Howard Engel: Dead and Buried

It was an interior decorator’s idea of what a doctor’s office should look like. The books on the dark wood shelves looked unread. The plaques and citations on one panelled wall were calculated to impress the visitor, to create a welcome full of warmth and trust. On his broad desk were picture frames with their backs turned towards me. A family man no less. “Well, now,” he said, placing his palms flat on his desk top. “What can I do for you?” For an educated man, he had a short memory. I repeated the information about me and my profession. The doctor nodded in time with my disclosures. I told him that I was looking into Jack Dowden’s death and that I would like to review with him the evidence he gave at the inquest. He kept on nodding through my explanation as though what I was asking was as reasonable as seat belts and Christmas. Jack Dowden might have died yesterday; Carswell’s interest couldn’t be improved upon. He sat back in his chair, letting his bulk carry him hard against the spring, tilting towards the curtains, away from me. “Now, let’s see,” he said, placing a pair of chubby hands behind his head. “You would be representing somebody in this, Mr. Cooperman. May I ask you who that might be?”

“Dr. Carswell, that comes under the head of privileged information. You wouldn’t tell me what’s ailing Mrs. Brown, if Mrs. Brown was one of your patients. It’s the same thing in my business. Now, Jack Dowden wasn’t one of your patients; you just happened to be there when he died. You gave testimony at the inquest. I’d just like you to expand on what’s already on the public record.” I made a gesture to show that I wasn’t asking for the crown jewels.

The doctor thought about that for a second, nodding over the width of his desk and bringing his brows together to add the necessary accoutrements to deep thought. He was generalling this interview very well so far. I was prepared for bad news. He was going to stonewall me with that smile on his face. “I see,” he said. “Mr. Cooperman, I don’t quite know what to say. You see, in a way, Mr. Dowden was my patient. I am retained by the company to deal with medical problems that arise from the dangerous substances that the Kinross people come in contact with. They routinely handle some very nasty things, you see, and I have to deal with things like skin eruptions and generally give advice about the results of contamination from these toxic wastes.” He took a deep breath and he was off again, this time it sounded like part of a prepared text.

“You know, everybody’s excited about what’s happening to the environment these days, and the Environment Front people aren’t above using scare tactics, exaggerations and half-truths. That’s why you see my face on television so often. I’m just trying to keep things in perspective.”

“Excuse me, Doctor, but what has this got to do with Dowden’s death?”

“The point is, Mr. Cooperman, that I’ve been turned into a busy man by all this. I have to watch my time. I don’t want to insist on that, but since I’ve already said everything about the incident at the inquest … You see what I mean? It’s all on public record. Besides, I don’t think I have anything more to add that would be helpful. You see the spot you put me in? And, remember, it was well over a year ago.”

Now it was my turn to nod and look sage. It’s easier to do sitting behind a desk. Carswell wasn’t going to give me much time. He was already shifting papers off his desk and into an attaché case. “I think I understand your position, Doctor,” I said. “I’d just like to be sure that the account of the injuries sustained in the accident square with the circumstances described in the inquest transcript.”

“Well, I can put your mind at rest there, Mr. Cooperman. I was one of the first on the scene, and I saw the man just after it happened.”

“But you didn’t actually see the accident?”

“No. I thought you said you’d read the coroner’s report?” He was getting angry now, but keeping his hands on the arms of his chair helped to modulate his voice. I tried grinning to ease the situation.

“I’m just trying to get it clear in my head.”

“I understand your problem, Mr. Cooperman, but I don’t see how I can help you. I don’t think that Norman Caine would appreciate me speaking to you without you going through him first. I’m sure that that would be his view and I’m sure that Ross Forbes would back him up in that.”

“What does Ross Forbes have to do with this?” I thought I had put that name behind me for all time. “He’s no longer top man at Kinross, is he?” I hoped that my agitation wasn’t showing. I wanted nothing further to do with Ross Forbes.

“Of course not,” Carswell said, pitying my ignorance, “but he is still CEO of Phidias Manufacturing. Kinross, Mr. Cooperman, is a subsidiary of Phidias. Ross Forbes would support Mr. Caine in this, I think.”

“You’ve changed a speculation into a certainty, Doctor.” Carswell got up, terminating our conversation.

“Look,” Carswell said, elongating the word so that it sounded like sweet reason, “I’d like to go on talking to you, Mr. Cooperman, but I’m due to appear on a panel at the television station in less than an hour. As a matter of fact I’m going to debate some of the things we’ve been talking about.” He moved around to my side of his desk. “It seems to me that you have just started your work on this. Am I right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He went right on talking as though I’d smiled, nodded or mimed assent. “After you get your feet wet, give me another call and I’ll see what I can do for you. Your questions about Kinross and Phidias are all basic research. There are answers you can get from other sources. I think there is somebody up at the university researching a history of Kinross. It goes back to the beginning of the last century, you know.”

I didn’t know, so I hiked up one of my eyebrows to show surprise. I was impressed. In 1800 there can’t have been much industry around Grantham. For a minute I thought I’d awakened the born teacher in him but he quickly regretted the impulse and took early retirement. When he beat me to the door, we shook hands and parted on friendly terms. Only he wasn’t feeling about as stupid as moss. I was burning mad at the way things had happened today. At three o’clock I’d never heard of Jack Dowden. Now the doctor was expecting me to be an expert in everything he touched. Sure, I was out for learning. My ignorance was almost total. Why not? Dr. Carswell watched me go through the waiting room to the front door, judging by the sensation between my shoulder-blades.

I walked up Ontario Street, feeling a cold wind blowing off the park. Winter was coming, I thought, as a few rusty leaves blew across my path. I remembered the smell of burning leaves from years ago. The environment was now safe from the smoke of burning leaves. It got plastic garbage bags instead.

Back in my office, I tried Irma Dowden’s number again. She was still out on the town. Maybe she was bending the ear of another investigator about her year-old loss. I tried to imagine her jockeying three or more cards in a church basement bingo game on Pelham Road. I made a mental note to call her later.

The chief ingredient adding to the acid in my stomach was the fact that Ross Forbes’s name was back in the case. My memory of picking myself up of his petunia bed in front of his office at Kinross was still fresh, in spite of the time that had gone by. It was a lucky punch, of course. He was as surprised by it as I was. I remembered that I bled a lot. Some of it got on his suit, I think. I hope he had to scrap it.

That was ten years ago. I’d been hired by his estranged wife to keep an eye on him. I played a small part in a long and well-publicized divorce proceeding. My client, Teddie Forbes, made a lot of money in the settlement. In spite of this, it took me nearly a year and a half to collect the eleven hundred dollars she owed me for getting to know her old ball and chain. That included my trip to the General to have my nosed cauterized.