“Which is something else that Friedland complained about. He says you stacked the committee in Gelman’s favor because you’re committed to supporting her tenure case. Why isn’t the IRB investigating this?”
“Because Carlson’s chair of the IRB and he’s determined to get Gelman kicked out. She wouldn’t get a fair hearing from the IRB, so I appointed an independent committee that’ll give her one.”
“And what’s your relationship with her? Why are you pushing to help her?”
“I’m just trying to do what you asked—to be sure that these tenure cases are properly handled. There’s something strange going on with Gelman’s case. A lot of the faculty are strongly set against her. They don’t like her as a colleague, and several were openly hostile at her tenure seminar. Especially Carlson. She’s been routinely bad-mouthed, and don’t forget that someone attempted to sabotage her work by unplugging her freezer. And now she has to deal with the death of a patient, which is traumatic for anybody. All I’m trying to do is to make sure that she gets a fair shot.”
“And do you have a more personal relationship with Gelman? What do you have to say about this?”
She held up a phone to the screen. With the picture of Carolyn and me from this morning. Whoever my blackmailer was, he was no slouch.
“Shit! They sent it to you already.”
“I take it you’ve seen this before. Answer my question: Are you or are you not having an affair with Carolyn Gelman?”
“Absolutely not.” I told her the story, just leaving out the part about Carolyn coming into my bed during the night.
She shook her head when I finished. “I’d like to believe you, but you’ve got to know that story’s a stretch. You sure as hell can get yourself into some deep shit. For your sake, I hope they don’t send it to Karen.”
I tried to keep my face neutral. “I already did. I wanted to see if she could trace the sender.”
She looked at me without saying anything for a long moment. Then she frowned and shook her head. “I hope she believes you. The best I can do is give you the benefit of the doubt for now.”
I wished I knew whether Karen believed me. Maybe she, too, was just giving me the temporary benefit of the doubt. But I wasn’t going to share those concerns with Claire Houghton.
“All right,” I said. “I understand where you’re coming from. But tell me, what phone number did your message come from?”
She checked and gave me the number.
“Mine came from the same phone. Karen said it’s a burner, and her team couldn’t identify the sender. She was able to tell that it was sent from the Boston area, though.”
“Do you think it’s from Carlson?”
“I don’t know. That was my first thought, but he was here when the message to me was sent. Meaning that he’d need to have an accomplice in Boston, as well as having had someone stake out Gelman’s house last night. As much as I’d like to believe it’s him, all of that organization seems like a bit much.”
“Well, whoever it was, the question remains what to do about it. Even if I believed your explanation, I can’t ignore this. Not in the face of complaints from both Carlson and Friedland. I need to get you out of there.”
“No. I need to finish this.”
She leaned forward so that her face filled the screen. “What the hell do you mean, no? I just fired you.”
“Look, something’s really wrong here. A rumor mill targeting a junior faculty member, sabotage of her research, and now blackmail. All designed to force Carolyn Gelman out of her job. Why would anyone go to these lengths? Just give me enough time to figure this out. And fix it.”
She glowered at me through the screen. “Goddammit. Why can’t you ever keep things simple? How much time do you need?”
“Two weeks. I should have the committee’s report on the patient’s death in a matter of days. Once that’s settled, I can go ahead and hold a faculty meeting to discuss and vote on the tenure cases. Both of them. Then I’ll write up my director’s report, and it’ll be back to the university process. On its way to your desk.”
“I’ll give you until the end of next week, no more. Send me your letter of resignation immediately, effective end of business next Friday. That’s the minimum time I need to get someone in your place anyway, so Friedland will just have to live with it.”
She broke the Zoom connection, leaving me staring at a blank screen.
At least my time at MTRI would soon be over.
22
The call surprised him. Between the patient’s death and the photo he’d sent the boss yesterday, he figured things would be done. But apparently not. Good. It would mean another hefty deposit into his offshore bank account.
“Another patient needs to die,” the boss said. “And quickly.”
“Whatever you say. The photo wasn’t enough for you to finish things?”
The boss’s voice rose a notch. “Obviously not. Are you questioning my orders? Just do as you’re told!”
The boss must be pushed to the edge to lose control like that, he thought. Fine. I can up my price.
“My apologies. Of course, I’m not questioning you. Just surprised.”
The boss made a snorting sound, but his voice softened. “Good. Parker’s apparently trying to whitewash Gelman, and he’s been given until the end of next week to bring the case to a conclusion. We need another patient death before then.”
“That much speed will be difficult.”
“What’s the problem? At the dose you’re using, it only takes a day or two for the poison to work.”
“The patients get a thirty-day supply of their drugs, so if I substitute one tablet in their bottles, it can easily be a few weeks before they take it. We were lucky with Weston; she only had three pills left when I visited her.”
“So substitute all of their tablets with poison, not just one!” the boss shouted. “What the hell’s the matter with you? Think!”
He held the phone away from his ear for the tirade. The boss was really losing it. Time to up the ante.
“That would be very risky. All the other pills would be left in the dead patient’s bottle. They could be discovered easily.”
