Primitive Secrets (18 page)

“His chances are pretty slim, but I'd never tell him or Lani. Hope is sometimes the best medicine we have.”

“She seems strong,” Storm said.

There was a long pause on the phone. “You've met her?”

“Uh, yes. My aunt is a Hawaiian healer, working with Bebe Fernandez. I brought some herbs from Honoka'a last weekend.” Storm wanted to shift the subject back to Sakai's treatment. “Are the Hawaiian methods helping him?”

“More than I thought.”

“But he's still undergoing traditional Western treatments, isn't he?” Storm asked.

“Yes, he goes over to Queen's Hospital for a CT scan once a month, then back to Unimed for his blood work. He had a bad time around March or April, but he's fairly stable right now.”

“Queen's?” Storm asked.

“Temporarily, of course. Unimed has a very good radiology department. We just had a temporary breakdown in our new machine and the older one doesn't have the resolution I wanted for Tom. I want to see the tiniest shadow, a hairline fracture, any hint of a new tumor. You know. We're following him like a hawk.”

“I know you're trying to do everything you can for him.”

“Yes.” His voice was tinged with weariness.

“Dr. O'Toole, did you by any chance drop into Hamasaki's office on Sunday, the night he died?”

Two or three seconds of thick silence met her question. “The police asked me about this already. Storm, you need help. Obsessional bereavement is not unusual, believe me. Unimed has a psychiatrist who specializes in grief management. His name is Dr. Edelstein. I'll refer you.”

“Just a minute, Dr. O'Toole. You did see him, right?”

“Certainly, we met for a few minutes, as we often did,” O'Toole barked. “Miles was trying to get Overton to pay for a last-ditch effort to save Sakai's life. That afternoon, he gave me a short progress report. When I left, he was chatting cheerfully on the telephone.”

“What time did you leave?” Storm asked.

“I told the police that and I'm not going to discuss it any further,” O'Toole snapped. She heard him take a deep breath. “Storm, you need to talk to someone about this obsession.”

Storm could imagine the hue of his face. His nose was probably the color of an Okinawa sweet potato, a mottled and veined purple.

“I'll have Edelstein's receptionist call you for an appointment.” He slammed down the phone.

Chapter 26

Storm sat back in her chair, rubbed her hands over her face, and tried to sort through what O'Toole had just said. He'd revealed a lot. First, he'd been very defensive when he mentioned the police. Still, O'Toole had been Hamasaki's doctor. Second, he said that Unimed owned two CT scanners and one was old. A couple of hours ago, Rick told her that Unimed had only one, which needed a lot of repairs. Of course, Rick might have been distracted.

Rick's comments about the dialysis unit were illuminating, too. The information that Marilyn, Overton's secretary, had given her was a recap of what she already had; there was nothing on any other high-cost equipment requested by Certificate of Need, which should include both dialysis machines and CT scanners. When she'd mentioned them, Marilyn had waved her question away. Storm gritted her teeth. With Wo and Wang putting on the pressure, she didn't want to have to chase down this data.

Storm picked up the phone, dialed Unimed's central operator and started to request Overton's office, then changed mid-sentence and asked for the renal dialysis unit.

“Hi, my mother's diabetic and needs dialysis. I'm looking for a facility…”

“Hold on a minute, please.”

Muzak crooned into her ear and Storm held the phone a foot away from her head while she paged through the Unimed data again to make sure she hadn't missed anything.

“Hello, this is Stephanie Oishi, head nurse in the Unimed dialysis unit. May I help you?”

Storm repeated her ailing mother story and asked how many dialysis machines Unimed had available. Oishi spewed some interesting information in her sales pitch. “…Twenty modern dialysis stations, nationally accredited technicians, evaluation for transplant potential, blood typing and access to a national organ donor data bank, ten more new dialysis units to be set up in the next six months…”

“Thank you, Ms. Oishi. I'll get back to you.” Storm hung up the phone and stared at an industrious spider in the corner of her ceiling. Rick had said twelve machines, and some of them were old.

Storm punched in the number for Overton's office, and as she hoped, Marilyn's cheerful voice responded. “Hello, Marilyn. It's Storm Kayama. I'm going through your paperwork and I still need some information. Can you tell me how many CT scanners and dialysis machines Unimed has presently and how many were acquired in the last year? It would expedite this application…Sure, you can call me back.”

