“Officially to manufacture materials for national defense.”
“And Pittsburgh's connection?”
“That was later. DuPont, a company from out west built the plant, which goes along with the diversified population of Augusta. But Pittsburgh. About 1989, Westinghouse took over the management.”
“I'm waiting.”
“For what?”
“Pittsburgh.”
“Westinghouse is based in Pittsburgh.” She sounded exasperated. “I think our next trip will be to my home town. Let you see Pittsburgh for yourself.
“But I digress. When Westinghouse took over, they sent their people to run the plant. And who were these people? Pittsburghers.” She smiled triumphantly. “They settled in Augusta and Aiken, across the river in South Carolina.”
“Took you a while to get to the bottom line.” Luis stopped suddenly. Speaking of bottom. My stomach has bottomed out.”
“There you go again — thinking of food. Are we going to catch a show?”
“Si, señora. But lunch?
She pointed down the block to a cart on a corner. “Hot dogs?”
“When in Rome.” They hurried down the block for an elegant lunch on the streets of New York.
Ten minutes later, munching hot dogs and drinking ice cold bottles of water, they stood in line for tickets to the matinee of Waiting for Godot, with Nathan Lane.
With minutes to spare, they settled into their seats and watched the curtain rise.
Chapter 79
When the curtain fell after the final bow, they were herded from the theater onto the street.
“Next time I pick the show. It'll be a musical,” Elia said.
He smiled at her as they turned to walk toward Park Avenue. “What's next?”
“St. Patrick's Cathedral.” She pointed in front of her. We can go to Mass and then — I know you're going to like this one — have dinner.”
They were guided by pealing bells to the New York landmark. They slipped inside and mingled with the tourists before walking up the aisle and entering a pew.
The 150-year-old cathedral, reminiscent of a European church is the largest gothic-style church in the United States.
Luis compared it to his gold-laden boyhood church in Perú. He could describe both as grand and cold. Then he thought of the warm atmosphere of St. Mary on the Hill, their parish church in Augusta.
Although the tourists were behind ropes and far from the sanctuary, there was still a low overtone of voices from those not participating in the Mass. Traffic sounds filtered in to add to the cacophony that should never be present at Mass.
“Beautiful church, but not home,” Elia said when they were out on the street.
“I was thinking the same thing.” He looked back at the cathedral. “But I felt safe there.”
“Here I feel safe. So many people, and not one is Harry Millen.”
“I'll drink to that.” He pointed to a restaurant down the street. “Giambelli 50. Care for Italian tonight?”
“Perfecto.”
As soon as they entered they were greeted by a small woman with a welcoming smile. On the wall behind her was a large framed photo of Pope John Paul II shaking hands with her husband, Franscesco Giambelli, during a visit to New York.
Elia stood looking at the photo. “The Pope ate here?” She crossed her hands on her chest, as if John Paul II were going to give her his personal blessing.
Mrs. Giambelli led them to their table and explained that the Pope did indeed have his meals at their restaurant.
“Please, can you sit down and tell us what it was like?” Elia's eager face showed her interest. “What did you serve him?
Mrs. Giambelli had no trouble remembering. “Italian antipasto, angoletti risotto, filet of sole with porcini mushrooms and fruit salad.” She practically sang the menu. She added, “He must have liked it, because he asked for the same when he returned for dinner.” She excused herself and went to greet other diners with the same warmth she had shown to Luis and Elia.
“New York is busy, busy, busy, but this place is an oasis.” Elia sipped wine while Luis studied the menu. “And the Pope was here!”
“Spoken like a good Catholic girl.” He put the menu down, held up his wine in toast: “To my beautiful wife, who today got the thrill of her very young life.”
They touched glasses. “To my husband the poet; could anyone know it?”
As they approached the door after dinner, Mrs. Giambelli was there to say good night. She hugged Elia and pulled a long-stem red rose out of an arrangement and presented it to her. To Luis she gave a laminated photo of the Pope taken in the restaurant. “A memory for you,” she said.
Even though the sun had long since gone down, the streets were crowded, giving them a sense of security. They strolled toward Grand Central Station and arrived in plenty of time to catch the train. They settled in for a forty-five-minute ride.
The train slowly emptied as it headed toward Connecticut. When it reached Port Chester, the last stop in New York, they were among the few people getting off. There was a lone light illuminating the stairs leading to the near-empty parking lot. They held hands and hurried to their car, constantly looking around.
Elia shivered. “Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore.”
Chapter 80
They jogged through Old Greenwich, enjoying the cool summer morning. Traffic sounds were muted on the tree-lined residential streets.
“What good do you think Lorraine will be?” Elia had slowed to awalk. “She didn't seem too — what's the word I want — I don't know — warm? Willing?”
Luis slowed to match her pace. “We caught her by surprise. She looked shocked when we told her about Millen.”
“I noticed,” Elia said. “You work with someone every day and then find out he's crooked and a murderer.”
“It'll take her time to get her mind wrapped around that idea.”
Elia frowned. “I've been thinking. If Harry Millen is responsible, Luis, how could he have caused Aaron Scharff's death? He was at his own party when it happened.”
