Plan to Kill

by Gregg E. Brickman

  "You could have asked."

  "You would have lied."

  "No frickin' doubt." He hung up.

  Miki resisted the urge to wallow in self-pity, pushed away the remainder of her drink, and made a pot of coffee. While it brewed, she dialed Ephraim's home number.

  Sheila answered. Her voice was scratchy, sounding as if she'd been crying.

  "Sheila, this is Miki. I'm so sorry about Jo. Is there anything I can do for you."

  "Don't you think you've done enough already? You kept at her and at her. She was so worried about you, she didn't pay attention to her surroundings. You're responsible for her death, you know. Even if the police say you have an alibi and couldn't have done it."

  Miki thought it odd Sheila knew the results of her police interview. She speculated Sheila had something to do with Quinlan's behavior.

  "Sheila, that's not fair. I was threatened, and I worried Jo was in danger, too. She was my friend."

  "Right." There was a long pause. "I've got to get off the phone."

  "Wait a minute. When's the funeral?"

  "Monday. The medical examiner said she'd be ready by then." There a moment of silence. "I don't want you there."

  "Sorry, Sheila. I know Jo, knew Jo, well. I know her family. I worked with her for years. She was my closest friend for the last couple. I'll be there whether you want me or not."

  The line went dead.

  "I'm on a roll here. Two for two." Miki filled her cup and headed to the bedroom to check her email.

  She expected more bad news. She delayed it by checking her home email first, hoping to find something from her son. Then she accessed her hospital account via the Internet and signed in. A brief message from Leslie Anson, with copies to Chairman Troicki and President Gardner, advised her of her suspension without pay pending a thorough investigation of her behavior. The message ended with a statement telling her to confine her visits in the hospital to public access areas.

  Miki went to bed and cried herself to sleep.

  52

  Miki's body clock reeled in confusion. She'd taken to her bed the night before around eight and slept in fits and starts. She couldn't remember the last time she'd retired in mid-evening. As a career night shift worker, she stayed awake most of the night, even on days off and vacations, finding it easier than readjusting to a new sleep schedule every few days.

  At six in the morning, she was open-eyed, but felt like she was at the end of a harrowing twelve-hour tour. She made a full pot of Starbuck's premium dark roast, putting in a couple of extra scoops, hoping for a caffeine kick to get her through the day. She intended to keep awake until night, then sleep like a normal person. Her fuzzy-minded reasoning indicated she should be in sync with the majority of the world to deal with the idiots bent on framing her with murder.

  She considered the notion that one of those idiots wanted to kill her. The pattern of the murders seemed to favor daytime hours as most risky, though her apartment was entered in the evening.

  As she sipped the strong brew, she thought about how to best protect herself. The police were useless, considering her a threat rather than at risk. Her karate skills were inadequate, unless she had surprise on her side. Brand new brown belt. Big deal. She'd taken several sessions of women's defense training. Helpful, perhaps. She didn't own a gun and didn't know how to use one. As a murder suspect, she doubted she could buy one. She set that aside as a foolish option.

  Miki considered her impending unemployment, then made a list of ways to conserve her limited funds, getting up to adjust the air-conditioning to a higher reading. She'd change her cable TV options and cell phone plan later in the day. Since that covered the options for economy in her already sparse lifestyle, she vowed to avoid the mall, eat at home, and make better selections in the grocery store. She added those items to her scant list.

  Miki retrieved the newspaper from her front step, stopping to make a note about suspending the paper. She could read the paper online. She jotted an entry about changing her data plan, too.

  The lead article on the front-page detailed Ephraim's death and the previous murders. Cavanaugh was unavailable for comment until Monday, but Quinlan had assured the public there was no danger. The killer targeted specific people. An investigation was ongoing. Quinlan expected to resolve the case within two or three days.

  Miki laughed. "Asshole." She turned to the employment ads and confirmed what she already knew. Pickings were slim in the contracted economy—even for nurses.

