “Father, who the hell are you talking about? There’s somebody out there who might help us to save Dedra? Why didn’t you say this before?”

  Father Barnes ripped his arm from my grasp and took a step back from me, the smoldering rage threatening to overcome him.

  “I just met you, Mr. Bennington. You think I am so easy to trust? After what has happened to me? Who are you to demand I should have done different?”

  Undeterred, despite the priest’s anger, I pointed a finger just inches from his face.

  “I’m someone who cares about what happens to Dedra. That woman has already been to hell and back. She deserves all the help we can give her. So if there is somebody who can help you with the information the FDA took from you, then dammit we need to find him.”

  Father Barnes appeared ready to shout something back at me, but then stopped, his shoulders slumping, the fatigue and strain of what was happening to him finally cracking the seemingly impenetrable veneer of his outer shell.

  “I’ve tried, Mr. Bennington. God knows, I have tried so hard to find him. I’ll tell you what I know, I’ll tell you everything, but first I need to see Dedra. I need to talk to her doctor.”

  I simply nodded as my left hand motioned toward the hallway.

  “Let’s do that, Father, and then you tell me what you know.”

  13.

  Hospitals are bad enough, but a hospital room with a woman struggling to stay alive as cancer eats her away from the inside out is hell. The priest had prepared me, said I hadn’t seen Dedra looking like how I was about to see her look. Despite that warning, I still found myself shocked at her appearance, and trying very hard not to lose it right there inside that damn room.

  Her scalp was exposed, the right side as scarred from the war time bomb blast as was the same side of her face. I hadn’t realized Dedra wore a wig until that moment, and for some reason, it made me admire her courage and determination all the more.

  Dedra’s skin was an off white, opaque color, glistening under a layer of sweat that likely covered her entire body. Her eyes appeared more sunken into her skull, the bones of her cheeks just a bit more pronounced. Prior to that day, she had always worn an air of powerful confidence. In that hospital bed though, with the faint beeping of the vitals machine echoing in the otherwise silent room, I knew I was looking on someone edging dangerously close to death.

  I wanted to vomit.

  The priest glanced at me, the lower portion of his face hidden behind a medical mask the same as mine was, an attempt to lower risk of infection to Dedra, whose immune system was no doubt compromised by the latest round of chemo.

  Dedra was unmoving, her eyes closed, as both myself and the priest looked down at her. Father Barnes took the medical chart placed at the end of Dedra’s bed and began scanning the pages, his jaw clenching and unclenching several times as he did so.

  “She’s been on one week intervals of anthracyclines – heavy dosage. Powerful stuff that puts her at risk of developing cardiotoxicity. This is not what I wanted for her. That would explain her collapse. It was likely a heart issue directly related to the high dose chemo.”

  I stepped closer to the priest, glancing down at the medical chart he was holding.

  “You think she had a heart attack?”

  Father Barnes shook his head.

  “No, more like an out of rhythm heart. The anthracylcines can impede heart function, like a short circuit, and it’s far more common than the medical community would have us know. Much higher than the five or ten percent rate that is widely published.”

  I looked down at Dedra, watching the slow expansion and lowering of her chest, my sympathy for her growing even more after learning that like me, she was dealing with a heart that refused to do its damn job properly.

  “Ah, hell...”

  I turned to see the priest looking down at the medical chart with a suddenly increased level of intensity.

  “They’ve recommended an aggressive Lymphadenectomy next week, removal of the nodes under her arms and in her neck. I don’t see anything regarding a prior test of the sentinel node though. Why would they be moving so quickly for such an invasive surgery already?”

  “Can I help you?”

  Both the priest and I turned to look back at a short, middle aged woman who had just entered Dedra’s room. Her brown hair was pulled back from her round face, and a pair of large rimmed glasses sat atop a short, button nose.

  “Are you the attending physician?”

  The woman stared back at Father Barnes, looking him up and down before responding.

  “Yes, I’m Dr. Marilyn Styles. You must be Dr. Barnes. Dedra told me you might show up here.”

  Father Barnes extended his right hand to quickly shake the hand of Dr. Styles.

  “You mind handing me Dedra’s chart, Dr. Barnes?”

  The priest offered a half smile and nodded his head.

  “Of course. I see you’re planning removal of some lymph nodes. I assume that is the result of testing the sentinel node first?”

  Dr. Style’s demeanor went from guarded to agitated as she moved past Father Barnes to look over Dedra’s vitals report.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Doctor Barnes. This isn’t your hospital, and Dedra is my patient.
I assure you, we are giving her the best possible care. And who are you?”

  I stepped forward and extended my right hand in greeting, the hand left hanging in the air for several seconds as Doctor Styles stood waiting for me to answer.

  “I’m a friend of Dedra’s – Frank Bennington.”

  “Dedra didn’t mention you. I’m going to have to ask you both to leave now.”

  Father Barnes stepped between the other doctor and me, his wide shoulders blocking Marilyn Styles from my view.

  “I need to discuss Dedra’s treatment options with you, Doctor Styles. I’ve been her physician for several months now and---“

  Dr. Styles cut the priest off, wagging a finger at him as she did so.

  “You are not her physician NOW, Doctor Barnes, I am. Dedra is facing a very tough fight here, and as I just said, we are doing everything we can to save her. I appreciate your concern, but---“

  “Where is Dr. Rouchard? She and I were working together on Dedra’s treatment. I want to speak with her.”

