035 Bad Medicine
Page 9
“I don’t have much time, Ms. Drew.”
“Anna Treadway, a cardiac patient, died because of gross negligence,” Nancy said quickly. “The wrong medicine was prescribed. David was to blame, but he wasn’t the only one.”
Rayburn shook his head vehemently. “It was David’s fault, not mine.”
“It was your fault. You made a mistake. A big mistake. One that would have justified a malpractice suit and maybe even cost you your license. But you blamed it all on David.”
“No.” Rayburn was clearly agitated. “That’s what Shaw thought, but he couldn’t prove it.”
His admission made Nancy realize she was on the right track. “Maybe not. But Dr. Shaw knew you were to blame. He worked with you at the hospital in Saint Louis.” Nancy paused, playing a hunch. “He’d seen you make mistakes before.”
“No!”
“It was his recommendation that got you thrown off the staff there. I saw the name on your Boston medical certificate. It was altered to Rayburn. What’s your real name? Rayburne? You took off the last e to keep anyone from digging into those years in Saint Louis!”
Rayburn’s face turned deep red. “But you won’t be around to prove any of this, will you? It’s all allegation!”
“Dr. Shaw had proof that you were tossed out of the Saint Louis hospital. That would have opened an investigation into your qualifications. People would have checked more thoroughly into your background.”
Rayburn sucked air through his teeth, clutching the surgical knife in a gloved hand. “Shaw was a meddling old fool. He almost recognized me the night he was brought in. I couldn’t take the chance he would remember me. I’d been so careful to change my records. Do you think I could have gotten a job anywhere with that black mark against me? As it was, I had to settle for this mediocre hospital, where one cursory background check was enough to convince them I was an excellent doctor!”
“I would hardly call W.U. Med School a mediocre hospital,” Nancy said.
Rayburn snorted in disgust. “Well, it’s nothing like where I should be. And I didn’t kill Anna Treadway! Baines fouled that up all on his own.”
“Baines was doing your job for you. He wasn’t even qualified to administer medicine. You told him what to do, then let him take the blame.” Nancy regarded him seriously. “But you killed Dr. Shaw yourself.”
Rayburn closed his eyes, his lips a thin line. For a moment Nancy wondered if she’d pushed him too far. She tugged against the leather bindings and felt one foot slip loose about an inch. Her pulse leapt. If she could just keep him talking a few more minutes!
“I didn’t want to kill Shaw,” Rayburn admitted, “but I had to.”
“How did you do it?”
“I injected air into one of his veins. It caused an air embolism—a bubble. When the bubble reached his heart he had a massive heart attack. It was quick.”
Nancy could scarcely believe her ears. If only she had this confession on tape!
Rayburn waved the scalpel, and Nancy said quickly, “David Baines followed you to River Heights.”
“That’s right. The little blackmailer!” Rayburn spat viciously. “But he’ll pay for that.”
“He knew who you were and demanded money in return for his silence. That’s how he could afford to buy a Porsche.” Nancy twisted her left arm, stealing a quick glance at her wristwatch. How long had she been here? Where was Ned? “There’s one thing I’m curious about: why did you pick Trevor to frame?”
Rayburn sighed. “Poetic justice. He was going to be Shaw’s son-in-law. I couldn’t believe it when April Shaw—Shaw’s daughter—was accepted to medical school here. I didn’t make the connection for a while. She was just another student. And then I overheard her talking to Trevor one day, telling him she wanted to be as great a doctor as her father. I had to check it out.”
Nancy could well imagine Rayburn’s panic. “You took Trevor under your wing so you could keep track of what was going on with April.”
“It was just possible Shaw would never know about me,” Rayburn continued. “But then he came to River Heights and became a cardiac patient. My department.”
“So you planned to kill him. You used some of Trevor’s old standard orders, changed the dates, and stuck the new patients’ names on them—effectively ordering the wrong medicine and making it appear as if Trevor had blundered. Under the guise of friendship, you ruined Trevor’s reputation so that when Dr. Shaw died, everyone would blame Trevor. Even April.”
Rayburn didn’t deny it.
“Even worse,” Nancy added softly, “you endangered other patients’ lives.”
“Ms. Drew, you don’t understand. We’re talking about the end of my career. My life! I would never have been able to start over again. Too many people would know.”
Nancy didn’t remind him again about the lives he’d jeopardized in his selfish pursuit of personal goals. His hands were shaking violently. He was fast losing control. She couldn’t afford to antagonize him further.
“You should have taken my earlier warning to heart,” Rayburn said sadly.
Nancy cautiously moved her right foot, trying to wiggle it free of its bonds. “You mean the first time you knocked me out with a hypodermic?”
