Hardy ignored the interruption. "But then with Sinustop, things got worse? What finally happened?"
"Well, Ross got his way. They didn't pull the samples-"
Kensing supplied the ending. "And sixteen other people died around the country. Two of them with Parnassus."
In the telling, Hardy had come to remember the scandal clearly now. But although it had been prominent in the news, he didn't recall that Parnassus had been any part of it, and he said as much.
Ann jumped to Markham's defense. "Tim covered for Ross, that's why."
Kensing was shaking his head. "Not." He turned to Hardy. "Tim released a statement that the two patients who had died had taken samples they'd gotten here from before the first death had been reported-apparently this was true-and that we'd recalled all the samples and taken Sinustop off the formulary at the first indication of any problem. Not true. And if you call that covering for Ross…"
"That's what he did," Ann snapped at him.
Hardy jumped in before the smoldering anger in the room could erupt again. "Okay, good," he said. "That's the kind of thing I want you both to keep thinking about." He turned to each of them in turn. But tension remained high.
He was afraid to push his luck any further. Standing, he kept up his patter to keep them from each other. "I'm afraid I've got another appointment. Mrs. Kensing, thanks for your time. We're settled in terms of the kids, right? All good there? Eric, I'd like a few words with you on our way out. I'll wait while you tell your children good night."
"Honey, I'm home!" Ricky Ricardo he wasn't, but for years early in their marriage, Hardy had come through the front door with his dead-on imitation. He'd made it with four minutes to spare by his watch, and considering the ever-escalating demands of the case that had been consuming his hours, he felt he'd done well.
All lanky arms and legs, Rebecca came flying down the hallway. "Daddy! I'm so glad you're home." She jumped at him and knocked him back, but he held on and gave her a spin.
In the dining room, the table was set. Frannie came to the door of the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest, but she was smiling. "Cutting it close, buster. Very, very close."
"I'll get better, I promise."
They shared a chaste married kiss. Vincent, hanging back by the family room, said, "Gross."
So the two adults made eye contact and suddenly had their arms around each other, making out like teenagers. He picked Frannie all the way up off the ground and she kicked back her heels.
"Gross me out," Vincent shouted.
"C'mon, you guys! Please. Just stop, okay." This was Rebecca, arbiter of social correctness to the whole family.
"I can't help it," Hardy said, finally stopping. "Your mother makes me crazy."
"Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me," Frannie begged.
Hardy complied. The romantic assault drove the two kids to the front of the house, gagging at peak volume. The last kiss turned into a semireal one, and when it ended, Frannie caught her breath for a second, then said, "Oh, that reminds me. Treya called this morning. We talked for nearly an hour."
Hardy was thinking this was swell. The wives were going to referee, and that would end with them all hating one another.
"What about?" he asked.
"She's pregnant."
24
Malachi Ross sat kitty-corner to Marlene Ash at a large table in the Police Commissioner's Hearing Room, facing the members of the grand jury. When Ross had first come in, he took the oath and sat down, declining to remove the jacket to his suit. This had been a mistake. Once the initial opportunity had passed, no other appropriate moment presented itself. He didn't want to seem nervous. Which he was. By now he was sweating heavily.
Rooms in the Hall of Justice were traditionally far too hot or way too cold. Due to the state power crisis, maintenance crews had adjusted each and every one of the thermostats in the building. Now all the rooms that had been too cold were too hot and vice versa. It must have been eighty degrees in the airless chamber.
Ross's original plan was to cooperate fully with the investigation into Tim Markham's death, and to that end his time in the witness chair began amicably enough. For nearly a half hour, this attractive and competent woman walked him through the many years of his and Tim's relationship, the founding of Parnassus, the social contacts shared by the two men. Ms. Ash was looking for the person who had killed Tim. He had expected this sort of background drill, had even mentally prepared himself for it.
He'd just given the grand jury a couple of minutes on the nature of his professional relationship with Mr. Markham. He'd told them that there had been very little friction between the two of them over the course of a dozen years, although of course they'd had their disagreements. But basically, they respected and trusted each other.
Marlene Ash took this moment to stand up and move off a few steps into the center of the room. This was when the focus of the interrogation began to change. "Dr. Ross," she said, turning back to where he sat, "how is Parnassus doing financially right now?"
He took a misdirected shot at some levity. "We're doing about as well as most health organizations in the country, which isn't saying much. But we're still afloat, if that's what you mean."
A frigid smile. "Not quite. I was hoping you could tell us with more specificity. One can be afloat and still sinking at the same time, isn't that right? Wasn't that the entire second half of Titanic? Aren't you now the acting CEO of the corporation?"
"Yes." He composed himself, looking down at his linked fingers. When he raised his gaze to the grand jury, the effect of the tragedy he'd endured was apparent. "After last Tuesday, after Tim-Mr. Markham-died, the board appointed me CEO on an interim basis."
"So you're intimately familiar with the company's financial situation, are you not?"
"Well, it's been less than a week. I wouldn't say I've got the handle on it that Mr. Markham had, but I'm reasonably conversant with the numbers, yes. And frankly, have been for some time."
"Then you would know if, in fact, Parnassus is under some financial duress, wouldn't you?"
"Yes."
"Has the company, in fact, considered filing for bankruptcy?"
Understanding that financial pressures at Parnassus would clearly appear to the DA to be a possible motive for Markham's death, Ross had expected his inquisitor to get to this line of questioning sometime, but now that it was here, he felt somewhat unprepared. He ran a couple of fingers over his damp forehead, considered whether he should ask permission to take off his coat, or simply do it. In the end, he did nothing. "It's certainly been discussed. It's an option we've considered."
"Do you know if Mr. Markham had considered it, as well?"
"Yes. The matter has been on the table now for some time."
During the next forty-five minutes, Ash led him on a grueling journey through the Parnassus books, through the intricacies of incomes, copays, expenses, payrolls, premiums, and corporate salaries. The damned woman seemed to know enough to cut through his obfuscation and get to the real nuts and bolts of how the place worked. Ross knew that many other employees had also gotten subpoenas, and figuring that on balance they would tell the truth, he had no choice but to stay close to the facts himself.
"So, Dr. Ross, to your knowledge is Parnassus going bankrupt in the next six months? If not, please explain how you plan to keep the company solvent."
The sheer effrontery of the question made him want to snap back that it was none of her goddamn business, but he realized that he was trapped.