Silent Treatment

Chapter27

This hearing isn't going to be pleasant,'Mel Wetstone said to Harry as they drove across town to the hospital. 'But Ipromise you we are not going to take any bullshit from these people.'

He had picked Harry up in the MercedesPhilip had sold him — the one that Phil claimed defined the man as an attorney.The four doors as well as the trunk had electronic closing mechanisms, and therear couch — seat hardly did it justice- reclined. It wascertainly reassuring to see that Wetstone was successful enough to afford suchtransportation. But today the Mercedes had tapped into Harry's midlife feelingsof inadequacy. And block by smooth air-conditioned block, it was inflating themlike a Thanksgiving Day float. Gratefully, there were just a few more blocks togo.

'Did Sam Rennick say what they were goingfor?' he asked.

'Sam plays things pretty close to thevest, but it was clear that he isn't willing to concede any of the points we'vepresented to him — not the sketch from Ms. Hughes, not the floor buffer theory,not the call to your office from the killer. They want you off the staff untilthe case is resolved.'

'Can they do that?'

'Probably. There are a few spots in thehospital bylaws where the language about who can do what to whom is vague — purposely vague, we think. The bottom line is that if they vote you out — andbelieve me, we've got some cards to play before they do — we can try for aninjunction. But we'd better get a damn sympathetic judge. A far better ideawould be to beat them back right here and now. That's what I intend to do.'

Harry stared out the sun-sensitive windowat the passing scene. He had no desire to be booted from the MMC staff. For onething, his patients were his emotional and financial life-blood; for another,being barred from practice in the hospital would make it that much harder toput the pressure on the killer. And they had enough progress since connectingwith Walter Concepcion to believe that before long, some sort of strategy forputting pressure on him might actually evolve.

Maura was on her way to meet with herbrother's friend, Lonnie Sims. The Dweeb had access to the latest in thegraphics suspects. Together they would enhance Maura's sketch and addphotographic quality, coloring, and detail. The result would be, essentially, afull-color mug shot, front and side views. They would then add and subtract,mix and match, until they had similar photos of the man with his appearancealtered.

When Harry and his lawyer entered theexecutive conference room for the second time since Evie's death, theatmosphere was distinctly more formal — and more threatening. Recordingmicrophones had been placed at several spots around the massive table. Theplayers from the first drama were all there already, along with a number ofnotable newcomers including members of the hospital board of trustees, thedepartment heads who made up the medical staff executive committee, the headnurses from Alexander 9 and Alexander 5, Caspar Sidonis, and a legalstenographer. There was also a man sitting beside the hospital attorney whomHarry did not know — a rough-hewn man in an ill-fitting blue suit.

Steve Josephson squeezed Harry's hand ashe passed. Doug Atwater smiled uncomfortably and came over.

'Harry,' he whispered, 'I'm glad I gotthis chance to talk with you. I hope you understand that the other day I wasonly suggesting what I thought would be best for you. Obviously, I upset you,and I'm sorry for that. I wanted to be sure you know that I'm behind you ahundred percent in this thing.'

Half a dozen snide responses sped throughHarry's head. None of them made it to his mouth. Atwater didn't deserve it. Overthe years he had been most supportive of Harry and his struggles to keep familypractice a respected option. Suggesting that Harry take a voluntary leave fromthe hospital was the only way he could think of to avoid the hearing that wasabout to take place — a hearing in which Harry seemed destined to be humiliatedand ultimately swept aside.

'I understand, Doug,' he said. 'But Ihaven't done anything wrong, so I just can't go down without a fight.'

'In that case, give 'em hell, Harry.'Atwater grinned.

Sam Rennick reviewed the ground rules thathad been agreed upon by him and Mel Wetstone.

Witnesses would give a statement andanswer questions from first Rennick, then Wetstone. Harry would be permitted tospeak after each witness, but only to respond to questions from his lawyer, notto address any of the witnesses directly. When the hearing was concluded, thejoint hospital and medical staff executive committees would vote by secretballot whether to suspend Harry's admitting privileges or not.

