Breach of Ethics

by Sharon St. George

  Front door or secret passage?

  “Of course not," Snyder said. "That could have been managed. But you must recall that Gavin had recently become quick to anger. When he realized Hector and I had been lovers, he vowed that he would never under any circumstances recommend that Hector have custody of Natasha. He became insulting, accusing Hector of using me as a tool in his custody fight.”

  That sounded right to me, but I didn’t say so. I thought I could see where this was going. But now my panic had taken a new turn. Perhaps Korba wasn’t my main worry at this moment.

  “Dr. Snyder, did either of them know Quinn kept a gun in his office?”

  Snyder glanced toward the desk. “I suppose both of them knew it was in that unlocked drawer. Waiting around in this office, anyone would be tempted to do a bit of exploring.”

  A chill went through me. How did she know the gun was kept in his desk drawer? Unlocked?

  Sucker. She had almost convinced me that Hector was the killer and that he had acted alone. This wasn’t the time to show my hand.

  “Dr. Snyder, it sounds as if the two men quarreled, one of them took the gun out of Quinn’s desk and during the scuffle, it went off, killing Gavin Lowe. Is that what you think happened?”

  Snyder dropped her head into her hands. “Yes, but I wasn’t here in the room—I only heard it while I stood on the staircase just outside the false wall. I believe that’s what happened.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?” There was more to this story than she was telling, and I couldn’t figure out how to leave safely until I’d gotten to the bottom of it. I’d let her keep talking just a moment longer.

  “I was afraid of Hector. I didn’t want him to know I’d overheard his quarrel with Gavin. If I accused him of murder and the police decided not to arrest him, he would have come after me. I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended I still cared for him and that the fling with Gavin was a mistake. He went along with that, because Natasha was still critical and in the PICU. Without Gavin to supervise her care, Hector needed me to take over.”

  I tried again to persuade her, urgency in my voice. “Then that’s what you need to tell the police. We should go. Right now.” If I could just get her to the police station, the truth of her story could be sorted out there.

  “Yes, we need to go.” She rose and walked toward the bathroom. I followed her, turning off the desk lamp on the way. When she stepped inside the bathroom, I heard her gasp.

  “Quite a yarn you’ve spun, my darling. Some of it is even true.” It was the unmistakable voice of Hector Korba. I felt a thud in my chest—my heart trying to leap out of my ribcage.

  Snyder backed up as Korba advanced on her. “Now let’s see if I can convince Miss Machado to believe my version.” He turned on the desk lamp and motioned toward the table and chairs. “Please ladies, let’s sit and chat.”

  Chapter 38

  It seemed I was destined to spend all night in Quinn’s office, perhaps ending my life there. Snyder and Korba might not be on the same page, but they had more in common with each other than either of them had with me. It also was clear that both of them were involved in Gavin Lowe’s death.

  I saw no sign of a weapon in Korba’s hands, but he was wearing a sport jacket with pockets that would easily accommodate a variety of handguns. I had a fanny pack holding nothing but car keys, my pen light, and my phone. I had a gimpy knee and I was wearing a long, straight skirt. Not ideal for using my legs in a combat situation. At least my boots had low heels. It wasn’t much, but it was something. I weighed my options while I waited to see where Korba was going with his monologue. He spoke as if he were presiding over a board meeting.

  “I shall assume that I have the floor, and I will make this brief.” His left hand rested on the table. I was acutely aware that his right hand was out of sight. “Before we begin, I will ask that you turn off your phones and place them on the table.”

  We both complied. Korba nodded in my direction. “Miss Machado, I regret that you have been dragged into this unfortunate situation; however, since you are here, you are entitled to the whole truth. Then we must decide how to proceed.” I didn’t like the sound of that.

  Korba began his rebuttal. “I overheard Dr. Snyder’s creative version of the events that led to Gavin Lowe’s death, but I must correct several important details, the first being that she was present in this room when he was shot.”

  I looked at Sybil for her reaction. She sat rigid and silent, her hands folded on the table, while Hector continued.

