Nothing Lasts Forever (3 page)
Dr. Peterson sighed. “Because I was standing right next to Dr. Barker when he said it.”
There was no graceful way out.
“No more questions.”
The case was falling apart, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was about to get worse.
Denise Berry took the witness stand.
“You’re a nurse at Embarcadero County Hospital?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you worked there?”
“Five years.”
“During that time, did you ever hear any conversations between Dr. Taylor and Dr. Barker?”
“Sure. Lots of times.”
“Can you repeat some of them?”
Nurse Berry looked at Dr. Taylor and hesitated. “Well, Dr. Barker could be very sharp…”
“I didn’t ask you that, Nurse Berry. I asked you to tell us some specific things you heard him say to Dr. Taylor.”
There was a long pause. “Well, one time he said she was incompetent, and…”
Gus Venable put on a show of surprise. “You heard Dr. Barker say that Dr. Taylor was incompetent?”
“Yes, sir. But he was always…”
“What other comments did you hear him make about Dr. Taylor?”
The witness was reluctant to speak. “I really can’t remember.”
“Miss Berry, you’re under oath.”
“Well, once I heard him say…” The rest of the sentence was a mumble.
“We can’t hear you. Speak up, please. You heard him say what?”
“He said he…he wouldn’t let Dr. Taylor operate on his dog.”
There was a collective gasp from the courtroom.
“But I’m sure he only meant…”
“I think we can all assume that Dr. Barker meant what he said.”
All eyes were fixed on Paige Taylor.
The prosecutor’s case against Paige seemed over-whelming. Yet Alan Penn had the reputation of being a master magician in the courtroom. Now it was his turn to present the defendant’s case. Could he pull another rabbit out of his hat?
Paige Taylor was on the witness stand, being questioned by Alan Penn. This was the moment everyone had been waiting for.
“John Cronin was a patient of yours, Dr. Taylor?”
“Yes, he was.”
“And what were your feelings toward him?”
“I liked him. He knew how ill he was, but he was very courageous. He had surgery for a cardiac tumor.”
“You performed the heart surgery?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you find during the operation?”
“When we opened up his chest, we found that he had melanoma that had metastasized.”
“In other words, cancer that had spread throughout his body.”
“Yes. It had metastasized throughout the lymph glands.”
“Meaning that there was no hope for him? No heroic measures that could bring him back to health?”
“None.”
“John Cronin was put on life-support systems?”
“That’s correct.”
“Dr. Taylor, did you deliberately administer a fatal dose of insulin to end John Cronin’s life?”
“I did.”
There was a sudden buzz in the courtroom.
She’s really a cool one,
Gus Venable thought.
She makes it sound as though she gave him a cup of tea.
“Would you tell the jury why you ended John Cronin’s life?”
“Because he asked me to. He begged me to. He sent for me in the middle of the night, in terrible pain. The medications we were giving him were no longer working.” Her voice was steady. “He said he didn’t want to suffer anymore. His death was only a few days away. He pleaded with me to end it for him. I did.”
“Doctor, did you have any reluctance to let him die? Any feelings of guilt?”
Dr. Paige Taylor shook her head. “No. If you could have seen…There was simply no point to letting him go on suffering.”
“How did you administer the insulin?”
“I injected it into his IV.”
“And did that cause him any additional pain?”
“No. He simply drifted off to sleep.”
Gus Venable was on his feet. “Objection! I think the defendant means he drifted off to his death! I—”
Judge Young slammed down her gavel. “Mr. Venable, you’re out of order. You’ll have your chance to crossexamine the witness. Sit down.”
The prosecutor looked over at the jury, shook his head, and took his seat.
“Dr. Taylor, when you administered the insulin to John Cronin, were you aware that he had put you in his will for one million dollars?”
“No. I was stunned when I learned about it.”
Her nose should be growing,
Gus Venable thought.
“You never discussed money or gifts at any time, or asked John Cronin for anything?”
A faint flush came to her cheeks. “Never!”
“But you were on friendly terms with him?”
