Night Shift

Chapter 16

Tuesday, December 7, 4:55 p.m.

Jack used the same route as he had at midday, yet the ride was far different since the sun had set. It was also rush hour with an increase in vehicular traffic as well as the number of bikes. The congestion was particularly significant all through Midtown and didn’t ease up until he was well beyond the Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge. The crosstown traffic was the worst, making him feel particularly thankful to be on his bike, cruising past all of it.

At the front of the MMH, he used the same no parking sign to lock up his bike and helmet. Jack wanted to make his visit to the information booth as quick as possible after apparently having been seen by chance in the lobby earlier that day by Martin Cheveau, resulting in the confrontation with Marsha Schechter. Luckily, when he approached there was no one waiting, and he was able to walk directly up to the counter.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Jack Stapleton, and I believe there should be a parcel waiting for me from Virginia Davenport.” As he spoke, he slipped off his backpack and unzipped it.

His comment precipitated a brief questioning conversation between the two women and the one man behind the counter. Then one of the women seemed to have recollection, as she snapped her fingers and bent forward, briefly disappearing from Jack’s view. But instead of producing a package, she extended a mere letter-sized envelope toward him, along with a pleasant smile. Confused, Jack took the envelope. Written on it in an elegant cursive was his name and, in the lower left-hand corner, to be picked up.

Getting his thumb under the flap, Jack opened the letter and pulled out a note written in the same style. It was short and sweet, merely stating that Virginia was sorry, but when she returned to Sue’s office, the committee folders had vanished, and she had no idea where they had gone or who could have taken them. As a final postscript he read: If you have any questions, I’m here at least until 6:00 p.m.

Jack cursed under his breath, believing Marsha Schechter was to blame. The missing folders also underlined his sense that things had hardly been copacetic regarding Sue Passero’s relationship with the administration and some of her committee co-members. Why else would those folders be taken from her office, particularly the one labeled hospital mortality articles of interest? It certainly didn’t contain any private letters or communications.

Whether the disappearance of these folders could in any way be related to her death, he had no idea. He also knew it was associated more with the idea of who, not how, yet if he was going to be denied whatever insight the folders might have provided, he was going to have to come up with an alternative plan.

He thanked the woman, and because of his disappointment, he made a beeline to the doctors’ cloakroom, where he intended to get himself a white lab coat and leave his backpack. Doctors who were not part of the salaried staff used the cloakroom to leave their outer coats and don a doctor’s coat. Obtaining one was a way for Jack to blend in, which he wanted to do now that he was going to make a quick return visit to the Internal Medicine Clinic. Jack had used this ruse in the past when he’d visited the MMH for investigative purposes. If possible, he wanted to avoid being spotted by Cheveau or anyone from administration or security, particularly any of the those who had interrupted him in Sue’s office earlier that day.

Now clothed in a highly starched white doctor’s coat plus a hospital-issued pandemic mask, he set out for the Kaufman Outpatient Building. To complete his disguise, he’d added Sue Passero’s hospital ID, hanging its lanyard around his neck while being careful to have the photo turned toward himself.

Although the hospital’s lobby had been relatively busy, the clinic building was quiet. As Jack rode up to the fourth floor, he was happy to be the only person in the elevator.

As it was now after five p.m. and the clinic supposedly closed, there were far fewer patients waiting, although still a few. At the patient sign-in desk there were none, and the two remaining clerks were seated and chatting among themselves.

“Excuse me,” he said, approaching the counter. “I’m looking for Virginia Davenport.”

Almost simultaneously the two clerks pointed behind them at the scheduling office where Jack had found her earlier that day. Approaching the door, he briefly debated whether to knock but decided against it, remembering it had been unnecessary earlier. Inside he found her at her desk. The other two scheduling secretaries had apparently left for the day.

“Still at it?” he questioned.

“It’s the burden of being the clinic supervisor,” Virginia explained. She took off her headphones and then reached for her mask.

“Hold on,” Jack said. “Are you fully vaccinated against Covid-19?”

“I am, and boosted, too,” she said.