  She made a list of the local staffing agencies and the people she knew who worked in them. On Monday, she'd see what she could do to find temporary employment.

  Although she felt cried-out, her thoughts drifted to Ephraim, whose murder left a hole in her life and a profound sadness. Forcing memories of better, happier times helped some. She envisioned dinner at the diner before work and early morning breakfasts across town when they would meet Sheila before her drive to Miami.

  Miki's cell phone rang. She checked the screen, recognized her coworker Susan's number, then tapped ignore. She returned the call on her landline. "You rang?" Miki said when Susan answered.

  "I heard they suspended you. I'm covering the shifts."

  "Okay." She shook her head. "Susan, I don't want to be rude, but why do I care?"

  "Anson just left. She said she was forced into suspending you, knows you didn't do anything wrong, and will make sure you have your job when this is finished."

  "She's presuming I want it."

  "Don't you?" Susan's tone sounded incredulous.

  "I don't know. I like Anson. She does what she can. However, Troicki is an ass, and administration has abdicated control of the hospital to him. My opinion."

  "She said the issue for Troicki wasn't your conflict with Ephraim."

  "No?"

  "No. The issue is Gentry. Your friendship with him has Troicki in a snit."

  "Are you the messenger assigned to remind me?"

  "Yeah. Don't shoot me."

  Miki paused. "I know it's not you, and I appreciate the message. Really I do." She paused, wiped a tear, then took a deep breath. "Susan, I'm sorry, but I need to go now, before I lose control of my tears again." She did.

  It took two more cups of her potent brew and a long shower before Miki grabbed control of her frayed emotions. She dressed in jeans and a cotton blouse, slipped on sandals, and hurried to the kitchen to grab the ringing phone.

  "This is Murphy," she said, reverting to her work-style greeting.

  Gentry replied, his voice mellow. "I know you're not working, so I'd say you're distracted." He exhaled, his breath rasping. "Look, I'm sorry I vented my frustrations on you. I hoped for a last bit of romance in my life. I should have been honest with you about my illness. Who knows? Maybe we could have had a couple of quality months together."

  "I'm sorry I invaded your privacy. Can we set it aside and move forward?"

  "It would be my sincere pleasure. Do me the favor of keeping the information confidential. Nothing will be gained by troubling others with my imminent demise."

  Miki gritted her teeth. "Of course. I won't tell anyone." She heard Gentry exhale again. This time she heard something else in the sound. Grief? Pain? Despair? "What's wrong?"

  "My daughter died this morning. She drifted away. At least John was with her. She wasn't alone."

  Miki squeezed her eyes shut, feeling yet another blow. In a soft voice, she said, "I'm so sorry. Can I do anything?'

  "Can you come to the hospital? John is a wreck. Katie is ready to go home. Elsie is going to take her to her place, I think. We need to get the paperwork in order. I could use help with John. I could use a hand with me as well."

  53

  Miki changed into black slacks and pullover, selected modest earrings and a thin gold chain, then took an extra few minutes with her makeup. As she smoothed concealer under her eyes, she mused over the fact she was acting as if her appearance meant the world. By now, everyone knew she was on suspension, howe
ver, she wouldn't go to the hospital looking cried out. She'd hold her head high and smile.

  Based on Gentry's comments, Miki thought Madeline wasn't long dead. She drove a bit over the posted speed on her way to the hospital, parked in the visitors' lot—after first removing her parking tag—and grabbed the first elevator in the lobby to the sixth floor. The cluster of people in front of Madeline's room confirmed her suspicions. No one had stepped up to manage the process for the family.

  Miki stopped at the desk and made eye contact with Wilma Carlson. "Have you taken in the paperwork yet?"

  "No. John didn't make advance arrangements. Mr. Gentry is talking to a funeral home now." Wilma appeared concerned. "I offered to help, but Mr. Gentry waved me away."

  Miki was amazed, given Madeline's condition, that John hadn't selected a funeral home and made the arrangements. "Give me the body release. I'll get it signed for you."

