by Judith Lucci
The others nodded as Dr. Charmaine left to call her offices in Atlanta and Washington, and the Governor's office in Baton Rouge. Seconds after she left, Sandy Pilsner entered and alerted them to three additional admissions to the ED.
“They all have the same symptoms and two are political operatives. What is happening here?” Sandy was grey with fatigue and the fear was etched into her aging face. She continued, "Dr. Bonnet, Dr. Smith. Can you help? We are swamped. These folks are really sick and the staff are getting tired. The care is just so complex and intense." Sandy stammered to silence, her voice emotional. She looked scared and frazzled.
Alex's heart sank when she saw Sandy's anxiety. Sandy was a tough old goat and she was freaked. What could this possibly mean for all of them? In a moment of honest reflection, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She sighed as Robert and Tim left the conference room and stared into her iced tea glass. I’m terrified! How is this going to end? Please, God, help us get through the next few days.
Chapter 12
"Alex, what are you doing? Where have you been? I have been looking for you all day! How come you aren't answering your cell phone or texts?" Bridgett was grouchy and clearly irritated with her boss as she pushed long, blonde curls behind her ears to show off her long, orange and hot pink dangling chandelier earrings.
Alex couldn't help but grin at Bridgett, her beautiful, blue-eyed bombshell of a secretary, or administrative assistant as Bridgett now preferred to be called. Noting that Bridgett was obviously displeased with her, Alex decided to diffuse her anger.
She gave her a big smile and said, "Whoa, Bridge, you look really, well, really... bright. You know, your eyes are so much bluer when you're mad at me and where in the world did you get that orange dress and those hot pink heels?”
It was working. Bridgett’s eyes were sending fewer daggers and there was a half smile on her face. Alex continued, “And that jewelry is stunning. You could direct traffic in that outfit, but, on second thought everyone would probably wreck looking at you."
"Are you kidding me, Alex, or what? It'd be best not to make me any madder," Bridgett warned, her temper obviously short, but her smile was widening.
"No, Bridgett, truthfully, you look magnificent. No one else could carry off orange and hot pink. How in the world do you put your outfits together? Where do you get this stuff?" Alex couldn't help but admire how amazing the outfit was for Bridgett. The orange sheath was perfect for Bridge's tall, statuesque figure and fit her like a glove. The jewelry was perfect for the dress. The necklace was three strands of orange and pink glass pearls, dyed howlite and crystals. It was beautiful on Bridgett's beautiful skin. She looked flawless.
"Well," Bridgett puffed up and said, "I sure don't shop at those boring stores like you. I'd rather be gagged than have to shop at Ann Taylor and Victoria's Uptown. Besides, those stores are way above my budget. I got this outfit at Dressed to Kill over on Dauphine. I forgot where I got the shoes, but they do match perfectly." To prove her point, Bridge lifted her long leg up for Alex to survey them better.
"I have to hand it to you, Bridge. They are perfect. You're perfect. Your lipstick and nails even match."
"Check these out, Alex," Bridgett said, obviously pleased. "See, my toes. They have little pink stars on them." Bridgett easily slipped out of her four-inch heels and held her leg with perfectly painted pink toenails up for Alex to view.
Alex was amused as Bridgett revealed her foot. Such fun, she thought to herself. Sure enough, they were painted bright orange and had orange stars all over them. "Wow," was all Alex could muster.
Bridgett gave Alex a bright, dazzling smile. "You know, Alex, if you would like, one day we could go shopping. I could show you all the good places and we could brighten you up for sure. You know, get you some good stuff. Great clothes, not boring like all of those tailored clothes you wear all the time. I know where all the deals are too," Bridgett volunteered as she critically appraised Alex's conservative navy blue silk suit, white blouse and very proper pearls. "I could fix you right on up! I could take you to my nail shop and we could get you some great nail color," Bridgett added, delighted at the prospect. "You know, there's more to life than French manicures. You'd be surprised at what I could come up with!"
Alex laughed, "No, Bridge, I wouldn't be surprised. You know, we'll have to do that. It would be fun. Just know that I can't come to work in an orange dress and chandelier earrings like you. Don would have a duck fit."
