Oath of Office (11 page)

On the trip back to Kings Ridge, Lou had wrestled with a serious moral dilemma: how to discuss his relationship with John and Carolyn Meacham without violating the legally protected confidentiality of the PWO. It certainly seemed from news broadcasts as if Walter Filstrup had already released details of the murderer’s relationship with the organization. It was safe to assume that wily Gilbert Stone knew at least some of Meacham’s history, information probably unearthed beginning the day the physician first moved to the area.

How much Lou should disclose now was the issue. Since he’d signed on as an assistant director of the program, he had protected its clients the way he protected the anonymity of people in AA.

Still, as things stood, the odds of his winning reinstatement from the PWO board of directors were about as long as those of a mule taking the Kentucky Derby. To win out, Lou would need to prove that Meacham’s actions were the result of something that no monitoring program could ever have predicted. And to do that, he was going to need Gilbert Stone’s help.

First, he had to convince the chief of police, and himself, that there might be something wrong at the DeLand Regional Hospital and in his town.

Stone took a spiral-bound notebook from his desk drawer and motioned Lou to a Danish modern chair across from him. “So, let’s have it,” he said.

“Okay,” Lou replied, leaning forward. “Beyond the obvious, I’m beginning to wonder if there might be something really strange going on in Kings Ridge.”

“Son, I’ve been chief of police here for over twenty years. Trust me when I tell you, there’s a lot of strange things going on in Kings Ridge. Now, if by strange, you mean an explanation besides insanity for John Meacham’s rampage, well, I’m all ears.”

“What if I told you that the shootings were a case of flawed reasoning on John’s part, and that there might be a similar pattern of seriously flawed reasoning at work in other people?”

“I’d want to know about it right here, right now.”

It took fifteen minutes to share what Lou had decided he would—his role with the PWO, Meacham’s alcoholism and anger management issues, the verbal abuse of a patient four years ago that had gotten Meacham into hot water with the D.C. board of medicine, and finally the verbal assault reported to the police by his patient, Roberta Jennings.

“First of all,” Lou went on, “there was no alcohol in his system. Tests for other drugs of abuse are pending, but alcohol was always the one for him—the trigger for his outbursts. Secondly, it seems as if he kept repeating ‘no witnesses’ during the attack. What did he mean by that?”

Stone’s expression was puzzled. “We know all this, son,” he said. “Our detectives and the staties are the ones who are conducting the investigation and doing the interviews.”

“Except it doesn’t make any sense,” Lou countered. “Did anyone ask Carolyn Meacham or any of their friends if he had been acting weird lately? Stange thoughts? Unusual mannerisms? Any neurologic signs—a tic, perhaps? How about Roberta Jennings? What did she have to say? What did she see that afternoon in the office?”

“A man killing his neighbors and coworkers makes no sense at all, I agree. But what’s your point?”

“Let’s say Meacham was worried about there being witnesses because he knew his behavior would cost him his medical license—possibly for good.”

“So, you’re claiming that’s why he shot all those people?”

“Exactly—to keep there from being any witnesses. Except, he never went after the most important witness of all—Roberta Jennings herself.”

Stone just frowned. “Crazy is just that,” he said. “Unpredictable. Inconsistent. Maybe the bubble just popped and he saw all that blood and all those bodies, and just like that came to his senses—took his own life before he could do any more damage.”

“That’s exactly my point. He waited until Roberta Jennings had left the building before he acted. If his real motivation was to eliminate all witnesses, he should have started shooting before Roberta got out the front door. Check with any profiler who knows about workplace violence. I’m sure they’ll agree. First kill the object of your rage; then go after the others. Something was going on in the chemistry of Meacham’s brain. It may not be something physical like a tumor or blood vessel malformation, but something had disrupted the delicate balance of transmitters connecting the neurons of his brain.”

“I suppose we could look into that,” Stone said. “I appreciate you sharing your theories with me.” Stone looked as if he were about to end their session.

“But I told you there’s more,” Lou said. “I was there at the hospital for a few hours before John officially died. Some of the doctors and nurses treating him were not following standard protocol for a gunshot victim. Some of their actions were poorly thought out to the point of actually being dangerous.”