Luis stopped in his tracks.
“What?” Elia stopped a few steps ahead and looked back.
“Vicente. Millen wasn't in Bermuda.” He caught up with her. “And he wasn't at the dive site.”
They walked back to the hotel in silence.
Chapter 81
They were ushered to Fegan's corner office by her secretary. Lorraine came around her desk to shake their hands. “Harry is on his way down with one of our scientists. “ She motioned to two chairs facing her desk. “Please sit down.”
She pulled two more chairs toward her desk. “I've been thinking about what you said yesterday.” She settled behind her desk.
“But…” Luis put his hand on Elia's knee before she could finish.
Fegan continued. “And I think the only two conclusions I can come up with are first, it's impossible for Harry to be involved in anything detrimental to Pavnor.” She paused and glanced at the door.
“Two?” Elia prodded.
Fegan gave her an impatient look. “Two, he wouldn't want anything detrimental to happen to Pavnor, so maybe he would do something, well, illegal.”
“But have you looked into it?” Now it was Elia who looked impatient.
“No, I haven't.” Again she looked at the door. “Let's see what Harry has to say.” She nodded toward the door.
Harry Millen barged in with Pete Archer close behind. “Sorry I'm late.” He shook Elia's hand, then Luis's. “This is Doctor Archer; he's been researching the Cyptolis problem.”
“The problem I see is that the drug is on the market under a different name than thirty years ago,” Luis said.
“Yes, and we address that,” Millen said. “I want to keep you abreast, Doctor,” he said to Luis, and you, Ms. Christie, because I know how distressed you are about Dr. Pereda's death and the fact that his research paper wasn't presented at the conference. I understand you want Dr. Pereda's find
ings made public. And one of his findings is that the drug is almost identical to another that had been pulled from our line years ago.
“Lorraine, would you like to explain how the drug got on the market. How it had FDA approval?”
Lorraine sat behind her desk with her hands clasped on her blotter. “All right. First, we definitely had approval. Let's go back thirty years. Abecour had been prescribed for spasticity in cases of paralysis. When the liver function problems became known, Pavnor recalled the drug. With Cyptolis, the liver function side effect was thought to be eliminated.” She looked at Dr. Archer. “Pete, you can explain better than I. Can you help me out?”
Pete Archer cleared his throat, rotated his head from one side to the other, and swallowed visibly. He nodded.
“It's the same drug — and it isn't. Some of the radicals were changed, and that was thought to have taken care of the liver problems. Cyptolis had gone through the trials.” He looked at Elia for emphasis. “There are several stages. And Cyptolis is poised for universal release by the FDA.”
“How can it be given to patients if it's merely poised, to use your word, for release?” Elia asked.
Archer cleared his throat and stopped the head spiral in mid twist. “That's the last trial. This is a long process, and Pavnor was on the last step. That's what the final trial is.”
“So it was ethical to prescribe Cyptolis without final FDA approval?” Elia asked.
“Yes, of course,” Lorraine answered. “It's done all the time.”
“But what about the liver problems Vicente found?” Elia asked.
“I think I can answer that,” Luis said. “I've gone over his report. He reported on an indiscriminate number of patients with hemorrhaging in the liver. This is a different problem with the liver than with the original drug.”
Elia looked from Luis to Archer.
Archer took a deep breath and seemed to make an effort to answer without clearing his throat. No head twisting this time. “We investigated after seeing his report.”
“So the FDA will rescind the approval?” Elia asked no one in particular.
“Not necessarily.” Lorraine said. We can place a black box around it.” She looked at Elia.
“I know what that is. What happens if the FDA won't accept the black box designation?”
“Then Pavnor recalls the drug, and all bets are off,” Millen said.
Luis spoke up. “Do you know why there is hemorrhaging?” He looked at Archer. “If the drug is the same, or at least very similar except for a few radicals, why is there hemorrhaging?”
“This is a new development. When we find out we'll be able to eliminate the problem.”
“Who reports the new findings to the FDA?” Elia asked.
“I'll take care of that,” Fegan said.
Millen looked at Fegan and shook his head. “No, I will.”
He motioned with his head to the door. “Ready, Pete?” He turned his attention to Luis. “Call me if you have any questions.” With that he and Archer left.
When Luis and Elia turned to leave, Elia looked up and saw a water-color painting in fall foliage shades with mountains lavish with orange and red-leafed trees in the background. In front of the mountains was a nineteenth century turreted building. The artist blurred the building and put the emphasis on the mountains.
“What a beautiful scene,” Elia said. “Is it an actual place?”
Lorraine seemed distracted but looked over at the painting. “My alma mater, Seton Hill.” Then in an offhand way, as if she were accustomed to the next words, said, “It's near where the plane crashed on 9-11.” With that she ushered them out the door and closed it quickly as they walked away.
They didn't speak as they walked to the parking lot. “Did you hear what Lorraine said?”
“I heard what everybody said but I don't think we heard anything new.” He sounded angry. “What was this meeting about?”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “No, not that. About the painting.”
He frowned in confusion. “The painting?”
