We'll Meet Again

58

After a restless night, Fran went to the office early Thursday morning to do some background work in preparation for her noontime interview with Dr. Peter Black. She had requested that the research department have whatever biographical information they could find waiting on her desk, and she was pleased to see that it was there already.

She read through it quickly, finding it surprisingly thin and not remotely impressive. Born in Denver of working-class parents; attended local schools; had mediocre to poor grades at medical school; did a residency in Chicago at an unrated hospital, then worked as a staff doctor there. Not much of a record, she said to herself.

Which has to lead one to ask the question, why did Gary Lasch seek him out? Fran thought.

Promptly at noon she was ushered into Dr. Black’s office. She was immediately struck by the way the place was furnished. It impressed her as having a grandeur more suitable to a corporate executive than a physician, even if that physician was CEO of a hospital and health maintenance organization.

She did not know what she had expected Peter Black to be like. Maybe I anticipated something more akin to what I heard Gary Lasch was like, she thought as she shook his hand and followed him to a sitting area in front of a large picture window. A handsome leather couch, two matching armchairs, and a coffee table created a comfortable, living room atmosphere.

Gary Lasch by all accounts had been a handsome man with an engaging personality. Peter Black’s complexion was sallow, and Fran was surprised at how nervous he seemed. Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead and on his upper lip. There was a rigidity about him, especially in the way he sat on the edge of his chair. It was as if he were on guard against an anticipated attack. Although he was attempting to be courteous, there was no mistaking the stress in his voice.

He offered coffee. When Fran declined, he said, “Ms. Simmons, I have a particularly busy schedule today, and I assume you do as well, so why don’t we get straight to the point. I have agreed to see you because I wanted to emphasize in the strongest possible terms that I think it’s an outrage that in your quest for ratings you are exploiting Molly Lasch, a woman who is clearly mentally ill.”

Fran looked back at him without flinching. “I thought I was helping Molly, not exploiting her, Doctor. May I ask if your diagnosis of mental illness is based on an actual medical evaluation, or is it merely the rush to judgment that seems to be the standard reaction of all her friends?”

“Ms. Simmons, it’s clear we have nothing to say to each other.” Peter Black stood up. “If you’ll excuse me…”

Fran remained seated. “No, I’m afraid I won’t. Dr. Black, you know I drove here from Manhattan because I have some questions for you. The fact that you allowed me to come was, in my opinion, a tacit acceptance of that understanding. I do think you owe me at least ten minutes of your time.”

Grudgingly Peter Black sank back into his chair. “Ten minutes, Ms. Simmons. Not a second more.”

“Thank you. I understand from Molly that you visited her Saturday night with the Whitehalls to ask her to delay my investigation because of your pending merger with other health maintenance organizations. Is that true?”

“That is true. I also had Molly’s welfare in mind. I explained that to you.”

“Dr. Black, you knew Dr. Jack Morrow, didn’t you?”

“Certainly. He was one of our physicians.”

“Were you friends?”

“Friendly. I’d say we were friendly. We respected each other. But did we socialize? No, we did not.”

“Did you quarrel with him shortly before he died?”

“No, I did not. I understand he had words with my colleague Dr. Lasch. I believe it was over a denial of coverage of a procedure Dr. Morrow had recommended for one of his patients.”

“Did you know that he referred to you and Dr. Lasch as ‘a pair of murderers’?”

“I certainly did not, but it doesn’t surprise me. Jack was a rash man and could get very hot under the collar.”

He’s scared, Fran thought as she studied Peter Black. He’s scared, and he’s lying.

“Doctor, did you know at the time that Gary Lasch was having an affair with Annamarie Scalli?”

“I did not. I was shocked when Gary confessed to it.”

“That was only hours before he died,” Fran said. “Isn’t that true?”

“Yes, it is. It had been obvious all week that Gary was upset, and on that Sunday Cal Whitehall and I went to see him. That’s when we heard about it.” Peter Black glanced at his watch and shifted forward slightly.

He’s ready to kick me out, Fran thought. I’ve got to get a couple more questions in first, though.

“Doctor, Gary Lasch was a close friend of yours, wasn’t he?”

“Very close. We met in medical school.”

“Did you see each other regularly after medical school?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I was working in Chicago right after graduation. Gary came here as soon as he completed his residency and went into practice with his father.” He stood. “Ms. Simmons, I really must insist on getting back to work.” He turned and walked toward his desk.

Fran followed him. “Doctor, one last question. Did you ask Gary Lasch to bring you here?”

“ Gary sent for me after his father died.”

“Doctor, with all due respect, he invited you to join him as an equal partner in the institution his father founded. There were a number of excellent physicians already in the Greenwich area who surely would have bought into the practice, but he chose you, even though you had only worked as a staff doctor in a rather undistinguished Chicago hospital. What made you so special?”

Peter Black whirled to face Fran. “Get out, Ms. Simmons!” he barked. “You have extraordinary gall to come up here and make libelous insinuations when half the people in this town were victims of your father’s thievery.”

Fran winced. “Touché,” she said. “Nevertheless, Dr. Black, I don’t intend to stop looking for answers to my questions. You’re certainly not providing me with any, are you?”