“So am I,” he said. “Are you comfortable putting our masks aside if we maintain a bit of distance?”

“I am,” Virginia said. “Thank you. I can’t wait for this pandemic to be over. Anyway, I assume you got my note.”

“I did,” Jack said as he pocketed his mask. “And I do have some questions. I was disappointed, to say the least, not to get the folders, particularly the Mortality and Morbidity one. Do you have any idea why they were removed or who might have taken them?”

“No idea whatsoever. To be honest, I wouldn’t even know where to start if I was tasked to find them.”

“I was afraid that might be the case,” he said. He grabbed one of the room’s desk chairs, wheeled it over closer to Virginia’s desk, and sat down. “First of all, I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye earlier and thank you again for your help.”

“No need to apologize,” she said. “I certainly didn’t expect another thank-you. Excuse me, but I notice you’re wearing a doctor’s coat. Does that mean you might be willing to see some patients for us since we are now shorthanded?” She smiled to indicate she was teasing.

Jack chuckled at the thought. “I don’t think you’d want me. It’s been a long, long time since I saw live, internal medicine outpatients — not since I was a medical student in the previous century. I also borrowed Dr. Passero’s ID.” He turned the ID around so Virginia could see the photo.

Virginia leaned forward to look at the photo and smiled anew, shaking her head in the process. “You two don’t look very similar.”

“True, which is why I’m careful the photo doesn’t show,” Jack said. “I’m wearing this outfit and using the ID to try to blend in and not be recognized by anybody in administration. MMH presidents and I truly don’t get along. After you left me in Sue’s office, I was confronted by Marsha Schechter, who had me escorted off the premises by security.”

“Oh, my! Why would she do that? Don’t you have the right to be here investigating Dr. Passero’s death?”

“I do indeed,” he said. “And I could force the issue, but it would take court action and that takes time. With this case, I don’t have the benefit of time, as I explained earlier.”

“It still seems oddly personal for the president of the hospital to be involved,” she observed, wrinkling her brow.

“It is personal,” Jack said. “No doubt about it. In the past, I offended the MMH Microbiology Laboratory Department head, Dr. Martin Cheveau, by pointing out his administrative incompetence. He probably told her that the previous president and I got along like oil and water. Kelley thought of me as a provocateur par excellence, as I have had a habit of unearthing serious problems over here at the MMH. Dr. Cheveau was with Marsha, along with Peter Alinsky.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Virginia said. “Maybe that’s an explanation of why those folders disappeared, particularly the one with all the Mortality and Morbidity Committee material. There were a lot of letters critical of Mr. Alinsky in that folder. Okay, now it’s starting to make sense.”

“I’m sensing that you don’t expect the folders to reappear,” Jack said.

“I don’t.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Jack said. “As I mentioned earlier, I’m at a loss to explain the cause of Dr. Passero’s death, so I’m interested to learn what I can about her recent circumstances and perhaps her mindset, particularly in relation to her ongoing antagonism with this Alinsky fellow. You said she wasn’t depressed, but you described her as frustrated.”

“I think that is a fair description,” Virginia said. “Dr. Passero was a very strong-willed and dogged individual, and she didn’t shy away from making her feelings known. Unfortunately, that rubbed certain people the wrong way, particularly Mr. Peter Alinsky, who I believe is rather chauvinistic as well as headstrong. But that’s only my opinion from what I heard from Dr. Passero. She never said any of that specifically. It’s just what I deduced.”

“I get it,” Jack said. “And I remember from our conversation earlier that there was a surgeon and an anesthesiologist with whom she locked horns as well.”

“Yes. For sure. It was an ongoing battle with Dr. Carl Wingate, Chief of Anesthesia, and Dr. Henry Thomas, Chief of Surgery. Dr. Passero believed that both were firmly in cahoots with Mr. Alinsky. Both are part of the M and M Task Force, the M and M Committee, and the Outpatient Reorganizing Committee, at least in name. Dr. Passero was under the impression, from my understanding, that they merely rubber-stamped whatever Mr. Peter Alinsky decided.”

