Mortal Fear

CHAPTER 7

“Hold it! Police!” A voice shattered the stillness of the Boston night. Jason froze and so did the body-builder. The doors of an unmarked police car parked next to the mouth of the alley suddenly opened and three plainclothesmen leaped out. Once again Jason was ordered, “Up against the wall. Feet apart!” He obeyed, but the body-builder thought about it for a moment. Finally he growled to Jason, “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.” He then complied.

“Shut up!” a policeman yelled. Jason and his pursuer were quickly searched, then turned around and told to put their hands behind their heads. One cop took out a flashlight and checked their identification.

“Bruno DeMarco?” questioned the man holding the light on the body-builder. Bruno nodded. The light switched to Jason.

“Dr. Jason Howard?”

“That’s correct.”

“What’s going on here?” the policeman asked.

“This little creep was trying to bother my girlfriend,” Bruno informed him in an outraged voice. “He followed her.”

The policeman looked back and forth between Jason and Bruno, then walked over to the car, opened the door, and took something from the back seat. When he returned, he handed Bruno his wallet and told him to go home and get some sleep. At first Bruno acted as though he hadn’t understood, but then he took his wallet.

“I’ll remember you, asshole!” he shouted at Jason as he disappeared toward Beacon Street.

“You,” the policeman said, pointing to Jason. “In the car!”

Jason was stunned. He couldn’t believe they let the bouncer go and not him. He was about to complain when the policeman grasped his arm and forced him into the back seat.

“You are becoming one big pain in the ass,” Detective Curran said. He was sitting stolidly, smoking. “I should have let that hunk work you over.”

Jason was at a loss for words.

“I hope you have some idea,” Curran continued, “of just how much you are screwing up this case. First we have Hayes’s apartment covered. You blew that. Then we’re watching Carol Donner and you blow that. We might as well bag the whole operation. We’re certainly not going to learn anything from her at this point. Where the hell is your car? I presume you came in a car?”

“Just around the corner,” Jason said meekly.

“I suggest you get in it and go home,” Curran said slowly. “Then I suggest you get back to doctoring and leave this investigation to us. You’re making our job impossible.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason began. “I didn’t think…”

“Just leave!” Curran said with a wave of dismissal.

Jason climbed out of the police car, feeling pretty dumb. Of course they’d be watching Carol. If she had been living with Hayes, she was probably involved with drugs too. In fact, with her line of work, it was almost a given. Getting into his own car, Jason thought about his jacket, said the hell with it, and drove home.

It was three-thirty when he trudged up the stairs to his apartment and dutifully called his service. He hadn’t taken his beeper with him when he left to follow Carol Donner, and he hoped there had been no calls. He was too tired to handle an emergency. There was nothing from the hospital, but Shirley had left a message asking him to call the moment he got in, no matter what time. The page operator told him it was urgent.

Perplexed, Jason dialed. Shirley answered on the first ring. “Where on earth have you been?”

“That’s a story in itself.”

“I want you to do me a favor. Come over right now”.

“It’s three-thirty,” Jason pleaded.

“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

Jason put on another jacket, returned to his car, and drove out to Brookline, wondering what emergency couldn’t have waited a little longer. The only certainty was that it involved Hayes.

Shirley lived on Lee Street, a road that curved around Brookline Reservoir and wound its way up into a residential area of fine old homes. Her house was a fieldstone building of comfortable proportions with a gambrel roof and twin gables. As Jason entered the cobblestone driveway, he saw that the house was ablaze with light. He pulled up across from the entrance, and by the time he was out of the car, Shirley had the door open.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, giving him a hug. She was dressed in a white cashmere sweater and faded jeans and seemed, for the first time since Jason had met her, totally distraught.

She led him into a large living room and introduced him to two GHP executives who also seemed visibly upset. Jason shook hands first with Bob Walthrow, a small, balding man, and then Fred Ingelnook, a Robert Redford lookalike.

“How about a cocktail?” Shirley asked. “You look like you need it.”

“Just soda,” Jason said. “I’m dead on my feet. What’s going on?”

“More trouble. I got a call from security. Hayes’s lab was broken into tonight and practically demolished.”

“Vandalism?”

“We’re not sure.”

“Hardly,” Bob Walthrow said. “It was searched.”

“Was anything taken?” Jason asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Shirley said. “But that’s not the problem. We want to keep this out of the papers. Good Health can’t take much more bad publicity. We have two large corporate clients on the fence about joining the Plan. They might be scared off if they hear that the police think Hayes’s lab was searched for drugs.”

“It’s possible,” Jason said. “The medical examiner told me Hayes had cocaine in his urine.”

“Shit,” Bob Walthrow said. “Let’s hope the newspapers don’t get ahold of this.”

“We’ve got to limit the damage!” Shirley said.

“How do you propose to do that?” Jason asked, wondering why he’d been called.

“The governing board wants us to keep this latest incident quiet.”

“That might be difficult,” Jason said, taking a sip of his soda. “The papers will probably get it from the police blotter.”

“That’s exactly the point,” Shirley said. “We’ve decided not to tell the police. But we wanted your opinion.”

“Mine?” Jason asked, surprised.

“Well,” Shirley said, “we want the opinion of the medical staff. You’re a current chief. We thought you could quietly find out how the others felt.”

“I suppose,” said Jason, wondering how he’d go about polling the other internists and still keep the episode undercover. “But if you want my personal opinion, I don’t think it’s a good idea at all. Besides, you won’t be able to collect insurance unless you inform the police.”

“That’s a point,” Fred Ingelnook said.

“True,” Shirley said, “but it’s still minor in relation to the public relations problem. For now we will not report it. But we’ll check with insurance and hear from the department chiefs.”

“Sounds good to me,” Fred Ingelnook said. “Fine,” Bob Walthrow said.

The conversation wound down and Shirley sent the two executives home. She held Jason back when he tried to follow, suggesting he meet her at eight o’clock that morning. “I’ve asked Helene to come in early. Maybe we can make some sense out of what’s going on.”

Jason nodded, still wondering why Shirley couldn’t have told him all this on the phone. But he was too tired to care, and after giving her a brief kiss on the cheek, he staggered back out to his car, hoping for two or three hours’ sleep.