“Let me ask you something medical, if I may.”
Dr. Coffey sighed aloud. “If you must.”
“What kind of allergic reaction could cause a heart attack?”
The sneer on Dr. Coffey’s face was meant to intimidate.
“I would think you would know a life-threatening manifestation of allergic disease is usually the result of anaphylaxis.” He eyed Julie a little darkly. “You’re not back on the takotsubo bandwagon, are you?”
“Something like it,” Julie said. “Of course, my first thought was of anaphylaxis, but what I was looking for was an allergic reaction similar to takotsubo.”
“And I asked you to let that go.”
“Allow me, if you will, to share a little something I found out. You see, I may have graduated from a state medical school, but even I know how to do a Google search. And do you know what you get when you search ‘allergic reaction similar to takotsubo,’ those exact words? You get a link to Kounis syndrome.”
Dr. Coffey folded his arms as if to say he found Julie’s revelation and investigation a personal affront.
“Kounis syndrome,” Julie continued. “Allergic angina, allergic myocardial infarction-I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”
“No, you’re not.”
“So in your professional opinion, could Kounis syndrome be misdiagnosed as takotsubo?”
Dr. Coffey pondered the question in a thoughtful manner. “I guess it’s possible.”
“Type one Kounis syndrome is an acute allergic event found in patients without predisposing factors for coronary artery disease. That sort of coronary artery spasm could cause apical ballooning in the left ventricle, could it or could it not?”
“Am I on the witness stand, Dr. Devereux?” Dr. Coffey gave a tight-lipped smile.
“It’s just a question,” Julie said.
“Sure. Why not. You seem to have all the answers. What do you need me for, anyway?”
“What if the allergen didn’t show on the pathology slide?”
Exasperation now from Dr. Coffey. “Then I’d say the lab tech screwed up the stain, or someone switched the slide.”
The twinkle in Dr. Coffey’s eyes made Julie uneasy. Someone switched the slide. Her thoughts went whirling. Could it be possible? If someone did that, could they also have planted morphine in Brandon’s apartment? Bribed Sherri Platt into testifying to ensure a conviction? If so, what was being covered up, and what was Dr. Coffey’s part? Why would he even plant the suggestion that someone switched the slide? Julie wondered. Overconfidence, she thought. Perhaps he considered her an unworthy adversary. He got a rush flying planes; maybe he was addicted to risks, like a criminal who left clues for the cops trying to catch him.
“If you don’t mind, I’d really like to go home now,” Dr. Coffey said. “I had a great flight, and I don’t want anything to spoil what has been until this moment a terrific day.”
Julie returned a wan smile. “I’m wondering if you know of any drug that could cause a Kounis syndrome reaction? Something that might have a connection to, I don’t know-hives.”
Julie held a breath. This was the moment. This was why she wanted to confront him in person. How would he react? What would he do or say?
A defense lawyer could not have coached a better facial expression. Dr. Coffey was stoic, utterly emotionless. He shook his head to show his disbelief.
“You can’t let this go, can you?” he said in a harsh voice. “I’ve seen you all over the news. Everywhere you go, Julie, bad things seem to follow. Why don’t you just leave this one alone?” Dr. Coffey looked over his shoulder at Julie’s son, and held his gaze long enough for Trevor to shrink under the weight of his stare. “For everyone’s sake, just leave this alone and move on with your life.”
“I can’t do that,” Julie said.
Dr. Coffey shrugged. “Fine. Have it your way. But if you confront me like this again, I will report you to the Mass Medical Board for erratic behavior and have your license pulled faster than I landed that plane. That’s a promise. You have a nice day.”
Dr. Coffey exchanged his regular glasses for his aviator sunglasses and marched away without looking back.
LINCOLN COLE watched as Julie and Trevor walked from the airport lounge to her Prius, parked in the public lot not far from his sedan. He called his employer and relayed the conversation as he remembered it. Some of the medical jargon was a bit much, but Lincoln had a good enough grasp to convey the key points. His level of knowledge might have been on a need-to-know basis, but Lincoln was right in thinking what he overheard meant big trouble for his employer.
“This has to be handled.”
“Sherri Platt handled?” Lincoln asked.
“Yes. But we need discretion.”
“Not another national media story?”
“That would be preferable.”
“I happen to know Julie is taking Jordan Cobb to Sherri Platt’s funeral and bringing him home.”
“And that matters why?”
“Mr. Cobb doesn’t live in the best neighborhood.”
“Well then, it seems we’re all set here.”
The call went silent. The beach, Lincoln’s Cole’s early retirement, was very close, so close he could almost feel the sand against the soles of his feet.
CHAPTER 39
Sherri Platt’s funeral was tragic in every way. It was the second funeral in as many months Julie had attended for a person who left this world well before their time. Sherri’s family and friends spoke eloquently of a woman with a kind heart who loved helping others and loved being a nurse. The pews of the small Congregational church in Melrose were full of mourners, and the tears flowed freely. Many of Sherri’s colleagues had come to pay their respects, but Julie was most impressed to see Roman Janowski, White’s CEO, there as well. He spoke with Julie before the service.
“How are you holding up? It must have been such a shock to make that horrible discovery,” Roman said.
“It was, and I’m doing all right. Thank you for asking.”
“If you need time off, we’ll make it happen. Don’t you worry there.”
“Thank you, Roman. But I’m glad to be at work. Honestly, I need the distraction.”
“Please, call me Romey. All my friends do.”
“Romey it is.”
Julie thought about sharing her concerns over possible Kounis syndrome in patients at White, but knew better than to go to Roman without absolute proof. Dr. Coffey would certainly call foul, accuse Julie of harassment, and while she wanted answers, Julie also wanted to keep her job.
“You’re a wonderful doctor, Julie,” Romey said. “Just know that we’re here for you in any way you need. You’ve been through an awful lot these past few months.”
Roman gave Julie a quick embrace and she realized they were about the same height. He always seemed taller to her, perhaps because of how he carried himself.
During the service, Jordan Cobb sat in solemn silence beside Julie. He looked handsome in his dark suit, but from the way he shifted in his seat, Julie could tell Jordan was more comfortable in a pair of scrubs. The service had deeply moved him and after the final eulogy Jordan wiped tears from his eyes. Julie was touched by his emotion, but she was crying as well. The service brought back disturbing memories of a cat with bloody paws, of Sherri’s collapsed skull and inert body on a blood-soaked bathroom floor, of those chilling words (For Brandon Stahl) crudely scrawled on the mirror in red lipstick.
Therapy had helped Julie deal with her divorce, but she questioned if anything could get her over the gruesome discovery and the guilt that had followed. Julie kept telling herself, if only she had not pushed for answers, Sherri Platt might be alive. The guilt reminded her of a phrase she uttered constantly in her head after Sam’s accident.