“That’s ridiculous. Nobody’s going to run analysis on a dead patient’s remaining pills. Just do it. Grow some balls.”
He bristled at the insult. People didn’t talk to him like that. It was lucky for the boss that he wasn’t here. He was probably right that the risk was minimal, but the bastard would pay for his insolence.
“Have you forgotten our agreement? I decide how to do the job, and whether or not it’s safe for me to proceed. I haven’t succeeded in this business by taking unnecessary risks. If you don’t like that, I’m sure you can find someone else who you think has bigger balls.”
It was a bluff—the boss wouldn’t have time to find anyone else. Not if he wanted this done immediately.
There was a brief pause on the line. “All right, I apologize. Would twice the normal fee persuade you to take on the additional risk?”
“Accepted. I’ll get on it as soon as I confirm the usual fifty percent down payment has been transferred to my account.”
The money was there when he checked five minutes later. The boss might be a bastard, but at least he was an efficient one.
He put on the brown UPS uniform and retrieved the bottle of white powder from his dresser drawer. Fixing a whole bottle full of pills would be a hassle, but worth it for the double pay.
23
I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as I waited for Karen to arrive. She said she’d leave by four, but Friday afternoon traffic out of Boston could be a bear. Everybody wanted to get out of the city for the weekend. She probably wouldn’t get here until six at the earliest, maybe even seven. And here it was, barely five thirty, and I was sitting on the deck of our Drakes Island house with butterflies in my stomach. Like a nervous teenager.
It wasn’t work. Leslie Farnsworth had called earlier in the afternoon to
tell me that her committee had already completed their review. They found no evidence that Emily Weston’s death had resulted from drug toxicity, and were recommending that Carolyn’s trial be allowed to continue. She’d write up a full report over the weekend and have it for me first thing Monday morning. Which still left me the rest of next week to bring the tenure battle to conclusion.
No, it was the prospect of seeing Karen again that had me unnerved. Or maybe terrified was a better word. Did she believe that my relationship with Carolyn was professional? Friendly, to be sure, but not intimate. Or did she think we were lovers?
She said that she’d try to trust me. But we’d only exchanged a few brief texts since then, and I had no idea what she was thinking. Now I was about to find out.
Rosie heard the car first and went racing to the front door. I followed and started down the front porch stairs as Karen got out. She turned to me with a look that sent a chill down my spine. The wide-eyed look of a deer caught in headlights. Panicky and ready to run.
I went to kiss her, but she turned her face away. “We need to talk.”
I followed her through the living room and out to the deck, where she sat in one of the Adirondack chairs in the corner.
“Do you want a drink?” I asked.
“No. Just sit down and talk to me.”
She stared at me as I sat next to her. Without even a hint of a smile.
“Okay, where do you want to start?”
“Why don’t you start by telling me again what happened the night you stayed at her house?”
“All right, but it’s just what I already told you. There’s nothing more. Do you really want me to repeat it all?”
“I know what you told me, but it’s gotten all muddled up with that damned photo of the two of you. I want to believe you, but honestly, I’m confused. Just humor me and go through it again.”
I went through the whole story, starting from when Carolyn called me to ask that I come to her house and leaving nothing out. Karen listened without any display of emotion. When I finished, she sighed and shook her head.
“Do you really expect me to believe that you spent the night in bed with this attractive young woman and didn’t have sex?”
“That’s what happened, so yes, I guess I do expect you to believe me. At least, I hope to God that you do. It’s the truth, and you mean everything to me. Why do you call her attractive, anyway? Are you making something up about her in your head?”
“I checked her out on Facebook. She’s young and sexy, no two ways about that. And in addition to spending the night with her, you seem obsessed with helping her get tenure. I just can’t accept that there’s nothing more to it.”
“Karen, what can I say? She may look sexy in her Facebook pictures, but she was a sniveling mess when she got into bed with me that night. There was nothing attractive about her—it was like comforting a hurt child.”
She shook her head. “If something did happen, just tell me. Please. I think I could forgive you, it’s just this crazy doubt that’s tearing me apart.”
My head had started pounding. The truth obviously wasn’t working, and I didn’t know how to get through to her. “I can’t tell you something that didn’t happen. Can’t you try to believe me? After all we’ve been through together?”
Tears started to form in her eyes. “I guess I’ll have to try. Like you’re some sexless knight in shining armor. I don’t know if I can get past this, but I don’t want to lose you. I’ll try.”
I got up to reach out to her, but my phone rang. I glanced at it to see who could be calling on a Friday evening.
Carolyn.
I answered with a curt “Yes?”
The distress in her voice was obvious. “Another patient is sick. Like Emily. I’m at the hospital. Please come.”
“Oh Christ, I’m sorry. I can’t come right now, but I’ll try to get there later. I’ll call you back.”
“Okay, please come as soon as you can. This is awful.”
I ended the call. Karen was looking at me expectantly. I rolled my eyes. “That was Carolyn. Another patient has gotten sick. She wants me to go to the hospital.”
