"I'm not happy with all this malpractice crap. All you've done, in most cases," he interjected, lowering his bifocals, "is substituted one type of parasite for another. In the end the patients will suffer."
Of course, Curt had another view. "If it weren't for the malpractice suits," he claimed, "many unscrupulous and incompetent doctors would have free rein and woe-be-gone the unsuspecting clod who wandered into their waiting rooms." Curt had already successfully represented clients in two malpractice suits. One was a clear case of negligence that Terri couldn't deny. A doctor had rushed a patient through a routine D and C in order to make a golfing date and had neglected to check her blood count. She hemorrhaged and died on the table in the hallway.
Nevertheless, she saw that Curt had been smitten, and like a shark with the taste of blood on his lips, he swam eagerly in the waters of the medical world searching for a new opportunity or, as Hyman would say, a new victim. It wasn't hard to foresee that this would be an area of argument between her and Curt. Her fiance was a strong-minded, firm man, proud of his self-assurance and the old-fashioned grit he believed he had inherited from his father and grandfather. Curt was willing to make the necessary compromises when he had to, but he was always like a combatant dragged kicking and screaming to the negotiating table. He relented; he gave in and made sacrifices, but he didn't do so with a full heart. Even when his opponents won a point, they left the office feeling they had lost.
"There's a policeman here to see you," Elaine whispered sharply, taking her out of her reverie. The gray-haired little woman who always reminded Terri of Gracie Allen shifted her eyes to the left.
Terri was so tired she hadn't noticed the tall, blond-haired man in a dark-blue sports jacket, tie, and slacks standing by the window. He had beautiful blue eyes that fixed on her with remarkable intensity. Broad-shouldered, at least six feet two or three, he stood with a firm demeanor that suggested strength and purpose. Her clinical eyes concluded from the rich sheen of his hair and the robust color of his complexion that he was a healthy, vigorous man. He had a small cleft in his chin and a set of teeth that belonged in toothpaste advertisements.
"Oh," she said. "Thank you, Elaine."
She opened the door and stepped into the waiting room.
"Dr. Barnard, I assume," he said smiling. The twinkle in his eyes made him seem years younger than she imagined he was. He extended his hand and when she placed hers in it, he didn't hesitate to give hers a firm shake. No timidity here, she thought quickly.
"Yes."
"I'm here to talk to you about Paige Thorndyke."
He displayed his badge and card identifying him as a New York State Bureau of Criminal Investigations agent.
"Clark Kent?" she asked, smiling and reading.
"I know, I know," he said putting his identification away quickly. "You can imagine the kind of kidding I have been enduring my entire life. Every time my friends and I approached a telephone booth, they pushed me into it. What can I say, I had parents with a sense of humor."
Terri laughed.
"Let's sit down," she said indicating the waiting room sofa on her right.
"Thank you."
"Why is there an investigation like this? Was something criminal discovered in relation to her death?" she quickly asked, actually hopefully asked.
"It's routine basically. I won't be long. Just tying up loose ends on the Thorndyke woman's death for the district attorney. You were the doctor on duty when they brought her in, right?" he asked sitting back, his long arm along the rear of the sofa.
"Yes, but there wasn't much for me to do. She died within moments of arrival."
"I understand. Did she say anything, anything at all that would lead you to believe someone had done something harmful to her? Perhaps she gave you a name, a description."
"No. I don't believe she had even the strength to speak. She was too far gone." He nodded.
"The traumas you observed are characteristic of those caused by a vitamin deficiency?" he asked.
"As far as I know, yes, but Dr. Templeman and I both think this is going to take a far more expert opinion than ours. It's too bizarre."
"There was nothing that looked like a blow to the face or head?"
"I didn't see anything like that. I examined her face because she was missing some teeth, but except for the hemorrhaging in the gums, there wasn't anything, no contusions about the lips, no bruise on the jaw or cheeks. The autopsy has apparently revealed nothing of the kind either, but you would probably know that."
"Uh huh."
"So? Do you have reason for some suspicion of foul play?" she inquired again.
"She did check into that motel with someone, right?"
"Well, yes, but he was gone by the time she was discovered."
"But can't you track him down? He signed in, paid for the room..."
"He signed a fictitious name and address and he paid in cash, no credit card." Terri sighed deeply, the frustration coming over her like a chill.
"Didn't anyone see him with her earlier? Do we know how she met him at least?"
"Well, she was at this dance club, the Underground, in Monticello earlier that evening. As I understand it, she went there to meet a friend, but her friend never showed. I questioned some of the people who were at the club and they remember her leaving with the man with whom she had been dancing. The bartender said they met at the bar, and from what he had overheard, met for the first time. No one knows anything about the guy. I've got a description," he said, looking at his small notepad. "But not that concise. Some said he had light hair, some thought dark brown. The bartender claims he was in shadows most of the time.
"I was hoping she had said something to you. No matter how insignificant it might seem, it could be important," he emphasized.
"No, as I said, she was too far gone to speak. She didn't know where she was anymore."
Terri looked up at him.
"How was she discovered? In the state she was in when I saw her, I can't imagine her even calling out for help."
"The manager was walking by her room and noticed the door was wide open. When he looked in, she was sprawled on the floor. What about the nurse at the ER or the paramedics... did any of them hear her say anything?"
"Not that I know," she replied and wondered why he didn't just go directly to them.
He anticipated the question.
"I'm just getting into this. I haven't even had an opportunity to speak with her parents yet."
She nodded, imagining how hard that was going to be now.
"It's never easy to understand the death of a child, but something like this especially so. This sort of acute scurvy would have revealed itself through symptoms far earlier. Her parents were here this morning," Terri continued.
"Understandably, they don't believe the cause of death was scurvy. I can't believe it myself, or can Dr. Templeman, but the medical evidence is quite convincing.
"I can't believe that whoever brought her to the motel would not have noticed something," Terri continued. "To begin with her teeth... she would have had bleeding in her mouth, black and blue marks... been tired.... Who would do such a thing, bring a woman that sick to a motel or keep her there once he saw that? Why not get her to a hospital? The therapy was simple and would have saved her life."
"I know. That's what I'd like to know."
"If someone kept a person from getting life-saving medical attention, he would as much as murdered her," Terri concluded.
"Exactly."
"Oh. I see why you would be investigating," she said nodding. "As I understand it, she looked well the day before. At least, that's what her parents say." Terri shook her head. "Everything I know about the disease would make that impossible. The whole thing seems impossible. I can't think of any medical explanation for a practically instantaneous case of acute scurvy. People don't develop something like that overnight, even if they neglect vitamin C for days."