'Before you begin, Mr. Rennick,' DougAtwater said, 'I would like it to go on record that the Manhattan HealthCooperative will abide by the ruling of this hearing.' He looked over at Harry.'Dr. Corbett's status as a physician provider for MHC will remain intact solong as he has admitting privileges at this hospital.'

Considering that the health plan was boundonly by its own laws in picking and removing physician providers, Atwater'sstatement amounted to an endorsement. His company could have made the resultsof this hearing essentially moot by simply cutting Harry from its rolls. It wasa move Harry had feared they might make. He was doubly glad, now, that he hadheld his temper with Doug.

The head nurse from Alexander 9 startedthings off by reading affidavits from both of the nurses who had been on dutythe night of Evie's death. There was no question in either of their minds that,except for Maura Hughes, Harry was the last one to see his wife before thelethal rupture of her aneurysm. Sue Jilson recounted in some detail Harry'srequest to leave the floor for a milk shake and then return. The hospitalattorney used his questions to pin down the nurse about the security setup onthe floor. Then he homed in on the clinical condition of Maura Hughes.

'She was about the most classic case ofthe DTs I've ever seen,' the woman said. 'She was restless and combative,sweating profusely, and disoriented most of the time. When she wasn't accusingthe staff of ignoring her, she was swatting at insects that weren't there. Shewas medicated almost the entire time she was on our service, and despite that,she was still one of the most disruptive patients we've had in a long time.'

Harry and Mel Wetstone exchanged glances.The hospital attorney knew Maura's sketch was about to be presented, and waseffectively destroying its credibility by painting such an unappealing pictureof her. It was the reason Harry had argued against having Maura attend thehearing to present her drawing herself. Mel had warned him what she might hear.

Wetstone cleared his throat, took a slowswallow of water, and favored the nurse with an icy smile.

'I'm sorry Ms. Hughes was so disruptive toyour neurosurgical floor,' he said.

'Thank you,' the nurse replied, completelymissing Wetstone's sarcasm.

'You don't have very warm feelings towardalcoholics, do you?'

'Does anyone?'

Wetstone allowed half a minute for theresponse to sink in around the room.

'As a matter of fact, yes. Some peopledo,' he said softly. 'The American Medical Association has formally classifiedalcoholism as a disease. The American Psychiatric Association has also. I hopeyou're not prejudiced against too many other diseases as well. I have nofurther questions of you.'

The head nurse, beet red, folded her notesand stared off at a spot that would keep her from eye contact with anyone. Ifthe impact of her testimony hadn't been neutralized entirely, it had certainlybeen diminished. Wetstone turned to Harry.

'Dr. Corbett, have you been in touch withMaura Hughes since her discharge?'

'I have.'

'And how's she doing?'

'Quite well, actually. She hasn't had adrink since her surgery, and she's started back on her painting.'

The white lie was one they had agreed uponthe previous day.

'Oh, yes, she's an accomplished andwell-regarded artist, isn't she? You have a drawing of hers here with you?'

'A copy of it, yes. Miss Hughes hadtrouble recalling some of the details of the man's face, so we went to see ahypnotist.'

'That would be Dr. Pavel Nemec?'

The murmur around the room suggested thatThe Hungarian was known to most of those present.

'I'm not sure he's a doctor,' Harry said.'But yes. He had no trouble helping her reconnect with her memories. Onesession, about fifteen or twenty minutes, was all it took.'

'Mr. Rennick,' Wetstone said. 'Here is anotarized affidavit from Pavel Nemec attesting to his certainty that thedrawing you are about to see represents the face remembered by Maura Hughes — the man who came into room nine twenty-eight after Dr. Corbett left to get hiswife a milk shake.' He waited until everyone that mattered had a copy before hecontinued. 'Dr. Corbett, have you ever seen the man depicted in Ms. Hughesdrawing?'