“Yes. When a patient is that ill, the doctor-patient relationship changes. We discussed his business problems and his family problems.”
“But you had no reason to expect anything from him?”
“No.”
“He left that money to you because he had grown to respect you and trust you. Thank you, Dr. Taylor.” Penn turned to Gus Venable. “Your witness.”
As Penn returned to the defense table, Paige Taylor glanced toward the back of the courtroom. Jason was seated there, trying to look encouraging. Next to him was Honey. A stranger was sitting next to Honey in the seat that Kat should have occupied.
If she were still alive. But Kat is dead,
Paige thought.
I killed her, too.
Gus Venable rose and slowly shuffled over to the witness box. He glanced at the rows of press. Every seat was filled, and the reporters were all busily scribbling.
I’m going to give you something to write about,
Venable thought.
He stood in front of the defendant for a long moment, studying her. Then he said casually, “Dr. Taylor…was John Cronin the first patient you murdered at Embarcadero County Hospital?”
Alan Penn was on his feet, furious. “Your honor, I—!”
Judge Young had already slammed her gavel down. “Objection sustained!” She turned to the two attorneys. “There will be a fifteen-minute recess. I want to see counsel in my chambers.”
When the two attorneys were in her chambers, Judge Young turned to Gus Venable. “You
did
go to law school, didn’t you, Gus?”
“I’m sorry, your honor. I—”
“Did you see a tent out there?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Her voice was a whiplash. “My courtroom is not a circus, and I don’t intend to let you turn it into one. How dare you ask an inflammatory question like that!”
“I apologize, your honor. I’ll rephrase the question and—”
“You’ll do more than that!” Judge Young snapped. “You’ll rephrase your attitude. I’m warning you, you pull one more stunt like that and I’ll declare a mistrial.”
“Yes, your honor.”
When they returned to the courtroom, Judge Young said to the jury, “The jury will completely disregard the prosecutor’s last question.” She turned to the prosecutor. “You may go on.”
Gus Venable walked back to the witness box. “Dr. Taylor, you must have been very surprised when you were informed that the man you murdered left you one million dollars.”
Alan Penn was on his feet. “Objection!”
“Sustained.” Judge Young turned to Venable. “You’re trying my patience.”
“I apologize, your honor.” He turned back to the witness. “You must have been on
very
friendly terms with your patient. I mean, it isn’t every day that an almost complete stranger leaves us a million dollars, is it?”
Paige Taylor flushed slightly. “Our friendship was in the context of a doctor-patient relationship.”
“Wasn’t it a little more than that? A man doesn’t cut his beloved wife and family out of his will and leave a million dollars to a stranger without some kind of persuasion. Those talks you claimed to have had with him about his business problems…”
Judge Young leaned forward and said warningly, “Mr. Venable…” The prosecutor raised his hands in a
gesture of surrender. He turned back to the defendant. “So you and John Cronin had a friendly chat. He told you personal things about himself, and he liked you and respected you. Would you say that’s a fair summation, doctor?”
“Yes.”
“And for doing that he gave you a million dollars?”
Paige looked out at the courtroom. She said nothing. She had no answer.
Venable started to walk back toward the prosecutor’s table, then suddenly turned to face the defendant again.
“Dr. Taylor, you testified earlier that you had no idea that John Cronin was going to leave you any money, or that he was going to cut his family out of his will.”
“That’s correct.”
“How much does a resident doctor make at Embarcadero County Hospital?”
Alan Penn was on his feet. “Objection! I don’t see—”
“It’s a proper question. The witness may answer.”
“Thirty-eight thousand dollars a year.”
Venable said sympathetically, “That’s not very much these days, is it? And out of that, there are deductions and taxes and living expenses. That wouldn’t leave enough to take a luxury vacation trip, say, to London or Paris or Venice, would it?”
“I suppose not.”
“No. So you didn’t plan to take a vacation like that, because you knew you couldn’t afford it.”
“That’s correct.”