Bridgett rolled her huge, blue eyes. "Forget Don Montgomery. He's a pain in the patooty. By the way, he's phoned for you several times from wherever he is in the Caribbean. Said something about something on TV. I told him I'd have you call back. So, will you please do it? I don't want to have to talk to him again today," Bridgett groaned as she handed Alex a fistful of messages.
Alex’s face soured. "I guess I'll call him but I'd rather not. Anything else," she questioned as she moved toward her office.
"Nope, but I'm leaving shortly. Got to go shopping." Bridgett's blue eyes danced as she glanced over her shoulder. "Angela is going with me. We're hitting the sales at Dillard's."
Alex immediately felt jealous. She wished she were going shopping and not managing a viral outbreak. Bridgett’s simple life was looking pretty good right now. "Great, how's Angie?"
"She's doing super well. Almost back to her old self. She should return to the ICU next month."
"Wow, that's wonderful, Bridgett. I am so happy for all of you. We've all come a long way," Alex added, remembering how Bridgett's twin sister, Angela, a CCMC nurse had been brutalized several months ago. What a nightmare all of that had been. "I'm going into my office to catch up and call Don."
Bridgett made a face, her blonde curls dancing around her face. "Yuk. Lucky you. OK, I'll see you tomorrow. Have a great night," Bridgett gushed, back to her happy, cheerful, wonderful self.
Alex said a prayer that things were back to normal in Bridgett's family. Bridge was the best, she was her friend and the best secretary ever. She couldn’t imagine existing at CCMC without her fun-loving secretary.
"You too, Bridgett," Alex said happily as she closed her office door and settled into her luxurious desk chair that fit her body perfectly. She dialed Don's phone number and was instantly barraged with a dozen questions from CCMC's irascible, self-centered, and petulant chief executive officer.
"Destephano, what the hell is going on there? It's been all over CNN and network TV that you have some sort of a bad viral disease in the ED. I can't leave for one week that things don't go to hell there without me and Bette Favre. What are you doing about all of this?" Don's voice was snappish and grumpy.
Alex rolled her eyes, put the phone on speaker and placed it on her desk while Don continued to bitch, gripe and grumble about how he could never take a vacation and trust "his" hospital to anyone because everybody there, Alex included, was incompetent, except for him, and blah, blah, blah. For a moment Alex considered hanging up on him, telling him she dropped the call and it must be his phone but decided against it. She'd have to talk to him sometime so she might as well get it over with. Finally, he quieted down and demanded an update.
"Well, we are having a problem in the ED."
"Well spit it out. I don't have all day. I'm on vacation, remember?" Don was complaining again.
He was truly a pain in Alex's ass. She decided to do just that.
"We have a virus. It's not Ebola, and it's still unidentified. The CDC is here and we are working on it. Things are under control."
Don was ready to get off the phone. "OK. Call me but only if it is absolutely necessary. If you and Bonnet can't figure it out, then I guess it's worth a call to me. But remember, I hired you to be competent," Don replied, his voice sneering.
Alex said nothing else and offered no other information. She had told the truth as he had asked. She just wanted to hang up. "I'll call if I need you, Don. I won't bother you unless there is no other way," Alex promised as she heard him ordering rum punch
specials and fresh fruit for two on the background. She swore to herself there'd never be a reason she would call him.
"OK." Don clicked off, CCMC out of his mind for at least four more days.
Alex was delighted but only for an instant when her cell phone rang and she noticed her grandfather's number on the display.
"Granddad, what's up?" Alex’s voice was curious. It was very unusual for her grandfather to call her twice in one day.
Alex heard a strangled sob on the other end. She became alarmed. "Granddad, please speak to me. Are you OK?"
After a few seconds, Congressman Lee composed himself and said, "It's about Ben Blankenship. He's my friend. He's like a son to me. New Orleans killed him. He's dead."
Alex was confused. "What, who? I don't know who or what you are talking about. Who is Ben Blankenship. I am sorry, granddad. I don't have a clue."
