Stuart Woods - New York Dead

He used an old technique for when he was stumped on a case – go back to the beginning and review possible suspects. But in his attempt to incriminate Barron Harkness, he came up dry. There was only one other conceivable suspect, now that Hank Morgan had removed herself from the scene: Herbert Van Fleet. But, in spite of his obsession with Sasha, Van Fleet had come up clean. Dino didn’t think so, he remembered, and Dino’s instincts were often good; but, for that matter, so were his own, and he could not bring himself even to dislike Van Fleet, strange as he was.

Then, he remembered something else odd about Van Fleet, though it did not seem connected to Sasha. Van Fleet had finished medical school but had been rejected during his internship as “unsuited for a medical career.” That was the statement Dino had read to him, something one of the investigative teams had turned up, a statement from somebody at Physicians amp; Surgeons Hospital, where Van Fleet had served his abortive internship.

When the carpet layers had finished, Stone retrieved his badge from a dresser drawer and caught a cab uptown. Dino was still on his honeymoon, he reasoned, and there was nobody he could turn to for the original record of the investigation, so he would have to do this himself. Anyway, it kept his mind off Cary.

The hospital was the most prestigious of its kind in the city, having treated the great and near great for more than a century. There was as much cachet attached to checking into Physicians amp; Surgeons as there was to moving into a Fifth Avenue apartment.

“Can you tell me who is in charge of interns?” he asked at the front desk.

“The chief resident,” a young woman replied.

No good. The chief resident would not have been at the hospital long enough. “And who does he report to, ultimately?”

“The chief of medicine,” the young woman replied. “His name is Garfield. Did you wish to see an intern, sir?”

“No, I just need some information, and I think the chief of medicine is the person I should see.”

“Well, his office is on the fifth floor, but I shouldn’t think he’d see you without an appointment.”

“Thanks, I’ll just have a word with his secretary. By the way, how long has Dr. Garfield been chief of medicine?”

The woman shrugged. “I’ve been here for twelve years, and he had the job when I arrived. Since Adam, I guess.”

Stone took the elevator to the fifth floor and followed the signs. The chief of medicine occupied a spacious corner suite, and two secretaries guarded his door. Stone showed the badge to one of them. “My name is Barrington. I’d like to see Dr. Garfield.”

“I’m afraid he’s in a staff meeting at the moment, and he has another appointment immediately after that,” the woman replied, unimpressed.

“Would you please take him a note saying that I’m here and that I would like to see him? This is a serious matter.”

The woman seemed uncertain, but she disappeared through a door for a minute, then returned. “Dr. Garfield will be finished with his staff meeting in just a few minutes. He asked that you wait.”

Stone took a seat and picked up a magazine.

Shortly, a tall, elderly man dressed in a long white coat appeared in the reception room. “I’m Garfield. What can I do for you?”

“I wonder if we could talk privately?” Stone asked, glancing at the two secretaries.

“I suppose so,” Garfield said, striding toward his office door, “but I haven’t got a hell of a lot of time.”

“This won’t take long,” Stone said, following him.

The doctor did not sit, and he did not ask Stone to. “Well?” he said impatiently.

“I’m inquiring about a former intern at this hospital named Herbert Van Fleet,” Stone said.

Garfield didn’t reply immediately. “There was somebody here about him a few months ago,” he said finally.

“Well, somebody’s here again, Doctor, and it’s important.”

“Why is it important?”

“Let’s just say that it’s in connection with a serious crime.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Were you in charge when Van Fleet was interning here?”

“I was.”

“Why was he terminated from his internship?”

Garfield stared at him for a moment. “Am I going to end up testifying in a court of law about this?”

“That’s unlikely,” Stone said. “This is purely for background.”

“It’s about the Nijinsky woman, isn’t it?”

“I can’t say, sir.”

“Well, Mr. Barrington, you’d better say, if you want to get anything out of me. I read the tabloids, from time to time, and I’m aware that you are retired from the police department.”

Stone tried to keep from showing embarrassment. “That’s true, sir.”

“Then why are you flashing a badge around here?”

“Retired officers are allowed to keep their badges.”

“I don’t have to talk to a retired detective, you know.”

“I know that, sir, but I think the information I’m asking for could be important.”

“You don’t have the slightest notion of whether it’s important, do you? You’re just curious.”

“To tell you the truth, sir, I am. I couldn’t break this one when I was on the force, and it bothers me that it’s no longer being investigated.”

“The Morgan woman didn’t do it, then?”

“No, sir, she didn’t.”

Garfield sat down behind his desk and waved Stone to a chair. “Let me explain something to you, Mr. Barrington. This is a very highly regarded institution of healing, and we get some very well-known people in here as patients.”

“I’m aware of that, Doctor.”

“It’s conceivable that if the information you’re asking for got into the papers, there could be… repercussions for this hospital.”

“I assure you, Doctor, nothing you tell me will become a part of any public record, and I certainly won’t pass it on to the press.”

The doctor looked at Stone thoughtfully. “I’d like to know what happened to Sasha Nijinsky myself,” he said.

“So would I, Doctor; that’s why I’m here.”

“All right, but if it ever comes up, I will deny I ever told you any of this.”

Stone nodded. “I understand.”

Garfield took a deep breath and began. “This happened, what – twelve, thirteen years ago?”

“That sounds about right.”

“You have to understand that interns, like everybody else, have their own little… eccentricities. I have seen yearend pranks pulled that would stand your hair on end – cadavers in the cafeteria, you know? We try to be a little tolerant of these things – after all, these young people are under a lot of pressure, and they don’t get much time off – but we keep a close eye on them, all the same. I’ve had alcoholics, drug addicts, nymphomaniacs – all sorts of problems exhibit themselves, and, usually, with a little counseling, we can keep the offender in the program, maybe make a fine physician out of him later on. We’re not out to wreck careers, here; these kids come to us with eight years of higher education, and they’ve worked hard. But we have to draw the line somewhere.”

“Where did you draw it with Herbert Van Fleet?”

“Van Fleet was one of our brighter interns,” Garfield said, placing his feet on his desk, unwilling to be hurried. “He finished, I don’t know, sixth or seventh in his med school class at Columbia, and he exhibited an inclination toward pathology. Might have been good at it, too; unfortunately, that was not the only inclination he exhibited.” He paused.

“Go on, Doctor,” Stone encouraged.

“Van Fleet appeared to be attracted to sick people.”

“That seems like a desirable quality in a physician.”

Garfield shook his head. “I’m not making myself clear,” he said. “I mean he exhibited a sexual attraction for the ill. Women, that is. He seemed very uncomfortable with male patients, didn’t like to touch them. One of his professors at Columbia told me that, as a med student, he had refused to work on a male cadaver, except when forced to study the genitalia. My guess is that he was suppressing homosexual, or at least bisexual, tendencies, and that he had difficulty accepting these tendencies or dealing with them.”