'I have. He was dressed as a hospitalmaintenance man, buffing the floors outside room nine twenty-eight when Iarrived. When I left for the milk shakes, he was still there. When I came backwith them he was gone.'

'You're sure of this?'

'Positive. It's an extremely good likenessof him. Maura Hughes has an incredible eye for detail. She says she suspectsthat the tie was a clip-on because the knot was just too perfect.'

Several people laughed out loud.

'This is ridiculous,' Caspar Sidonismuttered, though loudly enough for everyone to hear.

'So what you're telling us, Dr. Corbett,'Wetstone said, 'is that this man-' He waved the drawing for emphasis. 'This manwaited for an opportune moment, put on a doctor's clinic coat taken from withinthe casing of his floor buffer, walked boldly into room nine twenty-eight, andinjected your wife with a killing dose of Aramine.'

'I believe that is exactly what he did.'

Many of the faces around the room wereexpressionless. But Harry's unofficial visual poll said that the majority stillhad strong doubts about him.

Without comment, Wetstone motioned that hewas done. Since the burden of proof was, in theory at least, on the hospital,Harry would not be cross-examined by the hospital attorney. It was one ofseveral procedural points Wetstone had won.

Sam Rennick next introduced the man in theill-fitting blue suit, Willard McDevitt, the head of maintenance for thehospital. McDevitt, in his fifties with a ruddy complexion and a nose thatappeared to have been broken more than once or twice, spoke with the force ofone convinced he was incapable of being wrong about anything. He reminded Harryof Bumpy Giannetti, the hulking bully who had stalked him after school andbeaten him up with biological regularity from grades seven through ten. Hewondered in passing if Bumpy would respect him now that he was the chiefsuspect in two murders.

'Mr. McDevitt, is the man in that drawinganyone you recognize?' Rennick asked, after establishing the man's credentials.

'Absolutely not. I never saw him before inmy life.' He looked haughtily over at Harry.

'And what about that industrial floorbuffer — the one Dr. Corbett claims the killer used that night?'

'Well, first of all let me say that ifthere was a buffer on Alexander Nine that night, it was one of mine. And if itwas one of mine, one of my men was runnin' it.'

'Could someone have brought one into thehospital?'

'Anything's possible. But those babiesweigh close to a quarter ton and are bigger 'n a clothes dryer. It's hard toimagine someone sneakin' one into the hospital without being noticed.'

'Could they have stolen one from yourdepartment?'

'Not unless it was at gunpoint. We have asign-out system I designed myself to prevent any unauthorized person from usin'any of our equipment. Even a wrench has to be accounted for. I don't think we'dexactly misplace a five-hundred-pound buffer.'

'Thank you, Mr. McDevitt.'

Rennick nodded toward Wetstone withoutactually looking at him. Harry saw the gesture and reflected cynically on thefoolishness of a profession in which sub-rosa byplay was an accepted, evenrehearsed, part of the practice. Then he noticed Caspar Sidonis exchangingwhispered comments with the trustee seated next to him, motioning towards Harryat the same time. The byplay in medicine might be more subtle than in law, butit was no less nasty.

'Mr. McDevitt,' Mel began, 'where are thefloor buffers kept?'

'Locked in a room in the subbasement — double-locked as a matter of fact. Only me an' Gus Gustavson, my head of floormaintenance, have the key. Every one of them buffers that's taken from thatroom has to be signed out by him or me.'

'I understand, Mr. McDevitt, I'd like toask you again whether you believe there is any way a man who was not in youremploy could get at one of those buffers?'

'Absolutely none.'

That look again. Harry met the man's gaze in away he had never faced up to Bumpy Giannetti, held it, and even managed a weaksmile. Had Mel Wetstone shared with him the next part of his strategy, hissmile would have been much broader. Wetstone stood, walked to the door, openedit, and stepped back. A curious silence held for several seconds, then wasshattered by a machinery hum. A tall blond man dressed in a tan MMC maintenancejumpsuit entered the room. He wore a standard hospital photo identificationbadge and was polishing the tile surrounding the plus Oriental rug with an industrialbuffer. PROPERTY OF MMC was stenciled in red on the side.

