When Craig had formally separated from Alexis, he had found an apartment on Beacon Hill in the center of Boston. It was a fourth-floor walk-up duplex on Revere Street with good sunlight, a deck, and a view over the Charles River to Cambridge. The Hill was central to the city and fulfilled Craig's needs superbly, especially since he could walk to several good restaurants and the theater district. The only minor inconvenience was the parking problem. He had to rent a space in a garage on Charles Street, a five-minute walk away.
"What are the chances we can get away in time for the concert?" Leona asked when they were on their way in Craig's new Porsche, speeding westward on Storrow Drive.
Craig had to raise his voice against the whine of the engine. " Jordan seems to think this might be legit. That's what scares me. Living with Patience, he knows her better than anybody."
"How can he live with her? She's such a pain in the ass, and he seems like quite a refined gentleman." Leona had observed the Stanhopes in the office on a couple of occasions.
"I imagine there are benefits. I have a sense she is the one with the money, but who knows. People's private lives are never what they seem, including my own, until recently." He gave Leona's thigh a squeeze.
"I don't know how you have such patience with such people," Leona marveled. "No pun intended."
"It's a struggle, and between you and me, I can't stand them. Luckily, they are a distinct minority. I was trained to take care of sick people. Hypochondriacs to me are the same as malingerers. If I had wanted to be a psychiatrist, I would have studied psychiatry."
"When we get there, should I wait in the car?"
"It's up to you," Craig said. "I don't know how long I'll be. Sometimes she corners me for an hour. I think you should come in. It would be boring to sit in the car."
"It will be interesting to see how they live."
"Hardly the average couple."
The Stanhopes lived in a massive, three-story, Georgian-style brick house on a sizable wooded lot near the Chestnut Hill Country Club in an upscale area of Brighton, Massachusetts. Craig entered the circular drive and pulled up to the front of the building. He knew the route all too well. Jordan had the door open as they mounted the three steps. Craig had the black bag; Leona carried the ECG machine.
"She is upstairs in her bedroom," Jordan said quickly. He was a tall, meticulous man dressed in a dark green velvet smoking jacket. If he marveled at Craig and Leona's formal attire, he didn't let on. He held out a small plastic vial and dropped it in Craig's hand before turning on his heel.
It was the free sample bottle of Zoloft Craig had given Patience that morning. Craig could see immediately that one of the six pills was missing. Obviously, she had started the medication earlier than Craig had suggested. He pocketed the vial and started after Jordan. "Do you mind if my secretary comes along?" Craig called out. "She can possibly lend me a hand." Leona had demonstrated a few times in the office her willingness to help out. Craig had been impressed by her initiative and commitment from the start, long before he thought of asking her to a social event. He was equally impressed that she was taking night courses at Bunker Hill Community College in Charlestown, with the idea of eventually getting some sort of medical degree as a technician or nurse. For him, it added to her appeal.
"Not at all," Jordan responded over his shoulder, waving for them to follow. He had started up the main staircase that skirted the Palladian window above the front door.
"Separate bedrooms," Leona whispered to Craig as they hurried after Jordan. "It kind of defeats the purpose. I thought that was only in old movies."
Craig didn't respond. They quickly descended a long carpeted hallway and entered the feminine master suite upholstered in a square mile of blue silk. Patience, her eyelids heavy, was lying in a king-size bed, semi-propped up with overstuffed pillows. A servant in a demure French maid's outfit straightened up. She had been holding a moist cloth against Patience's forehead.
With a quick glance at Patience and without saying a word, Craig rushed over to the woman, dropped the bag on the bed next to her, and felt for a pulse. He snapped open the bag and pulled out his blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope. As he wrapped the cuff around Patience's right arm, he barked to Jordan: "Call an ambulance!"
With only a slight elevation of his eyebrows to indicate he had heard, Jordan went to the nightstand phone and dialed 911. He gave the servant woman a wave of dismissal.
"Good Lord!" Craig murmured as he tore off the cuff. He snapped the pillows from behind Patience's body and her torso fell back onto the bed like a rag doll. He yanked down the covers and pulled open her negligee, then listened briefly to her thorax with his stethoscope before motioning to Leona to give him the ECG machine. Jordan could be heard speaking with the 911 operator. Craig fumbled to unsnarl the ECG leads and quickly attached them with a bit of conducting jelly.
"Is she going to be all right?" Leona asked in a whisper.
"Who the hell knows," Craig answered. "She's cyanotic, for Christ's sake."
"What's cyanotic?"
"There's not enough oxygen in her blood. I don't know if it's because her heart isn't pumping enough or she's not breathing enough. It's one or the other or both."
Craig concentrated on the ECG machine as it spewed out a tracing. There were only little blips, widely spaced. Craig tore off the output strip and took a quick, closer glance at it before jamming it into his jacket pocket. He then snapped the leads off Patience's extremities.
Jordan hung up the phone. "The ambulance is on its way."
Craig merely nodded as he rapidly rummaged in his bag and pulled out an Ambu breathing bag. He placed the mask over Patience's nose and mouth and compressed the bag. Her chest rose easily suggesting good ventilation.
"Could you do this?" Craig asked Leona as he continued to ventilate Patience.
"I guess so," Leona said hesitantly. She squeezed between Craig and the headboard and took over the assisted breathing.
Craig showed her how to maintain a seal and keep Patience's head back. He then glanced at Patience's pupils. They were widely dilated and unreactive. It wasn't a good sign. With the stethoscope, he checked Patience's breath sounds. She was being aerated well.
Back in his black bag, Craig pulled out the assay kit for testing for the biomarkers associated with a heart attack. He tore open the box and pulled out one of the plastic devices. He used a small, heparinized syringe to get some blood from a major vein, shook it, and then put six drops into the sample area. He then held the device under the light.
"Well, that's positive," he said after a moment. He then haphazardly tossed everything back into his bag. "What is positive?" Jordan asked.
"Her blood is positive for myoglobin and troponin," Craig said. "In layman's terms, it means she's had a heart attack." With his stethoscope, Craig ascertained that Leona was ventilating Patience appropriately.
"So your initial impression was correct," Jordan commented.