“Fair enough,” Freddy said.

  Mark glanced at Tanis. “I actually came down here to check on you. Is everything okay?”

  “Better than I expected.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “To be filling out a job application.”

  Mark motioned to the stacks of dusty file boxes stacked haphazardly all around them. “You don’t mind being back down here in the basement?”

  “I’d rather be eating Big Macs than serving them,” she replied.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The days that followed Stanley Tidewell’s murder were difficult for Dr. Jack Stewart. He couldn’t go back to Colorado, not with the Tidewell situation unresolved and the threat of a thirty million dollar lawsuit hanging over his head. It would look too much like he was running away.

  He talked regularly to his office in Denver, checked up on his patients and dealt with business, but at best that only took up a couple hours each day. That left him with hours to kill, waiting for a call from Mark either with a task for him to do or with the news that the mystery had been solved.

  But the only call he got was the one asking him to participate in the restaging of the transplant operation. During the reenactment, Jack tried to concentrate on his work while at the same time watching everybody else, including Mark and Amanda, who prowled around the room, studying everything. When the operation was over, Mark asked them all to go, remaining alone in the surgical suites as they were cleaned.

  Jack figured Mark was going for authenticity. None of them had been in the operating room during the cleanup before, so he didn’t want them around now.

  Afterwards, Jack waited anxiously for some news, but Mark had been strangely silent, sharing none of his thoughts. It wasn’t like it used to be, when Jack was part of the team.

  Then again, it wasn’t like the Tidewell case was the only thing on Mark’s mind. Jack knew Mark was preoccupied with rapid developments in the Silent Partner investigation. But even so, he still felt excluded. If Mark was working on a theory, he wasn’t sharing it with him.

  To distract himself and eat up the empty hours, Jack tried watching sports, reading cheap paperbacks and going to movies, but he couldn’t concentrate; his mind kept wandering back to the transplant operation and his uncertain future. So he spent more and more time in the hotel gym, exercising to occupy himself and work off his mounting anxiety.

  Most evenings, Jack inevitably ended up at BBQ Bob’s, having dinner and talking long into the night with Jesse, who seemed to be as out of the loop on the Tidewell case as he was.

  Or was he?

  Although Jack found himself liking Jesse more with each day, he couldn’t help wondering if his newfound friend knew more than he was telling, which was zilch. Jack even pressed Susan for information but without success. While Jesse seemed to warm up to Jack, Susan remained cold, almost hostile. Jack didn’t know whether it was because he was taking up so much of Jesse’s time, or if she knew something she wasn’t telling.

  Jack kept his distance from Amanda, because he knew if they spent any time alone together, she’d want to talk more about why he left. With all the other problems in his life right now, that was the last thing Jack wanted to deal with. Still, he felt guilty about missing the opportunity to get to know her again and to meet her son. He told himself there would be plenty of time to make amends once the Tidewell situation was resolved. Unless resolution meant losing his medical license and every cent that he had.

  The morning after the Silent Partner press conference, he resisted the urge to call or visit Mark. Instead, Jack went to BBQ Bob’s for breakfast on the off-chance that Mark or Steve might come in for a bite.

  He found Amanda and Jesse there, on opposite sides of the counter, talking over cups of coffee. Jack slid onto the stool beside Amanda and the three of them discussed the Silent Partner case for a while over their breakfasts, just like everybody else in the city was doing that morning.

  “How are you holding up?” Amanda asked.

  “Fine,” Jack replied.

  Amanda glanced at Jesse. “How about you?”

  “Fine,” Jesse replied, refilling their coffees.

  Amanda added about two cups of sugar to her cup of coffee and stirred. “You’re not worried about how the Tidewell situation is going to shake out.”

  “Mark’s on it,” Jesse said. “That’s good enough for me.”

  “Me, too,” Jack said.

  Amanda studied them skeptically over the rim of her cup as she sipped her thick brew. “Really?”

  “Why?” Jack asked. “Do you know something we don’t?”

  “I’m as much in the dark as you are,” Amanda replied.

  “Does this mean that Mark is stumped?” Jack asked. “Or does he know something that we don’t?”

  “If he knows something,” Jesse said, “he’s keeping it to himself.”

  “Why would he do that?” Jack asked.

  “Maybe he doesn’t trust us anymore,” Jesse said.

  “Maybe he thinks one of us is guilty,” Jack said.

  “You think so?” Jesse asked.

  “Do you?” Jack asked.

  Amanda smiled to herself. Jack and Jesse both stared at her.

  “What’s so damn funny?” Jesse asked.

  “Nothing,” Amanda said, taking another sip of coffee. “I’m just relieved neither one of you is getting too stressed out.”

  Jesse went back into the kitchen, leaving Amanda and Jack to themselves. Jack moved the food around his plate with his fork, Amanda watching him out of the corner of her eye.

  “If you were my son,” Amanda said, “I’d tell you to stop playing with your food.”

  Jack nodded and continued to rearrange his bacon strips.

  She snatched the fork from his hand. “You want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

  “No.” Jack stuck a spoon in his coffee and started stirring it instead.

  Amanda watched him for a moment, then took the cup away from him.

