[Lady Justice 06] - Lady Justice and Dr. Death

by Robert Thornhill

  “So what’s our assignment?” Ox asked.

  “I want you to go back through the records for the past twelve months and take a close look at all of the non-violent deaths where a doctor signed off on the death certificate. See if you can find a pattern.”

  “But that’s hundreds!” I said.

  “Then you’d better get busy!”

  I learned in my real estate career that the only way to succeed was to develop a system to organize your work.

  The task of reviewing the hundreds of files seemed almost impossible at first, but finally we settled on a procedure that made some sense.

  Ox would pull a file and check for cause of death and see who signed off.

  Only the files where the death was non-violent and where a physician signed off were given to me.

  I created a matrix where I could record age, cause of death and the name of the doctor.

  In the beginning, I could see no pattern whatsoever.

  I soon discovered that there were almost three thousand doctors in the Kansas City metropolitan area, and any one of them could have signed the death certificate.

  After several hundred entries, I began to see a pattern emerge.

  When the age was seventy or over, and the cause of death was some type of terminal illness, like cancer, four physicians had significantly more entries than any other; Dr. Benjamin Stein, Dr. Stanley Goebel, Dr. Israel Franken and Dr. Roland Graves.

  BINGO!

  I showed the data to Ox and we decided to take our investigation one step further before we reported to the captain.

  The next of kin was listed on each report and we randomly picked a half-dozen files to call.

  We told them that we were simply following up, but the one question we asked every time was, “How was your loved one interred?”

  Without exception, the answer was “cremation”.

  How convenient!

  There were no bodies to exhume and test for deadly chemicals. They had been burned to ashes.

  We were anxious to report our findings to the captain.

  Our data indicated that a new Dr. Death was alive and well in Kansas City.

  CHAPTER 4

  When I arrived at my building that evening, it was obvious that someone had convened a meeting on the front porch.

  My building used to be a six-plex.

  When Maggie and I were married, I converted the two top floor apartments to one large unit big enough for both of us.

  My dad, who only recently re-entered my life, and my old college philosophy professor live in the bottom two units.

  Bernice, Dad’s new squeeze, and a goofy guy we call Jerry the Joker live in the second floor units.

  My old friend and maintenance man, Willie, lives in a kitchenette in the basement.

  All of them were standing there watching me come up the sidewalk.

  Dad spoke first.

  “How about helping your old man and Bernice become a king and queen?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “King and queen --- at the Senior’s Ball --- we need sponsors.”

  Sensing that I was still confused, the Professor chimed in.

  “The Lakeside Assisted Living Center is sponsoring a fund raiser.

  “Tomorrow night they’re having a Senior’s Ball. There will be a band and at the end of the evening. Any couple seventy and over, can participate in a dance-a-thon.”

  “Yea,” Dad said. “It’s like a walk-a-thon, only we’ll be dancing. The couple that dances the longest gets to be the king and queen of the ball.

  “That’s gonna be us. Right, Sweetie?”

  Bernice giggled and nodded her head.

  “So what’s the sponsor part?” I asked.

  “Every couple that dances, gets people to sponsor them,” Dad said. “You pledge money for every minute that your couple stays on the floor.”

  “We’re all going,” Jerry said.

  “Well, are you in, kid?” Dad asked expectantly.

  How could I refuse?

  “I’ll ask Maggie. If it’s OK with her, I’m in for a buck a minute.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Dad said. “Maggie’s already on board.”

  I should have known.

  “Better include Mary,” I said as I entered the building. “You know how she loves to dance.”

  “Already done!” came the reply.

  Maggie met me at the door with a big hug and kiss.

  “Looks like we’re going to be dancing with the oldies tomorrow night,” I said.

  “It’ll be fun. We haven’t been dancing for weeks. I haven’t seen Bernice and your Dad so excited since the day they were arrested on top of the WWI Memorial.”

  “Don’t remind me, please!”

  I noticed that Maggie had set the table with our best dishes and the light from two long tapered candles reflected in the crystal glasses filled with Arbor Mist, Peach Chardonnay, my favorite.

  A steaming tuna casserole, another personal favorite, sat on a hot pad in front of my plate.

  I was beginning to think that maybe Maggie had some hanky-panky on her mind.

  I was thoroughly enjoying the lovely meal that Maggie had prepared, but I couldn’t get the images of Roger Beckham and Arthur Manning out of my head.

  Maggie sensed my preoccupation.

  “What’s on your mind, Walt?”

  “Euthanasia. You know --- death with dignity --- how do you feel about that?”

  “Well, I know you sure know how to kill a mood!”

  “No. I’m serious. Have you ever thought about that?”

  I proceeded to tell her about Beckham and Manning and about the results of the investigation that Ox and I had done.

  “It looks like a new Dr. Death is out there helping terminally ill patients end their suffering and I’m supposed to help catch the guy. I just don’t know how I feel about it. That’s all.”