"Congressman Benjamin Blankenship. The young congressman from Arizona. He was murdered in the French Quarter. Just several hours ago. I thought you would know."
"Oh Granddad, I am so sorry. I did know about the murder, but I didn't know who it was. I am so sorry. So very sorry. Ben is the young man you call your adopted son, right? What can I do to help you?"
"Nothing, Alexandra. Nothing. Ben was like a son to me. I have been grooming him in Congress. He and his wife Beth were here at the farm in Virginia for July 4th. They have two little children. Beautiful children, 7 and 5 years old. They lived in our swimming pool for three days. Such wonderful children, so well-behaved. Your grandmother and I are devastated."
Kathryn Lee spoke for the first time, "Alex, you know the Blankenships. You met them here at Wyndley two years ago at Christmas just after he had been elected. Remember, it snowed and you grandfather got into the White Lightning and thought he was going to die the next day."
"Oh my God, Grand. Oh, no. What a wonderful family. This is so tragic. Of course I remember them." Alex was stunned with the news.
"Yes, Alexandra, I thought you would," her grandmother replied.
"I remember them well. I envied them for their love and devotion to each other. I was really lonely for Robert then and wanted a family just like that," Alex said as she remembered the handsome, square-jawed, all-American guy and his lovely, demure brunette wife. She recalled he had been some kind of American hero but then most of her granddad's friends were. She especially recalled the two tow-headed children to whom she had read The Night Before Christmas at least a dozen times during their visit. Her mind flickered back to the Christmas Carol singing when her grandfather had placed the little girl on the grand piano while her grandmother had played Frosty the Snowman and her brother had sat beside her grandmother on the piano bench where Alex had sat for years and years singing the same songs. It would have been a perfect Christmas that year except that Alex was so lonely and it was the first Christmas after her split from Robert. It was just before she moved to New Orleans. And now, the handsome, young congressman was dead, leaving a lovely wife and two little children. How sad and unbelievable. Alex could feel her chest constrict.
"I am coming with your grandfather tomorrow to be with Beth. Her parents are deceased and Ben's mother has the children. She is alone in New Orleans and I am sure very frightened. If you have time to call her or stop by the Hotel Burgundy to see her, it would mean a lot to me. I know things are crazy at the hospital, but if you could..." Kathryn's voice faded out and Alex could hear a sob.
"I will go there now, Grand. I will call you back after I see her. I would take her to my home if we didn't have the crisis at the hospital. Maybe I will anyway."
Adam Lee interjected. "She needs to be with Ben's aides. They are overcome with grief as well. We will be there tomorrow. We will move all of them to the Palm Court with us."
"Granddad, you are all welcome to stay at my home. You know that. I have lots of room."
"Thanks, Alex but we need to be with the other Congressmen and our friends. Ben Blankenship is a huge loss to America. Decorated war veteran, Iraq, Army Ranger, hero, perfect. My party was grooming him for great things. It's tragic for all of us. Many called him the hope of America." Alex could imagine the grief -stricken, tearful, lined face of her grandfather. She wanted to reach out and hug him and tell him things would be all right. Just like he’d always done for her. She heard another stifled sob.
"I know, Granddad. I am so sorry and I'm distressed. Will you please call Beth and tell her I am coming and let me know what you need."
"One more thing, Alex. Could you ask Jack Francoise to release the body as soon as possible? I know Beth will want to take him home as soon as she can." Adam Lee had recovered some of his usual "take command" control.
"I'll try Granddad, but it may be hard."
"Why?"
Alex was slow to respond. "Well," Alex was having difficulty telling her grandparents how their friend had died.
"What, Alex, what the hell. What is going on?" Adam Lee's voice thundered. He was distressed, irritated, and impatient. Not a good combination.
Alex sighed and said, "I spoke to Jack briefly, but there is some thought that the murder may have been politically motivated. It was similar to the killings of Senator LaMont and Mr. Hunter several months ago."
"Oh my God. Sweet Jesus. He died like they did?" Adam Lee's voice was barely a whisper.