  “Too bad,” she said. “Talk.”

  Jack glanced at her, then found something fascinating about his napkin to look at.

  “I didn’t really leave Community General for the money,” Jack said. “The years I spent here, with you and Mark and Steve, it was the best, worth far more than any paycheck. Practicing medicine, helping Mark solve murders—it was great. The happiest time of my life. Nothing will ever compare to that.”

  “Then why leave it behind?” Amanda said. “You didn’t have to go.”

  “You drove me to it.”

  “Me?” she asked defensively. “What did I do?”

  “You were beautiful, smart and fearless,” Jack said, folding and refolding his napkin. “You were game for any challenge, though you could be a real pain in the ass about it. Boy, how you liked to argue. Still, you were always there for me, supporting me no matter what. You were like the sister I always wanted and never had.”

  “Was there something wrong with that?” she asked, yanking the napkin away from him.

  “Not until I fell in love with you.”

  Amanda was too shocked to speak. She simply froze, staring at him. How could she not have known?

  But if she was honest with herself, and she usually was, Amanda realized she knew all along; she just never dared face it before. Wasn’t that attraction, that flirtation, the real spark behind all their arguing and teasing? It wasn’t an accident that they always found a reason to go off together on their investigations for Mark. In fact, wasn’t that half the reason they were helping Mark in the first place? If she didn’t know Jack loved her, why did it hurt so much and for so long when he left?

  “I knew you didn’t feel the same way about me,” Jack said gently. “It got so every minute I spent around you was torture. I tried to ignore my feelings by dating every woman that came along, but it only made things worse. Finally, I couldn’t take it any more. I had to go.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Amanda asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Because it would have been wrong. You were like my sister,” Jack said. “If I’d told you then, it would have ruined everything between us.”

  “So you just ran away,” Amanda said, not even trying to disguise the hurt in her voice.

  Jack nodded and looked down at his feet. They were both silent for a moment.

  “Do you still love me?” Amanda asked tentatively.

  “Yes.” Jack looked up and smiled warmly. “But like a brother.”

  Amanda held out her arms to him. They embraced, holding each other tightly.

  “Oh, Jack,” she whispered, “you’re such an idiot.”

  Jack smiled. “It’s good to know your feelings for me haven’t changed.”

  Mark slept in until nearly eleven that morning. It was a deep, dreamless sleep. He awoke feeling completely refreshed, which only made him aware of how much tension he’d actually been carrying over the last few days. But now he felt like himself again, full of energy, his mind clear and sharp.

  He took a long hot shower, dressed in casual clothes and padded barefoot into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to see if there was something special he could make himself for breakfast.

  Mark browsed through the refrigerator, checking out the leftover pizza, barbecue ribs and Chinese food. He sniffed the thick-sliced bacon, smoked salmon, kosher salami and all the cheeses. He examined the fresh melons, table grapes and navel oranges. He sorted through all the different varieties of yogurt. He even reorganized the milk, juices, beer and soft drinks.

  He did everything except actually decide on something to eat. There was just too much to choose from. Or was the problem something else?

  The phone rang, distracting him from his quandary. Mark closed the refrigerator and grabbed the phone. It was Clarke Trotter, the Community General attorney, inviting Mark to a settlement conference that afternoon with Billy Tidewell.

  Mark promised to be there and told Trotter to invite Jack and Jesse as well. Trotter argued that their lawsuits were a separate matter and that including them in the proceedings could hurt Community General’s negotiating position. But Mark argued the opposite, insisting that their presence was essential to the hospital winning an acceptable settlement.

  Trotter pressed for specifics, but Mark refused, saying it would all come out in the meeting. The attorney reluctantly gave in. Mark hung up the phone, settled for an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and started searching for his shoes.

  * * *

  Billy Tidewell, face rigid with anger, sat on one side of the vast conference table with his lawyer, Sandra Shelling, a crisp young woman in a crisp suit looking crisply at Clarke Trotter and the three doctors across from her.

  “I don’t think the facts of this case are in dispute,” Shelling said. “Stanley Tidewell was admitted for a routine kidney transplant and was killed due to the gross incompetence of your doctors.”

  “What happened to Mr. Tidewell was a horrible tragedy,” Trotter said. “The staff of Community General Hospital was as shocked and saddened by his death as anyone else.”

  “Not as much as me,” Billy Tidewell said, his voice even and measured as he tried to control his anger “This operation was supposed to save my father’s life, not take it from him.”

  “Of course we agree with you,” Trotter said, “and you have our deepest sympathy.”

  “That’s not enough,” Shelling said.

  “The thrust of your argument is that his death was the fault of our doctors,” Trotter said. “But the fact is, the only Community General surgeon involved was Dr. Travis, who operated on you, Mr. Tidewell. That aspect of the operation proceeded smoothly, as you can attest. The fatal error, if one was made, occurred during the implantation of the organ at the hands of an outside doctor your father flew in from another state.”

  Jack stiffened in his seat. So this was how it was going down. He couldn’t blame Community General for making him take the fall for everyone, but he was surprised, and deeply hurt, that Mark was going along with it. He glanced at Mark, who refused to meet his gaze.