Alan Penn was on his feet again. “Your honor…”
Judge Young turned to the prosecutor. “Where is this leading, Mr. Venable?”
“I just want to establish that the defendant could not plan a luxury trip without getting the money from someone.”
“She’s already answered the question.”
Alan Penn knew he had to do something. His heart wasn’t in it, but he approached the witness box with all the good cheer of a man who had just won the lottery.
“Dr. Taylor, do you remember picking up these travel brochures?”
“Yes.”
“Were you planning to go to Europe or to charter a yacht?”
“Of course not. It was all sort of a joke, an impossible dream. My friends and I thought it would lift our spirits. We were very tired, and…it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Her voice trailed off.
Alan Penn glanced covertly at the jury. Their faces registered pure disbelief.
Gus Venable was questioning the defendant on reexamination. “Dr. Taylor, are you acquainted with Dr. Lawrence Barker?”
She had a sudden memory flash.
I’m going to kill Lawrence Barker. I’ll do it slowly. I’ll let him suffer first…then I’ll kill him.
“Yes. I know Dr. Barker.”
“In what connection?”
“Dr. Barker and I have often worked together during the past two years.”
“Would you say that he’s a competent doctor?”
Alan Penn jumped up from his chair. “I object, your honor. The witness…”
But before he could finish or Judge Young could rule, Paige answered, “He’s more than competent. He’s brilliant.”
Penn sank back in his chair, too stunned to speak.
“Would you care to elaborate on that?”
“Dr. Barker is one of the most renowned cardiovascular surgeons in the world. He has a large private practice, but he donates three days a week to Embarcadero County Hospital.”
“So you have a high regard for his judgment in medical matters?”
“Yes.”
“And do you feel he would be capable of judging another doctor’s competence?”
Penn willed Paige to say
I don’t know.
She hesitated. “Yes.”
Gus Venable turned to the jury, “You’ve heard the defendant testify that she had a high regard for Dr. Barker’s medical judgment. I hope she listened carefully to Dr. Barker’s judgment about her competence…or the lack of it.”
Alan Penn was on his feet, furious. “Objection!”
“Sustained.”
But it was too late. The damage had been done.
During the next recess, Alan Penn pulled Jason into the men’s room.
“What the hell have you gotten me into?” Penn demanded angrily. “John Cronin hated her, Barker hated her. I insist on my clients telling me the truth, and the whole truth. That’s the only way I can help them. Well, I can’t help
her.
Your lady friend has given me a snow job so deep I need skis. Every time she opens her mouth she puts a nail in her coffin. The fucking case is in free fall!”
That afternoon, Jason Curtis went to see Paige.
“You have a visitor, Dr. Taylor.”
Jason walked into Paige’s cell.
“Paige…”
She turned to him, and she was fighting back tears. “It looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?”
Jason forced a smile. “You know what the man said—‘It’s not over till it’s over.’”
“Jason, you don’t believe that I killed John Cronin for his money, do you? What I did, I did only to help him.”
“I believe you,” Jason said quietly. “I love you.”
He took her into his arms.
I don’t want to lose her,
Jason thought.
I can’t. She’s the best thing in my life.
“Everything is going to be all right. I promised you we would be together forever.”
Paige held him close and thought,
Nothing lasts forever. Nothing. How could everything have gone so wrong
…
so wrong
…
so wrong
…
San Francisco
July 1990
“H
unter, Kate.”
“Here.”
“Taft, Betty Lou.”
“I’m here.”
“Taylor, Paige.”
“Here.”
They were the only women among the large group of incoming first-year residents gathered in the large, drab auditorium at Embarcadero County Hospital.
Embarcadero County was the oldest hospital in San Francisco, and one of the oldest in the country. During the earthquake of 1989, God had played a joke on the residents of San Francisco and left the hospital standing. It was an ugly complex, occupying more than three square blocks, with buildings of brick and stone, gray with years of accumulated grime.
