035 Bad Medicine (4 page)

“It’s kind of delicate,” Trevor admitted. “Dr. Gerard Shaw’s body was brought down yesterday. He’s my fiancée’s father, and I promised I’d just check to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Yeah. That one’s scheduled for a postmortem,” Glen remarked. “I’m sending it over today.”

He walked over to the row of steel cabinets. Nancy knew the cabinets held bodies. She drew in a breath as Glen grabbed the handle of a drawer marked “Gerard Shaw.”

The drawer slid open. The cabinet was empty!

G
LEN STARED IN AMAZEMENT
. “But that’s impossible!” he sputtered. “I put the body in here myself. Someone’s taken it!”

“What?”
Trevor demanded.

“I tell you, I put the body in this drawer last night!” Glen insisted.

“Well, then, where is it?”

“I don’t know!”

“Who else works here?” asked Nancy, trying to calm them both.

Glen blinked several times. “Well, Sam Hughes, works the night shift now. I just switched
today to days, so I relieved him this morning. There’s another guy on the afternoon shift. But he hasn’t worked since Dr. Shaw’s body was brought down. Sam’s the only other person who could have moved it.”

Glen reached for his desk phone and called Sam at home. It was clear from Glen’s side of the conversation that Sam didn’t know what Glen was talking about.

Replacing the receiver, Glen frowned. “Sam says nobody touched that drawer while he was working. And he only left the morgue once, to get a sandwich from the vending machine. He always does that. He locked the door when he left, as he always does.”

Nancy shared a look with Trevor. “Could the body just be misplaced?” she asked Glen.

“No way. But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll look in every drawer to make sure. Shaw’s body
has
to be somewhere!”

“What will I tell April?” Trevor murmured as they headed back upstairs. “If Glen doesn’t find Dr. Shaw’s body, I’ll have to inform the chief of staff.”

Trevor left Nancy, intending to track April down in class and tell her the upsetting news. Nancy grabbed a sandwich from a vending machine, then rode the elevator to the seventh floor. She hoped to catch Dr. Rayburn. He might be
able to explain more about what had happened to Dr. Shaw’s body.

Nancy recognized Dr. Rayburn standing outside one of the patients’ rooms, his nose buried in a chart. “Dr. Rayburn?” she asked.

He lifted his brows inquiringly.

Nancy introduced herself, adding, “Trevor has asked me to help clear his name. He’s afraid a malpractice suit could ruin his career.”

“Trevor’s right,” Dr. Rayburn said regretfully. “But I don’t see how you can help, Ms. Drew. The medical board of examiners looks into these things. The decision about Trevor’s future as a doctor is in their hands. After the autopsy’s performed, I’m sure his name will be cleared.”

Nancy had just about concluded her interview when a man in a guard’s uniform approached her. “Are you Ms. Drew?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“The chief of staff would like to see you in the conference room. I’ll take you there now, if it’s all right.”

“Thank you.”

Dr. Wicks, the chief of staff, was a white-haired gentleman with a deeply furrowed brow. Trevor was with him in the spacious oblong room when Nancy arrived. He shot her a nervous glance.

“Ms. Drew,” Dr. Wicks began without preamble, “I understand you were with Dr. Callahan
when he discovered that Dr. Shaw’s body was missing.”

“That’s correct.”

“I don’t mean to be abrupt, but this is a confidential hospital matter. I’d like to keep it as such.”

“I have no intention of talking to the press,” Nancy assured him. “I just would like to help April and Trevor.”

Dr. Wicks’s attitude warmed somewhat. “I’m certain the problem will be resolved shortly. Please, sit down.” He gestured toward the chairs tucked snugly beneath the polished table. “I’ve been informed you’ve been asking questions about Dr. Callahan, Ms. Drew, and that you’ve been working in an unofficial capacity to help him avoid a malpractice suit. You’re not a member of the hospital staff, and it’s highly irregular to have you asking questions at all.”