  Jesse could see where this was going, too. Although the argument Trotter was presenting was to Jesse’s benefit, it still astonished him that Mark wasn’t putting up a fight on Jack’s behalf. He wondered what leverage Community General used against Mark to assure his cooperation. Or maybe Mark simply agreed with what Trotter was saying. Which meant that Mark must have discovered that Jack was responsible for Stanley Tidewell’s death.

  “Oh, in that case, never mind.” Shelling made a show of gathering up her documents, then smirked at Trotter. “Do you really believe that just because Stanley Tidewell brought in an outside doctor, the hospital is absolved of any responsibility for what happened? I don’t think a judge or jury will see it that way.”

  “My point, Ms. Shelling, is that our alleged culpability in this matter is significantly less than Dr. Stewart’s; therefore the monetary compensation you’re seeking from us should reflect that reality,” Trotter said. “I think we can arrive at a far more reasonable, and less substantial, figure that will spare Mr. Tidewell, and Community General, a protracted and unpleasant legal proceeding. We think one million dollars is a fair settlement for all concerned.”

  “You’re every bit as guilty as he is,” Billy said, pointing an accusing finger at Jack. “Nobody stopped him from giving my father an antibiotic that any competent doctor should have known would kill him.”

  “The antibiotic didn’t kill him,” Mark said.

  “How do you know that?” Shelling asked.

  “Because I gave Stanley the same antibiotic several months ago and he survived.”

  Trotter groaned before he could catch himself. Billy Tidewell and Sandra Shelling stared at Mark in dismay. Jesse and Jack were shocked, too, for much the same reason that Trotter was. How could Mark have so blithely admitted something like that? Didn’t he realize what he was doing to himself and the hospital?

  “I think that pretty much torpedoes your argument, Mr. Trotter,” Shelling said, making a notation on her legal pad. “I don’t know what is more chilling here, the rampant incompetence of your doctors or their arrogance.”

  “Aren’t you curious about how he died?” Mark asked. “Or is it just about the money?”

  “He died of anaphylactic shock,” Billy said. “Because somebody didn’t realize he was allergic to penicillin.”

  “Actually, the opposite is true,” Mark said. “He was killed by someone who knew exactly what Stanley was allergic to.”

  “You’re admitting that he was killed by an allergic reaction to penicillin and that it wasn’t accidental?” Shelling asked Mark incredulously.

  “Of course,” Mark said. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Trotter cleared his throat. “I think it would be best, Dr. Sloan, if you allowed me to do the talking.”

  “Not if you intend to pay them a penny for something this hospital is not responsible for,” Mark said.

  “Are you denying that Stanley Tidewell was killed in your operating room while undergoing kidney transplant surgery?” Shelling asked.

  “No, that’s exactly what happened,” Mark said.

  “You’re not making any sense!” Trotter shouted, momentarily losing control of his anger.

  Jack and Jesse shared a look. The truth was, they weren’t following Mark’s reasoning any better than Trotter was, but they knew something he didn’t. They recognized that sparkle in Mark’s eyes, the grin playing at the corners of his mouth. The two young doctors didn’t know how Mark was getting there, but they knew where he was going. He’d solved the mystery.

  “Stanley Tidewell was murdered,” Mark said. “And it happened in plain sight during the operation.”

  “You’re saying the doctors and nurses stood there and did nothing while my father was killed?” Billy said, red-faced with rage.

  “Yes,” Mark said.

  Trotter covered his face with his hands. He was certain now of two things: The hospital was going to lose tens of millions of dollars, and Dr. Sloan was insane.

  “To be fair, though, they were all unwilling accomplices,” Mark said.

  “I don’t see how that’s possible,” Shelling said.

  “That’s exactly what the murderer intended,” Mark said. “There was no way anyone in that operating room could have tainted the kidney with penicillin, accidentally or intentionally, without exposing himself as the killer. So there’s only one possible explanation.” Mark glanced at Billy. “Would you like to tell us?”

  “It’s obvious,” Billy said. “Everyone in the operating room knows who is responsible and they’re covering up for each other.”

  “There’s a much simpler explanation,” Mark said. “The kidney was tainted before the operation.”

  “That’s impossible,” Shelling said. “The kidney was inside Billy until the moment that Dr. Travis—”

  She stopped herself, realizing too late what she was saying.

  “Once I realized how the murder was committed, all that was left was finding a motive.” Mark looked Billy Tidewell in the eye. “Then I remembered how interested you were right before the operation in the UCLA game. So much so that you asked the doctors to record it for you. The game was also the first thing you asked me about after the operation. Not how your father was. Or even how you were. So I had my son talk to some bookies around town. You’ve got quite a gambling problem, Billy.”

  “That’s got nothing to do with what this hospital did to my father,” Billy said. “This is a pathetic attempt to smear the victim to save yourselves.”

  “You were in enormous debt, all of which could be easily wiped away if you had your father’s fortune,” Mark said. “The stumbling block was that your father had to die first. So you talked him into the kidney transplant. You figured if you donated your kidney to save your father’s life, nobody would ever suspect you of killing him, of using your own kidney as a murder weapon.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21