The morning was gone and the rain had stopped, so I decided to drive to Timbergate and see what I could find out about Natasha Korba’s medical status. I was torn between wishing her a quick, complete recovery and hoping she could be kept hospitalized until after the custody hearing on Wednesday afternoon, just three days away. I would feel a lot better about the little girl’s future if before she was discharged, Lowe’s killer was caught and Abel and Melissa Gailworth were cleared.
I took the elevator to Natasha’s room in the Pediatric Unit on the second floor. A glance at my watch told me it was one thirty. Lunch would be over, so Abel Gailworth wouldn’t be making a fuss about Natasha’s food.
I walked toward the little girl’s private room until I was close enough to see that her door was closed. Muffled voices from inside, at least one of them male, told me she had visitors. Not good. My looking in on Natasha—a child celebrity in a private room—would seem odd to her family, even inappropriate. I could think of no way to justify my interest in her medical progress. Simple curiosity would not do.
As I stood outside the door to her room considering what to do, the volume of the voices inside escalated until I heard that of a woman—Melissa Gailworth.
“Abel … Hector, can’t you see you’re upsetting Natasha? If you must argue, please go somewhere else, or I’ll ring for the nurse.”
Good for her, I thought. Maybe Natasha’s mother has a spine after all.
The door burst open and both men stormed out and strode down the corridor, too angry with each other to notice me. I watched Korba stalk toward the elevators, Gailworth following after, saying, “You’ll never get her away from us.” As the elevator closed on Korba, it cut off part of his answering volley. “I’ll see you in hell—”
Gailworth stood glaring at the elevator door, apparently undecided about whether to go back to his wife and stepdaughter or to give himself time to calm down. To avoid being noticed, I turned away and walked toward the nurses’ station. I spotted Sybil Snyder coming toward me from the other direction. She wasn’t a pediatrician, and it was only at Korba’s request that she had taken over Natasha’s care. I assumed that the only patient she could be visiting in the Peds Unit was Natasha. I had managed to avoid being seen by Korba or Gailworth, but there was no hiding from Dr. Snyder. She reached the nurses’ station just as I did.
“Aimee, what brings you here?” she asked. “Do you have a relative in the unit?”
It surprised me how quickly I came up with a lie. “No, I’m not here to visit a patient. I’m working on a project for the library. I hoped to interview the Pediatric Unit nurses to see if there’s a way to provide children’s books for our young patients while they’re hospitalized.” After I said it, I realized it was only a lie if I didn’t actually follow up on the idea.
“On a Sunday afternoon?” Snyder asked. “You’re certainly dedicated to your job.”
I bristled. “But you’re here on a Sunday afternoon, too, Dr. Snyder.”
“Touché, Aimee. I didn’t mean to imply that your job is workaday.”
“I’m sure you didn’t, Dr. Snyder. No offense taken.”
Snyder nodded, then asked the nurse at the desk for Natasha’s chart and walked toward the girl’s room. I turned to the nurse and began ad-libbing about my project involving reading material for the Peds Unit. Sometimes great ideas are born of desperation.
When that conversation came to a standstill, I asked how Natasha was doing. “I know you can’t tell me anything specific, but someone told me Natasha might go home soon.”
“Sorry, I can’t say.” The nurse leaned toward me then, in a confidential posture. “That’s up to Dr. Snyder, but between you and me, I don’t envy that kid, no matter who she goes home with.”
As I was about to leave, Sybil Snyder returned with Natasha’s chart. I loitered for a moment, hoping to overhear something she might say about her patient, but her comments were unrevealing.
“Let’s keep the same protocol going for now,” she said. “I’ll dictate my notes right away.”
No help there. Except it did tell me that Natasha was no worse, and that whatever treatment regimen she was on was working.
Rita Lowe’s suspicion that Sybil Snyder was one of Gavin Lowe’s lovers prompted me to follow Snyder down the corridor to the elevator, as if I just happened to be going her way.
