David Kessler - Mercy

“So what, now you think she had some sort of plastic surgery to disguise herself so that she could resume life under a new identity?”

“It’s possible.”

“Only in Hollywood,” she said skeptically.

He wondered if she meant action movies, or real-life aging actors trying to extend their careers. However, now wasn’t the time to discuss the movie industry. What mattered was the evidence that Dorothy was alive at least a year after her disappearance.

“Look, David is going to fax over the paperwork to you.”

“It’s coming through even as we speak, boss. I can see it on the machine.”

“Okay, what I want you to do is get Nat to sprint over to the District Court with it for another TRO petition — and I want you to phone the clerk to let them know he’s on his way.”

“But would it make any difference after the last time?”

“ Yes , because these are transactions after she vanished and was presumed dead! Also, the payments are to a business in England — the very place that she bought that airline ticket to. That means she went there and spent money there — long after she was supposedly dead.”

“Shall I tell them to put your ‘face off’ theory into the petition?”

Alex was amused by the mockery. He realized that she was just trying to relieve her own tension.

“Just the facts, ma’am — just the facts.”

“Okay.”

“Then, when you’ve done that, put in another call to the clinic in London. Try and talk to the same nurse you’ve been talking to and tell her that we know about the large payments. Try to take her by surprise and ask her what it was for.”

“Okay, but can I ask you a serious question, boss? Do you think this is kosher?”

“Frankly I don’t. Unless she had some rare form of cancer or something, I can’t think of any reason for her to pay that kind of money. That’s why we need to try and corner them.”

“I think David’s other theory about someone milking the account is plausible.”

“You think a medical clinic would do that?”

“Let me put it this way, boss, your assumption that respectable professionals would never do anything dishonest is touchingly naive.”

“Well thank you for that vote of confidence, Juanita. Anyway, let’s not make any assumptions. Let’s take ‘em by surprise and see if they’re ready to talk.”

“Okay.”

“Meanwhile I’m gonna step on it to Daly City.”

He had already told her, when he called from outside San Quentin, that he was on his way to see Jonathan. But she remembered something else.

“Oh boss, there was something else.”

“Be quick.”

He was approaching the Silva Island overpass and wanted to concentrate on driving.

“Esther Olsen has had a relapse. She was taken to the Idylwood Care Center and she’s been asking for you.”

Susan White was sitting by the phone, desperately hoping against hope for a call from Stuart Lloyd. She didn’t know whether he was actively dealing with the problem and trying to get legal advice or had simply forgotten about it and gone to bed.

It was quiet on the ward, on this graveyard shift, so she and the other nurses were not rushed off their feet. But they still had to remain alert. But the only thing that she could concentrate on was the telephone. She wanted to phone Stuart to find out how things were progressing, but she didn’t dare. If he was working on it, he would feel insulted and, if he had gone to bed, he wouldn’t take kindly to being woken up at ten to one in the morning.

But a man’s life was at stake. And she was reduced to sitting here on the sidelines waiting for permission from others to do the right thing.

She was tempted to jump the gun and just fax them the information. But it wasn’t as easy as that. The information was on a password regulated computer. She couldn’t just access the files even if she wanted to. There was a hard copy — some of the original notes were even handwritten — but this too was secured under lock and key. She would have to break into a filing cabinet to gain access to it.

And breaking locks wasn’t exactly her specialty.

She told herself that she would do it if she could be sure that it would help. But she couldn’t even be sure of that. She didn’t know anything about the legal procedures in America and she could end up ruining her career, getting a criminal record and still not managing to save the innocent man whose life hung in the balance.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone finally rang. She answered, hoping to hear Stuart’s voice on the other end.

“Hallo, is that Nurse White?”

It was the woman from the law firm in America. Susan felt a stab of disappointment.

“Yes.”

“First of all I was wondering about your efforts to get the legal go-ahead to send us the paperwork about Dorothy Olsen’s stay there.”

The hesitation was palpable.

“I’m afraid not. We’re still waiting for clearance. But you have to understand it’s very difficult at the moment. It’s after midnight here.”

“Okay, but you are still trying?”

“Oh yes.”

This time there was no hesitation. Susan felt guilty about lying. But she didn’t know what else to do.

“Thank you. And if you fax us the paperwork for the whole year — not just the abortion — we’d be grateful.”

Susan broke out in a sweat.

“What do you mean the whole year?”

“Well she was there for a whole year, wasn’t she?”

“Who told you that?”

“She paid nearly forty thousand British pounds … over the course of a year.”

“That doesn’t mean she was…”

Susan knew that she had been said too much. But she realized how desperate these people were, and understandably so. She wanted to help, but her hands were tied. Finally, she decided to spill her guts. If she couldn’t tell them the whole truth, the least she could do was stop wrong-footing them with vain hope.

“Look … I’m sorry if I’ve messed you round. But I don’t think my boss is doing anything about it. I think he’s decided that there’s nothing he can do. I mean … I think he’s probably just gone to bed.”

“To bed ?”

“I’m sorry.”

“So you’re just gonna let our client die?”

“Look, it’s not my decision!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you.” Juanita’s voice was conciliatory. “Could you at least tell us … even if you can’t send anything in writing?”

“I’ve already told you: she had an abortion.”

“Yes, but we have conclusive evidence that she paid you forty thousand pounds sterling — I mean, she paid the medical center.”

“I can’t confirm or deny that,” the nurse replied timidly.

Juanita was gentle in her response.

“You don’t have to. We already know it. What we need to know is, what was that money for?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Susan felt for Juanita. She could understand her helplessness. She couldn’t even blame her for trying emotional blackmail. But it was clear that the sympathy game had gone as far as it could go.

Juanita spoke again.

“Look … what if we could obtain the consent of Dorothy Olsen’s mother … or her brother … or even both?”

The seconds ticked by.

“It wouldn’t make any difference. There’s nothing I can do.”

“I don’t understand. Surely if we can obtain the consent of Dorothy Olsen’s surviving relatives-?”

“There’s nothing I can do!”

There was silence on both ends of the line.

“Okay. Well thank you anyway.”

Juanita knew that there was no point flogging a dead horse. But she wondered why Nurse White had suddenly turned so hostile … and then so … guilty.