“Now, wait just a minute,” Stone said. “You can slander my dog, and even my children, but don’t you go disparaging our hospital. We take a lot of pride in that place. As a doctor, I’m sure you know its reputation.”

Lou saw that he had hit a nerve and immediately backed off. But he did tell Stone about Prichap’s odd fishing expedition into Meacham’s brain.

“Dr. Prichap is pretty new here,” Stone replied, “but I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word about him. I have a cousin the man operated on—a disk, I think, or a spur of some sort. She’s dancin’ around like a chicken now.”

“Well, I don’t like to speak badly of any doc, and Dr. Prichap may just have been having an off day, but what he did was illogical and didn’t demonstrate the best judgment.”

Stone sighed. “You’re the doctor, but I’m not sure you’re giving me much to go on here. “Meacham could have just snapped after Roberta left the office. Prichap might have felt getting that bullet out was the only chance he had. This doesn’t scream pattern to me.”

“What about Carolyn Meacham?” he asked, trying another tack. “She almost killed us trying to chase down a driver with
one
busted taillight. She was trying to prevent an accident that would never have happened. Afterwards, she couldn’t figure out why she had done it. Flawed judgment again.”

Stone appeared slightly more interested. “So, what we’ve got here are three seemingly illogical acts, each resulting in undesirable outcomes—a shooting, a medical procedure, and a car accident. Is that about right?”

“That’s right.”

“And what is it you suggest we do from here, Doctor?”

“Let’s keep looking for patterns. Something strange and out of the ordinary.”

“Other than the obvious.”

“Other than the obvious. I think we should interview Carolyn Meacham and the people close to her. Same for Anthar Prichap and the staff who cared for Meacham in the ICU.”

“No way we’re going to allow you to do anything of the sort,” Stone said. “But I will speak to the staties in charge about your theories.”

Lou felt his future with the PWO slipping away. “Chief Stone,” he said. “I’m in some real hot water at the Physician Wellness Office. In fact, I’ve been suspended. The only way I’m going to get my job back is to prove I didn’t totally misjudge John Meacham’s capacity for violent outbursts. And the only way I’m going to do that is to speak with some of the people involved. How about Roberta Jennings? Is there any way I could talk to her—ask her about John’s demeanor right before the shootings?

Stone mulled over the request. “Bobbi’s pretty shook up about things,” he said, “but she did say she’d try to cooperate in any way she could.…” Lou held his breath. Without warning, Stone stood up. “Let me talk with her,” he said. “See what she has to say.”

“Thanks, Chief. I really appreciate that.”

“Well, I appreciate you bringing all of this to my attention.”

Lou sat alone for several long minutes, thinking about Filstrup, Meacham, the PWO, and all the docs his suspension had left adrift. He was thinking about calling to check in with Emily when the policeman returned.

“Well, I got good news, Lou,” he said, slipping on his wool-lined bomber jacket. “It took a little convincing, but Roberta’s agreed to meet with you.”

Lou brightened. “That is great news,” he said. “What did you have to do?”

“Not much,” Stone said, grinning. “I just told her that I’d be right there beside her while you did your questioning. Turns out that was all the convincing she required.”

CHAPTER 15

Roberta Jennings lived on a quiet dead-end street in a carefully maintained ranch-style home. Though there were pictures of grown children and grandchildren throughout the house, the décor could hardly be considered child friendly. The living room was dominated by an extensive collection of Lladró figurines, proudly displayed inside two ceiling-high glass cases. The plush wall-to-wall carpet was pearl white, and the furniture was small, firm, and uninviting.

The object of John Meacham’s outburst was roosted on a hardback chair, looking about as comfortable as her furniture. Lou noticed a tremor of her fleshy hands as she sipped her tea, and suspected it might represent early onset Parkinson’s disease, or perhaps a familial tremor. Meanwhile, the springs of her Victorian sofa were digging into his backside. He tried without success to shift into a more comfortable position.

“Are you sure you won’t have something to eat or drink?” she asked him, gesturing toward a platter piled high with Oreos and an assortment of butter cookies. Beside the snacks was a porcelain teapot, steam wafting from its spout.

“No, thank you,” Lou said. “We really don’t mean to take up too much of your time.”