“Interesting,” he said. “What about the emails that were in the folders, which I presume were written to these people? Do you have other copies, or do you know if any exist? What about emails and texts? Didn’t Dr. Passero use email?”

“Yes, of course, but she never shared her passwords with me.”

“That’s too bad,” Jack said. He thought for a moment and then asked, “Was Dr. Passero on her own with her committee battles or did she have any support?”

“She had one person who was definitely on her side,” Virginia said. “Cherine Gardener.”

He perked up with the prospect of a source that might help fill the gap created by the missing folders and letters and electronic communications. “Who is she?”

“She’s a charge nurse on the orthopedic floor. She was appointed to the M and M Committee about six months ago. My sense is that she and Dr. Passero came to agree on a lot of issues, particularly about which cases were presented at the committee hearings and maybe more strongly about which cases were not presented. That was another one of Dr. Passero’s major gripes: A lot of cases she thought should be brought up but weren’t. Cherine also was clearly not a fan of Mr. Peter Alinsky, which I believe particularly endeared her to Dr. Passero.”

“This sounds like someone I should chat with,” Jack said. “What’s she like? Is she personable?”

“I’ve only spoken with her over the phone but that was on multiple occasions. If you want my honest opinion, my sense is that she is a very good nurse but a private person. I’d describe her as a no-nonsense, serious individual who runs a very tight ship. I think that was the main reason that Dr. Passero was drawn to her and valued her support and opinion. Dr. Passero was also very organized and thorough.”

“I get the picture,” Jack said. Virginia’s description of the woman reminded him of his sixth-grade teacher who had ruled the classroom like a third-world dictator. He wasn’t particularly encouraged, but he realized he didn’t have too many other possibilities to learn about what had been going on in Sue’s life recently. For that, speaking with Cherine Gardener sounded opportune, especially since she served on the key M and M Committee. Whether she’d be forthcoming was the question.

“I have her mobile phone number,” Virginia said. “If you like, I could find out if she is on duty.”

“That would be very helpful,” Jack said. “Especially if I could possibly have a word with her while I’m here.”

She picked up her mobile phone from the edge of her desk and made the call. As she did, she transfixed him with her piercing dark eyes that looked to be all pupil with just a slight rim of dark brown iris. Jack could hear the electronic sound of Cherine’s phone ringing and heard when it suddenly stopped. But he couldn’t make out Cherine’s voice. Virginia introduced herself and there was a short conversation back and forth about Sue Passero’s passing and how tragic and what a shock it was. Then Virginia asked if Cherine were in the hospital on duty. “The reason I’m asking,” she continued, “is because I am presently talking with Dr. Jack Stapleton, the medical examiner looking into Dr. Passero’s death, who happens to be the husband of Dr. Passero’s closest friend. He’d like to speak to you for a few minutes if you could spare the time.”

Virginia kept staring at Jack as she listened. He could hear Cherine talking but couldn’t make out her words. Virginia nodded few times as she listened and then finally said, “Okay, fine! I understand. I’ll tell him. Bye!” Then to Jack she said, “She is here on duty and can probably manage to talk with you briefly provided you go right over this minute.”

“Okay, terrific,” he said. He was mildly surprised and pleased. Virginia’s sign-off had suggested otherwise.

“But here’s the story,” she said. “She’s off duty at seven and is about to give report for the shift change. So time is of the essence.”

“Got it,” Jack said. He stood up and gave the desk chair a shove back where he’d gotten it. “Out of curiosity, is there a way to get over to the main hospital building without having to go through the main lobby to get to the elevators? I’d rather not risk running into Cheveau, Alinsky, or Schechter if at all possible.”

“Yes, there is,” Virginia said. “Go up to the sixth floor here. There’s a pedestrian bridge. Ortho is on the eighth floor in the Anderson Building.”

“Oh, perfect,” he said. “And thank you again for your time.”

“I hope she’s helpful,” she said. She stood up as well.

“So do I,” Jack said. He got out his mask, put it on, and waved back at Virginia as he hustled out into the main part of the Internal Medicine Clinic.