by Larry Karp
His last patient ever, I thought. I thanked her, and went off to sit in a padded chair.
When I walked into Sanford’s office, he wasn’t his usual jaunty self. He probably figured I was there on account of his call to Richmond, and he was letting me know he wasn’t about to lie down and roll over. “We’ll have to keep this one short, Mr. Baumgartner. There’s a new man in town who thinks he’s an expert in laparoscopy, and he’s going to give a talk to the hospital staff over lunch. By the time I’m done with him, he’ll be lucky to get any referrals at all.”
“You’ll go to your meeting when we’re finished,” I said. “And not before.”
He drew a purse string around his mouth.
I slid carefully onto the chair opposite him. “Start with an easy question. “Where were you between three-thirty and four yesterday?”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes, yesterday. Thursday, May fifth, three-thirty to four PM, in the afternoon.”
“Spare me the sarcasm.”
“Spare me the stupid games. Especially if you want to get to your meeting before it’s over.”
“I was here. In my office. Seeing patients from two o’clock till five, straight through.”
“You didn’t leave the office at all? Not even to go to the bathroom?”
“We have our own bathrooms right here. But for the record, no, I didn’t use the bathroom from lunchtime till the end of office hours. Can I ask why you want to know where I was yesterday afternoon?”
“No. Now, I’m taking it as established fact that you and Dr. Hearn were doing IVF on the Kennetts, and the sample Dr. Hearn dropped was Mr. Kennett’s sperm. You told me it came from a medical student, for an experiment, but that was a lie. Dr. Hearn was going to use that sample to fertilize Ms. Kennett’s eggs for IVF, wasn’t she?”
Sanford’s smug smile made a comeback. “Think whatever you want,” he said. “The only procedure Dr. Hearn did on James’ sperm, on the one sample she had, was Density Gradient Separation.”
“You’re sure? There really was only one sample?”
“Yes.”
“You’re on shaky ground, Doctor. I’ve told you, I’ve got a witness who’ll testify that you came running over there right after Dr. Hearn dropped the sample, and then you and she went off in a hurry to the supplies room. And here’s something else. I know that when you left the supplies room, you went straight to the men’s room, found a janitor fixing a clogged sink, and threw him out. Why’d you do that? How much privacy do you need to take a leak?”
No smug smile now.
“Dr. Sanford, be careful what you say. Tell me lies, I promise, they’re going to come back to haunt you.
He ran his tongue over his lips. I raised a finger. “Careful.”
“All right. I did have to get a second sample from James Kennett, or we’d have had to cancel the procedure. Infertile couples are fragile under the best of conditions, and I thought Joyce was on the razor’s edge. She’d fixed all her hopes on that Density Gradient Procedure. So after Giselle called me, I got hold of James and told him his sample was inadequate, that we’d need a second one quickly, and best not to say anything to Joyce.”
He paused, clicked his tongue. “Try to understand, Mr. Baumgartner. Most men don’t find it easy to go into a public bathroom and masturbate, but to produce a second sample within a short period of time is even tougher. A janitor there, cursing and clanking pipes, would’ve been a real problem. So when I went into the men’s room, yes, I did have a collection vessel in my pocket. I’d left James waiting around the corner while I made sure the coast was clear. I had no idea how long the janitor was going to fuss around with the sink pipe, so I asked him to leave. Can you see why I didn’t tell you this before? I didn’t want it to get back to Joyce, and I still don’t. I hope you’ll have the decency not to tell her.”
I ignored the request. “But Ms. Wanego noticed the accident, thought something was fishy, and found out who your patient was. Then, when she found out Ms. Kennett was pregnant, she wanted ten thousand dollars to keep her mouth shut. If the accident didn’t amount to anything in the end, why didn’t you tell her to get lost? Ten thousand dollars can’t be chump change, no matter how well off you are.”
He leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. “Look, we’ve talked about this before, the last time you were here, in fact. I told you then, and I’ll tell you again, I did not pay any blackmail to that supervisor. Now, unless you can prove I did, can we move along?”
