Night Shift

Chapter 8

Tuesday, December 7, 12:02 p.m.

At the corner of First Avenue and 30th Street, Jack waited for the light to turn green. When it did, he crossed the avenue to gain access to the First Avenue bike path on the left side of the road. Because it was lunchtime there were more bikes than earlier, but because it was December, there weren’t that many bikes despite the hour, and for safety reasons, he stuck to the bike lanes. He knew Laurie was against his bike riding for reasons of safety, but he persisted. For him cycling was part of his identity, representing a kind of freedom that characterized his new life. Instead of giving it up, he made concessions, like using the bike lanes. Although he knew that if he went out into the street, he’d be able to go faster, he wasn’t that concerned about the time. He guesstimated the journey would take about twenty minutes and only five minutes less if he were to ride out in the road with the motorized traffic.

Using the bike lane had its own hazards and required considerable attention. First of all, it wasn’t the same all the way to 78th Street, where he planned to turn west to Park Avenue, where the front entrance to the Manhattan Memorial Hospital was located. For the first fifteen or so blocks, there was an isolated bike lane separated from the vehicular traffic, but at 46th Street it changed to be merely a painted lane along the side of the road. Adding to the problem in Midtown, there were more of the electric bike delivery people who flaunted every rule, even to the point of going in the wrong direction. At various times as he headed north, Jack was forced to venture out into the road, keeping up with the cars, taxis, trucks, and buses before returning to the bike path.

When he turned left at 78th Street, the traffic diminished significantly. But here the connected bike path was a mere painted strip running along the street side of parked cars, providing the added danger of someone opening their car door without looking. Even more nerve-wracking were the many taxis and rideshare vehicles, which completely ignored the painted right-of-way by blocking it when picking up or discharging passengers.

Despite the potential hurdles and hazards, including Park Avenue having no bike lane, Jack arrived safely at the front entrance to the Manhattan Memorial Hospital in slightly less than the twenty minutes he’d anticipated. Pulling over to the curb, he dismounted and gazed up at the multistory structure. The entire medical center was an enormous complex of buildings occupying several square blocks of the Upper East Side of Manhattan, stretching all the way from Park Avenue west to Central Park. It served as the flagship hospital of AmeriCare, a large healthcare corporation that owned multiple hospitals and rapid-care clinics around the country.

Jack had an unpleasant history of association with the company, as it had bought the hospital where he’d had his original practice of ophthalmology, precipitating his decision to change from clinical medicine to forensic pathology to avoid the reality of American medicine being taken over by business interests and the profit motive. It was during his training in Chicago for his second medical career as a medical examiner that his entire family, including his wife and two young daughters, had died in a small plane crash after visiting him. Although he had eventually recovered enough to start a second family, he’d never forgiven AmeriCare.

Using his cable bike lock, Jack secured his bike and helmet to a no parking sign near the hospital’s front entrance. When he was done, he again gazed up at the building. He had even had negative dealings with AmeriCare and the MMH as a medical examiner back before the hospital had changed its name from Manhattan General Hospital to Manhattan Memorial Hospital when it had bought and merged with another smaller NYC hospital. About ten years earlier, on another site visit, he had exposed a hospital employee who was purposely infecting inpatients with serious diseases and causing multiple diagnostically confusing deaths. That experience of playing detective had resulted in the chipped front tooth and hairline scar of his that Lou had made reference to when they’d had their tête-à-tête in the locker room.

Jack had to laugh at the irony that instead of being hailed as a hero at the time for saving lives, which he most surely had, he’d been reprimanded by the then — OCME chief, Dr. Harold Bingham, for going out into the field; branded a persona non grata by the then — MGH president Charles Kelley; and garnered the lasting enmity of the hospital’s Microbiology Department head, Dr. Martin Cheveau.