Storm was filling in what blanks she could on the Unimed application when Meredith Wo rapped once on the door and burst in without waiting for a response. “Have you got that application filled, yet?”

“I'm working on it right now.”

“What is taking so long? Storm, if you're going to be anything other than a pencil pusher, you've got to take some initiative. Fill in the goddamn blanks.” Meredith paused for a breath and stood with her hands stiff at her sides, fingers splayed. Her face was covered with a sweaty sheen. “You tell those pimply-assed anal-retentives down at the Department of Health what you expect from them. Today!” Wo sprayed the words across the room. What was all this? Could Unimed be threatening to transfer its business to another firm?

Wo would have flounced out the door and left her derision ringing in Storm's small office, but she caught her high heel on a loop of carpet. It was just enough time for Storm to speak up, with such calm strength in her voice that she surprised herself. Wo stopped dead in her tracks, though she jerked her foot about a bit.

“Meredith, think of the government like an elephant who's lying on your car keys. You have to give it peanuts to get it to move. It works better than pushing.”

Wo's eyes narrowed. She opened and closed her mouth once, then turned on her heel.

When Wo was out of sight, Storm let out a pent-up breath. That was no fun at all. However, she was proud of remembering one of Uncle Miles's lessons, especially when she needed it. Perhaps other confrontational types would back down when faced with calm strength, too. Of course, Uncle Miles had had a wonderful intuition about people. And she, the perpetual hothead, had finally had enough presence of mind to try it. Of course, that loose thread on the carpet had helped, too.

Storm rubbed her face. The implacable front may have worked this time, but she hoped the confrontation wouldn't come back to haunt her. Meanwhile, she had to get through a stack of files before she went home this evening. And it was already well after three.

Over an hour and most of the pile later, Storm responded to a tap on her door. “Come in,” she said.

Hamlin stuck his head in. “I wanted to get your take on that guy who's suing the supermarket.”

“That maggot? Don't tell me you're thinking of taking the case.”

“Someone else will if I don't.”

“Yeah, well, let ‘em. Hamlin, maybe I'm just naive, but I wouldn't want to wake up and know I helped a guy like that rape the system.”

“Why did I think you'd say that?” He leaned against the door frame.

“Cause you thought the same thing?”

“I suppose.” Hamlin shook his head in mock resignation. “Hey, how did things go with Martin?”

Storm put her pen down with a thud. “He canceled on me. Hamlin, it's not like him to do that.” Her forehead creased with concern. “Could we call DeLario?”

Hamlin came in and sat down. “Don't you think it's a better idea to let him contact you when the hurt wears off?”

“Look, Martin used to force me to talk to him when I was upset. And it helped. I'm at least going to try to get in touch with him.”

Hamlin winced. “This is different than a teen-age snit. How do you think Hamasaki reacted when he found out Martin was gay?”

“Snit?” Storm glared at Hamlin, then took a deep breath and sat back. “I'm glad I wasn't around for that confrontation. He probably lectured him, told him it was a choice.” She grimaced. “It would have driven Martin up the wall.” She glowered again. “f Hamasaki knew.”

Hamlin ignored her last comment. “That's what I thought, too.” He got up to leave. “How about if I call Chris and try to arrange a get-together?”

Storm held out her phone. Hamlin shook his head. “I'll have better luck in an hour or two.”

Storm watched him go. He was more protective of DeLario than most guys were of their brothers. Hamlin probably finished his undergraduate training twenty-plus years ago. Most roommates lost track of each other in graduate school; the close ones sent Christmas cards across the continent once a year.

Storm finished her paperwork and took the stack to Wang's office. His secretary waved her in.

“I've got a meeting with Sherwood Overton in five minutes,” he said when he looked up from some papers on his desk. Storm couldn't read the expression in his eyes because of the reflection of his desk lamp in his thick-lensed glasses. “I'll try and get the answers to your questions. Meredith gave me your list.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wang.”

On the way back to her office, Storm turned at the soft sound of splintering wood and saw carpenters prying the brass plaque from Hamasaki's door. One of them smoothed putty into the screw holes; a can of wood stain sat on the floor.

Storm dashed down the hall, closed her door, and dialed the Hamasaki household. “Hi, Aunt Bitsy? Some workmen are taking Uncle Miles's name off the door.”