Inside the front entrance of the main building was a large waiting room, with hard wooden benches for patients
and visitors. The walls were flaking from too many decades of coats of paint, and the corridors were worn and uneven from too many thousands of patients in wheel-chairs and on crutches and walkers. The entire complex was coated with the stale patina of time.
Embarcadero County Hospital was a city within a city. There were over nine thousand people employed at the hospital, including four hundred staff physicians, one hundred and fifty part-time voluntary physicians, eight hundred residents, and three thousand nurses, plus the technicians, unit aides, and other technical personnel. The upper floors contained a complex of twelve operating rooms, central supply, a bone bank, central scheduling, three emergency wards, an AIDS ward, and over two thousand beds.
Now, on the first day of the arrival of the new residents in July, Dr. Benjamin Wallace, the hospital administrator, rose to address them. Wallace was the quintessential politician, a tall, impressive-looking man with small skills and enough charm to have ingratiated his way up to his present position.
“I want to welcome all of you new resident doctors this morning. For the first two years of medical school, you worked with cadavers. In the last two years, you have worked with hospital patients under the supervision of senior doctors. Now, it’s
you
who are going to be responsible for your patients. It’s an awesome responsibility, and it takes dedication and skill.”
His eyes scanned the auditorium. “Some of you are planning to go into surgery. Others of you will be going into internal medicine. Each group will be assigned to a senior resident who will explain the daily routine to you. From now on, everything you do could be a matter of life or death.”
They were listening intently, hanging on every word.
“Embarcadero is a county hospital. That means we admit anyone who comes to our door. Most of the patients are indigent. They come here because they can’t afford a private hospital. Our emergency rooms are busy twenty-four hours a day. You’re going to be overworked and underpaid. In a private hospital, your first year would consist of routine scut work. In the second year, you would be allowed to hand a scalpel to the surgeon, and in your third year, you would be permitted to do some supervised minor surgery. Well, you can forget all that. Our motto here is Watch one, do one, teach one.’
“We’re badly understaffed, and the quicker we can get you into the operating rooms, the better. Are there any questions?”
There were a million questions the new residents wanted to ask.
“None? Good. Your first day officially begins tomorrow. You will report to the main reception desk at five-thirty tomorrow morning. Good luck!”
The briefing was over. There was a general exodus toward the doors and the low buzz of excited conversations. The three women found themselves standing together.
“Where are all the other women?”
“I think we’re it.”
“It’s a lot like medical school, huh? The boys’ club. I have a feeling this place belongs to the Dark Ages.”
The person talking was a flawlessly beautiful black woman, nearly six feet tall, large-boned, but intensely graceful. Everything about her, her walk, her carriage, the cool, quizzical look she carried in her eyes, sent out a message of aloofness. “I’m Kate Hunter. They call me Kat.”
“Paige Taylor.” Young and friendly, intelligent-looking, self-assured.
They turned to the third woman.
“Betty Lou Taft. They call me Honey.” She spoke with a soft Southern accent. She had an open, guileless face, soft gray eyes, and a warm smile.
“Where are you from?” Kat asked.
“Memphis, Tennessee.”
They looked at Paige. She decided to give them the simple answer. “Boston.”
“Minneapolis,” Kat said.
That’s close enough,
she thought.
Paige said, “It looks like we’re all a long way from home. Where are you staying?”
“I’m at a fleabag hotel,” Kat said. “I haven’t had a chance to look for a place to live.”
Honey said, “Neither have I.”
Paige brightened. “I looked at some apartments this morning. One of them was terrific, but I can’t afford it. It has three bedrooms…”
They stared at one another.
“If the three of us shared…” Kat said.
The apartment was in the Marina district, on Filbert Street. It was perfect for them. 3Br/2Ba, nu cpts, lndry, prkg, utils pd. It was furnished in early Sears Roebuck, but it was neat and clean.
When the three women were through inspecting it, Honey said, “I think it’s lovely.”
“So do I!” Kat agreed.
They looked at Paige.
“Let’s take it.”
They moved into the apartment that afternoon. The
janitor helped them carry their luggage upstairs.
