Claire gave Rye a quick look as she sped up and changed into the fast lane.
“What’s up, and why were you looking at his face?”
Rye seemed pre-occupied. “I recognized him. He was on the other porn tape Phil showed after I took the first one.”
Claire turned her head just a bit to make sure Rye could see the face she was making. “Is that all guys do at bachelor parties, watch porn?”
Rye settled back into the bucket seat, straightening his legs and folding his arms across his chest. He sat up abruptly as they passed Exit 29. “You just passed our exit!”
“The guy worked at Medford General,” Claire said. “His I.D. was on the passenger seat. Doctor Frank Mason.”
Claire pulled into general parking. “Where do you think we should start?”
Rye hopped over the door and stretched. “For all we know the guy has his own practice with hospital privileges.”
Claire made a point of opening the door, stepping out and turning to close it. “So we need to determine if he’s staff, and if not, then pay a visit to his office.”
They headed straight for the elevator and the administrator’s office. When the elevator door opened, Rye turned to usher Claire in but she was gone. He spotted her down the hall and joined her there.
Facing them, staring back from a photo hanging on the wall, was a young man with a big smile, stethoscope around his neck, wearing a white smock. It was Doctor Frank Mason.
Rye smiled. “Staff surgeon.”
“May I help you?” someone asked.
Startled, Claire spun around even before Rye could respond. “We’re trying to locate the new surgeon but don’t see his picture on the wall of fame here.”
The nurse gestured at the wall as if she were selling it. “There have been no new additions to the surgical staff. Do you have a name? Maybe the doctor you’re looking for isn’t a surgeon.”
Rye stepped away from the wall and extended his hand to the nurse. “I’m Rye Anderson and this is my partner Claire. We own Mad Dash Ambulance. We brought in a DOA and were met by a doctor and now the body’s missing. He wasn’t wearing a name tag.”
The nurse lead them to an alcove with a small couch and one chair.
“What did he look like?
Claire spent the next five minutes describing the mystery doctor.
“That sounds like Doctor Simms,” the nurse said.
Claire and Rye exchanged looks.
Claire scooted forward sitting on the edge of the couch. “You know him?”
“Not exactly. I remember him because he came to the hospital and tried to recruit a surgical nurse and anesthesiologist. He met with each of us. Offered me better pay and full health. Said I’d work with a small staff at a private clinic.”
Claire smiled. “Sounds great. Why didn’t you accept the offer?”
The nurse fidgeted, uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. “It seemed too good to be true and I would have been assisting in organ donor transplants. I’m a surgical nurse; I’ve got no interest in cookie cutter surgery.”
Suddenly, the nurse looked at her watch. “So sorry, but I’m assisting with an appendectomy in thirty minutes and have to meet with the doctor in fifteen.” Standing, she turned and hurried down the hall.
Claire slouched back into the couch. “Well, now at least we’ve got a name and a positive ID.”
The sign on the door read Jeff Olden, Assistant Administrator. Rye raised his hand to knock, Claire grabbed his wrist. “Do you think this is really wise?”
Rye shook his hand free and walked her to one side. “Simms couldn’t have met with staff without permission from Olden. We need to find out if he got any takers. When we find this clinic, we’ll find Rusty.”
Claire shook her head. “I don’t think so. Rusty is probably long gone by now. We need to find out if Mason took Simms’s offer then changed his mind. He sure looked like an organ donor to me.”
Just then, the door opened and Jeff Olden emerged. “I wondered what all the whispering was. Why don’t you two come in?”
The office was dark, lit only by a desk lamp. The mahogany paneled walls matched the large desk and were covered with darkly framed certificates. Olden walked around behind the desk and slid his foot around until he found the dimmer switch. As the ceiling lights came up, the glass framed certificates twinkled a reflection.
“There, that’s better. Please have a seat. I assume you came by to check on the status of Rusty Kidding.” He looked first to Rye then Claire, hands folded and resting in the middle of the desk blotter.
“Not exactly.” Rye turned to defer to Claire but she nodded that he should continue. “We know who took the body.”
Olden sat up straighter. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere. Do you have a name?”
“Doctor Peter Simms.”
He sat even straighter and leaned forward. “That’s ridiculous.”
Rye matched his stare. “A surgical nurse confirmed Claire’s description of the man that took the DOA.”
Olden sat back refolding his hands over his stomach. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake. Doctor Peter Simms owns his own clinic and is in the business of giving critically ill individuals a second chance at life through the gift of donated organs.”
Claire stood up, placing both hands on the desk. “Wasn’t Frank Mason one of the surgeons recruited?”
Olden stood and walked around the desk, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t believe he was, but Doctor Mason was under investigation by the hospital board.”
She shook off his hand. “You’re aware that he’s dead, that he was eviscerated and that his liver is missing?”
Olden paused mid stride. “The police haven’t contacted us, but I do know he didn’t show up for his shift this morning…” he continued to the door. “I think you had better let the police do the investigating. Doctor Simms could in no way have anything to do with either the death of Frank Mason or the missing DOA.”
Claire took a step in Olden’s direction ready to argue her point, but stopped when he held up his hand. “This conversation is over.” He started to open the door. Then ignoring Claire, turned to face Rye. “You know, I feel I’ve been quite generous in not terminating your license.” He opened the door and standing like a statue until they left, quietly closed it behind them.
Claire whirled on Rye who shook his head, pointing down the hall. When they reached the elevator, the door was just opening, the car empty. When the bell rang and the door closed she slammed her fist against the brass rail.
“He didn’t even care that there might be a connection between Mason’s death and Simms’s occupation. And that remark at the door, what was that blackmail? Butt out or I’ll yank your license? And where the hell were you during all this?”
Rye leaned over and pressed the “G” button without saying a word, folded his arms and glared at her.
“OK, OK,” she said as she backed into the corner. “What do we do now?
Rye unfolded his arms. “I think we can forget any cooperation from the hospital. And I think if we find Simms’s clinic we’ll know what happened to the DOA and Mason.”
Claire was looking at the floor, nodding her head. The door to the elevator binged open. “What about the girl who asked you for help, and the fact that she and Mason were both on a porn tape? He’s dead and she may be well on her way to the organ factory.”
They walked in silence through a throng of people gathered around a man being wheel chaired through the entrance.
Rye reached the car first, taking a minute to stretch, twisting first one way then the other. “Finding Simms and the clinic will resolve everything,” he said, “and the girl who asked for help is the thread that will lead us there.”