  “It is significant that she failed to mention that she alone knew about the gun in Quinn’s drawer. It seems she had been unable to resist the temptation to ‘explore,’ as she put it.”

  “That’s not true. They both knew it was there.” Snyder’s voice vibrated with tension.

  Korba held up a finger. “Please, Sybil, I still have the floor. Let me finish.” He turned to me, his eyes hooded, his large face a study in shadows. “It was Sybil who upped the ante by producing the gun. Until then, Gavin and I were merely venting our anger.”

  In spite of my apprehension, I raised my hand. “I have a question.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said.

  “How did you know I came here after the concert? Did you have me followed?”

  “Of course. As soon I realized how meddlesome you are, I began keeping track of you.”

  “The man on the motorcycle, right?”

  Korba waved my question away. “Never mind about that.” Easy for him to say. It wasn’t his kneecap that was fractured.

  “Then tell me this,” I said. “Is it true that you wanted Dr. Snyder to file for a divorce so you and she could marry and eventually obtain custody of Natasha?”

  “It’s true that we had discussed that arrangement, but in fact, it was Sybil’s idea. She was in a childless and loveless marriage. She saw me as her escape from that situation. I confess I would have gone along with it gladly, but she muddied the water by sleeping with the one man who could stand in the way of our plan.”

  Sybil remained mute. He patted her folded hands. “You see, dear, unlike your husband, I do not suffer from the tyranny of a jealous nature. But I was severely disappointed with your lapse in judgment. Any man but Lowe, my dear.”

  I broke in, “So you would have gone on with the plan if Lowe had been willing to help you gain custody of Natasha?”

  “Of course. Natasha is my blood and my destiny. Music is her destiny. She can fulfill that destiny only if I am her guardian and mentor.” Pity Natasha if Korba gained complete control of her life. Snyder glanced at me. Whose side was I on? Which one of them did I believe? Neither.

  “How did Dr. Lowe end up being shot?”

  Hector bared his teeth in a ghastly smile. He turned to Snyder. “Why don’t you answer Miss Machado, my dear?”

  “He was strangling you, Hector. I had no choice.” She turned to me. “You saw Gavin at the meeting that morning, how he attacked Jared Quinn. This was worse. He swore he would not testify on Hector’s behalf. In return, Hector threatened to destroy Gavin, to see that he lost his medical license. Gavin became irate and jumped Hector, tightening his hands around his neck. He was rabid, like a madman. I had to do something or Hector would have been killed.”

  Mother of God. Snyder and Korba’s tangle of conflicting stories and motives made it impossible to sort out the truth. Now they both had admitted being involved in Lowe’s death, but they were claiming … what? Justifiable homicide? I could pretend that I believed them, but if I failed, what were the odds I would survive? At that point I simply wanted to get out of there alive.

  Could I distract both of them just long enough to take Korba down? Or was Snyder the more dangerous foe? As I grappled with possible plans of attack, the fire alarm suddenly burst out in deafening shrieks, causing both Korba and Snyder to cup their hands over their ears.

  Seizing the opportunity, I gave the table a mighty shove, catching Korba at gut level and knocking him ov
er backward. While he floundered, I upturned the table and slammed it down on top of him. The crack I heard had to be the wooden tabletop connecting with his skull.

  Snyder jumped up and tried to bolt, but I grabbed the swanky infinity scarf that was wound in two unbroken circles around her neck and gave it a merciless jerk. She landed on her butt.

  Like a rodeo calf roper, I used her scarf to bind her hands and feet together behind her back while she screamed bloody murder. I lifted the table off Korba and knelt down to check on him. His face was a mess and he was out cold, but his pulse and respirations were strong.

  Snyder writhed and swore, demanding to be untied. “There’s a fire, you idiot! We need to get out of here.”

  Just as I realized there might actually be a real fire in the hospital, the door between Quinn’s office and Varsha’s reception area opened. Cleo stepped into the room and took in the scene.

  “Holy freakin’ cannoli, Machado, what have you done?”