I’d thought about checking the numbers of the bills in Wanego’s little wooden box against bank records for Sanford’s withdrawals. But for that, I’d have needed a warrant, and I was in no position to get one. Didn’t matter, though. The plan I had in process would be a whole lot more conclusive. Airtight-conclusive. “Last time I was here, you gave me a hypothetical,” I said. “Let’s take it further. If Ms. Wanego actually had tried to blackmail you, would you have discussed the situation with Dr. Hearn?”
He looked at his watch. “Mr. Baumgartner, I—”
“It’s your hypothetical. Your game. Play it.”
He shook his head. “All right. Yes, I guess I would have talked to Giselle, if only because I wouldn’t have wanted the supervisor to try for a double dip, and blindside her.”
“And what would have come out of that conversation?”
“I guess we’d have decided to see whether the supervisor would stick to her word.”
“And if she didn’t?”
“We’d have had to figure out how to deal with it.”
“No ideas right then?”
“Not from me. But Giselle had a close daily association with Ms. Wanego. She might’ve had an ace in the hole.”
“What might that ace in the hole have been?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You wouldn’t have asked her? Doctor, I give you credit for having a good set of smarts. How about you return the favor?”
“Credit where credit’s due? All right. Yes, I suppose I might have asked if she had anything in mind, but even if she did, if she hadn’t wanted to tell me, I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere. When Giselle planted her feet on something, you couldn’t move her off it with a winch. So I’d have told myself to wait and see what develops. One step at a time.”
“I wonder what would happen if I took you downtown,” I said. “Hooked you up to a polygraph while we discuss your hypotheticals. I’ll bet that reading would look like an earthquake.”
He didn’t flinch. “I’ll tell you what would happen. You’d be out of a job. I called the chief of police yesterday, and filed a complaint about the way you were harassing Joyce Kennett. I told him I wasn’t going to sit still for it. He assured me he’d have a talk with you, and that if I had any further problems, I should let him know.” He pushed back from his desk and walked around to face me. “Mr. Baumgartner, you’ve put my poor patient through hell, not that things haven’t been bad enough for her. I’m not going to let you persecute her even more over a lab accident that in the end had no effect on her care.”
“It would’ve had a big effect if that second sample didn’t really come from her husband.”
He rested a hand on his desk, an inch away from a hefty letter-opener. “Even if you’re right, that would be a civil, not a criminal, matter. And in any case, it’s a nasty accusation.”
“Nasty wouldn’t be even close to the right word if that was the way it went. And if Mr. Kennett found out about it—say, if Dr. Hearn told him how glad she was that that second sample had worked—I wonder if he’d have been upset enough to pull out a gun and start shooting. You told Dr. Hearn the sample came from Mr. Kennett, didn’t you? But I don’t think it did.”
The hand came off the desk, formed a fist, punched the other palm a couple of times. “All you’ve done since you walke
d in here has been to throw maybes and what-ifs at me. You said Dr. Hearn and I were doing in vitro fertilization on the Kennetts. If you’ve got proof of that, go ahead, I’m listening. Otherwise, I’m on my way to my meeting. Take me downtown, if you’d like. We’ll see who comes out the worse for it.”
“The proof is in Dr. Hearn’s log,” I said, very quietly, and damn if he didn’t glance for a split second at the file cabinet. “Right on, Doctor. You sure it’s still where you hid it?”
For the first time, I saw Sanford at a loss. I almost laughed, watching him freeze to the floor, trying not to turn and take a hard look at the cabinet. “Check it out,” I said. “See if you’ve still got it.”
He looked like a yokel, trying to read a shell game. “You’re a decent bluffer, Baumgartner. But no go. I don’t have any idea where that log is.”
I got up, walked to the door. “I’ll wait outside.”