Nancy opened her mouth to defend herself, but she had no time to follow through. Dr. Wicks leaned across the table and said, “I, for one, would be interested to hear what you’ve learned. Why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me what’s been going on?”

• • •

Two hours later Nancy and Trevor left the conference room. Trevor seemed dazed. “Well,
he didn’t say you couldn’t help me,” he said. “That’s something.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got to find a way to be less conspicuous,” Nancy reminded him. “What do you think I should do?”

It was nearly time to meet April and Ned, so they headed directly to the cafeteria, where they’d agreed to rendezvous.

“How about becoming a candy striper?” Trevor suggested as they pushed through the door.

“A candy striper!” Nancy repeated and laughed.

“There you are,” April called out, obviously relieved. White-faced, she hurried toward them, Ned in tow. “How could my father’s body be missing?” she asked in a quavering voice. “What’s happening at this hospital?”

Trevor put his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know. But it’s clear to me that someone’s out to get me.”

Nancy didn’t comment. She wasn’t as convinced as Trevor seemed to be that he was the prime target. Whoever had moved Dr. Shaw’s body was taking an enormous risk. If someone was trying to destroy Trevor’s career, there were easier ways. “How do I become a candy striper for a few days?” she asked.

Ned cocked an eyebrow at her. “A candy striper? Oh, Nancy, I can hardly wait.”

Nancy smiled, glad to have lightened the mood.

“I can tell the supervisor in charge and she’ll sign you on,” said Trevor. “We always need volunteers. Just go to Madeleine Creyton’s office tomorrow morning.”

“Where’s that?”

“It’s in the administration building,” Ned explained. “The small building next to this one.”

“You’re sure learning the geography,” Nancy teased, linking arms with him.

“Hey.” He humbly lifted his palms. “Can I help it if I’m an A student? Go ahead, ask me anything.”

“Where’s the school’s anatomy lab?” April asked, relaxing a bit.

“Ummm.” Ned squeezed his eyes shut in concentration. “The medical school classroom building. The older ivy-covered building right above the river. It used to be the hospital before this structure was built.”

“Pretty good. Which floor?”

“Fifth?”

April smiled. “The medical school is only three stories high.”

“Oh.”

Nancy laughed. “Two out of three’s not bad. Come on, take me home and feed me or lose me forever.”

“Are you sure there’re only three floors?” Ned grumbled as Nancy tugged him toward the door.

“Positive,” April called after him.

Nancy gave Ned a quick peck on the cheek as soon as they were outside.

“And what was that for?” he asked, drawing Nancy into his arms.

“For shaking off some of April’s depression. And—because I like you.”

“That’s it? You just
like
me?”

Nancy laughed and pulled him toward her car. “What do you think?”

• • •

Wednesday morning Nancy was at the hospital promptly at seven, in time to work the first shift of the day. At Trevor’s suggestion, she’d worn a pair of white tennis shoes. She’d also done her hair in a French braid.

She found Madeleine Creyton’s office and was given a pile of forms to fill out as well as a candy striper uniform. “Dr. Callahan told us to expect you,” the supervisor said with a friendly smile.

“Thanks.”

“Report to the emergency room. Normally, we don’t have candy stripers working there, but
we’re really shortstaffed this week. Dr. Callahan assured me you could handle it.”

Nancy wasn’t so sure. Emergency? She had visions of people coming in covered with blood. Sighing, she headed back to the hospital. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be a candy striper. When would she find the time for detecting?

The emergency room was quiet when Nancy walked in. She introduced herself and was handed a clipboard and a stack of forms. “We need you to take down information as patients come in,” the head nurse told her. “Don’t worry. Most of the day cases are pretty minor. The late-night accidents are the worst.”

There was no time during her break to do any investigating, but at lunchtime Nancy made a dash through the cafeteria, grabbed a sandwich, then headed for the double doors.

“Whoa!” Ned exclaimed when she barreled into him. “Where are you going? Aren’t we eating together?”

