“Perhaps I could get you some sleeping medication.”
“No, thanks,” Jennifer said. “What I would like is a copy of my grandmother’s hospital records.”
“That can be arranged, but it might take twenty-four hours.”
“Whatever! And I’d like to talk to the chief surgeon.”
“He’s very busy. If you have some specific questions, write them down, and I’ll try to get some answers.”
“What if there was malpractice involved?”
“There is no such thing as malpractice in an international setting. Sorry.”
“I have to say you’re not being very helpful.”
“Listen, Miss Hernandez. You would undoubtedly find us more helpful if you would be cooperative with us.”
Jennifer stood up.
“Really,” Kashmira said. “I could get you something for sleep. Perhaps after a good night’s rest you’d come to your senses and realize you must make a decision. Your grandmother cannot stay in our cooler.”
“I already realize that,” Jennifer said. “Why not transfer the body to a regular city mortuary?”
“That would be impossible. Public mortuaries in our country are in frightful condition thanks to our byzantine bureaucracy. Mortuaries are administered by the home ministry, not the ministry of health, as they should be, and the home ministry cares little about them and grossly underfunds them. Some have no refrigeration, others only intermittently, and bodies routinely rot. To be brutally honest, we cannot allow that to happen even to your grandmother because of the potential negative media consequences. We’re trying to help you. Please help us!”
All at once, Jennifer felt off-balance. She got to her feet. Although still being less than tactful, Queen Victoria Hospital seemed to be going from trying to bully her to pleading with her. “I’m going back to the hotel,” Jennifer managed. “I need to rest.”
“Yes, you go have a long sleep,” Kashmira said. She stood as well and bowed over her pressed-together hands.
Jennifer stumbled out into the confusion of the lobby, where a dozen more admissions were waiting to be processed. She went to the front glass wall and looked for her car and driver in the hospital’s small turnout. Not seeing him, she pulled out her cell phone and punched in the numbers.
Chapter 15
October 17, 2007
Wednesday, 2:55 p.m.
New Delhi, India
Kashmira had watched as Jennifer navigated her way through the people in the lobby. Never had Kashmira been more aggravated by a next of kin. When she’d been able to talk the woman into coming to India, she’d thought the problem of Maria Hernandez’s body was essentially over; now it was ascending to another level of urgency, with not one but two forensic investigators on their way to lend their thoughts. Kashmira knew that CEO Rajish Bhurgava was not going to be happy.
The second Jennifer exited from the lobby Kashmira walked out of her office and down the hall to where Rajish’s corner office was located.
“Is he available?” Kashmir questioned Rajish’s private secretary.
“I believe so,” the secretary said. “But he’s not in a good mood.” She checked, using the intercom, and then waved Kashmira by as another call came in on an outside line.
Between calls, Rajish was reading over a stack of letters and then signing them with his rapid scrawl. In contrast to his casual cowboy outfits he wore when called in at night, he was wearing a Western designer suit, white shirt, and Gucci tie.
“Did she come back this afternoon?” Rajish demanded when Kashmira shut his office door and approached his desk. Over the lunch hour she had briefed him about Jennifer’s intransigence that morning and how self-willed she was, but had ended by saying she was optimistic Jennifer would be more reasonable after some sleep. She’d also conveyed to Rajish Jennifer’s brief talk of an autopsy. This new information had provoked Rajish to comment irritably that there would be no autopsy under any circumstances. He added that the last thing he wanted to do was take the risk of some true pathology’s being found that should have been known before the surgery. Kashmira also had told him that Jennifer had brought up the name of Benfatti, and Rajish had questioned how Jennifer had learned about the death. Kashmira had confessed she had no idea. All in all, Rajish was no fan of Jennifer Hernandez.
“She just left,” Kashmira said with a nod in answer to Rajish’s question.
“And?” Rajish snapped. With a second death in so many nights, he was in a foul mood. Once again the night before he’d been called by the powerful Ramesh Srivastava and informed that CNN International had reported another death at Rajish’s hospital before the hospital had called him. Although the highly placed public servant hadn’t actually threatened Rajish directly, the implication of blame had been uncomfortably clear.
“It’s getting worse, I’m afraid. She now says that she wants to wait until Friday before making a decision. Apparently, the dead woman worked for someone who has subsequently become a forensic pathologist. This forensic pathologist is apparently arriving tomorrow night.”
Rajish slapped a hand to his forehead and forcibly rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. “This can’t be happening,” he moaned.
“It gets worse. The woman is bringing her husband, and he is also a forensic pathologist.”
In a minor panic, Rajish lowered his hand and stared at Kashmira. “We’ll be dealing with two American forensic specialists?”
“It appears that way.”
“Did you make it absolutely clear to Ms. Hernandez that there will be no autopsy?”
“I did, both this morning and this afternoon. It’s my understanding that the reason that this woman who is on her way is a forensic pathologist is incidental to why she is coming. So we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
Rajish tipped back in his chair until he was looking directly up at the ceiling. “What did I do to deserve these problems? All I’m trying to do is keep it all out of the media beyond the initial CNN segments.”
“In that regard, things are still quiet. There’s been no media people here yesterday or today.”
“Thank the gods for small favors, but that might change at any moment, especially now with two deaths.”
“Ms. Hernandez is potentially interfering in that situation also.”
There was a loud squeak as Rajish suddenly tipped forward and gaped at Kashmira. “How is she managing that?”
“Somehow the widow and she got together. Lucinda Benfatti called back a little while ago to reemphasize that she, too, doesn’t want her husband’s body touched until her sons get here Friday. As you know from last night she’d already said that, but both of us thought the chances were good that she’d change her mind today when I spoke with her. No deal. In fact, she mentioned Jennifer’s forensic pathologist friends coming, and that she’d asked Jennifer if her friends could look at her husband’s case as well. If the media get wind of this, they might jump on it.”
Rajish slammed his palm down on his desk. Several of the letters waiting to be read swooped off into the air. “This woman is a scourge spreading her stubbornness to others. I worry this situation is rapidly growing beyond our capability to keep it under wraps. Most people who are grieving are too emotionally paralyzed to cause trouble. What is wrong with this Hernandez girl?”
“She’s self-willed, as I mentioned,” Kashmira agreed.
“Is she spiritual?”
“I haven’t any idea. She’s not said anything to make me think one way or the other. Why do you ask?”
“I was just thinking that if she were spiritual, we could tempt her with her grandmother’s body.”