“So you’re gonna work at the hospital,” he said. “Nurses, huh?”
“Doctors,” Kat corrected him.
He looked at her skeptically. “Doctors? You mean, like
real
doctors?”
“Yes, like real doctors,” Paige told him.
He grunted. “Tell you the truth, if I needed medical attention, I don’t think I’d want a woman examining my body.”
“We’ll keep that in mind.”
“Where’s the television set?” Kat asked. “I don’t see one.”
“If you want one, you’ll have to buy it. Enjoy the apartment, ladies—er, doctors.” He chuckled.
They watched him leave.
Kat said, imitating his voice, “Nurses, eh?” She snorted. “Male chauvinist. Well, let’s pick out our bedrooms.”
“Any one of them is fine with me,” Honey said softly.
They examined the three bedrooms. The master bedroom was larger than the other two.
Kat said, “Why don’t you take it, Paige? You found this place.”
Paige nodded. “All right.”
They went to their respective rooms and began to unpack. From her suitcase, Paige carefully removed a framed photograph of a man in his early thirties. He was attractive, wearing black-framed glasses that gave him a scholarly look. Paige put the photograph at her bedside, next to a bundle of letters.
Kat and Honey wandered in. “How about going out and getting some dinner?”
“I’m ready,” Paige said.
Kat saw the photograph. “Who’s that?”
Paige smiled. “That’s the man I’m going to marry. He’s a doctor who works for the World Health Organization. His name is Alfred Turner. He’s working in Africa right now, but he’s coming to San Francisco so we can be together.”
“Lucky you,” Honey said wistfully. “He looks nice.”
Paige looked at her. “Are you involved with anyone?”
“No. I’m afraid I don’t have much luck with men.”
Kat said, “Maybe your luck will change at Embarcadero.”
The three of them had dinner at Tarantino’s, not far from their apartment building. During dinner they chatted about their backgrounds and lives, but there was a restraint to their conversation, a holding back. They were three strangers, probing, cautiously getting to know one another.
Honey spoke very little.
There’s a shyness about her,
Paige thought.
She’s vulnerable. Some man in Memphis probably broke her heart.
Paige looked at Kat.
Self-confident. Great dignity. I like the way she speaks. You can tell she came from a good family.
Meanwhile, Kat was studying Paige.
A rich girl who never had to work for anything in her life. She’s gotten by on her looks.
Honey was looking at the two of them.
They’re so confident, so sure of themselves. They’re going to have an easy time of it.
They were all mistaken.
When they returned to their apartment, Paige was too excited to sleep. She lay in bed, thinking about the future. Outside her window, in the street, there was the sound of a car crash, and then people shouting, and in Paige’s mind it dissolved into the memory of African natives yelling and chanting, and guns being fired. She was transported back in time, to the small jungle village in East Africa, caught in the middle of a deadly tribal war.
Paige was terrified. “They’re going to kill us!”
Her father took her in his arms. “They won’t harm us, darling. We’re here to help them. They know we’re their friends.”
And without warning, the chief of one of the tribes had burst into their hut…
Honey lay in bed thinking,
This is sure a long way from Memphis, Tennessee, Betty Lou. I guess I can never go back there. Never again.
She could hear the sheriffs voice saying to her, “Out of respect for his family, we’re going to list the death of the Reverend Douglas Lipton as a ‘suicide for reasons unknown,’ but I would suggest that you get the fuck out of this town fast, and stay out…”
Kat was staring out the window of her bedroom, listening to the sounds of the city. She could hear the raindrops whispering,
You made it…you made it…I showed them all they were wrong. You want to be a doctor? A black woman doctor? And the rejections from medical schools. “Thank you for sending us your application. Unfortunately our enrollment is complete at this time.”
“In view of your background, perhaps we might suggest that you would be happier at a smaller university.”
She had top grades, but out of twenty-five schools she had applied to, only one had accepted her. The dean of the school had said, “In these days, it’s nice to see someone who comes from a normal, decent background.”
If he had only known the terrible truth.