'What in the hell?' Willard McDevittexclaimed.

Wetstone nodded toward the buffer man andthe machine was shut off.

'Mr. McDevitt, do you know this man?'

'I do not.'

'Mr. Crawford, where did you get thatcontraption?'

'From the room marked Floor Maintenancein the subbasement.'

'And was it difficult for you to get?'

The blond man grinned.

'Piece of cake,' he said. 'I'll return itnow if that's okay.'

He spun the machine round and wheeled itout. Instantly, it seemed as if everyone was talking and gesturing at once.Harry noticed that several members of the medical staff were laughing. WillardMcDevitt looked as if he was going to charge Mel Wetstone. Instead, he listenedto some whispered words from the hospital attorney, shoved his chair back, andstalked out. For his part, Wetstone carefully avoided appearing smug, or evenpleased. He sat placidly, allowing his theatrics to hold sway. For the firsttime, Harry felt that the emotion in the room might be turning in his favor. IfRennick and his witness could be so wrong about the floor buffer, people had tobe thinking, maybe they could be wrong about other things as well.

'Now just a minute. Just one damn minute!'

Caspar Sidonis had clearly taken as muchas he could. He stood and strode to the head of the table. Owen Erdman, thehospital president, moved his chair aside for him.

'This man is a huckster,' Sidonis said,motioning toward Wetstone. 'A snake oil salesman. He's using misdirection andtricks to keep you from focusing on the important points in this case. And Sam,I'm afraid all you've done is make it that much easier for him. This isn't acourtroom, it's a hospital. We're not here to debate fine points of law. We'rehere to see to it that our thousands and thousands of patients — patients whocould take their business to any number of facilities — have the confidence inthe Manhattan Medical Center to continue coming here. We're meeting here todayto prevent our hospital from becoming the laughingstock of the city. We're hereto ensure that the medical school graduates, with every hospital in the countryto choose from, think enough of this place to apply for residency here.'

The man was good, damn good, Harryacknowledged. This was revenge for Evie and payback for the humiliation of theamphitheater all rolled into one. And most important, his force andeffectiveness sprang from his hatred of Harry and his consuming belief inHarry's guilt. Harry took another silent poll of the room. Already thingsdidn't look as promising as they had. Mel Wetstone seemed on the point ofrising to object to Sidonis's tirade, but he thought better of it and sank backin his chair. Trying to stop the powerful chief of cardiac surgery fromexpressing his opinion could only hurt them.

'I am not embarrassed to say that EvieDellaRosa and I were in love,' Sidonis went on. 'For years, she and HarryCorbett had had a marriage in name only. The night before she entered thishospital, the night before she was murdered, she told him about us. I know thatfor a fact. That gives him a motive. A two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollarinsurance policy gives him another. The nurses have already testified to hisopportunity. And certainly the method chosen was one only a physician wouldknow. Now, it's remotely possible that Dr. Corbett is as innocent as he claims.It's remotely possible that every crazy alternative explanation he has come upwith actually happened. But even his innocence does not change the fact thattwo of our patients with strong connections to him are dead. The newspapers arehaving a field day at our hospital's expense. The public confidence we haveworked so hard to build is plummeting.

'Harry Corbett owes this hospital therespect and consideration to remove himself from the staff until this wholematter is resolved one way or the other. Since he has refused to honor thatresponsibility, this group must take action. I promise you here and now, I willnot continue to practice at an institution without the gumption to stand up foritself and do what is right for its staff and patients. Thank you.'

Drained, or apparently so, Sidonis usedthe backs of chairs to help him return to his seat. Mel Wetstone inhaleddeeply, then let out a sigh. Harry felt flushed and self-conscious. Sidonis hadthreatened the hospital and the board of trustees with a massive blow to theirtwo most vulnerable areas: reputation and pocketbook. World Famous HeartSurgeon Quits Hospital Over Handling of Doctor Doom. Harry could just seethe headlines in the Daily News. He leaned over to his lawyer.

