Рита Браун - Claws And Effect

"How often has this happened at the hospital?"

Sam hesitated. "I think I ought to have the hospital lawyer here for this conversation."

"For Christ's sake, Sam, Larry Johnson is dead and you're worried about hospital liability! I'm not going to the press with this but I've got to know and if you don't tell me I'll dig it out and in the process uproot other things as well. It will get everyone in an uproar. How often has this happened?"

"Last year we found two people stealing Darvocet, codeine-based pills, Quaaludes. We fired them. End of story." He took a deep breath. "As I said, drug abuse is as American as apple pie."

"Once fired from a hospital that person will never work in a hospital again unless he or she goes to Honduras-am I right?"

"And they might not even get work in Central America. They'd have to go where people were so desperate they didn't care about their records from anywhere else. It definitely would be a career killer."

"All those years of medical school, all those bills-for nothing." Rick folded his hands together, leaning forward. "Other ways to steal or make money?"

"Oh, patient jewelry, wallets, and credit cards."

"Equipment?"

Sam exhaled. "No. Who would they sell it to? Also, we'd notice it immediately."

"Was Hank Brevard a good plant manager?"

"Yes. We discussed that before. He was conscientious. Apart from his obvious personality flaw that he was resistant to new technology. He wanted to do everything the way it always had been done."

"Remind me, had he ever been disciplined during his career at Crozet Hospital?" Rick glanced over at Coop.

"No. Well." Sam opened his hands, palms upward. "I'd routinely meet with him and request he, uh, lighten up. But no, Hank was no trouble."

"Ever hear about affairs?"

"Hank?" Sam's eyebrows shot upward. "No."

"Gambling?"

"No. Sheriff, we've been over this."

"You're right. Was Larry Johnson off the rails at any time?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Did people feel he was too old to practice? Was he carried for old times' sake?"

"No. Quite the contrary. He was a G.P., of course." Sam abbreviated General Practitioner. "So he wasn't a glamour boy but he was a good, solid doctor and always open to new procedures, medical advances. He is, I mean was, a remarkable human being."

"Could he have been stealing drugs?"

"Absolutely not." Sam's voice raised. "Never."

"Sam, I have to ask these questions."

"There is no blemish on that man's record."

"Then I must respectfully suggest he got too close to whoever is blemished."

"The murder of Larry Johnson may not be related to Crozet Hospital. You're jumping to conclusions."

"Perhaps but you see, Sam, he was my man on the inside." The color drained from Sam's face as Rick continued, "I believe the murders are related and I will prove it."

"You should have told me."

"What if you're in on it?" Rick said bluntly.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence." Sam's face now turned red, and he fought back his anger.

"Or Jordan Ivanic. He's in a position to pull strings-excuse the worn phrase."

"Jordan." Sam's lips pursed together. "No. He's a man devoid of all imagination. He does everything by the book."

"You don't like him?"

"Oh, he's one of those men who can't think on his own. He has to find a precedent, a procedure, but he's honest. We aren't the best team personality-wise but Jordan isn't a criminal."

"He has three speeding tickets in two years' time. Had to take a driver's course mandated by the state."

"That doesn't make him a criminal." Sam's patience was wearing thin.

"Did you know about the tickets?"

"No. Sheriff, why would I know? You're grasping at straws. You assume my hospital, and I do think of it as my hospital, is a hotbed of crime. You connect two murders which while heinous may not be connected. As for Larry Johnson being your spy, that still doesn't prove his murder's connected to the hospital. He may have had a secret life." Sam's eyes blazed.

"I see." Rick stared at his shoes for a moment, then looked up at Sam. "What about the hospital killing people through negligence?"

"I resent that!"

"It happens." Rick raised his voice. "It happens every day all over America. It has to have happened at your hospital, too."

"I won't discuss this without a lawyer." Sam's jaw hardened.

"Well, you just do that, Sam. You'd better hire a public-relations firm, too, because I won't rest until I find out everything, Sam, everything and that means just who the hell was killed at your hospital because some bozo forgot to read their chart, gave the wrong medicine, or the anesthesiologist screwed up. Shit happens even in Crozet Hospital!" Rick stood up, his face darkening. Coop stood up, too. "And I'll have your ass for interfering with a law-enforcement officer in the prosecution of his duties!"

Rick stormed out, leaving an angry Sam sitting in the library with his mouth hanging wide open.

Coop, wisely, slipped behind the wheel of the squad car before Rick could do it. She had no desire to peel out of the Mahanes' driveway, then careen down the road at eighty miles an hour. Rick drove fast anyway; angry, he flew.

He slammed the passenger door.

"Where to?"

"Goddamned Jordan Ivanic, that's where. Maybe that smart bastard will tell us something."

She headed toward the hospital, saying nothing because she knew the boss. The misery over Larry's death swamped him and this was his way of showing it. Then again, he had a good reason to be livid. Someone was killing people and making him look like a jerk.

"Boss, this is a tough case. Go easy on yourself."

"Shut up."

"Right."

"I'll nail Sam Mahanes. I will fry him. I will slice and dice him. You know patients have died from stupidity. It happens!"

"Yes, but Sam's job is to protect the reputation of the hospital. Covering up one or two mistakes is one thing, covering up a rash of them is something else-and Larry would have known, boss. Doctors may be able to keep secrets from patients and patient families but not from one another, not for long, anyway."

"Larry would have known." Rick lit a cigarette. "Coop, I'm stuck. Everywhere I turn there's a wall." He slammed his fist into the dash. "I know this is about the hospital. I know it!"

"Any one of our ideas could provoke someone to kill."

"You know what really worries me?" He turned his face to her. "What if it's something else? What if it's something we can't imagine?"

No sooner had Rick Shaw and Cynthia Cooper pulled out of the driveway than Sam Mahanes made a beeline to his shop, grabbed his cell phone, and dialed Tussie Logan.

"Hello."

"Tussie."

"Oh, hello." Her voice softened.