“Such is life,” Jack murmured as he got out Kevin Strauss’s MLI report and read it over quickly to decide exactly where to start. His first thought was to go directly to administration to put everything on the up-and-up and open doors since the hospital had a new president named Marsha Schechter, hired after the murder of Charles Kelley. But he hesitated, concerned about what kind of person this new president would be. The AmeriCare board had hired Kelley, who Jack had thought was the opposite of what a hospital chief executive should have been, as Kelley had been totally consumed by the business side to the detriment of the patient-care side. In Jack’s mind, there was little hope the new president would be any different and instead of being helpful might very well end up complaining to Laurie about Jack’s presence. After all, the death of a staff member in the hospital’s parking garage was bad publicity and the faster the whole affair was forgotten, the better.

Instead of going to administration and announcing himself, he decided to visit security directly. He wanted to find out what he could about the exact site and circumstance of Sue’s death above and beyond what Kevin had put in his investigative report. After that he would go to the Emergency Department and find out what he could about the resuscitation attempt.

Repositioning the required Covid-19 mask he’d taken from a dispenser just inside the front door, he used the stairs rather than the elevator to head up to the Security Department’s office on the second floor. As he climbed, he hoped he wouldn’t run into Martin Cheveau, since all the hospital’s laboratories, including the microbiology lab, were also on the second floor. The man was unhinged enough to possibly cause a scene, which might up the chance Laurie would be notified he was defying orders.

The security office wasn’t as physically impressive as the other parts of the renovated hospital. Instead, it was a large single room with six institutional metal desks. The two things that made the space unique were large floor-to-ceiling interior windows that looked out onto the marbled two-story hospital lobby and an entire wall of flat-screen monitors alternately displaying various locations inside and outside the hospital. Most of the people in the room were watching the monitors, although a few were busy typing behind computer screens. All were dressed in nondescript dark suits with ties. No one was wearing a pandemic mask.

Approaching the nearest desk, Jack asked for the Security Department’s head and was directed to Mr. David Andrews, whose desk was the farthest away from the entry door. Deciding on the spot to be forthright and businesslike, Jack got out his medical examiner badge and flashed it as he introduced himself. He rarely used his badge but had always been impressed with its effect on most people, since it looked very official and rather like a policeman’s badge. David Andrews wasn’t all that impressed, even though he asked to look at it more closely. From a framed selfie photo of the man in blue uniform on his desk, Jack got the sense that David Andrews had been a high-ranking policeman before being hired as head of security for the hospital.

“What can I do for you, Doc?” he asked nonchalantly.

“I needed to do some follow-up on the death of Dr. Susan Passero,” Jack said. “First I’d like to express my condolences, as I know she was a well-liked and well-respected member of the MMH community.”

“She was, indeed,” David said.

“Have there been security problems in the hospital’s garage?”

“A mild amount. We had two relatively recent muggings, one about two months ago and another five months ago, both occurring during shift changes and both on the first floor. We’ve beefed up the security presence at the appropriate times and believe it has solved the problem. Why do you ask? I was told Dr. Passero died of a heart attack.”

“Her death is under review. I’m just doing some routine follow-up on the investigation by the medical legal investigator.” Jack cringed knowing he was offering a little white lie.

“I have to say, the investigator seemed knowledgeable and professional.”

“Our MLIs are the best in the business,” Jack said. “My being here in no way faults the work he did. Tell me, were you here when this unfortunate event occurred?”

“I was called when the situation was in progress, and I came in immediately. I had left for the day.”

“My understanding from the MLI’s report is that Dr. Passero was discovered by a nurse named Ronald Cavanaugh, who happened to see the doctor slumped over her steering wheel.”

“That’s what we were told,” David said. “Ronald Cavanaugh is one of our nursing supervisors. He and another nurse named Barbara Collins were coming on shift and started CPR and alerted the ED. As quickly as possible, the doctor was transported to the ED for a full resuscitation attempt.”

“Did you or any of your security people look at the car?”

“Of course. I did myself and gathered Dr. Passero’s personal belongings.”

“Was there anything amiss with the car?”

“Amiss. What the hell kind of word is that?”

