Hiss Of Death

Annalise finished harvesting organs from a young suicide. Done, she left her assistant to sew up the body, peeled off her gloves, and washed up.

As she stepped outside, Toni Enright walked into the anteroom, a grim look on her face.

“What’s the matter?”

“Cory’s dead.”

“What?” Annalise stepped closer to Toni. “How?”

“Electrocuted by his Lampo.”

“Oh, no.” Annalise swayed.

Toni caught her, maneuvering her to a chair. “Sit down. This is a terrible, terrible thing, and the staff has had too many shocks these last weeks.”

“I told him not to buy that damned electric car! I warned him that no matter what they tell you—and I went to look at one, too—that much voltage isn’t safe. It can never be safe. A gasoline engine might seize up, but it won’t take you with it. The gas tank might explode in an accident, but your chances are good to get out without bad burns if you have your wits about you or aren’t comatose behind the wheel. But these things—why, why didn’t he listen to me?”

“Listening was not his strong suit,” replied Toni, her voice kind. “He thought he knew more than he did about a lot of things. Maybe we’re all like that.”

“I grew up with cars. I explained everything to him. I told him that at four hundred and forty volts, it would take less than one amp to kill a person. He blew me off, saying that was impossible. The bypass safety relay and backups provided ironclad safety. They’re too new. You never buy the first year of any car model, because the bugs haven’t been worked out yet. In something this new, you’re nuts to buy one.” She dropped her head in her hands.

Toni leaned over, put her arm around Annalise’s shoulders. “You did all you could.”

Tears running down her lovely face, Annalise strangled a wail. “The man couldn’t even change a spark plug.”

“No, but he was one hell of a surgeon.”

Annalise nodded in agreement. “Fervent.”

“Pardon?”

“Fervent. He truly wanted to cure cancer. The hours that man spent with me here, and Jennifer, too, examining the ones who died from various cancers.” She wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands.

Toni walked over to the counter, plucked out some tissues, brought them back. “Here. You need to hold it together.”

Annalise wiped her eyes. “Mascara.”

“You look like a raccoon. Here, let me fix it.” Toni fetched more tissues, wetted them at the small sink, then cleaned under the pathologist’s eyes. “You’ll need a reapplication.”

“Have a tube in my bag. Toni, how did you find out?”

“Izzy Wineberg took the call from Sheriff Shaw. Couldn’t find Will Archer,” she said, naming the hospital administrator. “Izzy came down to our department. We are being told department by department, and I think Izzy will oversee a notice to go out by email, as well as for a printed bulletin.”

“As the most senior physician, he’s the best choice.”

“Yes. I don’t think there is a doctor here more respected than Izzy. But here’s the thing”—she again wiped a speck from under Annalise’s eye—“the cops think Paula Benton’s death, Thadia Martin’s death, and Cory’s may be linked.”

Annalise’s eyes opened wide. “Nothing was found to have caused Paula’s death. And Cory’s, I told him! I told him!”

“Annalise, lower your voice.”

“Oh, Toni.” She put her hands to her face, dropping her head back, exposing her swanlike neck. “I doubt they’re all connected.”

“It does seem a stretch, but Izzy doesn’t know the details. They’re treating Cory’s death as murder.”

“What?”

“According to Izzy, the car was, I don’t know the terms, anyway, hotwired.”

A long silence followed. “It couldn’t be. Rachel knows nothing about cars,” Annalise said, naming Cory’s wife.

“Did she find out?”

“No. At least he didn’t think she did.” A deep breath followed. “Look, if she did, I wasn’t the first. I seriously doubt his wife would kill him. Hit him with a frying pan, yes, but kill him, no.”

“Did you love him? All the times we talked about covering your tracks, I never asked.”

Annalise looked directly into Toni’s eyes. “I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him. We shared a passion—more for medicine than each other—but it was good. We pushed each other to learn more, look more deeply. And we were both always figuring out how to invest, utilize our resources. That doesn’t sound romantic, but it drew us closer. Everyone thinks doctors are rich. Well, I make a much better living than someone in a computer pool, but the expenses are considerable, and there’s all those school loans to repay. We talked about everything. I will miss him.”

Toni looked through the large glass window in the door. “Your assistant is washing up. You don’t know what kind of emotions will well up, so do your best: Repress.” She squeezed Annalise’s shoulder. “Pull it together. Bad as it is, it would be much worse if you had been in love with him.”

Annalise rose to walk with Toni to the outside door. “Maybe. He was my friend before he was my lover. Lovers come and go, Toni; a friend is forever.”

“You might be right.” Toni hugged her, then slipped out the door.

• • •

Izzy Wineberg fielded calls, soothed some shaken staff members, and was grateful when he had a moment to himself in his private bathroom in his large office. He washed his face, then held a washrag, wrung out, to his face.

Rising like a comet in the medical world, Central Virginia Medical Complex wouldn’t be brought down by what now appeared to be connected deaths. Ten years ago at the old hospital, there had been murders, related, as they usually are, to money. It’s always love or money. He patted his face dry with a fluffy towel, courtesy of his wife of forty-six years. She filled his life with all manner of thoughtful objects and events.

On the subject of wives, he knew Cory had cut a wide swath through the hospital nursing staff, and probably outside, as well. He was that kind of guy.

Izzy faced two immediate conundrums. The first was: If he told Sheriff Shaw about Cory’s conquests, would the sheriff raise the issue with Cory’s wife, Rachel? What a wretched time for a woman to learn her husband suffered from chronic infidelity. Then again, maybe she knew. But Izzy doubted it. He’d seen them together many times, been a guest at their home. But people can be marvelous actors, he reminded himself.

The second problem—thornier—would need a deft touch. Paula and Cory had worked together. Thadia had not, but one could hardly miss the fact that the woman was besotted with the surgeon. Physicians solve mysteries. You can’t cure a patient until you know what ails him or her. Using all the skills that had served him well in his profession, Izzy discarded extraneous information, concentrating on symptoms. His conclusion: Cory Schaeffer was central to this string of murders.