I didn’t have to wait long. Less than a minute later, the door slammed open and Sanford burst through. He looked like someone had painted his cheeks and lips with library paste. “You broke in here and stole them. If you didn’t have a warrant—”
I strolled back inside; he stomped after me. “Stole ‘them?’” I said. “Did you hide something else with the log? I didn’t say I broke into your office, and I didn’t say I stole anything. I didn’t say I had the log. All I said was that the log proves you were doing IVF.”
“How would you know if you didn’t read it?”
“I didn’t say I read it. I only said what it proves. But if you really don’t have it any more, I guess there’s no way you can prove to the world you won your race. All that hard work for nothing. What a shame.”
This was where I was going to give him a quid pro quo he wouldn’t be able to resist. But he moved like a snake, shot out a hand, and grabbed my shirt. Pure reflex, I shoved him off, and swung my left forearm toward his chin. A bolt of pain flew from my bullet wound down the outside of my leg, and I flinched. Before I could react, Sanford had delivered a fist to my breadbasket. I doubled over, straightened, and launched a left to his jaw, but when I tried to follow it with a right, he made a move the likes of which I’d never seen, and planted a right cross on the side of my head. Lights flashed on and off. I took a couple of steps back to regroup, then moved forward, both fists ready. Sanford ducked, grabbed at my left arm, twisted, and I was on my back. If I’d thought the punch had hurt, the pain as my can whacked onto the floor made that seem like nothing.
My ego hurt even worse than my ass. A doctor, five inches shorter than me and forty pounds lighter, had made me into chopped liver. I thought about reaching inside my jacket for my gun, but figured Sanford might kick out my teeth before I could work the piece out of the holster. He stood over me, a look on his face like he’d just woken from a dream. He hadn’t followed up the judo move, and I felt pretty sure the fight was over if I wanted it to be. Which I did. Not that I wouldn’t have minded a chance to even matters, but that wasn’t why I was there.
I worked my way up off the floor, forced myself to stand straight, then took a few seconds to clear my head. “Now, you’ve really got problems,” I said. “Assault on a police officer.”
“Damn you.” Not much more than a whisper, then a thoroughly disgusted look as he lowered himself onto the edge of his desk. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbed at the little stream of blood at the corner of his mouth. “Well, I’ve only got myself to blame, letting a bozo like you work me up like that. All right, go ahead. Take me in, and let’s see what happens.”
“You mean what happens when you tell the chief I stole your…Dr. Hearn’s log? Forget it. I’m not going to take you in, and I’m not going to say anything about what you did. Frankly, I’d be embarrassed.”
All the slump went out of him. His jaw set. He was winning again. He thought.
I smiled. “Where’d a little fucker like you learn to fight like that?” I asked. “Big brother give you lessons?”
Surprise, his eyes went watery, and when he started to talk, his first words were quavery. “I learned to fight like that because I am a little fucker. In grade school, guys like you used me for a punching bag till I got sick and tired of it. Remember Aldo Ferrigno, the old welterweight? He used to come by the Boys’ Club a couple of blocks from where I lived, and give boxing lessons. The first time I clocked one of the guys who was always after me in school took care of that problem. And I’ve been doing judo since I was in college. It’s come in handy more times than you’d think. You underestimated me, didn’t you?”
“Hard to deny it.”
“All my life, that’s how it’s been. Whether I’m in an operating room or a bar, people underestimate me. They think a little guy like me is a sure pushover. Their mistake.”
I nodded. “I should’ve known, no matter how mad you were, you wouldn’t have started something with a guy half a foot taller than you if all you had in your pocket was a few lessons in the manly art from a big brother.”
I wasn’t just making conversation. Sure enough, his eyes filled again. “What?” I asked.
He raised his head just enough to meet my eyes. “I did have a brother, but he died when I was four. Accident. My fault.”
“What happened?”