Chapter 24
Snyder and I stepped into the empty elevator. I waited to see if she was headed up or down. She pushed the button for the third floor. I nodded, as if that’s where I was headed.
“Business on three?” she asked.
Another lie came too easily. “Since I’m here, I thought I’d remind the nurses about our in-house library service. They’re so busy with patient care, they tend to forget that we can deliver reading material to patient rooms.”
As the elevator doors opened, Snyder tossed off a perfunctory, “Good luck, then.”
She stepped out, heading toward the nurses’ station. I looked past her, all the way to the east end of the corridor, remembering what Nick and Harry had said about the alcove with the locked door marked HAZARD: NO ADMITTANCE. That door opened into a passage with the staircase up to Quinn’s private bathroom. Curiosity led me in that direction. Since there were public restrooms at the end of the corridor accessed from that same alcove, I wouldn’t need to explain why I was headed that way.
As I entered the alcove, I took a good look at the phony hazard door with the warning words and the graphic of a man in a hard hat and gas mask. No doubt it was seen a hundred times a day by employees or visitors using the restrooms. It was one of those things that’s so familiar it eventually disappears from the consciousness. No doubt everyone who worked on that floor assumed whatever was behind that door was someone else’s responsibility.
Committed to my course, I entered the women’s room and decided I might as well use the facility. I was about to step out of the stall when I heard someone else enter the restroom, obviously talking on a cell phone. The voice was Sybil Snyder’s.
“Of course,” she said, “I’ll be there. Wednesday at ten o’clock.” There was a pause, then, “Calm down, for heaven’s sake. Remember your blood pressure.”
I hesitated, torn with indecision. Wednesday at ten was the time and day of Natasha’s custody hearing. Who could Snyder be talking to but Hector Korba?
I didn’t want her to think I was eavesdropping on her private conversation, but I dreaded popping out of the bathroom stall and revealing myself. I listened as she continued, “Did you hear the police are requesting DNA samples?”
I wondered how she knew that, unless she had been asked to volunteer a sample herself. “Yes, I’ve already given mine.” There was my answer.
Now I was stuck. I’d already heard too much, and I wanted to hear more. I kept quiet and hoped she wouldn’t think to check for feet under the stall doors.
“No,” Snyder said. “I don’t suppose they would feel the need to ask you. The police explained that they only asked me to rule me out because I was present when Gavin Lowe flew off the handle during the Ethics Committee meeting. If you ask me, they should get a sample from Aimee Machado, too.” That gave me a chill. I prayed she would either finish her call and leave or enter a stall and tend to business so I could sneak out.
“Yes. I just looked in on her. Your darling girl is doing well.” Another hesitation. “Don’t be silly, Hector, of course I’m still—” Snyder paused. “I can’t tonight. Glen has us booked for dinner with his parents. I’ll try to come up with something for tomorrow night.”
Wow, was I hearing what I thought I was hearing? Was Snyder making an adulterous date with Korba? Or was I leaping to the wrong conclusion? I wished to hell I wasn’t stuck in a bathroom stall a mere three feet from her.
“I have to go now, but don’t worry, I won’t be discharging Natasha before Wednesday.” Snyder paused, then said, “Tomorrow night, but we should find another place to meet. I’ll think of something an
d get back to you.”
Finally finished with planning her rendezvous, Snyder entered a stall toward the far end of the bathroom. I eased my stall door open, careful not to make a sound, and tiptoed toward the exit, feeling guilty for skipping hand washing but more concerned about making a clean getaway.
Outside the restroom, I didn’t wait for the elevator. I wanted to be out of sight before Snyder reappeared on the floor, so I headed for the stairwell. I made it down to the second floor, where I hesitated, resting my knee. It occurred to me that Melissa and her daughter might be alone together in Natasha’s room. It wouldn’t hurt to check. Korba and Gailworth had both appeared to be leaving, and Snyder had completed her hospital visit. This might be my only chance to get some sense of Melissa as a mother and of her relationship with her vulnerable daughter.
