Toxin (32 page)

“But my mother has no phone,” Carlos said. “I called a phone in a store where my sister works.”

“What kind of a store?” Shanahan asked.

“A big store,” Carlos said. “It sells all sorts of things.”

“Like a department store?” Shanahan asked.

“Yeah, like a department store,” Carlos said.

“When did you call?” Shanahan asked.

“Last night,” Carlos said. “The store is open late on Saturday night, and my mother always goes to walk my sister home.”

“Where in Mexico?” Shanahan asked.

“Mexico City,” Carlos said.

Shanahan felt relieved. An anonymous call to a large store in the most populous city in the world wasn't much of a lead.

“And that was the only call?” Shanahan asked.

“Yeah, man,” Carlos said. “Just one call.”

“Let's get back to the doctor,” Shanahan said. “Does he know what happened to the woman?”

“Probably,” Carlos said. “He saw her blood.”

“One way or the other, he's a threat,” Shanahan said. “He's got to go. We'll pay you the other hundred plus three hundred extra to do the job. What do you say?”

“When?” Carlos asked.

“Tonight,” Shanahan said. “We know where he lives, and he lives alone. It's in the Balmoral section of town.”

“I don't know,” Carlos said. “He's a big guy.”

“With the reputation you have, I didn't think that would matter,” Shanahan said.

“It's not the killing that will be hard,” Carlos said. “It's getting rid of the body and the blood.”

“You don't have to worry about that,” Shanahan said. “Just do the trick and walk out. Maybe you could make it look like a robbery by taking money and valuables. Just don't take anything that can be traced.”

“I don't know,” Carlos said. “The police don't like us Mexicans driving around in the Balmoral neighborhood. I've been stopped up there.”

“Listen, Carlos,” Shanahan said. He was quickly losing his patience. “You don't have a lot of choice at this juncture. You screwed up last night. As I understand it you had plenty of time to kill the doctor. Besides, you don't even have a green card.”

Carlos shifted his weight and rubbed his upper arms against the damp cold. He had no coat and was still wearing his leather vest without a shirt.

“What's the address?” Carlos asked with resignation.

“That's more like it,” Shanahan said as he handed over a typed three-by-five card.

 

D
efying the revocation of his hospital privileges by the medical staff as delivered by Robert Rathborn, Kim went around the hospital and visited all his in-patients. He spent the most time with Friday's post-ops. As Tom Bridges had promised, he'd been following all the patients closely. Kim was pleased that all were doing
well and without complications. By the time Kim left the hospital it was mid-afternoon.

Kim had considered trying to call Kelly Anderson to arrange a meeting but then decided it would be better just to drop in. Besides, he didn't have her phone number, and he rationalized it was undoubtedly unlisted.

Kelly Anderson lived in a prairie-style house in the Christie Heights section of town. It wasn't quite as upscale as Balmoral but it was close. Kim pulled to the curb and stopped. He turned off the ignition and gazed at the house. It took him a moment to build up his courage. For Kim, coming to Kelly Anderson was akin to conniving with the devil herself. He felt he needed her but certainly didn't like her.

Kim trudged up to the front door; realizing that there was a very good chance he would not even make it across the threshold.

Caroline, Kelly's precocious daughter, opened the door. For a moment, Kim could not find his voice. The child brought back the unwelcome image of Becky in the ICU.

Kim heard a man's voice from inside the house, asking Caroline who was there.

“I don't know,” Caroline yelled back over her shoulder. “He won't talk.”

“I'm Doctor Reggis,” Kim managed.

Edgar Anderson appeared behind his daughter. He was an academic-appearing fellow, with heavy dark-rimmed glasses. He was wearing an oversized, elbow-patched cardigan sweater. A pipe hung from the corner of his mouth.

“Can I help you?” Edgar inquired.

Kim repeated his name and asked to speak to Kelly Anderson.

Edgar introduced himself as Kelly's husband and invited Kim inside. He showed him into the living room, which had the appearance of never being used.

“I'll let her know you are here,” Edgar said. “Please sit down. Can I offer you anything? Coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Kim said. He felt self-conscious, as if he were a mendicant. He lowered himself onto an immaculate couch.

Edgar disappeared, but Caroline stayed to stare at Kim from behind a club chair. Kim could not look at her without thinking about Becky.

Kim was relieved when Kelly swept into the room.

“My, my,” she intoned. “This is curious. The fox chasing the hound. Sit down, please!” Kim had gotten to his feet when she'd entered. She plopped into the club chair. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?” she added.

“Could we speak alone?” Kim asked.

Acting as if she had been unaware Caroline was in the room, Kelly told her daughter to find something entertaining to do.

As soon as Caroline had left, Kim started by telling about Becky's death. Kelly's glib demeanor changed immediately. She was obviously deeply moved.

Kim told Kelly the whole story, including the details of the discussions he'd had with Kathleen Morgan and Marsha Baldwin. He told her about his visit and arrest at the Onion Ring restaurant. He even told her about the harrowing episode in Higgins and Hancock, culminating in his second arrest.

When Kim fell silent, Kelly exhaled and leaned back. She shook her head. “What a story,” she said. “And what a tragedy for you. But what brings you to me? I assume there is something you want me to do.”

“Obviously,” Kim said. “I want you to do a story about all this. It's something the public needs to know. And I want to get out the message about Marsha Baldwin. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced there's a conspiracy here. If she's alive, the sooner she's found the better.”