  Seconds later Sanjay stepped in behind her. His eyes went wide when he spotted Korba on the floor, unconscious and bloody.

  “Miss Machado, this is most distressing. I hereby place you on suspension pending an investigation into this … this … calamity.”

  “Never mind that,” I said. “Help me get them out of here. Is the fire on this floor?”

  “No fire,” Cleo said. “When you wouldn’t answer your phone, I came looking for you. I sneaked into Varsha’s reception area, and when I overheard what was going on, I pulled the alarm to distract these two and give you a chance to do your Wonder Woman thing.”

  “She wisely called me in to assist,” Sanjay said. “I have summoned the police. They should be arriving shortly.”

  While we waited, Korba’s cell phone began vibrating on the floor near his hand. I picked it up and read the message he had just received. It was from Natasha.

  Goodnight Pappo I love you

  Chapter 39

  After a two-hour interview with Detective Kass at the police station, I was finally turned loose. It was around midnight. Hector Korba was in TMC’s emergency room under police guard, being observed for signs of a concussion. Sybil Snyder was still being questioned by the police.

  Cleo had been interviewed too, but her story took less time. She was waiting for me in the TPD lobby with Sig at her side.

  They invited me to their condo, where Sig served hot tea and banana bread while Cleo filled me in on the details that led her to come to my rescue. She had started to worry when she hadn’t heard from me more than an hour after I’d texted her about my meeting with Dr. Snyder. She called Nick in Portland, but he hadn’t heard from me, either. He insisted she get someone to check on me, suggesting Jared Quinn. But Quinn was out of town.

  As far as Cleo knew, I was still at the hospital, meeting with Dr. Snyder. She didn’t want to worry Sig, so she told him she’d been called in to process a visiting doctor’s temporary privileges. Too smart to walk into trouble alone, she called Sanjay, telling him a situation at the hospital required his intervention.

  “You weren’t in the library,” Cleo said, “or in the doctor’s lounge, so I asked at every nurses’ station until finally someone remembered seeing you on the third floor with Dr. Snyder.”

  “That’s when you guessed where we were?”

  “It seemed like a good bet. I figured whatever was going on with Snyder had something to do with Dr. Lowe and the secret passage.”

  Sig sat next to Cleo, his arm around her shoulders. “My wife is not just a pretty face, you know. My little Italian macaroon is one smart cookie.” He shook a finger at me. “But I’m putting my foot down. No more of this crime solving business with you. It took five years to get her down the aisle. Now that I’ve got her, I want to keep her.”

  Buck Sawyer’s wife and I sat together Sunday afternoon exchanging small talk in the waiting area of Timbergate Municipal Airport. Delta Sawyer kept up a running dialogue about redecorating their mansion on a hill west of Timbergate. I was too tired and sleep-deprived to do more than nod approvingly and pretend to know the difference between a finial and a mullion. But I was a librarian, so when I found time, I would be compelled to look them up.

  Nick finally touched down with his three passengers. Buck and Delta went on their way, while the rest of us headed for Harry’s condo. I filled Harry, Nick, and Rella in on everything they’d missed, but a lot of questions went unanswered because it was too soon to know how the police would sort it all out.

  Chapter 40

  Quinn had insisted I take a couple of weeks off, so I did a lot of sleeping in and reading at first. That was the week that Rella’s escrow closed and she moved out of Nick’s apartment. It was also the week that work started on remodeling of my apartment over the barn.

  Jack and Amah had talked to Harry about expanding the space, and he had agreed it could be done. With his fine architect’s eye, he had figured out how to use the existing deck on two sides of the apartment as the space for the expansion. By the end of the second week of my vacation, my little home had grown from a studio to a fairly spacious two-bedroom apartment.

  During the remodel I had been camping out in Amah’s guest room, so on the second weekend, Nick helped me move back into my barn-top home. We spent most of the weekend together, rearranging furniture and painting walls and ceilings.

  By Sunday afternoon we were tired, but happy with the outcome of our paint job and maybe a tiny bit high on fumes. While we sat discussing whether to eat in or go out, my cell phone rang. Cleo. She never called on weekends. I had to answer.