Karen nodded. “You should go.”
“No, I’m not leaving you in the middle of this.”
She gave me a weak smile. “I’m trying to believe you, remember? And if I do, you have a friend asking for your help.” She got up. “I’ll go with you. Maybe seeing the two of you together will help me understand.”
24
Neither of us said much during the ride to the hospital. When we got there, Carolyn was sitting in the ER waiting room. I thought it was the same chair that she’d been in the first time I met her here. Next to the bubbling fish tank.
She looked up when she heard us come in. Her face was red and tear-stained. “Thanks for coming,” she sniffled.
I sat down next to her and started to take her hand, but hesitated. Then I looked at Karen. Her face had softened into an expression of concern.
I put my hand on Carolyn’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. It’s…it’s like with Emily. He complained of nausea and vomiting, and he’s having trouble breathing. The doctors are in with him now.”
She looked up at Karen. “This is my partner, Karen Richmond,” I said. “We were at the house when you called.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Carolyn said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Karen came forward and took a chair next to Carolyn. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Is there anything I can get you? A glass of water or some coffee?”
Karen’s face was filled with sympathy. The rancor she’d shown on our deck seemed a thing of the past.
Carolyn managed a weak attempt at a smile. “No, I’m fine. My husband’s coming soon. Just sit with me, please.”
“How long has the patient been in your trial?” I asked.
“About four months. He’s never had any problems before this. And he was fine when I saw him for a routine exam a week ago.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s a nightmare, like Emily Weston all over again.”
Just then a figure in blue scrubs emerged from the ER. It was the same doctor we’d seen before, Dr. Ashland. Her expression was serious as she addressed Carolyn. “I’m afraid he’s not doing well. We’re going to take him to critical care, but you can see him first if you’d like.”
Carolyn nodded and got up. Ashland turned to me. “Dr. Parker, I remember you from before. You’re welcome to come, too.” Then she looked quizzically at Karen.
“This is my partner, Karen Richmond. Can she join us?”
Ashland shrugged. “Why not?”
We followed her to a room toward the back of the ER. A man with long gray hair was in the bed with an attendant beside him. He was on oxygen and hooked up to a monitor that displayed heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and other vital signs. Carolyn rushed to his side, while Karen and I stayed a step behind.
The patient looked at her blankly as Carolyn tried to talk to him. “Mr. Reed, it’s Dr. Gelman. I’m so sorry this is happening. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be all right. I promise.”
She stroked Reed’s head gently. He made a soft moaning sound as a clump of hair fell out and rested on his pillow. Maybe it was some vague kind of recognition, but I didn’t think he knew what was happening.
Carolyn tried to say something else, but her voice broke and she turned away. Tears were running down her face, and she threw herself hysterically into my arms. “My God, they’re all dying! I’m killing my patients!”
I tried to hold her away and looked at Karen anxiously. This was like pouring gasoline on the fire of her suspicions. But her face radiated sympathy, not anger, and she returned my look with a faint nod.
With a sense of relief, I took Carolyn into my arms as she sobbed for what seemed like several minutes. Then Dr. Ashland said, “They’re here to take him up to critical care. I’ll be in touch as
soon as we know anything more.”
I supported Carolyn, who was still crying hysterically, with an arm around her waist as the three of us made our way slowly out of the ER suite. When we reached the waiting area, a tall brawny-looking man dressed in a fashionably tailored gray suit and red silk tie was pacing the floor. His face turned a color that matched the tie when he saw us.
“What the hell are you doing with my wife?”
So this was Carolyn’s husband. I already had him pegged as a jerk, and he was certainly living up to the image. I wanted to tell him to go screw himself, but I kept my cool.
“I’m sorry; she’s just upset about her patient. I’m Brad Parker. I take it you’re Carolyn’s husband.”
His eyes bulged and he turned even redder. “Get your hands off her! Are you screwing her, you fucker?”
He drew back a massive fist to take a swing at me, but Carolyn jumped in front of me and grabbed his arm. “Stop it, Paul! He’s just helping me with my patient.”
That drew his fire to Carolyn. “You whore!” he screamed, shoving her so that she staggered backwards into one of the chairs that lined the side of the room.
He turned back to me and raised his fist again. I’d dealt with bullies like this before, and I was relishing the idea of knocking him on his ass. But Karen stepped in and shoved her badge in his face. “All right, that’s enough. Calm down. I don’t want to have to arrest you.”
Instead of complying, he spat out, “Fuck you, bitch!” and took a roundhouse swing at her. Karen sidestepped it, grabbed his arm, and twisted it behind his back. When he struggled, she gave it a hard yank, which elicited an abrupt cry.
“Now you’ve attempted to assault a federal officer, asshole. Do you want to stop or go to jail?”
He again tried to twist away, and Karen yanked upward on the arm. This time he screamed with the pain. “Aargh, let go! You’re breaking my arm!”
“Not yet. But I can certainly break it if you want me to. Or are you ready to cool it?” She gave the captive arm another yank to drive the point home.
Bad Medicine Page 10