Silent Treatment

Maura Hughes was awake and thrashingabout.

'Right after you left she started moaninglike she was in pain or maybe having a nightmare,' Tom explained. 'Thensuddenly, like a shot, she woke up. She's all over the place right now,fighting the restraints and hallucinating even worse than she was before.'

'Go ahead and ring for the nurse,' Harrysaid. Noting that Maura was drenched in sweat, he toweled her face off andassured himself that her IV was open and running. She looked stressed, but notin danger. 'It's probably just the sedation wearing off. None of the medicinewe use actually changes what's going on in a DT patient's head. All it does isblunt their reaction to it. I'll check her over.'

'Gene, Gene, don't be mean,' Maura sang,thrashing against her restraints. She smiled up at him and suddenly adopted aDixie accent that would have made Scarlett O'Hara proud. 'I swear on mymother's grave, darlin', if you'd just get these fuckin' bugs off me I'd be allright. I'd be fine.'

Using his own stethoscope and pocketophthalmoscope, Harry did as good an exam as possible under the circumstances.Maura neither helped him nor fought him. Instead, she kept up a constant verbalstream as she tried to brush away the crawlies. The nurse checked in over theintercom. She was in the conference room getting the change-of-shift report.Unless there was real trouble, she would be in after they were done.

'I don't find anything to worry about,'Harry said to Tom. 'I think we're just seeing what her condition is likewithout the mask of tranquiliz-'

'Hey, I'm looking for someone namedSidonis. Dr. Cash Sidonis. Something like that.'

Harry and Tom turned toward the door. Asallow, balding man in a polyester suit stood appraising them. He was holding afrayed, spiral-bound, stenographer's notepad from which he had read Sidonis'sname. His small, sunken eyes were enveloped in shadow. From six feet away Harrycould smell a two — or three-pack-a-day tobacco habit.

'Lieutenant Dickinson!' Tom exclaimed.

Squinting, the man bobbed his finger atTom, trying to place him.

'The Yalie, right?'

Tom grimaced.

'Yes, I guess you could call me that. I'mTom Hughes. This is Dr. Harry Corbett. Harry, this is Lieutenant AlbertDickinson. He's a detective in the two-eight. They have an opening for adetective there that I've interviewed for. He was on the panel.'

You and about half the force,' Dickinsonsaid, none too kindly. 'I wouldn't count on nothing if I was you. Thecompetition is fierce. Fierce. Some of the PR people and the imagepeople think being a Yalie is to your credit. But a lot of us who work thestreets ain't so sure. A lot of us look for the guy with the degree from theCollege of Hard Knocks, if you know what I mean. Good ol' Fuck U.'

His hoarse laugh dissolved into a hackingcough. Tom remained outwardly unfazed. Harry wondered if the man's abominablerudeness was some sort of test.

'They call anyone they think graduatedfrom college a Yalie,' Tom explained pleasantly enough. 'In my case, not thatit matters, it happens to be true.'

'Corbett, huh,' Dickinson said. 'You'rethe guy Sidonis's complaining about. After I talk to him, I want to talk toyou. Bastard must have some clout to have them send me here on a night likethis. Some fucking clout.'

'Dammit, get off me!' Maura shouted.'Boogery little ants. Get off! I'm sick of this!'

Dickinson glanced over at herdispassionately. 'Whozis?' he said, jerking his head toward the bed.

'She's. . um. . she's my sisterMaura,' Tom said, forcing himself to stand just a bit straighter.

Harry noticed that one of Tom's fists — the one out of Dickinson's line of sight — was clenched. Dickinson peered at Mauraagain. In ten seconds his assessment was complete. Maura Hughes was a hopelessdrunk.

'Hey, do you two know why the Irish gotthe whiskey and the A-rabs got the oil?' he asked suddenly. 'Give up? It'sbecuz the Irish got to pick first.'

He was launching into another mucous laughwhen Maura spat at him. From eight or so feet away she missed by only a foot.

'Bitch,' Dickinson muttered, checking tobe sure he hadn't been spattered.

'Pinhead,' Maura shot back.

The night-shift nurse interrupted via theintercom.

'Is there a Detective Dickinson in theroom? If there is, you were supposed to check in at the nurse's station beforegoing into any patient room. Also, Dr. Sidonis is here to see you. He's in theconference room by the nurse's station.'

Dickinson looked at Harry. 'Don't go away,Corbett,' he said. 'You neither, Yalie.'

He shoved his notebook in his suit-coatpocket and left the room. Tom waited until he was certain the man was out ofearshot.

'This is not going to be fun,' he said.'Dickinson is totally burnt-out. He wouldn't go an extra inch to help his ownmother.'

'But he's on a panel that picks who'sgoing to make detective.'

'NYPD logic all the way. I've been toldI'm the leading candidate to get the promotion, but as you just heard, younever know. I really could've done without this little encounter with AlbertD.'

'Sorry.'

'It's not your fault. Look, don't worryabout him. Albert'll annoy you with a few questions from the detective's how-tomanual just to have something to put on his report. Then, when he realizesthere isn't any reason to suspect foul play, he'll leave and spend the nexthour or two at Dunkin' Donuts.'

'But there is,' Harry said.

'Is what?'

'Reason to suspect foul play.'

Chapter9

Harry recounted in detail for Tom Hugheshis call to the anesthesiologist and his review of Evie's chart. He was justfinishing when Evie was wheeled back in. Shaken by the sight of her, Harryrealized that he had already begun to think of her, of their life together, inthe past tense. To all intents, the woman he had been married to for nine yearswas dead.

'The EEG showed a little activity,'Richard Cohen reported as she was being reconnected to the monitoring andrespiratory systems, 'but not much. Certainly not enough to keep the variousteams from moving forward if you give the word. As you know, time is prettycrucial here. Organs do begin to break down.'

'I know,' Harry said. 'When do you plan todo a second EEG?'

'Ten in the morning.'

Harry looked down at his wife. Over histwenty-five years as an M.D., he had shared every conceivable experienceinvolving death and bereavement. But none of those experiences prepared him forthis. A few short hours ago, she was the most important person in his life. Afew short hours ago, Sidonis or not, they still had the chance to turn theirmarriage around, to make it work again. But suddenly, it was over. And now, hewas being asked to validate Evie's death by authorizing the donation of hervital organs. He had always been supportive to families in such situations.When he needed them, the right words had come. But he had never had to make thedecision himself.

'Leave the papers at the nurse's station,'he heard himself say. 'I'll sign them before I leave. But I want to see her inthe morning before anyone moves ahead with this.'

'I'll see to it.'

Cohen thanked him, murmured a brief,somewhat uncomfortable condolence, and left the room. Moments later, heradjustments on the ventilator completed, the respiratory technician followed.Sue Jilson checked Evie's blood pressure and monitor pattern, and then turnedto Harry.

'The CT tech took this off your wife,' shesaid coolly, handing Harry the diamond pendant from Tiffany's. 'I didn't seeany sense in putting it back on her.'

Harry looked at her stonily.

'I do,' he said.

He hooked the necklace back in place. Whenhe turned around again, he and Tom Hughes were alone with the two patients.Maura continued her almost nonstop prattle, pausing only to pick tormentors offthe bedclothes. The ventilator connected to Evie again was whirring softly asit provided oxygen to organs that were now of value only when consideredindividually.