Smaller and Smaller Circles (19 page)

31

They arrive at
Councillor Mariano's home just as he is winding down from a day of relief operations for residents in several flooded areas of the district. He is tired, hungry and irritable.

“First you ask me about the food deliveries. Now it's the medical van.” He slides down in his armchair until he is at a comfortable slouch, but the look he gives them is anything but comfortable. “I was wondering why Father Emil wasn't with you the last time you were here, but I let it go because, hey, you're priests. But there isn't going to be any fundraiser, is there? It was just a story.”

Saenz leans forward. “I'm sorry, Councillor. It just seemed the best thing to do at the time. I'm sure you've heard by now of the—”

“The Payatas killings, yes. When you called again this evening, I thought I had better get some answers fast. Father Emil told me you were both involved in the investigation. And that you might have been following a lead when you came to ask me about the food deliveries.”

Jerome nods. “We wanted to know if there was a link between the food suppliers and the suspect the NBI arrested.”

“That Navato guy? The one they had to release anyway?” Mariano snorts. “Did you have something to do with that arrest?”

“No.”

Mariano's wife, a pleasant, matronly woman in her mid-forties, comes into the living room, asks him if he wants her to prepare anything for the guests. He asks for coffee despite the priests' protests, and she bustles off into the kitchen.

He waits till he's certain she's out of earshot.

“I understand why you didn't tell me the truth the first time. You didn't know me; you still don't. But one thing you should know about me: I don't appreciate being lied to. Even by priests. Even by priests on important business. From now on, if you need anything from me, you tell me straight. We clear on that?”

Saenz nods. “Very.”

Mariano stares angrily at both of them. Then, just when they expect him to send them away empty-handed, his face relaxes a little bit. “Tell me what you need.”

Saenz and Jerome look at each other, and then Saenz turns back to Mariano. “We need access to the clinic's dental records.”

Mariano sits up straight, lets out a low whistle and begins scratching the back of his head. “You realize those are confidential, right?”

“We need to identify the dead boys. I don't see any other alternative at the moment.”

The itch at the back of Mariano's head appears to be growing worse—Saenz and Jerome can actually hear the rasp of his fingernails against his scalp. “You could apply to the courts. It should be no problem for the NBI. I presume you're working with them, right?”

Jerome can hear the words—they're practically a refusal—but something in the councillor's manner and tone of voice, something he can't quite put his finger on, gives him the courage to say what's on his mind. “That could take weeks, sir, and we just don't have that much time.” He looks Mariano in the eye. “If we can identify those four boys, we might be able to find out what they had in common. And if we do that, we might be able to prevent another death.”

Mariano's eyes look about ready to pop out of his skull. “Four?” he asks incredulously. “Plus the one who
. . .
Just how many are we looking at, exactly?”

“Seven.”

The councillor sinks back slowly into his armchair, stunned and dismayed. “And this is happening in
my
district?” He balls a hand into a fist. “And what have the police, the
barangay
officials been doing all this time?”

Saenz and Jerome say nothing, and that's enough for Mariano, he already knows the answer. He rises to his feet, his small frame stiff with anger, and excuses himself to use a phone on the other side of the room, while his wife brings in a tray of coffee and
lenguas de gato
. The conversation—at least, what they can hear of it—is brief, brisk, efficient.

“Where does she live? Oh, UP Village? Mahusay Street
. . .
Do you have her phone number? Nine-two-four
. . .
All right. Can you swing by in about half an hour? Okay. See you then.”

He dials another number.

“
Doctora
Panganiban? Yes, ma'am, it's Cesar. How are you? We missed you at the job fair. Well, you know the mayor. He made me promise to bring you next time. Yes, well, I'm sorry it's so late, and on a Friday night, too, but I really need your help. Can you tell me if more than one mobile clinic services the Payatas area? Oh, only that one. That's what I thought. Well, I'm going to have to ask your permission to access the clinic's dental records.”

He stops, then glances at Saenz, telegraphing with one look the misgivings of the woman at the other end of the line. “Yes, ma'am, I know they're confidential
. . .
but you see, some people from the NBI are here. They're conducting an investigation. Yes, ma'am, that problem with the young boy
. . .
Yes, on television, just the other night.”

Mariano turns away from them completely, lowering his voice so that the priests can't make out more than a word here and there. Twice the councillor runs his hand through his Bermuda-grass hair, seemingly frustrated, and the set of his shoulders appears tense. He paces the length of the wall, back and forth, back and forth, as he speaks with the doctor.

Jerome casts a sidelong glance at Saenz. “It's not looking good.”

Saenz says nothing, merely waits.

Mariano hangs up. When he looks around and sees the two priests' expectant faces, he holds his hand up:
you'll have to wait; I don't have anything for you just yet
. He resumes his pacing for about a minute or so, and then the phone rings again.

“Well, as soon as possible. Tonight, actually.” He begins
to nod vigorously. He looks at Saenz again, but this time, to
Saenz's relief, his face is less tense. “You can? You will? Of course we can pick you up. In about half an hour? Yes, ma'am. Thank you very much. We'll see you soon.”

He replaces the instrument in its cradle and turns to them. “All right, gentlemen. Dr. Panganiban says she has no objections, but it's not solely up to her. The dentist, Dr. Jeannie Santa Romana, has to agree to give you access.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Dr. Panganiban is willing to help us convince Dr. Santa Romana. She's asked her to come to the district health center, where all the records are kept. They're quite close. After I shower and change, we can swing by Dr. Panganiban's house and pick her up. Just wait for me, and we'll all leave together. Excuse me.”

As he disappears upstairs, Jerome leans forward to whisper to Saenz.

“Come the next elections, he's got my vote.”

32

They arrive at
the district health center at midnight in a convoy of two vans and Jerome's car. When Saenz, Jerome, Mariano and Dr. Alice Panganiban, the district health officer, enter, Jeannie Santa Romana is waiting in the center's tiny lobby.

“Jeannie,” Alice says, reaching out to hug her. Jeannie allows herself to be hugged, but it's clear from how her hands remain firmly in the pockets of her jacket and the way she tilts only her head toward Alice that there's some resistance to what she's been called here for.

Alice seems to understand this at once. She puts her arm around the younger, smaller woman's shoulders and ushers her toward Mariano, Saenz and Jerome. “You know Councillor Mariano, of course?”

Jeannie gives him a very small smile, a tiny bow of respect, and then extends her hand, and Mariano grasps it in both of his. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet us here at this hour, Dr. Santa Romana.”

She looks at Saenz and Jerome, her eyes wary. “I'm not really sure I understand what's going on.”

Mariano takes a step back. “This is Father Gus Saenz. And this is Father Jerome Lucero.” He waits for them to shake hands with Jeannie, then continues. “They're helping with the NBI investigation into the killing of that boy in Payatas.”

“Alice told me. But
. . .
I'm not sure I should just give them access to the dental records without a warrant.” She turns to Alice with a worried face, seeking her backing.

Alice shoots her a sympathetic look. “
Hija
, I am concerned about that too. But the Councillor says
. . .
”

The way Alice leaves the sentence hanging, the way everyone around her seems to be burdened by some grave worry, alarms Jeannie. “What does he say?” She searches each face for answers. “What is it? What's going on?”

“It's not just that boy,” Mariano says.

“What do you mean? Were there others?” She gleans the truth from their collective silence. “How many?”

“Seven,” Saenz says.

Jeannie's eyes blink rapidly.
“Seven?”

“So far. And there will be more if we don't identify the other dead boys, and find out what they might have had in common.”

The young dentist stares at the chipped, scratched blue linoleum tiles on the floor.

Mariano stands beside her, puts a hand on her shoulder. “If you have any doubts, Dr. Santa Romana, I assure you that I will take responsibility for this.” He looks at all four of them. “I don't think anyone will question this, but if someone does, I will face them. This needs to be done.” He squeezes her shoulder gently. “Look, Doctor. People break the rules every day in public service. Might as well do it for something worthwhile, no?”

“And you're okay with this?”

He nods.

Jeannie stares at him for a moment and then finally appears to have made up her mind. She digs into the pocket of her jacket for a set of keys. “This way.”

There is little else for the rest of the party to do once Saenz begins working. The councillor leaves two of his people and one of the vehicles with the priests, then offers to take Alice home. Jeannie insists on staying to help.

In the tiny records section of the community health center, Saenz, Jerome and Jeannie spend long hours studying the dental charts of dozens of patients in the victims' age group, pulling out those whose treatment histories were similar to the information they had on the four unidentified victims' teeth: the shape and material of all restorations, caries, discoloration, malformations, or diseases. They compare these records with the priests' dental X-rays, intra- and extra-oral photographs, master casts.

The work proceeds through the night. At around 6
a.m.
, Mrs. Mariano arrives in the other van, bringing coffee; thick, hot
champorado
; salted fish; fried eggs. The coffee goes quickly, but the food is left to grow cold. Some of the health center staff—two nurses and a medical intern—arrive to attend to a handful of patients outside, but Jeannie manages to steer them clear of the records room. The center closes early, and they're able to continue working without being disturbed.

By early morning of Sunday, the three are tired and utterly dejected. None of the records on file match the information that they have. When Mariano and Alice drop by, Saenz, Jerome and Jeannie are slumped over tables or draped over hard plastic chairs, worn from lack of sleep.

“What happened?” Alice asks, as Mariano carries in a box of food and sets it down on a desk.

The three stir slowly back to life. Jerome groans, his neck and shoulders stiff, and Jeannie shakes her head sadly. “No luck,” she says.

Alice sinks heavily into one of the empty chairs. “Oh my.”

Mariano looks at Saenz. “So what now?”

Saenz rubs his eyes with one hand. “I honestly don't know.”

Jerome lifts both hands up in defeat. “I'm out of ideas.”

Alice gestures toward the box. “Have something to eat, then. Maybe something will come to you.” She pushes the box closer to Jeannie. “There are sandwiches there, and juice.”

Jeannie opens the box and begins distributing food, and Saenz and Jerome accept gratefully, only just beginning to realize how hungry they are. They unwrap their sandwiches—ham and cheese on buttered white bread—and eat, silent, weary, glum.

Alice rises from her chair with a sigh. “I'd better start putting some of these files away,” she says to no one in particular. She takes a small stack of records from a desk piled with them,
checks the initials of the surnames, then heads to one of two green metal file cabinets to refile them in the proper drawers. She returns to the desk and picks up another stack. “Some of these are really old. Hope you didn't have to go through all of them.”

Jeannie shakes her head. “No. Just the newer ones, where the patients were in the same age range as the victims.”

Alice nods. As she refiles the second stack of records, she says, absently, “Wonder if Alex's records are here as well. They probably are, but you know how he is.”

“Yeah. They probably are,” Jeannie says, preoccupied. “I know he files them there when he remembers.”

But Saenz is immediately alert. “Alex? Who's Alex?”

Jeannie glances at him. “Dr. Alex Carlos. He's my alternate. He comes in on days when I can't be here or at the mobile clinic, because I need to see patients at my private clinic in Old Balara.” She sees that he's very interested. “Why?”

“Is there a chance that there are some records that are in his keeping, and not here?” Saenz asks.

Alice shuts a drawer. “There is, actually,” she says. “He's a good dentist, but so absentminded when it comes to paperwork. Jeannie, he might still have some records in the mobile clinic that he's forgotten to file here.”

Jeannie rolls her eyes. “I keep reminding him to do that. Okay, let me call him.” She leaves the group and goes to the outer room to make the call.

When she's out of earshot, Mariano faces Saenz and Jerome. “And what if that's a dead end as well?” Their gloomy faces are all the answer he's going to get for the moment, and he doesn't force the question, because he doesn't have any answers either. They wait in silence, the only sound and movement in the room that of Alice's refiling of records. She's made three trips between the desk and the file cabinet before Jeannie returns.

“Alex says he still has a whole pile of unfiled records at the mobile clinic. He's dropping by with them in about an hour.”

“What did you tell him?” Saenz asks.

“Just that I was going through the files and looking for the records of some of my patients, so I asked him to bring whatever he still had there.”

Saenz says to Alice, “Maybe it's better if you and Jeannie dealt with him by yourselves. I'm not sure anyone else should see us here.”

She nods. “Come, Jeannie. Let's just wait for Alex in the lobby.”

