by D P Lyle
Nathan looked from Jill to me, back to her. “How long you two been sleeping together?”
“Mr. Zimmer . . . ,” Jill began.
He raised a hand. “Don’t protest. It’s obvious.” He gave me a thumbs-up. “Good job.”
Jill shook her head. “You are definitely as advertised.” “And then some,” Nathan laughed.
“You should listen to Dr. Lawson and put the work aside. Relax a little.”
“Trust me,” Todd said. “This is relaxing for him. If he couldn’t do business, he’d climb the walls and drive the nurses crazy.”
“I feel like nothing happened,” Nathan said.
“Well, something did happen,” I said. “Something very dangerous. You dodged a very big bullet. You got two stents and hopefully everything is going to be okay, but you could’ve easily died long before you got here.”
“But I didn’t. Thanks to you. And Dr. Edelman.”
Most people, after suffering a life-threatening event, get religion. They want to know what they did wrong and how they can make things better and will this ever happen again and all the normal things that cross someone’s mind after a brush with mortality. Many of them want to start turning their diet and exercise regimen upside down immediately. These people you often have to hold back until everything is settled and then get them into a rehab program where they learn how to do things properly.
Nathan wasn’t that way. I’d seen people like him, too. They forget the fear and anxiety. Forget how close to death they were. Forget everything except what came before and jump right back into the same arena.
The truth is that type A people can’t be made type B. The stress of change is much worse than the stress of driving forward. Nathan was type A plus, so I didn’t argue with him.
“It’s good to see you doing well,” I said.
“Are you still going to be my doc? After I get out of here?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” I smiled and waved as we left his room.
After we left the cardiac ICU, Jill said, “He’s a piece of work.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Come on, I want to show you something,” Jill said.
“What?”
“Valerie Gilroy’s labs.”
“What about them?”
“You’ll see.”
We walked down the hall to the medical ICU. One of the nurses found Valerie’s chart and slid it across the counter toward us. Jill flipped it open to the lab section and turned it toward me.
“What do you make of these?”
I took a few minutes to thumb through the pages, reading each of her lab reports in turn. The results were not what I expected. Her potassium and magnesium levels were frighteningly low, her thyroid studies were off-thechart high, and she had a digitalis level of 4.5, which was over twice the upper limits of the therapeutic range. Then there was the drug screen. Amphetamines. What the heck?
“What is all this? Her lytes and her thyroid are screwed up and she has digitalis and amphetamines in her system?”
Jill shrugged.
“Does her doctor know about these?”
“Yeah. Said he’d talk with her after he finished office and made evening rounds.”
“Athletes sometimes use amphetamines to improve performance. Thyroid hormone, too. The low electrolytes could be from diuretics. To keep her weight down. Foolish, but I’ve seen this combination before.” I thumbed through the remainder of her chart. “Why was she taking digitalis?”
“She wasn’t. At least not that she knew.”
This made no sense and I said as much.
“Both she and her father swear she takes nothing except for some vitamins and a couple of different types of protein powder. She says it helps with her running.”
“Where does she get the vitamins and the powder?”
“I don’t know.”
“I want to talk to her.”
Jill led me down to cubicle three, where we found Valerie, bed cranked up to a sitting position, chatting with her father. He sat in a chair next to her bed. She looked remarkably well. Much better than when I saw her sprawled in the backseat of her father’s car. She had an IV in each arm, and the cardiac monitor above her head beat a steady rhythm.
Tony stood. “Dr. Lawson. Ms. Casey.” He nodded to Jill.
I walked to the other side of the bed and looked down at Valerie. “You look great. How’re you feeling?”
She gave me a quizzical look. “Who are you?”
Tony answered. “This is Dr. Lawson. He saved your life today.”
“Along with some other people,” I said.
“Sorry. I don’t remember.”
“I wouldn’t expect that you would,” I said with a smile. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine. Except for these burn spots on my chest.” She fingered a circular red area just to the right of her sternum.
“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” I said. “Those electrical paddles will do that sometimes.”
“I hope they don’t leave scars.”
“They’ll fade in a couple of days.”
“Good. No bathing suit until they do.”
“I understand you’re on the track team,” I said. “Cross-country, too?”
“Yeah. I’m pretty good. Aren’t I, Dad?”
“That’s because you work hard at it.”
“How much do you run each week?” I asked.
“It varies. Anywhere from twenty to forty miles.”
“At least,” Tony said.
She laughed. “I love it.” She glanced at her father. “I’m maybe a little compulsive about it.”
Tony laughed. “That’s an understatement.”
“I guess you have to watch your diet,” I said. “Carb loading and all that?”
“I get to eat all the baked potatoes I want and my friends can’t. Makes them so jealous.”
“I’m jealous,” Jill said.
“I’ll bet you take vitamins and supplements?” I asked. “Right?”
“Absolutely. They really help with my energy and keep my weight under control. Hard to run over the hills if you’re carrying extra pounds.” She laughed again.