  “Well, you know I was raised as a good Catholic girl and graduated from a Catholic school. I remember the nuns saying that suicide was a mortal sin, along with a lot of other stuff.”

  “I didn’t ask you what the nuns thought. I asked you what you think.”

  “You really are serious, aren’t you?

  “Actually, I’ve never quite fit the mold of a devout Catholic, and I’ve never really given the subject much thought, so let’s just say that I’m open minded.”

  “I’m going to share something with you that I’ve never told anyone else.”

  Maggie gave me her full attention.

  “When I was in high school, we had an old dog. Her name was Sugar.

  “We had her a long time and eventually, she became ill. She had trouble walking. She kept bumping into furniture. She lost control of her bladder and left little dribbles all over the house and worst of all she would whimper; the most pitiful cry you have ever heard.”

  “It must have been difficult to watch,” Maggie said.

  “It was. One day, Dad was on the road and Mom had to go to work, so she asked me to drive Sugar to the vet.

  “The vet examined her and then told me there was nothing he could do for her. He said that the humane thing would be to put her to sleep.

  “I asked if I could be with her and he said that I could.

  “I remember there were two chairs side-by-side. Sugar was in one chair and I was in the other.

  “She looked into my eyes and laid her head in my lap. I stroked her head as the doctor gave her the injection.

  “Her eyes slowly closed and she was gone --- forever --- just like that.”

  “Walt, I’m so sorry.”

  “On the way home, my eyes were so full of tears, I had to pull to the side of the road. I cried harder that day than ever in my life.”

  Maggie reached over and held my hand.

  “You know how much I like Elvis?”

  “Yes.”

  “Elvis has a beautiful song titled, Old Shep.

  “To this day, I still can’t bring myself to li
sten to the song.

  “When I hear the words,

  As the years fast did roll, Old Shep, he grew old.

  His eyes were fast growing dim.

  “And one day the doctor looked at me and said, “I can’t do no more for him, Jim. I remember that day just like it was yesterday.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek.

  “You know that’s why I love you, you big galoot.”

  “Because I’m a crybaby?”

  “No, because you can be Mr. Macho man when you have to be, but inside, where it counts, you’re a loving, caring human being.”

  “OK,” I said, wiping the tears away. “What I can’t get my head around is why it’s humane to end an animal’s suffering, and not a man’s. It seems to me that, once again, Lady Justice has her head up her ass.”

  “So what are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I guess it’s like the captain said, ‘It’s illegal in Missouri.’

  “I’m a cop and I’ve sworn to uphold the law, so I guess I really don’t have a choice.”

  “Well, you have a choice right now,” she said, pulling me to my feet. “You can stay in here and feel sorry for yourself or you can come with me.

  “I think I might have something that will take your mind off all this morbid stuff.”

  I followed and, sure enough, she was right!

  When she had finished taking my mind off the morbid stuff, she slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom.

  While she was away, I picked up my new cell phone from the nightstand.

  She came back into the room and was about to put on her nightie when I pressed the button and the room lit up with the flash.

  A horrified look came on her face.

  “Walter Williams! You erase that right now!”

  She used my full name, so I figured I had better comply.

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Promptly at six o’clock, all the expectant revelers were gathered on the front step.

  A quick glance told me that we would have to take two cars.

  Dad, Bernice and the Professor piled in with Maggie; Willie, Mary and Jerry hopped in with me.

  I should have known that it was a mistake to take Jerry.

  He’s seventy-three years old, looks like Mr. Peepers and fancies himself the Kansas City version of Rodney Dangerfield.

  He almost drove us nuts with his incessant jokes, until we turned him on to the ‘open mike’ night at the Comedy Club.

  Now, we occasionally get to be guinea pigs for some of his new material.

  We were barely to the first intersection when he started.

  “Walt! I’m adding a new dimension to my nightclub act --- limericks! Would you like to hear one?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  He ignored my snide remark and plunged ahead.

  There once was a fellow, McSweeney

  Who spilled some gin on his weenie.

  Just to be couth

  He added vermouth

  And slipped his girlfriend a martini.

  “I don’t get it,” Mary said.

  Undaunted, Jerry continued.

  There once was a man from Nantucket.

  “Stop right there!” I said. “Off color is OK, but no vulgarity!”

  “I’m offended!” Jerry said with a woebegone look on his face.

  “I don’t do vulgar; I do funny. Just listen.”

  There once was a man from Nantucket

  Who kept all his cash in a bucket.

  But his daughter named Nan

  Ran away with a man.

  And as for the bucket, Nan Tucket.

  “See!” he said.

  “I apologize.”

  Thankfully, by that time, we were pulling into the parking lot of the Lakeside Assisted Living Center.

  I was immediately impressed.

  The complex was situated on about ten acres. In front of the building was a large lake, complete with geese and walking trails.

  We piled out of the cars and entered the spacious lobby.

  A matronly lady with her hair pulled back in a bun, greeted us.

  “Good evening. My name is Lucille Baldwin and I’ll be your hostess for the tour.”