He nodded. “I put you in the stairwell. I was going to push you down, but unfortunately I could hear other people coming. Then, when you and your boyfriend showed up at the anatomy lab, I knew I had no choice. I was going to have to dispose of you one way or another, but first I had to get Shaw’s body out of the hospital. I’d been trying to move him for days, but security was everywhere, searching for him.”
“How did you move him from the morgue?” Her right foot was free! Keeping eye contact with Rayburn, Nancy worked on the left.
“That was easy. Those morgue employees are as regular as clockwork. I lifted keys from the attendant, made a duplicate, then waited for Shaw’s body to arrive. When the attendant went on his break, it was a simple matter to roll the body out of the morgue and through the tunnel. The pathology personnel barely glanced at me.”
“What if you’d met someone in the tunnel?”
Rayburn shook his head. “Let’s not think about that unpleasant scenario.”
“What made you decide to run down David?” Nancy asked.
“That was your fault. You were getting too close. You were pressuring him. The paramedics had just brought some patients into the emergency room. There was a lot of confusion. The ambulance keys were available, so I took them. I was going to follow David, but then you stopped him! Don’t you see? I had to run him down.” He paused, frowning. “I wish he’d been killed outright. I’m going to take care of him as soon as I’m through with you.”
“You can’t get away with this,” Nancy said calmly. “I talked to David. He mentioned your name in connection with Saint Louis. Security’s looking for you already.”
Rayburn laughed derisively, as if indulging a dull child. “If that were true, those security men wouldn’t have been taken by surprise when I anesthetized them. Soon I’ll help them search for the mysterious body snatcher I followed through the tunnel. I suppose that’s when we’ll—uh—learn of your unfortunate demise, Ms. Drew. Now I think we’ve talked long enough, don’t you?”
Smiling regretfully, he tightened his grip on the scalpel, aiming it at Nancy’s throat.
Chapter
Seventeen
NANCY STRUGGLED VIOLENTLY, straining at her bonds. Rayburn grabbed her shoulder. The scalpel was poised above her throat. She screamed and bucked. Both feet were free! Swinging her legs, she connected with Rayburn’s hand, sending the knife singing through the air. Rayburn howled in surprise. He lunged forward, but Nancy gave him a quick, sharp kick. He spun around.
She jerked her hands furiously, trying to break the leather bindings. Rayburn staggered forward and she kicked out, landing a glancing blow on his left shoulder. His face registered surprise. She twisted her arm, pulling her wrist free, friction burning her skin.
> “You can’t do this,” Rayburn warned.
“Watch me,” Nancy muttered through her teeth. She fought to loosen the binding on her other hand, poised to fight off another attack. Rayburn, changing course, turned toward the surgical cart. Out of the corner of her eye Nancy saw him grab another scalpel. With a cry of frustration, she managed to free her other hand, propelling herself off the table at the same time.
Rayburn stuck out his leg, tripping her. Nancy went down and began to crawl frantically forward. He grabbed her leg. She saw the knife slice downward. Twisting, she slammed her foot against his head. The knife hit the floor with a harmless ping.
“You can’t—get away—” Rayburn panted.
Nancy was scrambling to her feet, prying his fingers from her leg. Her flailing arm hit the I.V. stand. She pulled it over, slamming it onto Rayburn’s back.
Chest heaving, she searched the room for an exit and spotted a pair of swinging doors in the far wall. She ran as fast as she could, slamming against them. Her bones jarred. The doors were locked with dead bolts high out of her reach!
Rayburn’s footsteps were right behind her. Nancy whirled around, her back to the doors, her heart racing.
“I warned you, Ms. Drew,” Dr. Rayburn said with a shake of his head. Nancy searched wildly for another avenue of escape.
He stopped a few feet in front of her. “There’s no way out,” he said, reading her mind.
Think! Nancy willed her brain. Her gaze raked the room. There were weapons galore—every kind of surgical device imaginable. But Rayburn was right; there was no escape.
She crept sideways as he advanced, keeping a small counter between them. The surgical table stood across the room in front of her. Tubes stuck out from the wall and curved snakelike toward the anesthesia machine.
Rayburn stopped, two feet away on the other side of the counter. “I am sorry,” he apologized.
“Right,” Nancy said. “I can see how sorry you are.” She gauged the distance between them. Edging to the right, she watched as he did the same, keeping her trapped behind the counter. He pulled a long rubber tube from his pocket and wound it casually around one hand.
“Strangulation?” Nancy asked, eyeing the tube.
He took a step nearer. Nancy backed up until her heel connected with the wall. Rayburn took a step to the left, watching her closely. Nancy didn’t move. He took one more step.
Now! she thought, leaping toward her right. Rayburn lunged forward, his hand narrowly missing her sleeve. Nancy ran to the surgical table. Rayburn’s footsteps clattered behind her.
She grabbed the closest anesthetic mask. Rayburn’s arm snaked around her waist, yanking her back. Gas was escaping. With all her strength she twisted around, forcing the mask down over Rayburn’s face.