My phony story about starting a reading material program for pediatric patients was a perfect excuse for visiting Natasha’s room. It was such a good idea, in fact, that I made a mental note to follow up on it and make it happen. I stepped out onto the second floor, which was nearly empty of foot traffic on a Sunday afternoon. Approaching Natasha’s room, I slowed and listened for the sound of voices. I heard the television set on low volume, with dialog that sounded like a Disney Channel sitcom. I strolled by the partially open door and observed Natasha watching the screen and Melissa dozing in a chair. No sign of Gailworth or anyone else in the room.
I doubled back and knocked, pushing the door open a bit wider. Melissa’s eyes opened. She and Natasha both turned toward the door with startled expressions, making me wonder if they had been expecting someone else. Would Gailworth’s return spark that hyper-alert reaction? Or Korba’s? I suspected both men. Their animosity toward each other would be enough to set this mother and daughter on edge.
“Hello,” I said. “I’m Aimee Machado, the hospital librarian. I’m making a courtesy visit. May I come in?”
Natasha, with brighter eyes and more color in her cheeks, said, “Sure, if it’s okay with Mom.” She turned her attention back to her TV show.
Rising from her chair, Melissa invited me in and introduced herself and Natasha. I didn’t let on that I knew exactly who they were, but got right to my partially true reason for being there.
“I’m hoping to add a collection of books to our library for young patients to read while they’re hospitalized. I was hoping you and your daughter might have some suggestions.”
Melissa glanced toward her daughter, who gave a little shrug. “I don’t get to read very much,” Natasha said. “I spend most of my spare time practicing. Abel says—”
“Never mind what he says,” Melissa broke in, a flush coloring her face. “This nice woman is asking what sort of books you would read if you did have time.” I waited while Natasha considered that question. What she came up with threw me.
“Books about cooking,” she said, “but with pictures. I like to look at pictures of good things to eat.”
Melissa tried to redirect her daughter. “Honey, what about music? Or animals? Those are things you like.”
Natasha’s eyes glistened. “Sometimes I get tired of music. And Abel says animals are dirty and have germs. He gave away the puppy my grandfather bought for me.”
This wasn’t going well, and I had heard enough to get a bad feeling about Natasha’s dysfunctional little family. I handed Melissa my business card and suggested she contact me if she and Natasha came up with any suggestions for the pediatric collection.
“Thank you for stopping by.” She put my card in her purse. “I’ll let you know if we can help.”
With that depressing experience weighing on my shoulders, I left the main tower and struck out across the hospital campus to the small employee parking lot near the library where I had left my car. Natasha’s mention of her grandfather buying her a puppy brought my thoughts back around to Hector Korba. On the drive home I thought back to what I had overheard Sybil Snyder saying to him on the phone while I hid in that stall in the women’s room.
I tried to memorize every word so I could repeat them to Cleo, Nick, and Harry. Now we knew that Snyder was seeing someone behind her husband’s back, but it wasn’t Gavin Lowe. It was Hector Korba. What did this revelation tell us about Lowe’s murder?
As soon as I got to my apartment, I made three calls. Cleo and Nick both agreed to meet me at six o’clock at the Four Corners Pizza in Coyote Creek. I left a message for Harry, who I assumed was spending quality time with Rella, since she had to fly back to New York City on Monday morning.
When we had ordered and filled our bowls with salad, we took a table near the back of the pizza parlor. I made short work of relaying what I’d heard from inside Natasha’s hospital room, and the angry exchange between Gailworth and Korba as they walked to the elevator. I ended with an almost verbatim recitation of Sybil Snyder’s phone call in the women’s room.
“So, what do you think?” I asked.
“I think Snyder’s going to make sure Korba gets custody on Wednesday,” Cleo said. “It may be a sneaky way to get it done, but it might be for the best. That stepfather is a noodlehead.”