“Sorry. I’ve got to use every spare minute to learn who’s out to ruin Trevor’s reputation.”

“Well, where are you going?” His gaze swept over her. “You know, you look kind of cute.”

“Thanks a lot.” Nancy grinned. “Actually, I’d like to take a look at those patients’ charts on which Trevor supposedly prescribed the wrong
medicines. Do you know where Dr. Shaw’s chart would be now?”

“Uh, no. Ask the ward clerk at the seventh-floor nurses’ station. She ought to know.”

“Okay.” A teasing light sparkled in her eyes. “You know, for someone who thinks hospital food isn’t fit for consumption, I notice you’re here in the cafeteria a lot.”

“Hey, bad food is better than no food.”

Laughing, Nancy headed for the elevators. The seventh-floor ward clerk wasn’t sure where Dr. Shaw’s file was. “I doubt it’s down in medical records yet. Check with Dr. Rayburn. His office is down the hall and around the corner. He and Dr. Callahan and Dr. Clemmons were discussing the case.”

Nancy headed in the direction the ward clerk had pointed; Rayburn’s office was easy to find. Nancy rapped on the gray door, but there was no answer. Twisting the handle, she found it unlocked.

A woman was just rising from a desk, straightening papers. “Sorry,” she said. “I was just finishing some work before lunch, and I didn’t answer the door right away. Did you want to see Dr. Rayburn? He’s not in, but you can leave him a message. I’m his secretary.”

Nancy was in the anteroom of a two-room office. Plush pearl gray carpeting swept across the
floor and into the adjacent room, Dr. Rayburn’s office. Nancy glanced toward his open office door. “Will he be long?” she asked.

“I’m not certain.”

“May I wait a few minutes? I’m on my lunch break, too. I’d really like to see him.”

Hesitating, Rayburn’s secretary finally shrugged her shoulders. “Okay. I won’t be long.” She discreetly closed Rayburn’s office door before she went to lunch.

Nancy waited a few minutes, then grew anxious about all the time she was wasting. All she really wanted to know was if Dr. Rayburn had Dr. Shaw’s or Mrs. Deverly’s file.

She tried the door to his office. Locked. Seeing the keyhole in the knob, Nancy knew it would be an easy lock to pick. She pulled a hairpin from her braid and stuck it into the keyhole. The lock button popped open. Nancy noiselessly pushed open the door and slipped inside.

Rayburn’s desk stood in the center of the spacious room. A brass coatrack occupied one corner, and one paneled wall was covered with an impressive display of medical diplomas and awards. Nancy’s gaze zeroed in on a short stack of narrow three-ring binders—the kind used for patients’ charts—sitting on a counter beneath the window.

Nancy quickly searched through the binders. Mrs. Deverly’s was on the bottom. Aha! she thought excitedly, pulling it out.

Across the front of the binder was a piece of red tape with Allergic printed in white letters over and over again across its face. It was impossible to miss!

Quickly Nancy leafed through the papers clipped to the top of the binder. A shuffling noise startled her and she glanced over her shoulder. No one there.

Nerves, she thought, hurriedly scanning the pages. A smaller white page labeled Standard Orders was on top. “Penicillin” was handwritten on the sheet, plain as day, followed by the initials
TC.

“There it is as big as life,” Nancy murmured unhappily. She stared at the chart, wishing she knew enough about medicine to understand all the codes on the page. Trevor’s initials appeared several more times.

Another creaking sound sent a shiver of alarm up Nancy’s spine. She whirled around. Her eyes widened. Someone dressed completely in green surgical garb was charging straight at her!

“Hey!” Nancy screamed. Hands encased in plastic surgical gloves covered her mouth. Nancy tried to scream again.

To her horror she felt something jab into her upper arm. A hypodermic needle!

“Help me!” she yelled against the smothering fingers, but it was too late. Blackness descended over her. She slipped limply into unconsciousness, the binder dropping from her fingers.