  “What’s up?”

  “I just heard from Jared Quinn. Thought you’d want to know the latest on the Korba situation.”

  “Of course. I can’t stop thinking about Natasha and the text she left for Hector on that awful night in Quinn’s office. It nearly broke my heart.”

  “Mine, too, but I’ll get to that. First, it appears Korba and Sybil Snyder finally got their stories straight. His version was closer to the truth than hers. She finally admitted that she pulled the trigger, but they both swear that Lowe was trying to kill Hector. Hector’s skin cells were found under Lowe’s fingernails during the autopsy, but the police didn’t have DNA to make a match until you gave them Korba’s clarinet reed that you found in the greenroom. That helped support Hector’s claim that Lowe was trying to strangle him. The police took a sample from Korba, and got a match they could legally use.”

  I recalled Dr. Droz consulting with Korba about the outbreak of cellulitis on his neck, and how often I had seen Korba rubbing his neck in what I thought was an unconscious reflex.

  “I’ve been wondering if either of them were arrested for killing Gavin Lowe.”

  “Not yet, but that case is far from over. In the meantime, Snyder is suspended from the medical staff, and Korba has resigned from the board.” Cleo was quiet for a moment, then continued, “I’m still puzzled about Gavin Lowe’s violent outbursts. They were so out of character for the man I thought I knew.”

  “I might be able to shed some light on that,” I said. “Rita Lowe and I met for lunch last week and had an interesting talk. It seems Lowe had been showing signs of a personality change for quite a while. She suggested he see someone about it. He did, reluctantly, and was diagnosed with intermittent explosive disorder.”

  “That’s a real diagnosis? Don’t we all have a tendency to blow our tops on occasion?”

  “Most of us let off steam once in a while, but this condition is more severe. I found it on the Mayo Clinic website, and it fits Lowe perfectly. It describes people who react grossly out of proportion to situations.”

  “Sort of a grownup version of a temper tantrum?”

  “More serious than that. Think of things like road rage and domestic abuse. Behaviors that cause bodily injury or property damage. Lowe’s attack on Quinn during the committee meeting would definitely qualify.”

  “Did Rita say what brought it on?” Cleo asked.

  “No, and I d
idn’t feel I should push her for details. I did some research that indicates it can be biological, emotional, or psychological. Or maybe a combination. Apparently Lowe hadn’t been in therapy long enough to get to the bottom of his root causes.”

  “How’s Rita doing? She’s been through a lot these past weeks.”

  “She sounded as good as could be expected. She said she’s relieved to finally know what happened to her husband. She’s been under a lot of stress for a long time because of his infidelity, then his explosive disorder outbursts became more frequent and violent. I imagine she’ll eventually find some peace after she’s grieved and accepted her loss.”

  “I hope you’re right. She deserves it.”

  I asked Cleo about Jared Quinn. “Have you heard whether he’s been cleared?”

  “Looks like it. He sounded like his old self tonight on the phone.”

  “What about Hector Korba siccing that purse snatcher on me? And holding Snyder and me against our will that night in Lowe’s office?”

  “Quinn says Korba will definitely put in some jail time for that, even if he’s cleared of a murder charge.”

  “I hope he’s out of all of our lives for a long time,” I said, a catch in my voice. “Especially Melissa’s. She finally has an opportunity to build a new life for herself and Natasha.”

  “It’s looking good for Melissa. Her lawyer has petitioned for sole legal and physical custody. And the best part is that Korba has set up a trust for them, now that Abel Gailworth is out of the picture.”

  “It’s good to hear that the man still cares for what’s left of his family. Maybe there’s hope for their future. And it’s good to hear from you. I’ll be happy to get back to work tomorrow.”

  “I’m looking forward to it, too. It’s been a dull two weeks without you, but don’t tell Sig I said so.”

  I filled Nick in while we sat on my new couch eating Chinese take-out and watching an episode of Dr. Who. When we finished our dinner, Nick paused the TV.