“Sorry!” With some difficulty Jack held himself in check. “What I meant to ask is if you noticed anything at all unusual about the vehicle. Anything at all? Was it messy inside? Anything unexpected in it? Did it smell strange?”

“No, not at all. Nothing. It seemed entirely like a normal BMW owned by someone who appreciated it. As far as odor is concerned, it smelled like leather.”

“Where is the car now?”

“It’s still in the same spot where it was,” David said. “At least as far as I know.” Then he made Jack jump when he suddenly and without warning yelled out to one of his colleagues, asking if Dr. Passero’s car was still in the garage. “There you go,” he said to Jack after getting confirmation the vehicle had yet to be moved.

Mildly surprised by this turn of events, Jack asked if he could view it.

“I don’t see why not,” David said. “But what on earth for?”

“Forensic science encourages the examination of a death scene,” Jack said. He was surprised that the question came from a former police officer and again had to hold himself in check from making a reflex sarcastic comment.

“Even when it involves a heart attack?” David questioned.

“Yes,” Jack said. “Even then.”

“Suit yourself,” David said. “Come on! I’ll take you.”

Before they left the security office, David stopped by the desk of the individual who had yelled out that Sue’s car was still in the garage to get the keys.

David grabbed a mask from a dispenser and hooked it over both ears. “We have a valet parking service for our doctors in the morning to expedite their arrival,” David explained as he gestured the proper direction out in the hallway. “I made sure we had both the valet set and the doctor’s set for whomever was coming to pick up the vehicle.”

The route to the garage was rather complicated, as it required passing between and through several separate buildings but without having to change floors. Finally, they reached a pedestrian bridge over Madison Avenue to get to the high-rise garage. As they crossed, Jack couldn’t help but reminisce about another extraordinarily unpleasant experience he’d had at the MMH more than ten years earlier. He’d chased a nurse who’d nearly managed to kill Laurie across the same bridge. Jack hadn’t counted on the nurse being armed, resulting in a horrendous shootout in the woman’s car. If Lou Soldano had not showed up in the nick of time, Jack knew he wouldn’t be alive. The episode was yet another cogent reminder that Lou was entirely correct that playing detective was a dangerous pastime for amateurs.

Jack shuddered at the memory and forced himself to concentrate on the present. Sue’s black BMW was in the doctors’ reserved parking area on the second floor of the garage, not too far away from the entrance to the pedestrian bridge and close to where the unnerving shootout had been.

As they came alongside the car, David handed Jack the key fob, which he used to unlock the vehicle. After opening the driver’s-side door, he leaned inside. As David had said, there was a definite smell of leather, suggesting the car was rather new. He tried to visualize Sue slumped over the steering wheel as she had been described. In the center console was an empty paper coffee cup and a mobile phone holder on a flexible rod. Sue’s hospital ID hung on a lanyard from the rearview mirror. A recent copy of the New England Journal of Medicine with its iconic cover design was on the passenger seat. Jack could imagine Sue leafing through it while stopped at red lights. He knew Sue was one of those individuals who felt obligated to use every minute productively.

“Any startling conclusions?” David asked in a mocking tone.

Once again holding himself in check, he chose not to respond but rather backed out of the front seat and opened the car’s rear door. On the back seat was a box of N95 masks, a roll of paper towels, a box of facial tissues, a snow removal brush, and a collapsed umbrella. Noticing that everything was pushed over onto the right side, Jack assumed it was so Sue could reach them from sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Okay, thank you,” Jack said while handing back the key fob. “Now, if you can point me in the right direction, I’d like to head to the Emergency Department and try to chat with someone who participated in the resuscitation attempt. I’m assuming the two nurses who discovered the doctor aren’t currently available.”

“That’s correct. They both work the night shift, so on the days they are on duty, they come in sometime between six and seven p.m. I don’t know if they are scheduled to work tonight.”

“Understandable,” Jack said.

“Come on. I’ll take you to the ED. It’s not easy unless you go outside and come in through the emergency entrance.”