  Carlson turned around and asked the unit secretary for the paper. "Miki, I heard about what they did to you. It's not right. If they don't treat you fair, a bunch of us will quit in protest."

  "Wilma, thank you for your support, but it's not a good idea. Everyone needs a job, and believe me, the pickings are slim in the community. I looked at the paper and online this morning." Miki accepted the form, which the unit secretary had stamped with Madeline's name and identifying information. She stared at it for a minute, focusing on Madeline's long stay in the hospital and her slow decline. While she headed for Madeline's room, a niggling thought struggled to surface.

  Gentry waited inside the door. He opened his arms in a need-a-hug gesture. Miki stepped in and embraced him, pressing her cheek against his chest. She forced herself to ignore the constricted sounds coming from his lungs. "I'm so sorry. Losing your child is a terrible thing."

  "At least I'm around to help see to the arrangements and to make sure Katie is cared for."

  Miki stepped away and nodded toward Walden.

  He held Madeline's hand, tears streamed over his hollow cheeks, and his shoulders shook with each sob.

  Gentry leaned in close to Miki. "John's been like that since I got here. From what Wilma said, he broke the moment she died. He hasn't stopped crying. I think, in his heart, he believed she would be his wife again. Poor man."

  "Where are Elsie and Katie?"

  "Elsie was here until a few minutes ago. She couldn't do anything with him either. I told her to get Katie discharged and take her home before John gets the idea to bring the kid here to say farewell to her mother."

  "Good thinking." Miki held up the body release. "Fill this out, please. It will help move things along. The hospital isn't full. If you call the funeral home again, you should be able to arrange for a pick up here and avoid the morgue."

  The morgue was a cold, cramped, dreary space. At least she could save Walden from the knowledge his beloved wife was in such a place.

  Miki moved to the bedside and touched Walden on the shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss."

  Walden rubbed his shirtsleeve across his eyes and nose, and faced Miki. Anger and frustration flashed in his eyes. "My Madeline is dead, and it's the fault of this hospital and everyone in it." He balled his fists. "I'm lucky Katie is going home, away from this death trap. What in the hell was I thinking, leaving Madeline here all these months? I should have taken her somewhere with competent people."

  Interpreting his anger as a part of the grieving process, Miki said nothing. She pulled a chair over and sat.

  Walden started to stand, then dropped into the chair, flopping as if he were made of Jell-O. Using the arms of the chair, he pulled himself forward and grasped Miki's arm, squeezing hard. "You're part of the blame. You were working the night she came in. You should have warned me about Sanchez, told me he was in a rush."

  "John, I didn't know. Besides, Madeline asked for his partner, and Sanchez was on call. There was no decision to be made." She pulled her arm from his grasp.

  His face reddened. "You think you had no part in her sickness, in her murder?"

  Miki shook her head. "I was doing my job, just like I've done many times before. As you've done yours."

  She reached to touch his forearm, but he drew it away.

  "Al agrees with me. He says everyone medical is at fault when crimes like this happen. You understand her death is a crime. She'd be alive and home today if Dempsey hadn't fallen asleep."

  Miki glanced at Gentry, who shook his head, as if disavowing Walden's ranting. Gentry looked distraught, perhaps paralyzed by his emotions. "Al, I think you should make the phone call."

  Gentry took his cell phone from his pocket and stepped into the hall.

  "What phone call?" Walden said. "What's more important than Madeline right now?"

  "He's going to contact the funeral home and arrange for them to come here."

  Walden seemed confused for a moment, then a glimmer of understanding crossed his face. "Good. That's good. Al is always thinking of the best things. How to handle problems. I like that about him. Even when I hated him, I liked that about him." He looked at Gentry, who had returned.

  Miki nodded, not knowing what to say.

  "Al bought a place for my Madeline next to his. And, he got one for me on the other side, and one for Elsie, too, and one for Katie. Katie won't need it. She's out of this place. She'll get married and have a good life and forget about all of us someday. Maybe she'll put flowers sometimes, like they do."