There was a commotion outside the room.The doors burst open and Owen Erdman's staid secretary rushed in.

'I'm sorry, Dr. Erdman,' she saidbreathlessly. 'I tried to explain to them, but they wouldn't listen. Sandy'scalled security. They're on their way.'

She stepped aside as a small mob marchedinto the room. Leading the way was Mary Tobin, and close behind her was MarvLorello. Next came all the other members of the family medicine department,along with a number of Harry's patients, some with their children in tow. Twodozen people in all, Harry guessed. No, closer to three. Among themhe recognized Clayton Miller, the man whose severe pulmonary edema he andSteven Josephson had reversed by removing almost a unit of blood. The groupcrowded into one end of the conference room. Then several people moved asideand Harry's patient Mabel Espinoza stepped forward. Two of her grandchildrenclung to her skirt.

'My name is Ms. Mabel Espinoza,' she said.Her Latino accent was dense, but no one ever had trouble understanding her. Shefaced the hearing with the stout dignity that had always made her one ofHarry's favorites. 'I am eighty-one years old. Dr. Corbett has cared for me andmy family for twenty years. I am alive today because he is such a wonderfuldoctor. Many others could say the same thing. When I am too sick, he comes tosee me at my home. When someone cannot pay, he is patient. I have signed thepetition. In less than one day, more than two hundred have signed. Thank you.'

'This was your Mary's idea,' Wetstonewhispered to Harry. 'I never thought she could do anything like this, though.'

Another woman stepped forward andintroduced herself as Doris Cummings, an elementary-school teacher in a Harlemschool. She read the petition, signed by 203 of Harry's patients, enumeratingthe reasons Harry was essential to their well-being and that of their families.

'. . If Dr. Corbett is removed from thestaff of the Manhattan Medical Center without absolute just cause,' thepetition concluded, 'we the undersigned intend to take our health care toanother hospital. If leaving the Manhattan Health HMO is necessary andpossible, we intend to do that as well. This man has been an important part ofour lives. We do not want to lose him.'

Marv Lorello whispered in Cummings's earand motioned toward Owen Erdman. Cummings circled the table and set thepetition in front of the hospital president. Across from Harry, a distinguishedwoman named Holden, who was a past president of the board of trustees, brushedaside a tear. Standing to her right Mary Tobin was beaming like a mother at herchild's graduation.

Next, Marv Lorello spoke on behalf of thedepartment of family medicine, describing Harry as an invaluable friend andpowerful example to those in the department, especially those newly inpractice. He read a statement signed by every member of the department, ineffect threatening to move their services to another facility if Harry shouldbe removed from the hospital staff without absolute, legally binding proof ofhis misconduct. He set the document on top of the petition in front of OwenErdman. Then the group trooped out of the hearing.

There was no further discussion. The votewas a formality, although two of the twelve submitting ballots did endorseHarry's removal from the staff. Caspar Sidonis left the room as soon as theresult was read.

'Dr. Corbett,' Erdman said coolly, 'thatwas an impressive show of regard for you. It would be tragic to learn that suchloyalty is not deserved. Have you anything further to say?'

'Only that I'm grateful for the vote. I aminnocent, and I intend to prove that, and to find this man. I would hope tobegin by posting this likeness around the hospital.'

'Absolutely not!' Erdman snapped. 'Mystaff will discreetly distribute that sketch to our department heads. But wewill not lay ourselves open to the public suggestion that a murderer could justwaltz into our hospital, disguise himself behind one of our floor polishers, andmurder one of our patients. I demand your promise of cooperation in thisregard.'

Harry looked over at Mel Wetstone, whosimply shrugged and nodded.

'You have my word,' Harry said.

'In that case,' Erdman concluded, 'youhave our blessing to continue with your work.'

'Are you going home?' Wetstone asked asthey headed out of the hospital.

'No, I'm headed to the office. I thinkMary deserves a lunch.'

'Dinner at the Ritz would be more likeit.'