“I agree,” Nick said. “Sounds like a slam-dunk. You should be happy.”
I gave the table a little slap. “You’re both probably right. If Snyder’s in bed with Korba, she’s going to make every effort to paint him as the proper guardian for the girl.” I thought back to Melissa Gailworth’s challenge in Natasha’s hospital room to both her husband and her former father-in-law. And I recalled the sad little conversation I’d had with mother and daughter on the topic of reading material. “I can’t help thinking the girl and her mother are the innocent victims in this mess. I finally saw a spark of backbone in Melissa in that room. I don’t understand why she’s been letting Gailworth take the lead where her daughter’s concerned.”
“I might have an answer for you,” Nick said, raising his hand. “Buck’s geeks dug up some background on her that you’ll find interesting.”
“Good, because so far, she’s been a ghost figure, first in Korba’s shadow, and now in Gailworth’s.”
“There’s a reason for that. It’s pretty interesting.”
“Hard to imagine, from what I’ve seen.”
“I suspect that’s what she wants people to think. The woman has a past she’s kept well hidden.”
“What kind of past?”
“I’ll give you the capsule version.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Melissa was raised in a string of foster homes. In the next to last one, she endured months of abuse by one of the boys in the house, and no one came to her rescue.”
“What about the foster parents?”
“Apparently they wouldn’t act in her defense because the abuser was their biological son. Either they were in denial, or they were protecting him and their license.”
“So what happened?”
“Melissa finally took matters into her own hands. She fought the guy off with a baseball bat. Apparently she hit a home run. The bastard went into a coma and died a few days later.”
“What happened to Melissa?”
“The foster parents denied their son had attacked Melissa and claimed she was an incorrigible troublemaker who had graduated to murder. She was fifteen at the time. When the case went to court, the ruling was involuntary manslaughter, and the judge ordered the case expunged from Melissa’s record.”
I pushed my half-finished salad aside. “Hard to imagine Melissa with a past like that. How did you learn all of this?”
“It took some digging, but we were able to track down one of the other girls from that foster home. When we said Melissa might be in trouble, she wanted to help as a way to repay Melissa for protecting her from the same would-be rapist. She agreed to talk on the condition that we keep her identity concealed.”
“Does Hector know about Melissa’s past?”
“Apparently not. The woman we talked to said the boy’s parents are long gone. Left the state, maybe even the country. Meli
ssa never even told Darius Korba, her first husband, so it’s pretty certain Hector Korba never knew. Anyway, after that ordeal, Melissa lucked out and spent the rest of her youth living with a decent foster family. She finished high school and spent a couple of years in college in San Francisco, where she met Darius. You could say the rest is history.”
“So they married and had a daughter. Happy ending,” I said, “until Darius died in Afghanistan.”
“Right.” Nick nodded toward Cleo and me. “Hector became protector and provider for Melissa and Natasha until Abel Gailworth came along. By then Hector had discovered and nurtured Natasha’s musical talent.”
Cleo sat up straight, alert to the significance of Nick's information. “It must have torn him up when Gailworth took control away from him. I wonder if Gailworth knows the truth about Melissa’s past. If she didn’t tell her first husband, do you think she would have told him?”
Nick tilted his head, mulling over that possibility. “Darius apparently believed in his wife and had no reason to dig into her past. Gailworth’s a different breed—a con man and a charmer. He could have coaxed it out of her. We’re fairly certain he married Melissa to get custody of Natasha—a little Golden Goose. If he’s holding Melissa’s past over her head, he has her just where he wants her.”
“Oh, no.” I felt a sinking sensation. “Poor Melissa! If that’s the case, she’ll do whatever it takes to keep Gailworth from revealing all. Think of the leverage it would give Hector Korba in a custody hearing.”
“Wait,” Cleo said. “If the conviction has been expunged, Gailworth would be unable to prove it ever happened.”
Breach of Ethics Page 20