Crisis (28 page)

"No. She was a patient of the physician who started the concierge practice that I'm now essentially running. He's in Florida and not in the best of health."

"So in a sense you inherited her?"

"In a sense."

Alexis came back to the table. "Randolph is coming right over. He's interested in the autopsy idea but has reservations, including its admissibility, like I feared."

Jack nodded, but he was more interested in his conversation with Craig, and he had been debating how to word his next question. "Craig, remember this morning when I mentioned the idea of smothering or strangulation in relation to Patience Stanhope, which I later realized was ridiculous, since she died of a heart attack?"

"How could I forget?"

"It's an example of how medical examiners like me think. I mean, I wasn't making any allegations of any sort. I was kind of thinking out loud, trying to relate central cyanosis to the rest of the facts. In retrospect, you understand, don't you? At the time, you were bothered by the suggestion."

"I understand, but I'm not myself these days for obvious reasons. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. I'm bringing it up only because I want to ask you a question which occurred to me when Noelle Everette made her comment about a group of old-fashioned doctors being angry about concierge doctors. It's a question you might think outlandish the same way you responded to the mentioning of strangulation and smothering this morning."

"You've piqued my curiosity. Ask your question."

"Can you think of any remotely possible way you could have been set up by Patience Stanhope's death? What I'm suggesting is that someone might have seen her passing as a way to put concierge medicine in a bad light. Does this idea resonate at all, or am I once again somewhere beyond the orbit of Pluto?"

A small smile appeared at the corners of Craig's mouth and slowly spread inward until he laughed and shook his head in wonderment. "What you lack in rationality, you certainly make up for in creativity."

"Remember, it is a rhetorical question. I don't expect an answer; just tuck it away in the archives of your brain and see if it resonates with any other facts you've not told anyone."

"Are you suggesting some kind of conspiracy?" Alexis asked. She was as taken aback as Craig.

"Conspiracy implies more than one," Jack said. "Like you asked me to do on the phone, I'm thinking out of the box."

"That's way out of the box," Craig said.

The doorbell precluded any more talk of malevolent medical machinations, which was how Craig referred to Jack's idea as Alexis went to the door. When Alexis returned with Randolph Bingham in tow, Jack and Craig were chuckling at other clever names Craig was able to conjure up. Alexis was pleasantly surprised. Craig was showing more normal behavior than he had in months, which was even more unusual, considering the stressful day in court.

Jack was reintroduced to Randolph. The first time had been outside the courtroom that morning before the trial had recommenced. There hadn't been much time, and Alexis, who'd done the introducing, merely said that Jack was her brother, whereas now she included details of Jack's professional qualifications.

Randolph didn't say anything during Alexis's monologue, although he nodded a few times at key points. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance again," he said when Alexis concluded.

"Likewise," Jack said. He felt there was an unease about the situation. Randolph was irrepressibly staid. Although he'd changed from his meticulously tailored courtroom suit, his idea of relaxed wear was a heavily starched, freshly pressed, long-sleeved white oxford shirt, pleated summer-weight wool pants with a knifelike crease, and a summer-weight cashmere sweater. As further evidence of his primness, he appeared to have shaved, in contrast to Jack and Craig, who both had the expected evening stubble, and his silver hair was as perfectly styled as it had been in court.

"Should we sit here at the table or go into the living room?" Alexis asked as the host.

"Wherever you'd like," Randolph said. "But we must be expeditious; I have a lot of preparation yet to do tonight."

They ended up sitting around the table where they'd been before Randolph's arrival.

"Alexis has told me about your suggestion of doing an autopsy on the deceased," Randolph said. "Perhaps you can tell me why this might be important at this eleventh hour."

To Jack's ear, he spoke with the true melodiousness that Jack associated with elite New England schools, and it suddenly occurred to him that Randolph was the archetype to which Jordan aspired. The question of why Jordan wanted to do so was another matter, since Jack found Randolph a passionless man, a prisoner of his restrained formality.

Jack ran down his short list in favor of an autopsy sans any reference to conspiracy or individually motivated foul-play theories. Then he gave his patented spiel about the role of a medical examiner's talking for the dead. "In short," Jack said as a kind of summation, "I believe an autopsy would afford Patience Stanhope her last day in court. My hope is to find enough pathology to clear Craig or, worst case, provide an argument for contributory negligence, since there is documentation the deceased refused a recommended cardiac workup."

Jack looked across at Randolph's arctic-blue eyes for some response. There was none, nor was there from his mouth, which was a small, almost lipless horizontal slash halfway between his nose and the point of his chin. "Any questions?" Jack asked, hoping to generate a response.

"I don't believe so," Randolph said at length. "You've stated your case succinctly and well. It is an intriguing possibility, which I had not thought of since the clinical aspects of the case are so clear. My biggest concern involves the admissibility of whatever you might find. If something were to be found truly relevant and exculpatory, I would have to petition the court for a continuance to allow for proper discovery. In other words, it could be up to the judge."

"Couldn't I be called as a surprise rebuttal witness?"

"Only to refute previous testimony not to offer new testimony."

"I would be refuting the testimony of the plaintiff's experts claiming malpractice."

"It's stretching the rule, but I see your point. It would be up to the judge at any case, and he'd be ruling over strenuous objections from the plaintiff's attorney. It would be an uphill struggle and would afford the plaintiff foundation for appeal if it were granted.

"A final thought that adds to the difficulties of presenting such new evidence is my experience with Judge Davidson. He is known to like to move things along and is already irritated at the slow pace of this trial. There's no doubt he wants to bring it to a close. He would not look kindly on new evidence brought in at the very last minute."

