Tess Gerritsen - Harvest

"I'm trying to establish the chronology of events. So Dr. Levi called the SICU at 2 a.m. and you came on the line."

"That's right."

"Did you talk to him again? After that 2 a.m. call?"

"No."

"Did you try to call him?"

"Yes, but he'd already left the house. I spoke to Elaine."

"What time was that?"

"I don't know. Maybe three o' clock, three-fifteen. I wasn't paying a lot of attention to the clock."

"You didn't call his house any other time that morning?"

"No. I tried paging his beeper several times, but he never answered. I knew he was somewhere in the building, because his car was in the parking lot."

"What time did you see it there?"

"I didn't. My boyfriend — Dr. Hodell — he saw it when he drove in around 4 a.m. Look, why is Homicide investigating this?"

He ignored her question. "Elaine Levi says there was a call around two-fifteen. Her husband answered the phone. A few minutes later he got dressed and left the house. Do you know anything about that call?"

"No. It could have been one of the nurses. Doesn't Elaine know?"

"Her husband took the phone into the bathroom. She didn't hear the conversation."

"It wasn't me. I spoke to Aaron only once. Now I'd really like to know why you're asking me these questions. This can't possibly be a routine thing you do."

"No. It's not routine."

Abby's beeper went off. She recognized the number on the readout. It was the Residency Office — not an emergency, but she was getting fed up with this conversation anyway. She rose to her feet. "Detective, I've got work to do. Patients to see. I don't have time to answer a lot of vague questions."

"My questions are quite specific. I'm trying to establish who made calls at what time that morning. And what was said during those calls."

"Why?"

"It may have a bearing on Dr. Levi's death."

"Are you saying someone talked him into hanging himself?."

"I'd just like to know who did talk to him."

"Can't you pull it off the phone company computer or something? Don't they keep records?"

"The two-fifteen call to Dr. Levi was made from Bayside Hospital."

"So it could have been a nurse."

"Or anyone else in the building."

"Is that your theory? That someone from Bayside called Aaron and told him something so upsetting that he killed himself?."

"We're considering possibilities other than suicide."

She stared at him. He had said it so quietly, she wondered if she had understood him correctly. Slowly she sank back down on the bench. Neither one spoke for a moment.

A nurse pushed a woman in a wheelchair across the courtyard. The pair lingered by the flower bed, admiring the chrysanthemums, then moved on. The only sound in the courtyard was the musical splash of the fountain.

"Are you saying he might have been murdered?" said Abby.

He didn't answer immediately. And she couldn't tell, looking at his face, what his answer might be. He sat motionless, revealing nothing by his posture, his hands, his expression.

"Did Aaron hang himself?." she asked.

"The autopsy findings were consistent with asphyxia."

"That's what you'd expect. It sounds like a suicide."

"It very well could be."

"Then why aren't you convinced?"

He hesitated. For the first time she saw uncertainty in his eyes, and she knew he was weighing his next words. This was the sort of man who made no move without considering all the ramifications. The sort of man for whom spontaneity itself was a planned action.

He said, "Two days before he died, Dr. Levi brought home a brand new computer."

"That's all? That's the basis for your questions?"

"He used it to do several things. First, he made plane reservations for two to St Lucia in the Caribbean. Leaving around Christmas time. Also, he sent e-mail to his son at Dartmouth, discussing plans for Thanksgiving break. Think about it, Doctor. Two days before committing suicide, this man is making plans for the future. He has a nice vacation on the beach to look forward to. But at 2.15 a.m., he climbs out of his bed and drives to the hospital. Takes an elevator, then the stairwell, to a deserted floor. Ties a belt to the closet dowel, loops the other end around his neck, and simply lets his legs go limp. Consciousness wouldn't fade at once. There would be five, maybe ten seconds left to change his mind. He has a wife, kids, and a beach on St Lucia to look forward to. But he chooses to die. Alone, and in the dark." Katzka's gaze held hers. "Think about it."

Abby swallowed. "I'm not sure I want to."

"I have."

She looked at his quiet grey eyes and she wondered: what other nightmarish things do you think about?What kind of man chooses a job that requires such terrible visions?

"We know Dr. Levi's car was found in its usual parking spot, here at the hospital. We don't know why he drove here. Or why he left the house at all. Except for that two-fifteen caller, you're the last person we know of who spoke to Dr. Levi. Did he say anything about leaving for the hospital?"

"He was concerned about our patient. He might have decided to come in and see to the problem himself."

"As opposed to letting you deal with it?"

"I'm a second-year resident, Detective Katzka, not the attending physician. Aaron was the transplant team internist."

"I understood he was a cardiologist."

"He was also an internist. When there was a medical problem, like a fever, the nurses would usually contact him. And he'd call in other consultants if he needed them."

"During that phone call, did he say he was coming into the hospital?"

"No. It was just a game plan discussion. I told him what I was going to do. That I'd examine the patient and order some bloodwork and x-rays. He approved."

"That was it?"

"That was the extent of our conversation."

"Did anything he say strike you as not quite right?"

Again she thought about it. And she remembered that initial pause in their phone conversation. And how dismayed Aaron had sounded when she'd first come on the line.

"Dr. DiMatteo?"

She looked up at Katzka. Though he'd said her name quietly, his expression had taken on new alertness.

"Do you remember something?" he asked.

'! remember he didn't sound very happy that I was the resident on duty."

"Why not?"

"Because of the particular patient involved. Her husband and I — we'd had a conflict. A serious one." She looked away, feeling a little queasy at the thought of Victor Voss. "I'm sure Aaron would've preferred that I stay miles away from Mrs Voss." Katzka's silence made her look up again. "Mrs VicwrVoss?" he said. "Yes. You know the name?"

Katzka sat back, exhaling softly. "I know he founded VMI International. What surgery did his wife have?"

"A heart transplant. She's doing much better now. The fever resolved after a few days of antibiotics."

Katzka was staring at the fountain, where sprays of sunlit water sparkled like gold chain. Abruptly he rose to his feet.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. DiMatteo," he said. "I may call you again."

She started to reply: "Any time," but he had already turned and was swiftly walking away. The man had gone from absolute motionlessness to the speed of sound. Amazing.

Her beeper chirped. It was the residency office again. She silenced it. When she looked up, Katzka was nowhere in sight. The magical disappearing cop. Still puzzling over his questions, she returned to the lobby and picked up the house phone. A secretary answered her call. "Residency Office."

"This is Abby DiMatteo. You paged me?"

"Oh, yes. Two things. You had an outside call from Helen Lewis at New England Organ Bank. She wanted to know if you ever got an answer to your question about that transplant.You didn't answer your page, so she hung up."