“I know, darling. Edwin told me that they needed the office space.” Her voice was low and resigned.

“We haven't even gone through his things.”

“I know, we'll have to get to it. One of the partners has her eye on it.” Aunt Bitsy emphasized the word “her.” She always had thought Meredith was too pushy.

“When does Wang want the room available?”

“By next Monday. He was very polite about it, Storm. I got the feeling he didn't want to do it, but as managing partner, he's stuck with the dirty work. I think it's just hard for us to accept that Miles is not coming back.”

“It is for me.” Storm fought to keep her voice steady.

“Me, too. But we've got to face it,” Aunt Bitsy said. “Let's see if we can get a truck and move the furniture in the next day or two. I want to be sure some of the prints on the wall stay in the family. They're quite valuable. And he'd like you to have some of his wonderful old books. Is there any chance you could go through the files before then? Save anything that pertains to the house or estate for me and keep the legal ones for yourself. Throw out the rest. I don't think I could stand….” This time, Aunt Bitsy's voice shook. “I'd really appreciate it, dear. And I'll ask the other kids to reserve some time to help move the heavy things.”

Storm hung up and walked back down the corridor to Hamasaki's office, but the door was locked and smelled of fresh varnish. The locks had been changed, too. Her old key to the office was useless, even though the room was still filled with Hamasaki's things. Storm jerked on the shiny new doorknob and drew back her foot. “Damn them!” she muttered. A noise behind her stopped her from shattering her toe and any remaining dignity.

Diane, Wang's secretary, was locking the door to their office. “If you don't tell anyone, I'll give you the key,” she whispered. “Ms. Wo shouldn't have had the lock changed so soon.” She glanced down the hallway. “Mr. Wang can't say no to her.”

Storm felt her face flush. “Thanks, I'd appreciate it. I'll start getting his things out of the office after work tomorrow.”

When she returned to her office, she slumped into her chair. Tears burned her eyes and she took a couple of deep breaths.

When the phone rang, she picked it up slowly. “Yes?”

A pause responded to her lugubrious greeting. Then a syrupy voice began, “This is Dr. Edelstein's office. Your internist, Dr. O'Toole, referred you for grief management.”

“What?” Storm sat up straight in her chair.

“We'd like to schedule you for tomorrow morning at nine.”

“Wait a minute. O'Toole isn't my internist.”

“You'll have to take that up with Dr. O'Toole. Hold on please.”

A new-age guitar arrangement of “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” played in Storm's ear. Right as she was about to slam the receiver down, a man's voice came on. “Now, young lady. Plenty of normal people benefit—”

“Are you Dr. Edelstein?”

“Yes, and we have arranged an appointment for you that—”

“Dr. Edelstein, there's some confusion.”

“Confusion is part of the problem. Depression skews your whole perspective.”

“Listen to me, Edelstein. I am not—”

“Unless you let us help—”

“Depressed!” Storm crashed the receiver down. She launched to her feet and stomped across the room to the window. Her breath steamed the glass. If Edelstein or O'Toole had been in the room, she would have breathed fire.

The sound of a clearing throat caused her to turn.

Hamlin was peering around the doorframe. “Care to go out for a little hot spiced Valium?”

“What?” Storm snapped, then sagged against the window frame. “You heard that?”

“I think the stevedores down on the docks heard.” Hamlin tiptoed to her window and made a show of looking down to the street. “They're cheering for you.”

Storm couldn't stand it; her scowl cracked into a smile. “What's with him? What did Hamasaki see in O'Toole, anyway?”

“A depraved friend makes a guy feel better about himself, didn't you know?” Hamlin said. “O'Toole needed him.”

She looked at him for a moment. “If we can substitute a good red wine for that Valium, I'll take you up on it.”

“Now that sounds like a reasonable woman.” He plopped some papers onto her desk, then tucked her arm into his and steered her down the hall.

“What's the rush?” Storm asked. “You think the men in white coats are coming?”

Hamlin squeezed her arm. “Hell, no. Edelstein wants nice, placid neurotics who pay their bills on time.”

Storm threw back her head and laughed. In the elevator, they collapsed against the walls in stitches. When the elevator stopped on the fourth floor, two potential riders stared at the howling couple. They let the doors close. You never know these days.