Jack shrugged and raised his eyebrows questioningly. "So you are against it?"

"Not necessarily. This is a unique case with unique challenges, and we would be foolish not to do everything we possibly can for a positive outcome. New exculpatory evidence could be used as the basis to argue for a new trial through appeal. On the other hand, I believe the chances of finding something exculpatory are slim indeed. With that said, I'd come out sixty-forty in favor of doing it. So there you have it."

Randolph stood, as did the others. "Thank you for inviting me over and briefing me," he said, shaking hands all around. "See you all in court."

As Alexis accompanied Randolph to the door, Jack and Craig sat back down. "He fooled me," Jack said. "Just when I thought he was telling us he was against my doing the autopsy, he tells me he's for it."

"I had the same reaction," Craig said.

"One thing this little meeting made me realize is that I don't think you should change attorneys," Jack said. "Randolph might be priggish, but he strikes me as keenly intelligent, and under that gentleman veneer, he's a competitor. He definitely wants to win."

"Thanks for your opinion," Craig said. "I wish I unquestioningly shared it."

Alexis returned. She acted mildly irritated. "Why didn't you tell him about your run-in with Tony Fasano and the threat he gave you?"

"I didn't want to confuse the issue," Jack said. "Same reason I didn't bring up my wild theories of foul play or the surprising biography of Jordan Stanhope, aka Stanislaw Jaruzelski."

"I think that threat issue is more important," Alexis said. "Doesn't that bother you, being threatened like that?"

"Not really. Tony Fasano's worried about his investment, since he's surely taken the case on contingency. With that said, he strikes me as someone who blows a lot of hot air."

"I don't know," Alexis said. "It concerns me."

"Well, folks!" Jack said. "It's time to fish or cut bait. Am I going to try to do this autopsy or not? One thing I haven't mentioned. From my experience, juries use a commonsense gut reaction in their decision-making, but they like facts. Autopsy results are facts that they can grasp in contrast to testimony that is ephemeral and open to interpretation. Try to keep that in mind."

"If you can honestly tell me you are not concerned about Tony Fasano's threat, then I'll vote for the autopsy."

"And you, Craig?" Jack asked. "You're the principal here. Your vote can trump the rest of us."

"My feelings haven't changed," Craig said. "I think there's more chance finding stuff we don't want to know than things we do. But I'm not going to vote against the two of you and Randolph." He stood up. "Now I'm going to go up and put myself in the warm and fuzzy hand of a strong hypnotic. With the rest of the plaintiff experts, Jordan Stanhope, and possibly Leona Rattner slated to testify, it's going to be a taxing day tomorrow."

For a few minutes after Craig had disappeared upstairs, Jack and Alexis sat at the table, lost in their own thoughts. Jack was the first to speak after reaching out and picking up the scotch bottle. "Mixing this hard stuff and a strong hypnotic is not a good idea."

"I can't argue with that."

"Have you been at all worried about Craig injuring himself?"

"You mean overdosing?"

"Yes, either intentionally or otherwise." Jack could remember his own struggles with self-destructive thoughts during his years of fighting depression.

"Of course I've thought about it, but that's one aspect of narcissism in his favor. The devotees generally don't hurt themselves. Also, his depression has been far from incapacitating, and he has been cycling regularly through periods of normalcy -- like tonight, for instance. He probably wouldn't admit it, but I think you have raised his spirits by being here. It means you care, and he respects you."

"That's nice. But what's he been taking for sleep? Do you know?"

"Just the usual. I've kept close tabs. I'm embarrassed to say, I've even been counting the pills behind his back."

"You shouldn't be embarrassed. That's being prudent."

"Whatever," Alexis said. She stood up. "I think I'll head upstairs, check on the girls, and turn in myself. I hate to abandon you, but if Leona Rattner testifies tomorrow, it's going to be particularly taxing for me, too."

"No problem," Jack said. He got to his feet as well. "I'm tired myself, although I want to read over some of the depositions again. I keep thinking I might be missing something that would be key to keep in mind if and when I do the autopsy."

"I certainly don't envy you working on someone who's been buried for almost a year. How do you do this kind of work day in, day out? Isn't it repulsive?"

"I know it sounds unpleasant, maybe even ghoulish, but it's actually fascinating. I learn something every day, and I don't have any problem patients."

"Don't remind me about problem patients," Alexis said. "Talk about self-inflicted wounds; that's a prime example!"

The silence of the big house settled over Jack after Alexis said good night and climbed the stairs. For a few minutes, he reflected on Alexis's curiously emotional response to Patience Stanhope being a problem patient and how Alexis was willing to say she was glad Patience was gone. She'd even alluded to thinking that Patience Stanhope had had something to do with Craig's moving out. Jack shook his head. He didn't know what to think. Instead, he finished the beer he'd been nursing, then went down to his room to retrieve the case file and his cell phone. With those in hand, he made his way back to the study where he'd inadvertently spent the night. The room had a comfortable, familiar feel.

After getting himself situated in the same reading chair he'd been in the night before, Jack flipped open his cell phone. He felt ambivalence about calling Laurie. He wanted to hear her voice, but he was not excited about dealing with her inevitable resentment when he told her about the possible exhumation and autopsy. It was already Tuesday night, which meant there were only two more full days before Friday. The other problem was that Jack had phoned Calvin during the day to say he wasn't going to be at the OCME on Wednesday and that he'd keep him informed. There was a chance Calvin had said something to Laurie, so she'd be miffed hearing things secondhand.

As the call went through, Jack wiggled to get as comfortable as possible, and his eyes swept over the shelving that filed the opposite wall. His line of sight stopped on a large, black, old-fashioned doctor's bag next to a portable ECG machine.