Kelly chewed the inside of her cheek while she pondered Kim's request. There were some intriguing elements to the story, but there were also some problems. After a few moments, she shook her head. “Thank you for coming by and telling me all this, but I'm not interested from a professional point of view: at least not at this time.”

Kim's face fell. As he'd told the story, he'd become progressively convinced of its merit, and Kelly's rapid negative decision came as a disappointing surprise. “Can you tell me why?” he questioned.

“Sure,” Kelly said. “As much as I sympathize with you about the tragic loss of your darling, talented daughter, it's not the kind of TV journalism I generally do. I go after harder, bigger stories, if you know what I mean.”

“But this is a big story,” Kim complained. “Becky died of E. coli O157:H7. This has become a worldwide problem.”

“True,” Kelly admitted. “But it's only one case.”

“That's the point,” Kim said. “Only one case so far. I'm convinced she got it at the Onion Ring restaurant on Prairie Highway. I'm afraid she's going to turn out to be the index case of what could be a big outbreak.”

“But an outbreak hasn't happened,” Kelly said. “You said yourself your daughter got sick over a week ago. If there were going to be an outbreak, there would have been more cases by now, but there haven't been.”

“But there will be,” Kim said. “I'm convinced of it.”

“Fine,” Kelly said. “When there are more cases, I'll do a story. I mean, one isolated case is not a story. How can I say it more clearly?”

“But hundreds of kids die each year from this bacteria,” Kim said. “People don't know that.”

“That might be true,” Kelly said. “But these hundreds of cases are not related.”

“But they are,” Kim said with exasperation. “Almost all of them get it from ground beef. The meat industry that produces the hamburger is a threat to everyone who eats ground beef. It's a situation that has to be exposed.”

“Hey, where have you been?” Kelly asked with equal exasperation. “It's already been exposed, particularly by the Jack-in-the-Box outbreak and the Hudson Meat recall. This E. coli has been in the news just about every month.”

“It's been in the news but the media has been giving the wrong message,” Kim said.

“Oh, really?” Kelly questioned superciliously. “I suppose that in addition to being a cardiac surgeon you're also a media expert?”

“I don't profess to be a media expert,” Kim said. “But I do know that the media coverage of this issue has given two important false impressions: one, that the presence of this dangerous E. coli in ground meat is unusual; and two, that the USDA is on the job inspecting meat to guarantee its safety. Both these messages are false as evidenced by the deaths of up to five hundred kids a year.”

“Whoa!” Kelly commented. “Now you're out on very thin ice. I mean, now you're making a couple of major accusations. How can you back it up? What kind of proof do you have?”

“My daughter's death,” Kim said with obvious anger. “And the CDC's reports of the other deaths.”

“I'm talking about the accusation you made about E. coli being so common and the USDA failing to inspect the meat.”

“I don't have specific proof right now,” Kim said. “That's what I expect you to find when you do the story. But so many kids wouldn't be dying if it wasn't true. And all this was substantiated by Marsha Baldwin.”

“Ah, of course,” Kelly said dubiously. “How could I forget. The mysterious USDA inspector who you say has been missing for less than twenty-four hours. The one you feel has fallen victim to foul play.”

“Exactly,” Kim said. “They had to silence her.”

Kelly cocked her head to the side. She wasn't a hundred-percent sure she shouldn't be afraid of Kim, especially considering his double arrests. She had the sense his daughter's death had done something to his mind. He seemed paranoid, and she wanted him out of the house.

“Tell me again,” Kelly said. “The reason you think Miss Baldwin is missing is because of the interrupted telephone call and the blood you found in the slaughterhouse?”

“Exactly,” Kim repeated.

“And you told all this to the police who arrested you?” Kelly asked.

“Of course,” Kim said. “But they didn't believe me.”

“And I can see why,” Kelly said silently to herself. All at once she stood up. “Excuse me, Dr. Reggis,” she said out loud. “I'm afraid we're going around in circles. This is all hearsay and therefore smoke and mirrors as far as I'm concerned. I'd like to help you, but I can't at the moment, at least not until you have something tangible, something that a story could be based on.”

Kim pushed himself up off the low couch. He could
feel his anger returning, but he fought against it. Although he didn't agree with Kelly's position, he had to admit he understood, and the realization only renewed his determination. “All right,” Kim said resolutely. “I'll get something substantive, and I'll be back.”

“You do that,” Kelly said, “and I'll do the story.”

“I'm going to hold you to that,” Kim said.

“I always keep my word,” Kelly said. “Of course, I have to be the one who decides if the evidence is sufficient.”

“I'll make sure there're no ambiguities,” Kim said.

Kim exited the house and ran down to his car parked at the curb. He wasn't running because of the rain, although it had increased in intensity while he had been in the Anderson house. He was running because he'd already decided what he was going to do to satisfy Kelly's need for proof. It wasn't going to be easy, but Kim didn't care. He was a man with a mission.

Kim made a U-turn and stomped on the accelerator. He didn't notice Kelly standing in the doorway of her house or see her shake her head one final time as he sped away.

As soon as Kim made it onto the freeway he punched in Tracy's phone number on his cellular phone.

“Trace,” Kim said with no preamble when she answered. “Meet me at the mall.”

There was a pause. At first Kim thought the connection had been broken. Just when he was about to resend the call, Tracy's voice came over the line: “I took you at your word. I've made arrangements for a funeral service.”

Kim sighed. At times he was able to put Becky entirely out of his mind. Thank God for Tracy. She was so strong. How could he face this tragedy without her?
“Thank you,” he said at last. It was hard to find the words. “I appreciate your doing it without me.”