  I grabbed Dad by the arm.

  “Tour! What tour? You didn’t say anything about a tour.”

  “Calm down, Sonny. Lakeside is sponsoring the Senior’s Ball for two reasons: to raise money for Alzheimer’s research and to introduce people to their facility.

  “It’s no big deal. Probably take fifteen minutes --- tops.”

  “Swell!”

  Lucille led us through a door and into a corridor on the left.

  “This is the assisted living wing. It has been designed for people who are still in relatively good health and can care for themselves.

  “We provide services such as room cleaning, laundry and meals.

  “This room belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Lathrop. They’ve been kind enough to share it with us this evening.”

  I peeked into the room and was amazed to see a spacious area containing two twin beds, two recliner chairs, a big screen TV, a small table with two wooden chairs, a small fridge, a microwave and a good size closet.

  Mrs. Lathrop invited us in.

  “We’ve been here two years and absolutely love it! Lakeside has everything we need.”

  I wondered how much they were paying her for that spiel.

  A bit farther down the hall, I decided that she probably was telling the truth.

  “This is the library,” Lucille said, “and this is the game and activity room.

  “We have all kinds of activities for the residents; bingo, bridge, bible study.

  “Every Thursday, a local winery sponsors a wine and cheese party for those who are interested.”

  Mary pulled me aside and whispered in my ear.

  “Walt. What do you think about having one of them wine and cheese things at the hotel? You know how I love cheese.”

  I could just picture my band of misfits swirling the wine in crystal glasses and sniffing the bouquet.

  The thought brought to mind the day that Ox and I rousted a couple of drunks from an alley in downtown KC.

  They were propped up against the alley wall on a couple of old crates, passing a gallon bottle back and forth.

  Each time the bottle was passed, they would shout a chorus together.

  What’s the word? Thunderbird!

  What’s the price? Sixty twice!

  “What in the world are they talking about?” I asked Ox.

  “Thunderbird,” Ox replied, “is the drink of choice for our local winos, and it only costs a dollar and twenty cents for a gallon --- sixty twice --- get it?”

  So I learned that day that it was possible to duck into an alley and drink yourself into oblivion for a buck twenty.

  I whispered back to Mary, “Unless it was Thunderbird, I doubt our guys would be interested.”

  “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “Never mind. I just don’t think it would be a very good idea. How about I just bring you some cheese?”

  “That’ll work,” she said, grinning.

  On the way back to the lobby, Maggie grabbed my arm.

  “Walt! This place is fantastic. I could live here --- you know --- when the time comes.”

  Dad overheard her remark.

  “If you want to live here someday, Sweetie, you’d better be saving some dollars. Four grand --- a month --- each!”

  Wow! I thought. You could buy a lot of wine and cheese for four grand!

  Maggie whispered again, “Never mind.”

  Lucille led us back into the big entry way and through the door into the opposite wing.

  “This is the acute care wing,” she said, holding the door for us. “Once a resident’s health deteriorates to the point where they can no longer care for themselves, they are transferred here.”

  I stepped through the door and into another world.

&
nbsp; If the wing we were just in seemed like a little bit of heaven, then the lobby must have been purgatory, because I felt like I had just entered hell.

  I looked around and instead of seeing smiling people on their way to bingo or bridge, I saw a row of wheelchairs along the corridor.

  Some of the occupants were tied in to keep them upright; others slumped to the side. All of them were slack-jawed with sunken faces. Dark eyes stared vacantly into the distance.

  As we moved down the hall, I could look into the rooms and see residents in their beds with oxygen tubes attached to their noses and catheter bags attached to the bedside.

  It was obvious that Lakeside was doing its best. There was the aroma of an antiseptic deodorant, but it just couldn’t mask the smell of decay, desperation and death.

  As we passed between the wheelchair-bound residents, my eyes locked with those of an old woman.

  She raised her hands toward me and her lips parted, but there was no sound.

  She didn’t have to speak. Her eyes said it all. “HELP ME!”

  No one spoke during our tour of the acute wing. I could only imagine the thoughts going through the minds of my elderly friends.

  In my own mind, I was seeing the old woman in the wheelchair and then seeing the peaceful body of Arthur Manning.

  What was happening to the old woman was acceptable, but the person who had assisted Arthur Manning was wanted for murder.

  It just didn’t seem right.

  Thankfully, the tour ended and Lucille led us to the gymnasium where the Senior’s Ball was to be held.

  When we entered the gym, I felt like I had stepped back fifty years to my senior prom.

  There were balloons, crepe paper streamers and table decorations.

  There was a table full of all kinds of good things to eat and an open bar.

  Mary spied little cubes of cheese, which brightened her mood immediately.

  The dance was to start at promptly seven p.m., and at five minutes before the hour, the band arrived.

  It was the Ed Smith Trio.

  Maggie and I had danced to Ed’s music several times before.

  Ed had been a fixture at senior’s dances for many years. He had played at Senior Centers, Legion Halls, Shrine Dances and in church basements.