Peter Clement - Mortal Remains

Braden studied him a few seconds, his blue stare now cold as a polar sea. “Why, Lena Downie must have told me. You know what a chatterbox she is.”

Really? Earl thought. That would be easy enough to check out. “Why I asked is that Mark Roper said someone sneaked into his house and went through his father’s file on Kelly. The M and M reports on those two patients that started this whole paper chase were in there. Would you know anything about that break-in?”

Braden didn’t bat an eye. “You, know, Earl, after what I’ve just done for you, I don’t necessarily want a show of gratitude, but I would expect you to have the common courtesy not to make gratuitous insinuations about the whole Kelly affair, especially after all the harm you did to my son’s-”

“She told me it was Chaz who wrecked any feelings she had for him.”

Braden said nothing this time, but his body seemed to tense beneath the gleaming white coat.

In the menace of that silence, Earl teetered between opposing instincts.

One urged him to probe further. Demand what kind of game Charles had been playing at the birthing center. Shake him up with the fact that Mark Roper had some interesting questions regarding statistics for the place. Confront him about the death of Victor Feldt and what it had to do with Nucleus Laboratories, executive health plans, or genetic screenings on siblings with a family history of cancer – anything to provoke an angry outburst and a revealing slip.

But self-preservation made Earl cautious. Whatever Charles had been up to, trying to spook him with bravado could be very dangerous. Better to outmaneuver him. “Sorry, Charles, I didn’t mean to insinuate you had anything to do with the break-in at Mark’s, and I’m most grateful for the warning about Melanie, believe me. As for my hurtful comment regarding Chaz and Kelly, it was inexcusable. Please, accept my apology, and put it down to the morphine talking.”

Braden continued to watch him.

Earl felt the man see right through his wooden attempt to make peace. “Look, I spoke out of line,” he added. “Let me make it up to you by helping out with Melanie’s capture. After all, that’s the important thing, right? I’ll get back into bed, so when she makes her morning rounds nothing will tip her off that we’re onto her. You start rousting the administration. With me corroborating what you and Chaz are saying, they’ll be more ready to believe us.” His real plan? Pretend to cooperate, then, once Braden left, skedaddle the hell out of the hospital to the nearest police station. Now that he had Melanie pegged, let the cops figure out the rest.

The rigidity under the lab coat lessened. Still, Braden seemed to be in the limbo of deciding something. “You’re right about going back to bed and Melanie finding you there,” he finally said, turning and walking toward the door. “But we both know you don’t intend to hang around, and I can’t allow that. Better we sedate you.” He stuck his head into the hallway and yelled, “Nurse!”

Earl broke into a cold sweat. “Wait a minute! What if Melanie does something to me while I’m under? You yourself said it would take a few hours to convince the police…”

Braden looked at him, his eyes almost sorrowful.

My God. He’s going to let her kill me! Earl’s mouth went dry “I’ll tell the nurses what you’re doing.” His voice sounded like a croak. “You won’t get away with it.”

Braden glanced back out in the hallway, apparently unconcerned.

“I’ll say that you’re under investigation for murder,” Earl added, judging his chances of knocking him over and making a run for it.

Braden shook his head as if enduring a great weariness. “You must be mad, the morphine no doubt.”

“What about Mark Roper? He already thinks you smothered deformed infants and buried their bodies on the grounds of your home for unwed mothers.” Earl raised his voice to make sure any approaching nurses would hear the accusations. Whether they believed him or not, he hoped to at least make them pause before carrying out the man’s orders. But his own skepticism about Braden being capable of infanticide had vanished. “He’s going to the police about it this morning. When he finds out you visited me, he’ll suspect you arranged my death.”

Braden stared at him in amazement. “The grounds? Oh, my God, Dr. Garnet. Even if I were the monster you’re suggesting, I wouldn’t be fool enough to leave human remains on the grounds of an abandoned building.”

Braden ought to be sweating bricks by now if he’d done any part of what Mark had accused him of, Earl thought. Instead he remained calm, practically purring. Could he have already moved the bodies? Son of a bitch! Or he’d never buried anything there at all. Of course. He’d be too smart to leave that kind of evidence behind.

Mark’s account of what happened with Braden in the library flashed to mind, and a sickening realization swept through Earl. Mark had been on the losing end of a game he probably didn’t even realize Braden had been playing. Because not only would Charles have been too smart to leave bones lying about where they could be found, he wouldn’t have said the suggestive things that he had about smotherings if he’d truly wanted to avoid such atrocious allegations. Instead, it almost seemed he’d invited them. Why?

“Nurse!” Braden bellowed a second time. “Nurse, come quickly.”

“Now hold on-”

“Nurse!”

Earl heard the sound of running feet in the hallway.

Mrs. White bolted through the door, her cheeks aflame.

“I’m afraid Dr. Garnet’s having a psychotic episode, probably from the drugs-”

“What are you doing out of bed-” she said, striding toward him. “And what happened to your IV?”

“Nurse, I’m fine-”

“I blame myself, Nurse,” Braden continued, his voice serene with the quiet authority of one used to being in charge. “I barged in here on a grievous family matter between Dr. Garnet and my son – well, let’s just say I was upset.”

“He came here to set me up-”

“This is what I mean about paranoia. We had words, but then Dr. Garnet began to spout the most bizarre accusations, about me murdering babies, and burying their bodies-”

“He’s lying! The man is under suspicion for murder. Coroner Mark Roper will verify everything I said-” Earl stopped, realizing too late he’d whipped his hand out from under the covers and was brandishing the glinting points of a half dozen needles in their faces.

Mrs. White screamed.

“My God!” Braden said, recoiling in horror.

Another nurse appeared at the door. One glance and she bellowed, “Orderlies! We’ve got a code forty-four!”

From his residency days, Earl recognized the call. Within sixty seconds a herd of young men wearing white would stampede into the room with enough Haldol and tie-downs to immobilize an elephant.

“Put down the needles, sir!” the nurse at the doorway said.

Braden and Mrs. White backed away from him.

At the very least he had to get to a phone and call Janet.

“Back off,” he screamed at the one blocking the way out.

She stood her ground. “Don’t do this, sir.”

“All I want to do is call my wife. No need for drugs. No tie-downs. Just let me call my home.”

“Absolutely, sir. You can make the call as soon as you put down the needles.”

He knew the tone and the routine. He’d used it himself many times. When a patient threatens staff, promise him anything, then hit him with everything, all in the name of preventing anyone from getting hurt. There’d be no stopping what he’d set in motion. And no calls.

“I’m getting to a phone,” he said, advancing toward her. “I won’t hurt you.”