“I heard that from someone else lately, but I can't remember who, or why.”
“Heard what?”
“That's near where the plane crashed on 9-11.”
Chapter 82
Luis gathered up his razor, shaving cream and toothbrush and stashed them in his kit. Elia leaned on the doorframe watching. “If I didn't know better I'd say you're in a hurry.”
“I should have followed my instincts.” He shook his head. “Time to talk to the police. Should have done that earlier.” He started pacing around the room.
Elia chased him down and stood in front of him. She put her hands on his shoulders. “Honey, calm down. The police are involved up here.
“They're investigating the break-in at Dot's. Charleston and Kiawah police are looking for the people who broke into Vicente's. They're looking for whoever caused the accident that killed Aaron, and may I remind you the Bermuda police are investigating Vicente's murder.
“We came; there's nothing that's going to change that, so quit beating yourself up.”
Luis took a deep breath. He pulled Elia into his arms and put his face in her hair. Then he held her at arms’ length. “Something is going on at Pavnor.”
“Ya think?”
“Not funny, Elia. Millen chases us to Cape Cod, for what. He tries to kill us, then calls us to Pavnor to explain things.” He shook his head. “He didn't tell us anything new. And did you notice, no one said anything about the drug being produced in China?”
“Why was that?” Elia sat on the edge of the bed watching Luis pace in the small space. “Does he think we'd never find that out? And why should it matter anyway?”
Luis pulled his clothes from the closet. He turned to look at her. “That's what makes me think that fact is important. Important enough to hide it from us, or at least not share that piece of information.”
“But China. I don't know, Luis. Everything's produced in China. We talked about this.”
“That's what I mean. Makes me think he's hiding something else.”
“Then let's stay and find out what that something is.”
“Nice try, chica.” He picked up her empty makeup bag and handed it to her. “Let's go back to Kiawah. I want a little less anxiety in my life. Something's going on, and it's here.” He turned her toward her empty suitcase. “So I don't want to be here.”
“Luis?” Elia was bent over her suitcase and slowly stood. “Why would Harry arrange a meeting if he thought we'd be dead?”
Chapter 83
Hanssen couldn't get Bermuda out of his head. It started with Vicente. Certain people didn't want him to present his paper. It was fortuitous that he had gotten sick before the meeting. Who could have predicted that he would die? And then the police and the questions. So far they haven't asked the right ones. Things were fine until that business on Mad Money. Who the hell was that jerk? And was he talking about Pavnor? That's problem two. What a damn mess.
Hanssen sat at his desk and chewed on his thumbnail and stared into space. People weren't supposed to die. Now besides Pereda, Aaron was dead, and Pereda's girlfriend was dying.
He thought about Luis and Elia. “Clueless.” He said it with a shake of his head. “They're involved in this, and they're clueless.”
“Damn.” He pushed back in his chair so fast and forcefully that he hit the back wall. “I may get into a lot of trouble, but it's just money. They've been in the wrong place at the wrong time since Bermuda.” He didn't realize he was speaking aloud. He picked up the picture of his wife and kids and stared at it for a full minute.
“Maybe for once I should do the right thing,” he said softly as his thumb brushed over the faces of his family, now gone from his life. “Even if I don't know what that is.”
He pulled out his Blackberry, scrolled down, found the number he was looking for, and punched it in.
After the preliminary greeting he said, “Luis, we have to talk.” Hansse
n made the date. “Kiawah. Okay. I'll see both of you there.” He ended the call and said aloud to the empty room, “Dr. Echevarria, I have a surprise for you.”
He turned to his computer, checked airline flights to Charleston, then pulled up a blank document and began typing.
Hanssen attached his document to three e-mails then left for the airport. “Might as well let them know what's about to hit them.”
Chapter 84
Luis and Elia arrived in Charleston as the sun was setting. They checked into The Sanctuary and had dinner at the Jasmine Porch before settling into their suite. Elia had ordered a light dinner of shrimp and grits. She pushed her food around her plate.
“What are you thinking?”
“I don't want to spoil anything, Luis, I really don't.”
“But?”
“But why are we back here?” She held up a hand. “Don't misunderstand. It's beautiful here.” She gestured toward the ocean barely visible in the waning light. “But aren't you ready to go home? To start our life in Augusta?”
“I'm ready. I should have asked you what you wanted to do before I made plans.”
“Ah ha! A good lesson to learn early.”
“But I wanted us to have a peacefully normal honeymoon before we start back to work.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “We'll go home. First, let's have a few relaxing days here without looking over our shoulders. We can feel comfortable here.”
“Comfortable?” She looked around the restaurant. “I'd say more than comfortable.”
“Safe.” He glanced at Elia. “I mean safe.” He nodded and looked determined. “Let's relax.” He squeezed Elia's hand. “I want to give my undivided attention to my wife.”
“So we're really giving up?” She said it with regret. “After all we've been through?”
“What else can we do? You said yourself, the police are investigating.”
“I did, but it wouldn't hurt to do our own little thing on the side.”
Die Before Your Time (Elia Christie / Luis Echevarria medical mysteries) Page 19