Jennings puckered her lips, gave Lou a disappointed glance, and then swallowed three of the cookies one after another without much chewing. As a doctor, Lou found it difficult not to feel deep concern for the woman’s health, much as he knew John Meacham had done. Jennings’s ankles were swollen, purplish, and crammed inside shoes that, at that time of the day, at least, were way too small for her. She wore polyester pants that allowed give for an expanding waistline, and her neck and chin were flabby. Her excessive weight had drained most of the luster from her face, and while Roberta was perhaps sixty, Lou guessed her body’s age to be fifteen years older.

“I don’t get many visitors,” Jennings said after a sip of her tea. “Since Terry died, I haven’t been very sociable.”

“Terry was—?” Lou asked.

“Her husband. And one of the best guys you’d ever have the pleasure of knowing,” Stone interjected. “Me and Terry used to go duck hunting together. Best shot in the county. Ask anyone who knows, and they’d tell you the same. The absolute best shot.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lou said. “When did he pass on?”

“About a year ago,” Jennings said. “He had a heart attack. It happened so suddenly. One minute here, the next minute gone.”

“If it was that quick, he probably didn’t suffer any,” Lou said, feeling the response, though well intended, was lame.

“Dr. Meacham pleaded with him to lose weight. Same as he did with me.”

He knew you were headed for the same fate,
Lou thought.

“I’m sorry I have to bring up those memories of Terry, and also of what happened that day in Dr. Meacham’s office,” he said, “but Chief Stone told me you might be willing to tell me what you remember.”

Jennings looked tense. “I … have a hard time just thinking about it,” she said.

Again, Stone cut in. “Bobbi, Dr. Welcome, here, is looking to ask some real simple questions. He’s promised that if anything he says upsets you too much, he’ll skip it.”

“Dr. Meacham yelled at me,” Jennings said, her voice breaking. “It’s as simple as that. Right out of the blue, he yelled at me.”

“Besides that,” Lou asked, “did he say or do anything unusual? It could have been something minor. A tic perhaps, or an odd movement. Some sort of warning that he was going to erupt. Was he at all unsteady on his feet? Did his speech become slurred or thickened?”

Jennings shook her head. “No. Nothing of the sort. He was lucid, calm, and reasonable, and then he just … went … crazy.”

“And nothing specific that you remember set him off—something you said or did?”

“He weighed me, if that’s what you mean.”

“Can you tell me about that?”

“He had me coming in every month. One visit he would just check my weight and blood pressure with my clothes on and talk to me about the dietician and whatever program I was trying. The next visit one of his nurses, poor women, would be there after I got undressed to weigh me with a johnny on. Then Dr. Meacham would examine me and order blood if he thought that was necessary.”

“And how was your weight this time?”

“I don’t really remember,” Jennings said, probably quicker than she had intended.

Dead end.

Lou’s med school had spent hours teaching the students to avoid the pitfalls of asking leading questions—questions with the answers built in.
Does your chest pain ever go down your left arm and up into your jaw?
He knew he was dangerously close to descending into that approach now.

He flashed on what Cap had said:
Not just crazy, Lou … Redonkulously crazy.

John Meacham had taken a situation every doctor regularly encountered—a patient unable or unwilling to take the measures necessary to get healthy or even to stay alive—and had blown his response far beyond what would be expected or acceptable. It was the same sort of reaction his wife had exhibited when confronting the car with one taillight out.

Don’t give up!
he urged himself.

“Tell me, Mrs. Jennings, did you have any interactions with Dr. Meacham outside of the clinic? Were you involved in any clubs together? Community organizations? Church groups? Anything like that?”

“Not that I can think of,” Jennings said, looking disappointed at being disappointing. “Unless you count him giving me dirty looks when he saw what I was eating at Millie’s.”

“Millie’s?”

“World-famous Millie’s Diner,” Stone answered. “I can’t believe you haven’t eaten there, or at least heard of it. If comfort food needed comfort, it would eat what Millie was serving up. Best burgers in the state. Mac and cheese that tastes like what your mama used to make. Chicken wings spicier than Cinemax After Dark. If you haven’t eaten at Millie’s—hell, son—you haven’t eaten. It’s about four miles outside of the town center on Highway 82.”