  A detached expression crossed his face. He stared into space, his lips moving as if mouthing a silent prayer.

  About thirty minutes later, two men in cheap black suits appeared in the doorway with a covered gurney.

  Miki stood. "John, the men are here to take her now."

  He rose to his feet, more steady this time.

  "I'll help them. Why don't you and Al go to the lobby and wait for me?" Miki said.

  He glanced at Miki, his face devoid of emotion.

  Miki did as she promised, escorting the men and their stretcher to the loading dock next to the morgue. After thanking them for their courtesy, she left them to their task of loading the hearse.

  On her way to the lobby, she saw Troicki in the new construction area. She quickened her pace, wanting to avoid a conversation, but he was faster.

  Troicki blocked her progress through the corridor. He brushed dust from the front of his fancy, high-dollar suit. His silk tie cinched his neck, causing his beefy jowls to hang over his crisp, white collar.

  Miki thought he had overdressed for construction supervision. Though he smiled, he stood forward on the balls of his feet, as if waiting for her to speak first. She didn't.

  He extended his hand, which she did not shake. After a long, anxious moment, he spoke, his voice hard. "It's nice to see you, though I have to say it is a bit of a surprise."

  "Why?"

  "No reason especially. Are you working today?"

  "No, I'm helping friends."

  "A good thing, I suppose."

  Miki took a step to the left, trying to bypass him.

  Troicki moved to block her way.

  "I may be suspended, but this is a public corridor, and I have the right to pass. Please step aside."

  His raised his eyebrows. "I had no idea you were suspended. I'll have to check and see what I can do to assist you."

  "You've done quite enough already." She caught her breath, then decided to continue. "It's not your hospital. You're just the chairman of the board. Something that will change when the rest of the board gets a look at your failed business financing. You're due for reelection soon, and by then they'll know about the Century Arts Building and the money you took from the doctors. It'll be part of the murder investigation. It'll be public knowledge."

  He grew redder.

  Miki hesitated, knowing she wasn't wise to further bait the man. However, she was tired of feeling victimized. She took another deep breath, exhaled, and renewed her personal vow to take control of her life and circumstances.

  He yelled, "Ge
t out of my hospital, woman. I'm calling security."

  "Mr. Troicki, you can go to hell. This is a public place, a public corridor, and I'm a member of the public. Which I will remain until I sue your personal ass for harassment and abuse of board powers."

  He puffed up further. "We'll see about that. You'll regret having threatened me." He stormed away.

  "I suspect I will," she said under her breath, "but it felt good anyway." She flexed her arm and made a muscle, patting it with the other hand. "Damn good."

  54

  Miki spent Saturday afternoon with Walden and Gentry as they made arrangements for Madeline. Then she stayed with Walden while Gentry met in private with the grim little undertaker. She suspected Gentry was taking care of his own pre-planning, but she didn't ask.

  After the credit card changed hands for the last time, Miki accompanied them to Gentry's BMW and watched as Gentry held the passenger door for Walden. Gentry closed the door with a solid thump, then walked to where she stood.

  "I apologize for John's behavior earlier. He's very angry with the world at the moment."

  "I don't think it's up to you to apologize. To him, I represent the hospital. It isn't personal."

  "We don't have a lot of family—Elsie, Katie, John, me. I'd be honored if you sat with us at the services." Gentry had commissioned a simple graveside funeral under a canopy to block the hot summer sun.

  "You might want to check with John first." Miki touched his forearm. "Is there anything else I can do to make this easier?"

  "Probably not, except have dinner with me tonight. I'll take John home, get him medicated, then let him sleep. I don't think he's had a night's sleep in a week."

  "What about Katie?"

  "She'll stay with Elsie for now. John's behavior is erratic. Katie is better off with her grandmother. We're going to spend tomorrow afternoon together at Elsie's house. You're welcome to come."

  "Maybe. We'll see. But, it sounds like close family time to me."

  "What about dinner?"