“I was four, he was five. My father had the cover off a wall socket that wasn’t working right. I was sore—you know how it is with kids. I wanted to go to the Fourth of July parade, not sit and wait for my father to fix a lousy socket. I went into the living room to sulk, but that didn’t make me feel any better, so I decided to play a tune on my mother’s music box. Major no-no, but I didn’t care. When I reached up to the shelf and pulled on the handle to wind it, the way I’d seen my mother do, the damn thing toppled and came crashing down on me. My father ran in, and while he was gone, Victor stuck a metal screwdriver into the socket. He was off-the-charts brilliant, five years old. My parents already had a private tutor for him.” Sanford shook his head. “My mother never got over it.”
They named him Victor, I thought, and gave Number Two a name like Colin. How unintentional was that broken music box? “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Thanks.”
I took a deep breath. “All right. Let’s get back to business. I’ve got a lead in Alma Wanego’s disappearance, but I need help to follow it up. Here’s the deal. Later tonight, you give me that help, and then you’ve seen the last of me. How does that sound?”
“Damn good. But what exactly do I have to do?”
“Come along with me.”
“And?”
“You’ll see.”
“You’ve got to tell me more than that.”
“No, I don’t. You can play ball and help me close this case, or else I’ll have to take the long way around Robin Hood’s little red barn, and you’ll end up spending a whole lot more time in my company. And if you get me taken off the case, I’ll make sure every news reporter in this city has the information I’ve got. Think about the field day they’ll have with that. Ms. Kennett will find out about the second sample, and then you’ll be lucky to hold onto your license to practice, never mind that no woman in her right mind will set foot inside your office again. Gossip’s harder to deal with than truth. You know that.”
“And you don’t care about your job?” He squinted at me. “You’re not bluffing, are you?”
“Nope. I care about my job, but only up to a certain point.”
I had him. It was all over his face. “What’ve you got to lose, Sanford? If you really had nothing to do with Ms. Wanego’s disappearance, why should you say no?”
“Suppose you’re wrong? What happens if I do what you say, but it doesn’t work out, and you can’t close the case?”
Time to play my hole card. “You help me follow this lead, you’re off the hook, win, lose, or draw. You and Ms. Kennett never see my face again.
I forget everything I’ve heard about the second sample. And besides, you never know. Maybe the Good Deed Fairy is so pleased, she gets your missing log book back to you. That’s a hypothetical, of course.”
He didn’t want to laugh. “Baumgartner, you are a bastard. Anyone else ever tell you that?”
“Start with my wife.”
He gave me a long look.
“I think we’ve got a deal,” I said, ignoring the complaints from my leg muscles and the pounding from my left hindquarter. “Give me a pencil and a piece of paper.”
He reached to the desk, then handed me the pencil and a little pad. I scribbled Iggy’s address and phone number, then passed the pad back to him. “Can you get over there by six?”
He nodded. “Office hours are done by five. Do I need to get coverage for my patients?”
“Definitely.”
“And you won’t give me any idea where we’re going?”
I shook my head. “Trust me, Doctor.”
***
All the way to my car, I felt restless, feverish. I couldn’t stop thinking about that business with Sanford and his brother. Why should remembering an accident that happened nearly forty years earlier turn an arrogant, cocksure doctor into a teary-eyed little boy? Didn’t add up. But in police work, when something doesn’t add up, you go find yourself a better calculator.
A ten-minute drive from Pill Hill, and I was in front of the Emerald City Hall. I parked in a Police Only space out front, then worked my way up the twenty-seven marble stairs to the door. By the time I pulled the handle, my shirt was sticking to the skin on my back. First heat wave of the year, temperature in the mid-eighties, with ninety percent humidity for good measure. I mopped my handkerchief over my face, went inside, and took the elevator to the sixth floor, Department of Vital Statistics.
A young Mexican woman with a stupendous swirl of black hair and teeth like a movie star flashed those pearls from behind her barred counter window. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“I need a death certificate.”
“Oh, sure.” She took a form from a pile at her side, and pushed it toward me, underneath the bars. “You can fill this out here, or you can take it home and mail it in. We’ll send you a copy in two to three weeks.”