  Dr. Styles frowned back at the priest, her brow furrowing over her glasses.

  “You don’t know? I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but Dr. Rouchard was killed in a traffic accident three weeks ago.”

  I watched Father Barnes’s eyes grow wide as his mouth fell open, his head shaking slowly from side to side.

  “She’s dead? Why didn’t Dedra tell me? Why did she keep it…”

  The priest’s voice trailed away, lost in the haze of his own disbelief and confusion.

  “Now I’ll say it one more time, I need the both of you to leave. I will call security.”

  “They stay. Leave us alone.”

  Three heads turned to look down at Dedra, who was straining to prop herself into a sitting position in the hospital bed. I felt myself smiling back at her, grateful to see some of the old fight still on display.

  “You heard me Dr. Styles – they’re staying. I need to talk to them. You can leave though. Thank you.”

  The doctor glared at both the priest and I before looking back at Dedra, who smiled and waved her concerns away.

  “It’s ok, Doc, these two are harmless.”

  Dr. Styles took a deep breath and then pointed at Father Barnes.

  “Ten minutes, then you’re out of here. You’re here as a priest, not a doctor, understand? Don’t test me. And you keep those masks on at all times while you’re in here.”

  We watched as the doctor left the room and then turned back toward Dedra, who gave a tired smile as her own welcome to us. I noted how her left hand ran across the top of her exposed scalp, as a flash of embarrassment or even shame over her appearance flashed across her eyes.

  “Sorry for the fuss guys. I figured one or both of you would figure out where I was. Did the congresswoman call you, Mr. Bennington?”

  I gave a short nod.

  “Yeah, she did. Told me to leave you alone and let you rest, so I got here as fast as I could.”

  Dedra’s brief laughter was interrupted by a wince of pain.

  “Oh, this shit is getting old, I’ll tell you that.”

  The priest stood on the left side of Dedra’s bed, his wide right palm resting lightly on her forehead.

  “You have a fever, Dedra. Why didn’t you tell me were undergoing traditional treatment?”

  Dedra pushed away the priest’s hand and then shrugged.

  “I know you can’t treat me, Father, not with your lab shut down. So this is all I have left. I didn’t want to burden you with the guilt of thinking it was your fault I ended up here.”

  Father Barnes’s eyes looked upward toward the ceiling where they remained as he whispered softly through the medical mask that still covered his face.

  “Perhaps it is my fault Dedra. I should have been more careful, I should have set up a secondary treatment facility. I was too careless.”

  I watched as Dedra rolled her eyes at the priest.

  “Don’t go getting all dramatic on me, Father. Your work is what kept me going. I know that. I owe you big time for what you did for me.”

  Dedra then looked over at me, her voice changing to a more authoritative tone.

  “And what about you, Mr. Bennington? Are you any closer to finding out who’s behind the blocking of HR 4221? It might be too late to help me, but if the congresswoman can get that bill passed, it will help a whole lot of other people.”

  I tensed at Dedra’s matter of fact manner when speaking of her own quite possible, impending death. I wanted more time to get to know her, more time to be a part of the T3 Group with her.

  “Stop talking like that, Dedra. You’re going to get through this. The assignment is coming along. I have some leads.”

  Dedra closed her eyes as a faint smile spread across her face.

  “Good. I knew you’d prove yourself. Just be careful, I won’t be around to drag you out of trouble for a while. Gonna have to…”

  Dedra’s voice trailed off as fatigue and sleep overtook her once again.

  I reached across the bed to take Dedra’s one good hand into my own and held it, shocked and saddened at how limp and lifeless it felt. I looked upon the right side of her face and its mass of shiny, badly healed scar tissue that was in stark contrast to the smooth, unlined beauty of her left side.

  I’m not letting this woman die. That’s not gonna happen. You hear me, God? You don’t let that happen, because if you do, you ain’t worth it to me. You’re no better than the ones who blew her body in half. No better than the bureaucrats who are preventing the treatment that could save her life. She ain’t dying you asshole.

  The priest’s left hand came to rest on my shoulder.

  “We should be going. She needs to rest now.”

  I lightly squeezed Dedra’s hand and then leaned down to whisper into the war torn remnants of her right ear.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  14.

  Standing outside Dedra’s hospital room, I looked over at the priest who appeared lost in thought, his eyes closed tightly as his mouth quietly mumbled words I couldn’t quite hear. A few seconds more and I realized Father Barnes was reciting the Lord’s Prayer.

  “Our Father in heaven,

  hallowed be your name.

  Your kingdom come,

  your will be done,

  on earth, as it is in heaven.

  Give us this day our daily bread,

  and forgive us our debts,

  as we also have forgiven our debtors.

  And lead us not into temptation,

  but deliver us from evil.”

  “How bad is it Father?”

  The priest sighed as he shrugged his shoulders.

  “I don’t know. She’s strong both in body and spirit, so there is a chance she comes out of this. When I was treating her though, the cancer was stalled, it had remained localized, and the tumors in her breast were reduced in size. Now, it appears they believe the metastatic risk is such they will be removing some of her lymph nodes, followed by yet more rounds of chemo. Some survive that treatment, while others…”

  “What about the doctor’s death? The one you were working with for Dedra’s treatment. Just coincidence?”