Джеймс Паттерсон - The Midwife Murders

“Uh … no. He didn’t say …”

“And you didn’t think to ask,” Blumenthal adds.

What I’m thinking now, however, is that Blumenthal is ready to heave a sigh of frustration and toss me out, but I also want to believe that he is interested in Patrik’s story. And, well, when all is said and done, I’m the person who owns the story.

What Blumenthal says next, however, does not reassure me of his interest. He flips his laptop closed and says, “Okay, good. What you’ve found out, this stuff you just told me, it might turn out to be helpful.”

I explode. Out loud. Big. Really big.

“‘Helpful’? This is a goddamn breakthrough. This is what they call a lead. I don’t know you that well at all, Detective, but under normal circumstances, with a normal detective, this would be considered very, very big news. You take this info from Katra’s father, and you add this to the high-heeled woman in the video, and then you just sit there.”

Now it’s Blumenthal’s turn to explode. And he does a full Vesuvius. He stands up so quickly that it seems he might actually hit the ceiling.

“You’re judging me on how I react to what you’ve told me? I haven’t been enthusiastic enough? Is that it? Are you waiting for smoke to come out of my ears? Or would you prefer that I jump on this table and dance a jig? Maybe we should plan a testimonial dinner for you. We’ll ask the mayor to—”

I try to interrupt. “Listen. All I’m saying—”

“No. Listen for once to what I’m saying. Could you do that, Ms. Ryuan?”

My teeth are clenched. I’d like to punch this dude. But I shut up. He quickly calms down, runs his hand through his hair. He tries to sound even-tempered, and then he begins to explain.

“My job is to gather all the information. Got that? All the information. Yes, the catch you made on the video, the nurse in high heels, that’s terrific. Absolutely terrific. This news about what Patrik Kovac told you is equally terrific. It’s a goddamn lucky break.”

Now he looks at the ceiling. Then he looks at the wall. Then he looks at his laptop screen. This is a guy trying to calm down.

The silence that accompanies all this looking is stunning. I, of course, take the opportunity to speak.

“So? What does it all mean? Your little lecture? Your anger?” I ask.

Then he says calmly, “There are some things you don’t know.”

I rub my burning eyes. I wipe my sweaty palms against my shirt.

“There’s some other news,” he says. He looks at me, then sits down again in his chair. “This is not good news.”

“For Chrissake, tell me. Just tell me,” I yell.

“We’ve had another kidnapping,” he says.

Both Blumenthal and I allow quite a few seconds to pass.

“Holy shit,” I say. “With all the security? The guards? The alarms? The—”

“Hold it, Ms. Ryuan. Hold it for just a minute. Let me finish.”

I hold it. And knowing me, it will probably be “for just a minute.”

“The baby wasn’t taken from this hospital. The baby, one hour old, I should add, was kidnapped from Immaculate Conception down in Chelsea.”

“Oh, my God,” I say. “Didn’t they have security? Didn’t they have guards? What with everything that’s happened up here?”

“Of course they had extra security and guards. They had security all over the place. Every hospital in every borough is on high alert. But it happened. And it’ll probably happen again. And I’m going to move heaven and earth and even hell to try to stop it.”

I nod … gently. I notice that Blumenthal’s hands now have a slight quiver to them. I see the big patches of sweat on his forehead, his upper lip, his shirt.

“Holy shit,” I say. “What does this mean?”

“It means, in medical terms, that we’ve got an epidemic.”

CHAPTER 35

BLUMENTHAL AND I NO longer have very much to say to each other. I thought he was passive and uncaring. He thought I was an aggressive bitch. No, of course he never said that, but I’m pretty good at reading attitudes. Right now I’ve just got to get out of here.

Blumenthal’s colleagues—police officers, FBI agents, file clerks, junior detectives, full detectives—watch me turn and walk quickly to the cafeteria door, exit, and close the door firmly, but without slamming it. What they cannot see, however, is the fact that I stop outside the door. I stand and wait. I want to hear if anything is going to be said about my visit.

Sure enough, almost immediately Leon Blumenthal yells, “I need everyone over here. Right now.” Then, for good measure, he adds, “Right now means right now.”

Here it comes. I know I’ll hear something like, “You all know that crazy midwife. Well, she’s crazier than ever.” Or maybe, “Wait’ll I tell you the ridiculous ‘tip’ I just got from that Ryuan woman.”

Here’s what Blumenthal actually says: “Lucy Ryuan, a respected midwife here at GUH, just stopped by. I’m sure you all saw her, and some of you may have even heard parts, if not all, of our conversation. Ms. Ryuan delivered some highly provocative, highly important information. If even half of what she said is true, then we’ve now got something of a lead, a real lead. I’m going to immediately text some of you with next-step orders. I’d give them out right now, but I’m sure Ms. Ryuan is standing outside listening in.”

Son of a bitch. This guy is no fool. But I’m surprised and pleased about what I’ve just overheard.

And then, “Don’t lean too hard against the door, Lucy. Someone might open it suddenly.”

It’s Rudi Sarkar. He’s looking like the autumn cover of Esquire . He’s wearing dark-gray slacks, a Paul Stuart—I’m guessing—blazer, and his adorable smile. Bright white teeth, good haircut, the whole deal.

“What is it that you are listening for so intently?” he asks.

I know from experience that I will always end up in a better place by telling the truth than a lame lie. And most of my lies do turn out to be lame.

“To be honest—” I begin.

“Please do be honest,” Sarkar says.

I begin again. “To be honest, I just came from speaking with Detective Blumenthal, and I was wondering if there would be any follow-up, like if he had an announcement to make to his staff.”

“And did he? Something malignant?”

Good God, do doctors just always use medical terminology?

“Indeed he did, but it turned out not to be, as you say, a malignant announcement,” I say.

“I am not surprised,” says Sarkar. We begin walking toward the elevators.

“I know that you think well of him, Dr. Sarkar—”

“Rudi,” he corrects.

“You’ve already said, Rudi, that you looked into Blumenthal’s history and that he’s a good guy,” I remind him.

“I am not so certain that he is ‘a good guy.’ But I know that he is a very good detective. And I know this because the police commissioner is a patient of mine.”

“Sally Poblete is a patient of yours?” I say.

“Yes, she has been for a number of years.”

“Is the commissioner pregnant?”

“No,” he says. There goes that smile again. “But she is trying to be.”

I nod. Sarkar continues. Is he being indiscreet or is this well-known information? I decide not to ask.

“Ms. Poblete already knew that Blumenthal was the senior detective on this baby-thievery case.” Only Sarkar would use a word like thievery . “And Ms. Poblete told me we should be grateful he is on this. She called Detective Blumenthal ‘one of the finest of the finest.’ But she did then add that occasionally Blumenthal ‘pushes it.’ Those are her words. When I asked what she meant, she said that this detective is often quite creative in ignoring the rules. Then she again said that we should be very thankful to have him.”