He fought like a tiger. His knee connected with the operating table and he stumbled, flailing. Crack! His head hit the floor. He lay dazed.
Nancy strapped the mask to his face, then stepped away from him. She counted the seconds. Fourteen—fifteen—sixteen . . . How long did this anesthetic take to work? Rayburn’s head slowly moved back and forth. Twenty-two. Twenty-three—twenty-four . . . Was it seconds or minutes? What kind of anesthetic had she given him? What if it was straight oxygen? She might be helping him more than hindering!
Nancy didn’t wait to see. She ran for the door, searching for a stool to stand on.
“Nancy!” a muffled voice called from outside.
“Ned!” she yelled back. “The door’s locked. Wait! I’ll get it open!”
“Are you all right?” he shouted anxiously.
Nancy spied a small stool and dragged it toward the door. She climbed up on the stool and unlatched the dead bolts. Ned and Trevor stormed in as one. A swarm of security men followed. Seeing them, Nancy slumped against the wall.
“Nancy! Are you all right?” Ned’s arms encircled her.
“I am now,” she admitted shakily, laying her head on his shoulder.
Trevor was leaning over Rayburn’s prone form. “Wow,” he said, examining the gas line. “You knocked him out with nitrous oxide. Laughing gas!”
“He knocked himself out. Will he be all right?” Nancy asked anxiously.
“Sure.” Trevor chuckled. “We could leave the gas on and give him a nice rest, though. He might be easier to handle.”
“Come on,” Ned said gently, his arm supporting Nancy’s shoulder. “You can tell me all about it on the ride home.”
“After we inform the authorities,” said Nancy.
“After we inform the authorities,” Ned agreed.
• • •
“And so that’s all there is,” Nancy said later that night, seated cross-legged on the Drews’ den couch, munching on a sandwich. Ned, Bess, George, Trevor, and April were in chairs around the room. They all looked at Nancy with wonder.
“I’m so glad you weren’t hurt,” April murmured, snuggling closer to Trevor. It was clear that the misunderstanding over Suzanne had been resolved. “When Dr. Grafton told me my father had always suspected Dr. Rayburn was to blame for Anna Treadway’s death, I got really worried.”
“Your father just didn’t have proof,” Nancy said.
Ned took a bite of his own sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “When you didn’t show up at the emergency room, Trevor and I went down to the pathology lab,” he explained. “We found the security men and the lab attendant out cold and the door to the tunnel open. Trevor called for backup, and we started down the tunnel. I saw the piece of coat you left and the name tag, so I knew we were on the right track.” He glanced at Nancy’s sandwich. “You still owe me a dinner,” he remarked teasingly.
Nancy laughed.
Bess’s blue eyes were wide circles. “An empty operating room? A crazed doctor? Nancy, it’s just like the movie we saw! Creepy!”
“No wimpy heroine, though,” George said with a grin.
“He wasn’t actually crazed,” Nancy corrected. “He just had his priorities confused. He didn’t seem to understand the seriousness of his actions. It was Rayburn who took the Deverly file, of course. He was trying to pin all the blame on Trevor, just as he did to David in Saint Louis.” Nancy shook her head. “He kept apologizing, hoping I would understand that everything he did was necessary.”
Trevor’s gray eyes were grateful. “Thanks, Nancy. For everything you’ve done to help me.”
“Help us,” April corrected.
“How’s David?” Nancy asked. “Is he going to be okay?”
Trevor nodded. “He came to while you were fighting it out with Rayburn. He’s admitted that he sent you and Ned the fake notes so he could get you out in the parking lot alone. When he grabbed you, he only meant to scare you. Apparently he was afraid you were getting too close to the truth and that you might dry up his blackmail source: Rayburn!” Trevor smiled. “I understand a Detective Ryan is taking his formal statement.”
“Detective Ryan!” Nancy laughed. “He’ll never forgive me for getting into so much trouble.”
“He called to say he’s coming by tomorrow,” Ned told her. “He wants to hear the whole story from you.”
“Well, I’m never going near a hospital again,” Bess declared. “It’s not safe!”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’d trust Trevor and April any day,” Nancy said, smiling. “How about you, Ned? Have you decided to go into hospital administration?”
He wrapped his arms around Nancy, squeezing her in a bear hug. “This time I have to agree with Bess. I’ll stick to plain old business administration. Working at a hospital is more dangerous than being a detective!”
Nancy threw an arm over her eyes in an exaggerated faint. “But you saved me, you strong, handsome male.”
“Wimpy heroine,” George groaned.
Everyone broke into laughter.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imaginat
ion, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Simon Pulse
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 1986 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
ISBN: 978-0-6716-4702-5 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-4814-2484-4 (eBook)
NANCY DREW and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
THE NANCY DREW FILES is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen