Critical Conditions

Twelve

Cozier Maitlin arrived in his black BMW before the Boulder Police Department reinforcements showed up en masse. I met him on the driveway and quickly underscored the complications of his new client’s situation.

Cozy towered over me. Briefly, a few months back, Cozy Maitlin had been my lawyer-and Lauren’s-and I’d spent quite a few hours getting to know him. I’d never become accustomed to his full head advantage over me. I stand a touch over six-one, yet with Cozy I always felt like a point guard trying to drive the lane against a towering center.

He relished his size when he was trying to be intimidating, and he was capable of intimidating with aplomb. After my presentation of a synopsis of the night’s events he was visibly upset with my actions and he didn’t mince words letting me know it. “Given what you suspected was going on you should have called me first, right away, not Sam Purdy-”

“He’s family, Cozy. He’s-”

“I don’t care. Sam’s a cop, and because he was invited into this house that means I don’t have much of a reason not to grant a waiver so that any cop who wants to can come into this house, which means the police don’t need to harass a judge for a warrant for permission to poke around inside. They would have gotten in anyway, but now we’ve lost the advantage of being able to appear cooperative.”

“Brenda and I did cooperate. We called the police right away.”

He seemed to be considering whether to lecture me in more depth as he looked toward the front door. “Where is she? The mother? Is she inside? I hope she’s not chatting with Sam, or anyone else for that matter.”

“I don’t think so. Sam’s been deferential to her and no one else is here yet. Although she’s a little shocky, she’s bright, and she understands what’s going on. She’s inside, in the living room. I suggested she not talk to anyone before you arrived and spoke with her. Sam heard me and told her it was good advice.”

His tone softened. “Bravo. At least you learned something from our adventures last fall. Sam Purdy said that, really-told her not to talk? That’s hard to believe.”

“Merritt’s his niece, Cozy, and the family situation is messy. He’s worried about her welfare. Although my guess is that he doesn’t want anyone to know it, he insisted that I convince Brenda to call you.”

“I have to digest all this a little. But I don’t trust it. In my experience most cops are cops first and uncles second.” He started toward the front door, and his voice dropped and softened. “How’s Lauren?”

“Adjusting, Cozy. She’s visiting her family right now; her mother is ill. But Lauren’s doing okay, considering. Thanks.” I rapped the front door sharply and pushed it open. “You’re still seeing Adrienne?” I knew he was, but thought I’d see how he would respond. And I was still struggling with what to say when people asked me about Lauren.

Cozy hesitated before going in. “Yes, I am still seeing the little doctor. Being with her is a constant surprise. Every time-I mean every time-it’s like parachuting in the dark. You never know what the hell you’re going to find. It’s fun, it’s disconcerting.” He stepped in. “Why don’t you show me what you discovered and introduce me to my client’s mother?”

We walked into the narrow foyer, and turned to face the living room. I said, “Cozier Maitlin, this is Brenda Strait. Brenda, Cozier Maitlin, the attorney we discussed.”

I was tired. It hadn’t occurred to me that Cozy would know her from the news, but apparently he watched Channel 7 and he recognized her immediately.

With a hint of rebuke in his voice that was directed at me, he said, “Alan-Dr. Gregory-only told me your first name when he phoned. I didn’t realize who you were, or the extent of the stress you’ve been under already. You are the little girl’s mom as well, aren’t you? The one who is so sick.”

“Yes, I’m Chaney’s mom. Would it have mattered, Mr. Maitlin, had you known who I was?”

“No. But I like to be prepared, Ms. Strait. In every situation. That’s all. I’m terribly sorry for your daughter’s illness and for the problems with the insurance company. And, well, for this new…complication.”

I found it curious that Brenda had calmed so considerably. It appeared she was taking Maitlin’s measure. “Do you have children, Mr. Maitlin?”

“No, I don’t. My ex-wife has twins. I’m very close to them. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“You know, I can’t either,” said Brenda.

Cozy continued, “I would like to look around a little before we talk some more. I hope that’s acceptable. Would you mind terribly telling anyone who might arrive eager to speak with you that I have advised you to speak only with me for the time being?”

“That’s fine, Mr. Maitlin.”

“Well, then, Alan?”

I had been wondering where Sam was. Cozy and I found him upstairs in Merritt’s room, his hands in his pockets, taking in every minute detail of her bedroom.

“Sam,” I said, “Cozy Maitlin’s here.”

He didn’t bother to say hello or turn to face us. He said, “Hold your breath, Counselor. I was invited in.”

“Hello, Sam. No need to be so defensive. What have you found?”

Sam finally faced us. It seemed to take him at least five little steps to turn 180 degrees. He stuck his tongue in his cheek. I couldn’t tell whether he was planning to be cooperative or whether he was planning to be obstreperous. I wouldn’t have taken bets. He said, “Alan told you about the bloody clothes? There they are. Please don’t touch them.” He pointed at the storage case that was open on the floor. “And the weapon is in the bathroom, through there. Ditto about touching.”

In the distance I heard the sounds of vehicles arriving and the muffled thumps of door slams.

Sam did, too. “That’ll be the department.”

“What took so long?”

“Warrant. This case won’t be mine, you know. I wasn’t catching tonight, and with the family complications and everything, this will go to someone else.”

I said, “Of course. Do you know who?”

“No. But we’ll find out soon enough. Depending on how the blood types out, they may just fold this into the Dead Ed investigation.”

I asked, “Did you get a call back on the serial number, Sam?”

Cozy was crouched over the bloody clothes. He raised his head from a serious examination of the contents of the storage box and waited with me to hear Sam’s reply and for an elucidation of Sam’s reference to Dead Ed.

I was certain Cozy already had a few dozen questions of his own. His restraint surprised me.

Downstairs, the front door opened and I heard a voice say, “Police officers,” and Brenda Strait reply, “Come in. I’m Brenda Strait.”

And this is the Strait Edge.

Sam, Cozy, and I were still in Merritt’s bedroom. Sam gazed toward the bathroom for a few seconds, nodded twice, and said, “I have to go bring them up to speed. You two shouldn’t be in here alone, you know? You actually shouldn’t be here at all. My sergeant’s going to string me up for not sealing this room.” He made sure my eyes found his before he took a step.

He wanted me to acknowledge that his message had been received. I nodded.

Cozy stopped him. He said, “Detective?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the referral.”

Sam snorted, “Don’t mention it, Mr. Maitlin. I mean that literally: Don’t mention it. And don’t make me regret I made it.”

Sam was already down the stairs when I said, “Sam was telling me that the serial number is a match, Cozy. The gun belongs to the guy Sam was talking about before-Dead Ed. You read about it? He was shot over the weekend. Edward Robilio. He’s a doctor.”

Cozy responded impatiently, “Yes, yes, I know who he is. But calling Edward Robilio a doctor is like calling Bill Gates a programmer. If this kid-I’m sorry, what’s her name, Merrill?”

“Merritt.”

“If she is involved in that shooting, and it certainly sounds like Sam thinks she is, I need to get someone over to the hospital right away and make sure she doesn’t say anything to anybody. This is quickly going to become complex.”

“Why?”

“Because of Edward Robilio. He founded MedExcel ten, eleven years ago. It’s become a major regional health care provider. Exclude Kaiser, and he’s probably the biggest player in the state in managed health care. He stands to make tens of millions of dollars when his company is sold.”

“I didn’t know he was so prominent. I’d heard he was in the insurance business, but I don’t usually pay attention to such things.”

“Lawyers do.”

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about Merritt talking, Cozy. Not her, not now.”

“You said she’s recovering, right? If she’s awake, she can talk. She’s awake?”

“Yes, she’s awake. But you don’t have to worry about her talking.”

“Why not?”

“Cozy, just accept you don’t have to worry about it, okay?”

Half-jokingly he asked, “Is she mute?”

I looked away.

He said, “She’s mute? Not talking at all, that kind of mute?”

“I think I can tell you that at least physically, she is able to talk.”

“But she’s not talking? She’s volitionally silent?”

I was as mum as my patient.

Cozy said, “Totally silent?” Then he frowned. “Gosh, what a gift. Finally, the client of my dreams.”

Cozy and I drove across town in my Land Cruiser. He asked questions. I answered or deflected.

He waited in the hall while I walked into Merritt’s hospital room. She was dressed in yellow leggings, white socks, and a T-shirt. This T-shirt said XPLOSION. She had raised the head of the bed past forty-five degrees and was staring at the nine o’clock news on the tube. Channel 2. A pile of newspapers carpeted the sheets near her feet.

I excused the nurse who was providing one-to-one. She seemed thrilled at the chance to get out of the room.

“Merritt, hello. I’m sorry to stop by without calling. May I sit?”

Because it was to my advantage, I took her shrug to mean “yes” and lowered myself into the vinyl-covered chair where the nurse had been sitting. The chair felt too good; I was exhausted.

Before I could speak again, Merritt startled me by standing up.

I had never seen her vertical. I popped back out of the chair as though I were performing in a final exam for a Ph.D. in etiquette. She stood, confused, about three feet away from me. She and I both realized that I was blocking her path.

This would have been a great time for her to talk, maybe say something like, “Get out of my way.” Anything to break the ice. Instead, she pointed at the door that led to her bathroom and I realized that she thought I had stood up to keep her from running.

I blushed and stepped aside so she could pass. She disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

Merritt was tall. As she passed by me I realized that although she was only a couple of inches shorter than me, as long as her legs were, they were still way too short for the rest of her body. She had broad swimmer’s shoulders and small, defined breasts, but her hips and buttocks had just started to round. I was reminded of watching puppies grow into their paws, and decided that if Merritt were to grow into that extended torso, she would top out at six-two, easy.

The toilet flushed and water splashed into the sink. Merritt stepped back out of the bathroom and chanced a quick glance my way. She shuffled a step forward as I took one more back. Behind her I could see Cozy Maitlin pointing at his new client’s back and then at his watch.

She settled onto the bed. I pulled forward on the chair.

“Merritt, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s very important. Could you please turn off the television for a minute?”

I immediately recognized that I had shocked her unnecessarily. I watched panic roll into her eyes and settle into her expression. She was expecting bad news about her sister.

Her lips, parted at rest, closed into a tight line. She swallowed.

I waited one second and said, “No, it’s not about your sister.”

She raised her chin and seemed to force a deep exhale. Her shoulders dropped. But she still didn’t relax. I wished right then that I’d paid more attention when people talked about body language during graduate school.

“The TV? Please.”

She pecked a button that muted the sound but left the picture intact. It was a concession on her part and it was good enough.

“Your mother called me to your house tonight, a couple of hours ago. Your stepdad is in Denver with your sister and she didn’t want to upset them. She wanted me to come over because…she found a plastic storage case under your bed-the one with the bloody clothes and shoes in it-and she didn’t know what to do. She wanted someone else to see it.”

I almost laughed at the exasperated face that Merritt made in response to my grave announcement.

I was left to guess what it meant and I guessed that she was aggravated that her mother had been snooping in her room. The discovery of the bloody clothes was secondary or irrelevant to her.

“There’s more, Merritt. After I got there, I went into your bathroom looking for more blood. I discovered the gun that was in the pile of towels by the sink.”

She opened her mouth and wrinkled up her nose, which was tiny and upturned, the end barely the size of the knuckle on my pinky, and made a quizzical cluck from the back of her throat as if to say, “What? You found what?”

I noted her surprise. “Your mom and I talked about what to do. Your Uncle Sam came over-your mom called him.”

Her mouth opened farther and her eyes were as wide as I’d yet seen them.

I said, “It was my idea, calling Sam-your uncle.”

She rolled her eyes. Duh.

“Sam took a look at your room, at the clothes, and at the gun. He made a couple of calls to some forensic people at the police department. The serial number on the gun in the bathroom matches one that is missing from the scene of a murder that took place late last week in Boulder. Now everyone is afraid that you might be implicated somehow.”

Merritt’s face grew sad. I was perplexed as she tried to force a small grin, but when she did the corners of her mouth turned down instead. It was the closest thing I’d seen to a smile from her.

“The police are at your house right now, examining the bloody clothes and the gun, and…looking around for other evidence. Your Uncle Sam and your mother and I all thought that…because of what was found, that you might be in trouble and that you might be needing a lawyer. The one who Sam wanted for you, the best one in town, is here with me, out in the hall, and he would very much like to meet you. His name is Cozier Maitlin. I’m sure it would be fine with him if you call him Cozy.”

Merritt leaned forward a little so that she could see the tall man standing in the corridor. She looked at him warily, as she might examine the newest kid who had arrived in class. With the index finger of her left hand she pushed the button that lowered the bed flat and slowly reclined from his view. As soon as the bed came to rest at horizontal, she rolled away from me as well, facing the window and the wall. I could see the small quivers of stifled cries rumbling through the long, lean muscles on her back.

“Merritt, we all want to help you any way we can.”

I thought I heard a sob. “I’m going to invite Mr. Maitlin in unless you tell me not to. He’s hoping you will talk to him about all this. He’ll need your assistance, Merritt, to make sense of everything.”

She didn’t protest. I stood and walked to the door and said, “Come on in, Cozy.”

Maitlin walked in and walked over to the bed. I said, “Merritt Strait, this is Cozier Maitlin.”

Cozy dropped to a squat beside the bed and lowered his voice to an octave level I had never heard from him before. “Hello, Merritt, I’m an attorney. It appears that you may be in some serious trouble with the police whether you have done anything or not. And I would like to help.”

Merritt replied with a sob.

“Alan, Dr. Gregory, warned me that you haven’t been saying much the last few days. But this is serious. I hope you’ll reconsider, at least with me.”

Cozy and I both watched her for signs that she was even hearing him. If Merritt was reconsidering anything, it wasn’t readily apparent to me.

“Okay. As ironic as this may sound, one of the things I was going to advise you is that it’s important that you not speak to anyone but your lawyer and your doctors. It’s very likely that the police will pay you a visit tonight. Unless you object, I will notify them now, right away, that you have chosen not to answer their questions. Fortunately, it appears that concurring with my advice about staying silent will be easy for you.

“The next thing I need to let you know is about the possibility that you will either be arrested or detained for questioning in the death of a man named Edward Robilio. He’s a doctor.”

He waited for her to react to the name of the deceased. She didn’t. The name either didn’t mean anything to her, or she already knew it.

“Should that occur, I hope that the police will provide me with the courtesy of some advance warning so that I can arrange for someone to accompany you through the process of being booked, but they are not required to do so.

“With your doctors’ consent, you may be removed temporarily from the hospital by the police. You must remember the entire time that you have the right to remain silent. And, as I’ve made clear, I would prefer that you exercise that right. Would you like me to tell you what to expect in the event that you are forced to go through this alone?”

Merritt was as still as a statue.

Her silence in response to questions provided the questioner an awful lot of latitude. Cozy told her what was likely to happen. He asked, “Is it all right with you if Dr. Gregory and I discuss your situation?”

She surprised me by nodding, then reached down with one long arm and tugged the scratchy hospital sheets and thin hospital blanket up past her waist.

I said, “Merritt, your mother will be here soon. As soon as she is done with the police, I imagine. She is very worried about you. Would you like me to stay until she arrives?” I knew I should give her a default option. “I’m going to take no response from you to mean yes, that you would like me to stay with you.”

Without facing us or otherwise moving, she shook her head in two long arcs.

I was being dismissed. Without considering the consequences, I reached out and touched her lightly on the biceps of her left arm. I said, “Good night, I’ll be back to see you tomorrow.”

Cozy said, “Good night, Merritt. We’ll do everything we can for you.”

Back in the hall outside her room, I motioned for the nurse to come over. She did. I stood near Merritt’s door in a position where I could see every move the immobile adolescent might make.

The nurse said, “Yes?”

“Some things have happened that have left this situation much worse than it was an hour ago. Her suicidal risk is sky-high right now. I’m not trying to be insulting by saying this, but doing one-to-ones can be pretty dull duty sometimes. Please don’t take your job lightly tonight. That girl’s life may depend on it.”

The nurse swallowed. I was telling her that the plane she was flying had just gone from autopilot cruise control to engine-out emergency mode.

She said, “This isn’t the best environment for a suicidal kid. Maybe she shouldn’t be here, Doctor.”

“You’re absolutely right, she shouldn’t be here. But right now she is. My next task tonight is to arrange a quick transfer to a psych hospital. But I’m sure you know how these things go. It may take a while to pull that off, to get approvals and to find her a bed.”

The nurse said, “You’ll fill in the staff nurses so they can back me up?”

I said, “Of course.” She resumed her post.

Cozy said, “How do you read it?”

“I don’t.”

“What do you mean? I thought reading people was your thing.”

“Cozy, she’s been upset for days. She’s more upset now, that’s obvious. But about what? Her sister? The bloody clothes? The gun? The fact that her mother was snooping in her room? The fact that she may be arrested tonight for murder? Maybe about whatever it was that caused her to take all those pills in the first place. We still don’t even know what that is. Or maybe it’s the fact that her parents haven’t been here to hold her hand during much of this. If you can discern any of that from her silence, please tell me, ’cause I don’t know the answers to any of those questions.”

“I’m just a lawyer, Alan, but assuming the evidence lines up the way it appears it is going to line up, it seems to me that the timing would indicate that her suicide attempt was likely precipitated by her distress over whatever her involvement was in the shooting of Edward Robilio, don’t you agree?”

I couldn’t shake the succession of images I had of watching Merritt react when I told her about finding the clothes and the gun. “You weren’t in there with me at first, Cozy. Merritt seemed more upset about the gun than about the blood. And if I was reading her right, she seemed most upset that someone had been snooping in her room at all.”

He considered my words. “Sorry, all that seems trivial to me. I’m not convinced that was it. Maybe you just read it wrong. Lord knows I misread the twins all the time, and they usually don’t shut up, ever.”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions, either. Right now, though, I need to get her transferred to a locked unit someplace for her own safety.”

“To a psychiatric hospital?”

“Yes. A psychiatric hospital. What’s your best guess, will she be arrested tonight?”

“Are you asking about timing, or about the police department’s intent?”

“Timing, I guess.”

“Given what the authorities already have, I’d say she’ll be taken into custody, oh, tomorrow sometime. In the interim, if they have as much probable cause as I’m afraid they do, I would imagine that you’re going to see a female officer’s butt on a chair in this hallway within an hour. Just to keep an eye on things, you know?”

“I know.”

“What’s her family situation? Brenda’s husband is her stepfather? Is that what you said earlier? Where’s her real dad?”

“The family has only been in town a short while, maybe six months. Brenda’s husband, John Trent, is Merritt’s stepfather. He’s a psychologist, but I don’t know him. I’ve only talked with him over the phone so far. He’s spending almost all of his free time with Chaney, the other daughter, at The Children’s Hospital in Denver. Merritt’s biological father is currently on an oil rig in the Persian Gulf. I spoke with him briefly already. He’ll come see Merritt if she wants him to.”

“Are they close? Father and daughter?”

“Brenda says the relationship is fine, friendly. Said he’s more like an uncle to her. Merritt, as you know, isn’t saying.”

“Is he successful at what he does?”

“Presumably, but I don’t know. He’s an oil-rig worker. Why?”

“Defending Merritt is going to get expensive fast, that’s why. I’m hoping someone who loves this kid has some resources to pay me.”

At that moment I was thinking it was no accident that managed care arrived first on the doorstep of the medical profession, and not the legal one.