“Forensic science encourages the examination of a death scene,” Jack said. He was surprised that the question came from a former police officer and again had to hold himself in check from making a reflex sarcastic comment.
“Even when it involves a heart attack?” David questioned.
“Yes,” Jack said. “Even then.”
“Suit yourself,” David said. “Come on! I’ll take you.”
Before they left the security office, David stopped by the desk of the individual who had yelled out that Sue’s car was still in the garage to get the keys.
David grabbed a mask from a dispenser and hooked it over both ears. “We have a valet parking service for our doctors in the morning to expedite their arrival,” David explained as he gestured the proper direction out in the hallway. “I made sure we had both the valet set and the doctor’s set for whomever was coming to pick up the vehicle.”
The route to the garage was rather complicated, as it required passing between and through several separate buildings but without having to change floors. Finally, they reached a pedestrian bridge over Madison Avenue to get to the high-rise garage. As they crossed, Jack couldn’t help but reminisce about another extraordinarily unpleasant experience he’d had at the MMH more than ten years earlier. He’d chased a nurse who’d nearly managed to kill Laurie across the same bridge. Jack hadn’t counted on the nurse being armed, resulting in a horrendous shootout in the woman’s car. If Lou Soldano had not showed up in the nick of time, Jack knew he wouldn’t be alive. The episode was yet another cogent reminder that Lou was entirely correct that playing detective was a dangerous pastime for amateurs.
Jack shuddered at the memory and forced himself to concentrate on the present. Sue’s black BMW was in the doctors’ reserved parking area on the second floor of the garage, not too far away from the entrance to the pedestrian bridge and close to where the unnerving shootout had been.
As they came alongside the car, David handed Jack the key fob, which he used to unlock the vehicle. After opening the driver’s-side door, he leaned inside. As David had said, there was a definite smell of leather, suggesting the car was rather new. He tried to visualize Sue slumped over the steering wheel as she had been described. In the center console was an empty paper coffee cup and a mobile phone holder on a flexible rod. Sue’s hospital ID hung on a lanyard from the rearview mirror. A recent copy of the New England Journal of Medicine with its iconic cover design was on the passenger seat. Jack could imagine Sue leafing through it while stopped at red lights. He knew Sue was one of those individuals who felt obligated to use every minute productively.
“Any startling conclusions?” David asked in a mocking tone.
Once again holding himself in check, he chose not to respond but rather backed out of the front seat and opened the car’s rear door. On the back seat was a box of N95 masks, a roll of paper towels, a box of facial tissues, a snow removal brush, and a collapsed umbrella. Noticing that everything was pushed over onto the right side, Jack assumed it was so Sue could reach them from sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Okay, thank you,” Jack said while handing back the key fob. “Now, if you can point me in the right direction, I’d like to head to the Emergency Department and try to chat with someone who participated in the resuscitation attempt. I’m assuming the two nurses who discovered the doctor aren’t currently available.”
“That’s correct. They both work the night shift, so on the days they are on duty, they come in sometime between six and seven p.m. I don’t know if they are scheduled to work tonight.”
“Understandable,” Jack said.
“Come on. I’ll take you to the ED. It’s not easy unless you go outside and come in through the emergency entrance.”
Chapter 9
Tuesday, December 7, 12:45 p.m.
As Jack expected, the Emergency Department waiting area was nearly full of patients. Lunchtime was a frequent time for people to decide to visit, although the vast majority hardly needed the attention of a trauma 1 facility. The problem was that they had no place else to go for basic healthcare needs and the hospital was required to see them by law. Many were there for particularly trivial reasons, like needing a prescription refilled or for a minor symptom that they had endured for days if not weeks. As a result, Jack was forced to wait in line to talk with a triage nurse. He could have forced the issue but decided against it, trying not to make waves. He’d even turned down David Andrews’s offer to intercede.
When he got to the counter, he flashed his medical examiner badge and told the nurse he was there on official business and needed to talk with the doctor in charge. The result was impressive. Within a minute or two, Jack was approached by a slight woman with steely eyes and dressed in personal protective gear over scrubs. He couldn’t see her expression because of her mask, but despite her size she exuded a competent, no-nonsense, in-charge persona.
“I’m Dr. Carol Sidoti,” she said with authority. “I’m the ED shift supervisor. What can I do for you?”
Just as he had done with the security head, Jack introduced himself and told the woman that he was doing a routine follow-up on the unfortunate death of Dr. Sue Passero that had been investigated by one of the OCME MLIs and whose death was under review. He said he’d already done the autopsy but needed to ask a few more questions by speaking with one of the members of the team who had tried to resuscitate the doctor.
“I was in charge of the resuscitation,” Carol said. “I’m happy to talk with you. Let’s go someplace a little more private. Follow me, please.”
Carol led Jack back into the depths of the ED to a square, counter-high command area surrounded by individual emergency bays, most of which were occupied by patients. Gesturing for him to enter one of the multiple entrance points of the central desk, she pushed a free chair toward him and took one herself. Within the area were more than a dozen doctors and nurses working at monitors. Others were coming and going. In the background various monitoring devices beeped constantly. It was a very busy scene.
“Sorry for the pandemonium,” Carol said.
“No problem,” Jack said, although the level of activity was distracting, especially when a monitor started sounding an alarm and no one seemed to care. He found it strange that Carol felt the location was “a little more private.” In Jack’s mind it was anything but.
“So...” Carol said. “What can I tell you?” In contrast to the security head, who had been mildly passive-aggressive initially, the ED shift supervisor presented herself as wanting to be demonstrably helpful.
“I’m interested in going over what our investigator reported to make sure we have all the details,” Jack said. “Our understanding is that the patient was initially discovered by a nursing supervisor, and he and another nurse administered CPR before getting the patient here.”
“That’s correct,” Carol said. “Our night nursing supervisor Ronald Cavanaugh was involved, which we thought was auspicious.”
“What do you mean, auspicious?”
“Ronnie is a competent nurse and conscientious nursing supervisor. To give you an idea, just about every time he’s on duty, he makes it a point to arrive at the hospital an hour or so early. One of the things he invariably does is come to the ED merely to check out what’s happening, particularly what kind of trauma cases are in process. He does it just to get a sense of what to expect during his shift. He’s that dedicated. He’s also clinically astute. As part of his responsibilities, he’s required to respond to every code in the hospital, which he does with true dedication. Consequently, he’s had a lot of experience, probably more than our cardiology residents, when you think about it. And he’s had a lot of success with resuscitations. There’s no doubt he’s saved more than his share of patients.”