Richard Mabry - Medical Error

"Not much of a plan, but better than nothing I guess," Nick said. "How about dinner later tonight?"

Anna gave him full marks for persistence, but tonight she wanted to be alone. She moved aside a stray strand of hair. "Sorry, Nick. Really, all I want is to pick up some fast food on my way home, sink into a bubble bath, and fall asleep reading the book that's been on my bedside table for a month."

Nick nodded his understanding. "So, tomorrow?" He paused."No, wait. That's Saturday. I'm covering pathology tomorrow, and I don't want to interrupt our time together if I get called back. Sunday?"

Anna felt the shadow of an idea form. The more she thought about it, the more she liked it. What could it hurt to ask?

"Is the question too hard for you?" Nick asked. "Need to check your Palm Pilot? Trying to decide if we can be alone without a chaperone?"

"No," Anna said. "Just thinking. Sunday would be fine. What did you have in mind?"

"That's usually my only day to sleep in. How about brunch? Then we can play it by ear. A movie, walk around in the West End, maybe go out to the Arboretum?"

Anna tried to hide her grin, but was afraid it showed in her eyes, if not on her lips. "Are you flexible about those plans?"

"Sure. What do you suggest?"

"Come by my apartment about ten-thirty Sunday morning. Go to church with me. Then we can have lunch and decide how we'll spend the rest of the day."

To his credit, Nick only hesitated for a few seconds. "Sure. What's the dress code?"

"Whatever you're comfortable wearing. Most men wear sport shirts. There are some in jeans. You'll see a smattering of coats and ties, mainly the older members."

"What about you?"

She grinned. "I'll be wearing a dress, but I don't think that's a good look for you. I'd stick with a sport shirt and slacks."

Anna stood in the doorway to the outer office and watched her administrative assistant, Lisa, pound the keys of her computer into submission. Surely by now rumors of all kinds circulated through the department. Although Lisa had already voiced her support, Anna's stomach did a flip- flop as she wondered what kind of reception she'd get from others on the staff.

Lisa's smile seemed genuine. "Dr. McIntyre. It's good to see you. Are you back at work now?"

Anna forced a smile in return. "No, just here to clean out my mail and check my messages. I'm going to close my door. Buzz me on the intercom if it's urgent. Otherwise, pretend I'm not here."

Safely hidden in her office, Anna shoved her purse into a desk drawer and covered it with a file folder. Did that make it safer from prying eyes and searching hands? She grimaced as she realized how ineffective her attempts at security had been in the past. Then again, old habits die hard.

Anna tossed her white coat onto the chair on the other side of her desk and dropped into her swivel chair. Next she heeled offher shoes and shoved them under the kneehole of the desk where she could slip them back on if someone came in. She leaned back, ran her fingers through her hair, and willed her shoulder muscles to relax. M amp;M was over. One hurdle down, lots more to go.

The always-efficient Lisa had her mail and messages sorted into neat piles centered on her blotter. Anna started by signing operative reports, summaries, and professional letters. Then came the patient information: tissue reports, lab and X-ray, referral summaries. She initialed them all and dictated a few chart notes and instructions for Lisa to pass on to her clinic nurse. The ease with which she'd been able to slip back into her professional persona and forget her other problems didn't surprise her. Her colleagues often kidded that Anna wouldn't notice the start of World War III if she were struggling with a diagnostic problem.

When she was satisfied she'd dealt with the most urgent matters, Anna slipped her feet into her shoes and opened the office door. "Lisa, I'm going down to the break room to get a soft drink. May I bring you something?"

"Oh, no thank you. I was just there for some coffee." Lisa gestured to the Styrofoam cup on her desk.

Anna, like all the other faculty members, generally left her office door open, assuming that her administrative assistant would be at her desk to guard against unwanted visitors. Now Anna saw the fallacy in that assumption. The assistants were away from their desks several times a day: coffee, restroom breaks, trips to the supply room, lunch. Anna closed her office door behind her and waited until she heard it click before she left.

Once she returned to her desk, Diet Coke in hand and shoeless again, Anna decided to tackle her stack of journals before it reached a critical stage and toppled over. She was marking an article with a Post-It note and a scribbled reminder when she heard noise in the outer office. Voices chattered in the hall. A file cabinet closed. Anna looked at her watch and nodded a silent understanding of what was going on. The assistants were leaving. No doubt, Lisa was even now retrieving her purse and preparing to make a quick exit.

Even though they didn't punch a time clock, the administrative assistants came and went with a regularity that was unwavering: In the office by eight a.m. Half an hour for lunch in staggered shifts, with the phones always forwarded for uninterrupted coverage. Out the door by four-thirty. In another ten minutes or so, all the department offices would be empty.

By quarter to five Anna should have the whole department to herself. Then she could nose around the offices without interruption or the need for explanation. She wasn't sure what she'd find, or even what she was looking for, but she was determined to try. She dawdled at her desk for another fifteen minutes, and when she emerged the office staffers were long gone. Of course, the doctors were still in clinic or the operating room and would be for another hour or more. The cleaning people wouldn't come in until later. Now was the time for Sherlock McIntyre to prowl. Anna wished she had Nick, her own private Watson, at her side so she could bounce ideas offof him. That is, if she had any ideas.

It wasn't dark, and Anna knew that there were other people in the building, but still the deserted hallways and offices felt creepy as she wandered systematically through them. Nothing struck her. No one came by and whispered, "I stole your personal information." She had no inspirations. Maybe this detecting was more difficult than it seemed on TV.

Then Anna glanced into the office complex shared by two doctors, Joe Leach and Allen McClay. The outer office was vacant, and their assistant's desk was unoccupied. Dr. McClay's office door was closed, but the door to Dr. Leach's inner office was open. Anna was sure both those doors had been closed when she walked by earlier. She edged into the outer office.

Through the open door of Dr. Leach's office, she heard drawers opening and closing. Someone was in there. Maybe Leach had finished his surgery and was rummaging for something in his always disorganized files. She tiptoed closer just as her chairman, Neil Fowler, emerged from the office with a file folder tucked under his arm. He closed and locked the door before he looked up and saw Anna.

If he was startled, Fowler didn't show it. "Hi, Anna. I thought things went fairly well at M amp;M, didn't you? I hope you don't think I was cutting you off, but I was afraid that Linda was about to launch into a harangue on how they used to do things in Boston, and I didn't want to give her a chance."

Anna knew she should probably agree and move on. Don't take a chance on antagonizing the chairman. But instead, she said, "Dr. Fowler, what were you doing in Joe's office?"

Fowler held up the file folder. "I needed some of the data he's collecting for a paper we're writing together."

"But how did you get in? I passed by here earlier and his door was locked."