“That’s another great question,” Ronnie said. “You are right! He’s the perfect person to get involved. I also like not having to go to Dr. Thomas or Dr. Wingate.”
“I agree,” Cherine said, feeling relieved herself. She didn’t realize how keyed up she was from having an unexpected visitor, even someone she knew. “I certainly wouldn’t like to mention it to them. No way. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past either one being the guilty party if it turns out Dr. Passero was correct. I’d only say this to you because of how often the three of us talked about them. They are both such self-centered odd ducks. I can never understand why people with their personalities ever go into medicine in the first place.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Ronnie said.
“What do you think? Is there a medical serial killer, much less an active one?”
“I don’t think so,” Ronnie said. “As you know, the mortality ratio, which is used for hospital accreditation, has been going down.”
“But Sue told me you were the source of the material that made her think as she did. She briefly explained some of it to me, but we were in a rush at the time. What all did you give her?”
“I just gave her a bunch of raw data, but it wasn’t complete, so she was just looking at overall rates without factoring in which deaths were expected. You know as well as anyone that as an academic medical center we get far more serious cases than a regular hospital.”
“I see,” Cherine said. She nodded a few times. “That makes sense to me.”
Ronnie then cleared his throat before adding, “You know, that offer of OJ is sounding better and better. That is, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Cherine responded.
“Might you have a little vodka to go with it?” Ronnie said. “I could use a shot. I need to calm down.”
“Sorry, but I don’t have any vodka,” Cherine said as she got to her feet and started for the refrigerator.
The second Cherine turned her back, Ronnie silently leaped to his feet, skirted the low coffee table, and lunged after her.
Chapter 22
Tuesday, December 7, 9:31 p.m.
As on edge as Cherine was with having her normal schedule interrupted unexpectedly, she sensed sudden movement behind her and started to turn around when Ronnie collided with her. He had intended to throw a dark blue pillowcase over her head as he had done with Sue Passero, but Cherine saw it coming and ducked to the side. Abandoning the sack, Ronnie tried to envelop her in a bear hug, but Cherine straight-armed him. Knocking her arm to the side, Ronnie lunged forward, essentially tackling her and causing both to collide with the kitchen table, sending books, pencils, dishes, and computer flying to create a gigantic clatter.
Cherine was a slight woman, but lithe and strong. She was also in relatively good physical shape.
Although Ronnie had thought subduing Cherine would be easy considering her comparative size, he was shocked at how fiercely and successfully she now was able to resist his attempts to subdue her. Several times when he thought he had her pinned, she squiggled partially free. She also let out a scream that rang in Ronnie’s ears and infuriated him, forcing him to use one hand to slap over her mouth. In the next instant they collided against a rickety secondhand bookshelf filled with a combination of books and knickknacks that also crashed to the floor, creating even a bigger clatter than the upending of the kitchen table.
Even with his hand firmly clasped over the lower part of her face, she was able to make significant but muffled noises. Eventually, with some effort, he was able to get her pinned in the angle created by the wall and the floor. At that point, just when he was sensing success, she managed to get a small part of his palm inside her mouth and bit down on it as hard as she could.
“Goddamnit!” he spat, yanking his hand free and losing a tiny bit of skin in the process. As she started another scream, he slapped her hard enough to bounce her head off the wall. Even though now for the moment she was only moaning and not screaming, he reclasped his hand back over her mouth. At the same time, he reached down with his free hand while pressing his full weight on top of her to pull out of his pocket a syringe he’d loaded with a carefully calculated dose of succinylcholine. All he wanted to do was paralyze her for the time necessary to stop her breathing long enough to kill her, yet small enough to be rapidly metabolized. In Ronnie’s armamentarium, succinylcholine and potassium chloride were his go-to agents, since they were all but impossible to detect after the fact.
Using his teeth to remove the syringe’s cap, Ronnie jammed the needle through Cherine’s jeans into the side of her buttock and pressed the plunger. Putting the syringe and its cap to the side, he now waited while keeping her pinned to the floor. It didn’t take long. He could feel the resistance drain out of her. An arm and a hand that she had been using to flail against his side went limp, as did her whole body. Rearing back and taking his hand off her face, he looked at her. She stared back at him with eyes that reflected terror. She knew what was happening.
A moment later, he rolled over, sat up, and got to his feet. When he looked down at her he could see her eyes were now glazed and she wasn’t breathing. She was also turning blue with cyanosis. He snapped up the syringe and replaced the cap. After putting it back into his pocket and picking up the pillowcase, he rapidly glanced around at the mess the apartment had become. After all the crashing noises, ruckus, and particularly Cherine’s semi-scream, he wanted to get the hell away ASAP in case a neighbor decided to investigate or call 911. Yet he also wanted to make completely sure there was no evidence of his visit. When he was convinced, he pulled out of his pocket a small plastic bag containing powdered cocaine laced with fentanyl. He’d added the fentanyl himself, so he knew it would be lethal. He sprinkled some of the powder into her nostrils before placing the bag on the coffee table in full view.
Rushing over to the door, he donned his coat and hat before using the pillowcase to open the door to avoid leaving any fingerprints. He’d been careful not to touch anything in the apartment during his visit. After glancing up and down the stairs to make sure they were clear of any of the tenants, he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door, again with the pillowcase. Pulling his cap low over his ears, he descended the first flight of stairs and then the second, all the while fearing he’d run into someone. Luckily it didn’t happen. It wasn’t until he’d pulled open the heavy front door that he heard someone from a floor or two above call out, “Hey, what’s going on in 3B?”
The next instant Ronnie was outside, thundering down the granite stoop, and then heading west in the direction of his Cherokee. Luckily there was no one in the immediate area he had to worry about seeing him. He moved quickly but resisted the temptation to run, reasoning that running might attract more attention if anyone happened to be looking out their window. Keeping himself at a fast walk, he put distance between himself and what he called ground zero. It wasn’t until he arrived at Columbus Avenue, where there were lots of people going about their business, that he allowed himself to slow down and relax to a degree.
Thinking back on what had transpired, he shook his head in dismay. It certainly hadn’t gone as smoothly as planned, yet at least it was over. The one thing he had to give himself credit for was that he had been correct in worrying that Cherine knew about Sue’s recent fears of the existence of a medical serial killer. Although Sue had implied she’d talked to no one about it when she had confided in him, she obviously had.