Robin Cook - Foreign Body

“Do you think your friend may be willing to take a look at my Herbert?”

While the waiter took their coffee order and cleared the dishes, the women leaned back and didn’t speak, both rehashing the conversation. When the waiter left, both leaned forward again. Jennifer spoke. “I can certainly ask her if she’d take a look at your husband. She’s a terrific person, and I think a famous medical examiner, both she and her husband. They work together in New York.” She paused. “When did you find out about your husband?”

“That was the most bizarre thing,” Lucinda said. “I had gotten a call, which had awakened me, from a family friend in New York, who’d wanted to convey his condolences about Herbert. The trouble was, at that point I’d not heard anything. I thought Herbert was just fine, like I’d left him some three hours earlier.” Lucinda stopped talking, and her lips quivered as she fought back tears. Finally, she sighed audibly and dried the corners of her eyes. She looked at Jennifer, tried to smile, and apologized.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Jennifer assured her. In truth, Jennifer was feeling a tad guilty, pushing Lucinda as much as she was. Yet the similarities between the two cases seemed to grow. “Are you alright?” Jennifer asked. Without really thinking about what she was doing, Jennifer reached out and gripped Lucinda’s wrist as a spontaneous gesture of support. The move surprised even Jennifer; she hardly knew the woman, and here she was touching her. “Maybe we should talk about something else,” Jennifer suggested, withdrawing her contact.

“No, it’s okay. Actually, I want to talk about it. Up in the room I was just brooding, which wasn’t helping anything. It’s good for me to talk.”

“So what did you do after you talked with your friend from New York?”

“Of course, I was taken aback. I asked him where on earth he’d heard such a thing. Well, he’d heard it on CNN as part of a piece on medical tourism. Can you imagine?”

Jennifer’s lower jaw slowly dropped open; she had seen the same segment as Lucinda’s friend, although possibly not at the same time.

“Anyway,” Lucinda continued with progressive control over her fragile emotions, “while I was still talking to my friend, insisting that Herbert was just fine, the second phone line began to ring. I asked the friend to hold for a moment while I pressed the other button. It turned out that it was the hospital — specifically, our case manager — informing me that Herbert had indeed died.”

Lucinda paused again. There were no more tears, just some deep breathing.

“Take your time,” Jennifer urged.

Lucinda nodded as the waiter came over to inquire if they wanted more coffee. Both women shook their heads, totally preoccupied with their private conversation.

“I thought it was horrid that CNN knew about my husband before I did. But I didn’t say anything at the time. I was too overwhelmed by the news. All I did was tell Kashmira Varini I’d come right to the hospital.”

“Hold up!” Jennifer said, raising her hands for emphasis. “Your case manager’s name is Kashmira Varini?

“Yes, it is. Do you know her?”

“I can’t say I know her, but I’ve met her. She was Granny’s case manager, too. This is getting stranger still. This morning I asked her about your husband’s death, and she told me she wasn’t aware of it.”

“She certainly was aware of it. It was she whom I met last night.”

“Good grief,” Jennifer voiced. “I had a feeling the woman wasn’t trustworthy, but why would she lie about something I could easily find out about?”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“I can tell you one thing. When I see her this afternoon, I’m going to ask her directly. This is ridiculous. What does she think we are, children, that she can just out-and-out lie to our faces?”

“Perhaps it has something to do with their need for confidentiality.”

“Bullshit!” Jennifer said, and then caught herself. “Pardon the language. I’m just getting progressively ticked off.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I raised two boys.”

“Maybe so, but most people don’t give women the same latitude. But getting back to CNN. Something very similar happened to me.” Jennifer went on to explain how she, too, had heard about her grandmother’s passing on CNN and had actually called both the healthcare company that had arranged everything and the hospital itself only to be reassured that her grandmother was doing fine. It was only later when she got a call back from the hospital by Mrs. Varini that she learned the truth and that her granny had indeed passed away.

“How bizarre! It sounds as if the right hand doesn’t talk to the left hand at the Queen Victoria.”

“I’m wondering if it might be worse than that,” Jennifer replied.

“Like what?”

Jennifer smiled, shook her head, and shrugged her shoulders all at the same time. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. Of course, we could just be suffering from grief-driven paranoia. I’m the first one to admit I’m far from my right mind with the shock of losing my best friend, mother, and grandmother — all at once. On top of that, I’m learning that jet lag is not for kids. I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. Maybe I’m not thinking so well, either. I mean, it could be that elective surgical deaths are so uncommon for the Queen Victoria that they don’t quite know how to handle it. After all, they didn’t even build mortuary facilities.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Pray that my friend Laurie Montgomery comes. If she doesn’t come, I truly don’t know what I’ll do. Meanwhile, this afternoon I’m going back to the hospital. I’m going to ask Mrs. Varini why she lied to me, and I’m going to make it absolutely clear, if I haven’t already, they are not to touch Granny. What about you? Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

“What a thoughtful invitation. Can I let you know later? I just don’t know where my emotions are going to be.”

“You can let me know whenever you like. It probably will have to be early. I think what’s going to happen is that I’ll just run out of gas and then sleep for twelve hours. But what are you going to do about the hospital? Are you just going to wait until your sons get here and let them make the decisions?”

“That is exactly what I am going to do.”

“Maybe you should give our friend Mrs. Varini a call and make sure she can’t claim a misunderstanding and do something without your expressed approval. When the next of kin are grieving, it’s easy to bully them. Ironically, it’s usually about doing an autopsy, not about not doing one.”

“I think I’ll take your advice. Last night I wasn’t myself.”

“Are you done with lunch?” Jennifer asked. “I’m going to head back to the hospital. I was going to go to the embassy, but I think I’ll put that off. I want to pose a few questions to the case manager, like why she lied to me. I’ll let you know if I learn anything startling.”

Having already signed their respective checks, the women stood, and several busboys ran over and pulled out their chairs. The restaurant was now full, forcing them to weave among a crowd of people waiting for tables. Out in the lobby, they said their good-byes with a promise to talk later. Just as they were about to separate, Jennifer thought of something else. “I think I’m going to look into the CNN connection if possible. Would you mind terribly finding out from your New York friend exactly when he saw the segment about your husband, New York time?”

“I’d be happy to. I’d planned to call him back. I know he felt terrible about having broken the news.”

They were about to separate again when Lucinda said, “Thank you for encouraging me to come out of my room. I think this was a lot healthier, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t have if left to my own devices.”