Alex wanted to reach out and hug her granddad. She could hear the torment and despair in his voice. "I'm afraid so, Granddad. That was what Jack said, but our conversation was brief. I will see him later this evening."
"What about these killings? What's different about them?" Kathryn Lee asked.
Alex spoke quickly, "They were particularly brutal, angry, like the killer had an agenda. I can tell you more when you get here and I know more. I love you both. I will go see Beth."
"Thanks you, Alex. I love you. See you tomorrow," her grandmother's voice was soft.
"Bye, Grand. Granddad, are you OK."
"Yes, Alex, I am. At least I think so." The anguish in his voice was heartbreaking.
"I love you Granddad and I'll see you tomorrow." Alex knew he wasn't OK but there was nothing she could do. She was worried about both of them. At their age, information such as this was crippling, stressful, and demoralizing. She was concerned for their health. Alex knew she would have to return to Virginia soon. She just hadn't been able to figure out how to do it.
Alex felt her own despair mounting as she considered the congressman’s death. Her heart was heavy as she called for Martin, her faithful cab driver to take her over to the Hotel Burgundy to see Beth Blankenship. She had tears in her eyes as she left hospital and noticed the guards at the doors and the NOPD police presence all around the medical center. The parking circle was loaded with press and media vehicles and several reporters ran toward her barking questions when they saw her. Their presence just depressed her further. She waved them away, and repeated the standard, “no comment, no comment” as she returned to the hospital foyer to escape their questions.
Chapter 13
Traffic in the circle of the CCMC pickup/discharge area was brisk. Alex checked her watch. It was a little after four in the afternoon and despite her sadness, she was appreciating the beautiful October afternoon as she sat on a bench and watched the TV and media teams in action. As she waited in the hospital circle for Martin's Cab to pick her up, she observed a nurse assisting an elderly lady from a wheelchair into her son's car. She was reminiscent of the days when she was in clinical practice. Boy, she missed it.
Alex was a caring and nurturing person and she had loved taking care of her patients. Alex continued to think back to her earlier years. Life had seemed so much simpler then. She had been working at the University of Virginia Hospital in Charlottesville and dating Robert. How wonderful life had been then. It was just before her miscarriage and prior to her decision to go to law school and their marriage was perfect. Of course, a year later, things began to fall apart. She shook off her gloom and faked a smile for Martin who had
just pulled up to the curve.
"Mz. Alex. What's goin' on here?" Martin looked around and shook his head. "Ain't never a dull moment here at de hospital is they? Whatcha got now? Gangsters, crazy people, sickos? Cars are backed a mile, especially the TV trucks. Why is all these police here? And all them TV trucks," Martin demanded as he opened the door for Alex.
"Well, we have...."
Martin interrupted her, not uncommon for him. "Guess it can't be too bad if you is leaving, right Mz. Alex?" Martin looked proud of himself for deducing that fact.
Alex smiled and nodded. Martin was authentic Cajun, right down to his black and orange 'Who's Your Crawdaddy' t-shirt, black jeans, and the alligator boots he was sporting. He was a memorable character and took pride in telling tourist's coming to the Crescent City all about his ancestors and the history of Naw'lins. Martin had been good to Alex over the years, teaching her much about New Orleans culture, both the positive and negative aspects. Martin knew everybody and he was a good man to know. His cab company was one of the largest, and certainly the most honest cabby fleet around. He also knew ways to get around the crowded city and of back streets that Alex couldn't have known had she been born in New Orleans. Martin's only vice was playing the roulette tables at the Casino out in Kenner where he lived. He and his wife Carla went every Wednesday night for the free buffet and a hard night of gambling. Mrs. Martin's Cab loved the slots, and confided to Alex that she lived for Wednesdays and sometimes visited the Casino after Mass on Saturday evening. Alex suspected that she went a lot more often than that but never brought that up to Martin.
"Yeah, not too bad. At least not yet. We have some folks in with a virus, a really bad one, and several have died."
"That ain't good. Is it de tourists spreading germs or what?" Martin never believed any illness or disease or germ could originate in New Orleans - not even after all the sickness caused by Katrina. He was always suspicious of tourists "bringing in stuff".