Life is a matter of timing. A minute here or a minute there can change everything. Had Valerie arrested a couple of minutes earlier, before her father raced into the emergency parking lot, she might have suffered severe and irreversible brain damage and I would be here looking at a brain-dead girl on a ventilator rather than talking with a pleasant and delightful young lady. Had she arrested five minutes earlier, she might not be here at all.
“Do you have any of them with you?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Do you think those have anything to do with what happened?” Tony asked.
“I don’t know.”
“I can bring some in,” Tony said. “I’ve got to go home, but I’ll be back later. I can bring them then.”
“That would be great. Can you give them to Ms. Casey when you do?”
Jill raised an eyebrow in my direction.
“Will do.”
“Where do you get your vitamins?” I asked.
“She sees a nutritionist,” Tony said. “For the past few weeks anyway. Seems to help, because her times are lower than they’ve ever been.”
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Dr. Julian Morelli,” Valerie said. “He’s the best.”
Chapter 27
I handed Valerie’s chart to the charge nurse and we left the ICU. As the door hissed closed behind us, Jill asked, “Where’s my coffee?”
“Maybe in the ER?”
She hesitated and then said, “Yep. I left it on the counter in the nurses’ station.”
“I think I can spring for another one.”
“Cafeteria? Where I get it free?”
“Of course.”
“Big spender.”
Jill pushed open the stairwell door and I followed her down.
“What exactly am I su
pposed to do with these pills when Mr. Gilroy brings them in?” she asked over her shoulder.
“I was hoping the lab might be able to test them.”
“You know our lab isn’t equipped for that. I’d have to send them out to one that did chemical testing.”
“I assumed that.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever done that before, but I am sure the board won’t be thrilled with me spending money.”
“How much could it be? A few hundred dollars?”
We exited the stairwell and entered the cafeteria. It was quiet with only a few of the tables occupied. We each grabbed a cup of coffee and sat at a table.
“I’ll just grab a few hundred off the money tree out back,” Jill said.
“Don’t you think this would come under the heading of patient care? Valerie had a cardiac arrest because her electrolytes were out of whack and she had amphetamines, digitalis, and thyroid hormone on board. I think we need to know where those came from.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“I might have some more for you to analyze, too.”
“Oh?”
“Rose Maher and Amanda Brody? The patients I ran into while jogging yesterday? They’re also taking Morelli’s pills.”
“What? You’re thinking this guy is poisoning people?”
“I don’t know. You have to admit that the lab findings on Valerie Gilroy are troubling. She’s got all that crap in her system and the only thing she takes are a handful of pills from some dude whose name keeps popping up everywhere.”
Jill cradled her coffee in both hands and took a sip. “This young girl and a couple of your patients isn’t exactly ‘everywhere.’ ”
“Nicole is also seeing him.”
“Nicole? Odd-behavior Nicole?”
“My point exactly.”
She stared into her coffee for a minute, then looked up at me and nodded. “Bring the pills in. I’ll make sure they get tested.”
“I knew you’d come through.”
“That’s me. Take one for the team.”
“I owe you.”
“Big-time.”
I parked in front of Rose Maher’s house, a rambling ranchstyle with two guesthouses and sweeping ocean views. Amanda Brody’s sleek black Bentley convertible sat in the circular drive. I pulled my trusty Saab up beside it.
I’d called Rose before I left the hospital, telling her I wanted to come by for a chat. She said that she and Amanda had an appointment in forty-five minutes. I told her I’d be there in fifteen.
“What brings you by?” Rose asked as she led me out onto her rear patio.
Amanda was sitting at a table, partially shaded by a vine-covered pergola, drinking some thick brownish liquid through a straw.
I took an empty chair. “I wanted to talk to both of you about your new dietary program.”
“You mean this?” Amanda lifted the glass toward me. “It’s a protein drink. I have three a day.”
“From Julian Morelli?”
“Of course. It has protein powder, two eggs, omega-3 oil, flaxseed, grape-seed oil, and a ton of vitamins.” She extended the glass toward me. “Want a taste?”
“No, thanks.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Have either of you experienced any unusual symptoms? Fatigue, shortness of breath, nausea, or palpitations? Maybe seeing a yellow hue to everything?”
Rose looked at me with narrowed eyes. “What’s this about?”
“Just worried about your health.”
Rose propped one foot on the chair next to her and retied the laces of her walking shoe. “Hank, I know you’re not a big fan of natural-food products, but this stuff really does work.” She waved a hand toward Amanda. “We’ve been dieting and working out together for years and we’ve never seen anything like this. We’ve lost weight and our energy levels are sky-high.”
“That’s true,” Amanda said. “I haven’t felt this good since I was twenty.”
“Something about all this is bothering you,” Rose said. “What’s going on?”
“I just resuscitated a young woman, a runner, over at Hamptons Heritage Hospital. She had toxic levels of a couple of medications, amphetamines in her system, and her blood chemistries were all wrong.”
“Is she okay?” Amanda asked.
“Fortunately, yes. But she was lucky.”
