Robin Cook - Foreign Body

“I’ve heard that the Indian forensic pathology system is behind the times. It’s too bad. It creates a circumstance where miscarriages of justice are waiting to happen. In many developing countries, the police and the judiciary are almost invariably corrupt and often in cahoots.”

“There’s more,” Jennifer said. “For the second night in a row, there’s been a death at the same hospital that sounds strangely similar. First it was my granny, then last night it was a man named Herbert Benfatti. Both were apparent heart attacks the night of their surgery, and like Granny, Mr. Benfatti had been recently cleared by an essentially normal pre-op angiogram.”

“Did they do an autopsy on the second patient?”

“I have no idea. When I asked the case manager handling Granny’s case, she told me she didn’t know about any death last night, but I didn’t believe her.”

“How come?”

“Mostly intuition, I guess, which is hardly scientific. She just does not strike me as a truthful person. She wanted me to decide on the disposition of my grandmother’s body and didn’t want the issue to be diluted. I don’t know.”

“Do you think you are going to be able to keep stalling them?”

“I truly don’t know. As irritated as I am, I know they’re irritated, too; at least the case manager is. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m going to come over there as soon as I possibly can and give you a hand. I don’t think I’d forgive myself if I didn’t come. Remember, she was as much a mother to me as she was to you and your brothers. Listen, I’ll come unless you think you won’t be able to deal with a hormone-addled crazy woman.”

Jennifer was stunned. Laurie being willing to come all the way to India had never even occurred to her. “Hormones or no hormones, it wouldn’t make a particle of difference, but it’s one hell of a long flight,” she warned. “I mean, I’d love to have your help and support. Don’t get me wrong!”

“I don’t doubt that it is one of the longest,” Laurie said, “but how bad can it be? I just read that Air India has New York-Delhi nonstops.”

“I suppose that would have been better than the two stops I was relegated to.”

“Where are you staying?”

“It’s called the Amal Palace, and it’s the best hotel I ever stayed in. Of course, I’ve stayed in very few hotels.”

“Wait a second!” Laurie suddenly said, sounding disgusted with herself. “What am I thinking? I can’t wing off to India. I’m in the middle of an infertility cycle.”

“Right! You told me, and I forgot, too,” Jennifer said. Selfishly, she felt a big letdown. Having Laurie there with her would have been terrific.

“Actually,” Laurie said, “I believe I can do it after all, providing I can bring my sperm factory. That’s what Jack has been calling himself the last few months. That means it will be up to Dr. Calvin Washington, the deputy chief. I know he’d let me go, but whether he’d let both of us go without more warning, I have no idea. But it’s worth a try. Here’s the plan: We’ll both be coming or neither will come. I’m sorry about that. Can you live with the uncertainty?”

“Of course,” Jennifer said. “Tell Dr. Washington I’m asking him pretty please to let you guys come.”

“That’s a good ruse. He’s never gotten over your week stay fourteen years ago.”

“Neither have I, and I’m finally getting a payoff this June with my M.D. diploma.”

“And I’ll be there to see you get it,” Laurie said. “Now, what about timing? How soon can we get there, presuming we’re coming? Do you have any idea?”

“I do,” Jennifer said. “Correct me if I’m wrong: It’s still Tuesday there.”

“It is. It’s a little before midnight.”

“If you leave tomorrow night, which is Wednesday, you will get here Thursday night late.”

“Do you think you can hold them off until we get there? We don’t want Granny cremated or embalmed if we are considering an autopsy.”

“I’ll certainly do my best. Hey, I’ll even come to the airport to pick you up.”

“We can discuss that when we know for certain we’ll be coming.”

“Laurie,” Jennifer said, just moments before the call was to be terminated, “can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think any less of me that I’ve let all this undoubtedly superfluous stuff overwhelm the grief I feel for Maria? What I mean is that most people would be so overwhelmed by their emotions that they would be incapable of worrying about whether their loved one should be subject to an autopsy or not. Am I weird?”

“Absolutely, totally, one hundred percent no! It’s exactly the way I would have responded. Normal people love the person, not the body. The body is a mere receptacle guaranteed to wither and die. The fact that you loved your grandmother to the extent that you are sensitive to issues way beyond the details of dealing with funeral concerns, I believe, is a tribute.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so,” Laurie said. “As a medical examiner, I’ve seen a lot of bodies and the reactions of a lot of family members.”

A few minutes later, after an appropriate good-bye, Jennifer disconnected. Despite not being superstitious, she quietly thanked her lucky star that she’d even thought of calling Laurie Montgomery. She was thrilled Laurie might come, and the fact that Laurie was as willing as she was emphasized to Jennifer what a piece of dog crap her fair-weather friend Neil McCulgan had turned out to be. Jennifer literally crossed her fingers for a few moments and gestured with them in the air that Laurie and Jack would be given the time off.

“We are nearing your hotel,” the driver announced. “Am I to wait?”

The thought of asking him to wait hadn’t occurred to her, but since the health management company that killed her grandmother was paying, why not? After all, she had to go back to the hospital. “You can wait or you can come back to the hotel in a few hours. One way or the other, I’ll give you a call when I have to go back to the Queen Victoria Hospital.”

“Very well, madam,” the driver responded.

October 16, 2007

Wednesday, 1:15 a.m.

New York, USA

“Jack!” Laurie called. “Wake up!”

Laurie had turned the bedroom lights on but for Jack’s benefit had kept them at their dimmest. Since she’d been on the computer in the fully illuminated study, it seemed exceptionally dark.

“Come on, dear,” she continued. “Wake up! We have to talk.”

Jack was on his side, facing Laurie. She had no idea how long he’d been asleep, maybe almost two hours. Their usual evening routine was a light dinner after Jack’s run on the basketball court. While they ate, they watched half a DVD for an hour or so, the rest the next night, before tidying up. At about nine they generally moved into their double study that looked out over 106th Street and the neighborhood basketball court and the rest of the small park that Jack had paid to have renovated and lighted. At about ten Jack would invariably begin yawning, give Laurie a peck on the top of her head, and supposedly retire to bed to read. But in reality, not much reading ever got done. No matter what time Laurie might poke her head in, he’d invariably be asleep, sometimes with a book or a medical journal precariously propped on his chest and his bedside light ablaze.

“Jack!” Laurie called again. She knew it was going to be hard to wake him, but she was determined. She began to nudge his upper shoulder until she was shaking it. Still, he stayed asleep. Laurie had to smile. His sleeping ability was of Olympic caliber. Although in some situations she could find it frustrating, generally she found it a trait to envy. Laurie was a light sleeper until the morning hours, when she had to get up. Then she slept soundly.