It's nearly noon
when Dr. Alex Carlos finally arrives at the health center. Jeannie watches him park his car, get out and open the trunk. He takes out a large cardboard box and heads to the entrance, where Jeannie holds the door open for him.

“Thanks for coming by on a Sunday to bring these in for me, Alex,” she says.

“No problem. Records?” he asks, cocking his head in the direction of the records room.

“It's fine. You can just leave them here,” Alice says, tapping the surface of the reception desk.

“They're heavy,” Alex warns. “And there's another box in the trunk.”

Jeannie tries to hide her annoyance, but she's not able to do a very good job. “These should have been filed centrally.”

“And then what?” he snaps at her. “You'd have to come back and dig them out all over again if the patients return to the mobile clinic.”

Alice and Jeannie have both grown familiar with Alex's flashes of temper—surprising because he's usually such a quiet, placid fellow—so Alice moves quickly to defuse the tension. “It's okay, it's okay. We'll work out a system eventually. Just let Jeannie look for some of her patient records in here today. Alex, go and bring the other box in. There's a good man.”

Alex stares at Jeannie a moment, then turns his back on her and walks out the door to fetch the second box. Jeannie begins to say something, but Alice puts a hand on her shoulder to restrain her, nodding toward Alex, who's visible through the glass window. Jeannie takes a deep breath, then busies herself with opening the first box.

The door swings open, and Alex walks in with a smaller box. He doesn't set it down on the desk beside the other one. Instead, apparently having regained his good humor, he helpfully offers again: “They're heavy. Why don't I just bring them into the records room for you? That way Jeannie doesn't have to sort through them out here in the lobby.”

“It's fine,” Jeannie says without looking at him. “I'll just have one of the interns move them tomorrow.”

Alex looks to Alice for a cue, and she smiles at him.

“Thank you, Alex; it's fine. Just put them down on the desk. There you go. Did we interrupt your Sunday plans? No? Well, thanks so much for bringing these in.” She keeps up a constant stream of patter until he's out the door, then waves at him as he gets back into his car and drives away.

She locks the door just as Mariano steps out of the records room. “All there?” he asks.

“All here.”

By noon of
Monday, all but one of the four remaining victims have been identified. Saenz telephones Arcinas at the NBI with the results; he requires a second verification by a forensic odontologist at the bureau. He suggests, once this is completed, that Emil accompany his men in the unpleasant task of informing the families.

Jeannie and the two priests have caught only snatches of sleep in the last forty-eight hours; even if Jerome knows little about the procedure for identifying individuals through dental records, he has not left the health center, except to buy food and coffee.

Worn out from lack of sleep, they neither complain nor stop to rest longer than an hour. They know only too well that there are families waiting for news, wondering if the police are doing anything other than shuffling their missing persons reports around in their filing cabinets. There are empty places at dinner tables, empty spaces in shared beds. There are others lying awake at night with their eyes wide open, despairing in the hard, unyielding dark.

The work of the last two days and nights will end this waiting; not happily, but mercifully. Their minds are not clear enough at this point to process the full significance of three victims having been identified from the batch of records from the mobile clinic, other than the obvious: that they were all patients there. Any deeper analysis will have to wait until they've managed to get a few hours' rest.

Alice arrives for work while Saenz is on the phone. A stout, efficient woman, she helps Jerome clear away the stacks of files and records the three have waded through since Saturday night.

They hear voices in the outer room. “It's the health center staff,” Alice says. She's about to go outside to talk to her people when Jerome stops her.

“I wouldn't tell them what we've been doing here these past two nights,” he reminds her. She pauses, nods in understanding, then goes outside, Jeannie tagging along behind her.

Jerome tucks dental casts, X-rays, and photographs, along with the dental records of the three identified victims, into the black leather bag, just as Saenz wraps up his conversation with Arcinas.

“To NBI?” Saenz asks.

“To a proper meal and a hot bath first.” Jerome picks up the bag.

When they leave the records room, the lobby is empty, save for a young, slim man, possibly in his late twenties, dressed in khakis and a white, short-sleeved, collared shirt. He's sitting in one of the chairs in front of the reception desk, reading a newspaper. He doesn't look up when Saenz and Jerome make their way to the door and leave.