“What does that have to do with us?” Rose asked.
“She was also taking Julian Morelli’s vitamins.”
“Sounds like she was taking some other stuff, too.”
“Not according to her and her father.”
Amanda drained the last of her protein drink, placed the empty glass on the table, and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t understand. Are you trying to say that Julian gave her all that stuff?”
“I don’t know, yet. We’re analyzing the pills she took. Then we’ll know.”
“What do you want from us?” Rose asked.
“To stop taking this stuff until I know more.”
“No way,” Amanda said. “I’ve never taken anything that works like this. There’s no way it could be bad.”
“You might be right. But don’t you think it would be safer to test it before taking it?”
They both gave me skeptical looks.
“Both of you watch your diet and exercise. Do all the right things. Why would you want to take something and not know what it is?”
“All the ingredients are natural,” Amanda said.
“Arsenic is natural. Would you take that?”
“That’s ridiculous. Of course we wouldn’t. But these are just vitamins and herbs.”
“Most poisons come from herbs. Foxglove, belladonna, narcotics, all come from the plant world.”
“Julian Morelli wouldn’t give us anything harmful. He’s a nutritionist. He’s an expert in this.”
I could see this argument wasn’t going very far, so I decided to take a more practical approach. “Why don’t you give me a couple of your pills and let me draw some blood? Then we’ll know what you’re taking and whether it’s doing any harm. Does that seem reasonable?”
Again they hesitated, glancing at each other, each apparently waiting for the other to say something.
“You don’t really have anything to lose,” I said.
They finally agreed.
The pills and the blood samples were in my pocket as I walked back out to my car. A polished silver 750Li BMW pulled up and parked next to my Saab—trusty, old, and a green color that should probably never have been put on a car. The fact that it wasn’t worth the cost of a tune-up on either the Bentley or the Beemer it sat between crossed my mind.
Julian Morelli stepped from the BMW.
I had never met him, had never seen him before, but I knew it was him. Couldn’t be anyone else. He was the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome. His deep tan was permanent, his black hair thick and wavy, and his teeth were blindingly white when he smiled.
I felt underdressed. I had on my usual jeans, untucked shirt, and tennis shoes. His suit, Italian, perfectly tailored, definitely overpriced, his open-collared black silk shirt, and his spit-shined shoes screamed Hamptons. His diamond pinkie ring caught the sunlight.
“So you’re the famous Hank Lawson,” he said. We shook hands. “HankMed. Right?” I nodded. “I’ve heard wonderful things about you.”
“I pay people to say those things.”
“You must pay them well.” His smile wattage increased. “Everybody says you’re the best concierge physician in the Hamptons.” He nodded toward the house. “Were you seeing Rose and Amanda?”
“Yes, I was.”
His face adopted a look of concern. Real or forced I wasn’t sure.
“I hope everything is okay,” Julian said.
“Just fine. This was more a social call than anything else.”
He consulted his oversized, diamond-encrusted Breitling. “I have an appointment with them.” Another blinding smile.
“Come see my clinic sometime. I would love to show you what we’re doing.”
“That would be nice.”
He nodded and headed toward the front door. Before he reached it, he stopped and turned. “Actually, we’re having an open house tomorrow. To kick off our new ‘Take Control’ program. Why don’t you come by?”
“I might do that. Thanks for the invitation.”
Chapter 28
Before taking the pills and the blood vials to Jill, I swung by the Wentworth estate. Sam told me that Ellie had gone shopping with Jackie. I told him that I wanted to talk to Nicole anyway. He said he would see if she was there. He hadn’t seen her for a couple of hours and she might have slipped out.
Sam picked up the phone from the table in the foyer and punched a couple of buttons, which I assumed was the extension to Nicole’s room. He told whoever answered that I was there and then hung up.
“She’s coming down,” Sam said. “Would you care to wait in the parlor?”
“Sure.”
Sam left and almost immediately Nicole came down the stairs. Ashley followed.
“Sam said you wanted to see me?” Nicole said.
“I’d actually like to talk with both of you.”
“Sure,” Ashley said as she flopped down in a chair. She wore jeans, no shoes, and an oversized sweatshirt. She tugged the cuffs down over her hands, so that only her fingers were visible.
Nicole, also barefoot, wore jeans, frayed at the cuffs, and a pink V-neck T-shirt. She sat on the sofa, curling her legs beneath her. “Talk about what?”
“Julian Morelli.”
They exchanged a quick glance.
“What about Julian?” Nicole asked.
“There might be a problem with the vitamins he’s giving you.”
“Are you kidding?” Nicole said. She lifted the waistband of her jeans away from her abdomen. “Look at this. I’ve already lost six pounds and I feel great.”
“More important,” Ashley said, “you’re going to look fabulous in that wedding dress.”
One thing you could say about Julian Morelli was that he was one heck of a salesman. Valerie, Rose, Amanda, and now Nicole and Ashley bought into his program, no questions asked.
“Let me tell you a story,” I said. “It’s about a young girl who nearly died a few hours ago.”