The Pain Nurse - [22]

“So there’s a good chance he won’t be adequately medicated,” she said. “I’m going to go back and check on him, post-surgery.”

“That’s good,” he said, pausing to lean against a wall, his voice assuming its full freight-train tone. “If his doc isn’t doing the right thing, you do what you need, and you have my verbal orders.” He looked around and spoke more quietly. “The last thing we want is to have another African American kid screaming in pain in this hospital. Lord, this city is so tense. They won’t admit it, of course. Everybody is so nice in Cincinnati.” He paused. “They could have used you in peds today.”

“I can’t do peds.” She spoke quickly.

“I know.” He gave a gentle smile. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Me? I’m all right.”

“I know, you’re the tough one. But your job can get pretty lonely. Why don’t you come up with me to the stroke floor? They’re having their Christmas party tonight.”

“Maybe I will, if I’m not persona non grata. Stephanie Ott is out to get me.” Cheryl Beth said it lightly but the words still sounded dark. She sighed. “Things aren’t right.”

“With Stephanie?” He gave his trademark rumbling laugh. “Nothing is ever right with Stephanie. Don’t worry about her. I’ve got your back.”

“It’s not just that. Someone was digging through my desk. The whole vibe here seems different. And I found footprints in my flower bed, right by my window.”

“Maybe it was the meter reader?”

“No, the meter is in back. And they only appeared in the last couple of days.”

“It wasn’t me.” He winked. “It’s probably nothing, Cheryl Beth. Still, you ought to talk to the police.”

“It was the first thing I did!” She heard her voice rising and slowed herself down. “They blew me off. They wouldn’t even come out, just said call if I see a prowler. Damn it, they think I killed Christine.”

“No.”

“Pretty damned close.” She slumped against the wall, suddenly exhausted. “They say I could be ‘a person of interest.’ Isn’t that what it means? I always hear that on TV and those are the people who end up being the killers.”

He patted her shoulder and spoke quietly. “Nobody thinks you would hurt Christine.” He paused. “I do have to say, jeez, baby, Gary Nagle? If you were going to do that, I should have been hitting on you harder all these years.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hell, does everybody in the hospital know about this?”

“Of course not.” He waited a beat. “Of course.”

She laughed with him but felt the rough stone of exposure pulling her down. What an insane thing, getting together with Gary, going for a drink with him that windy spring night, letting him kiss her underneath the streetlight. She tried to push the memory away.

“Maybe you need a vacation,” he said. “I can’t afford you to burn out.”

Her immediate reaction was defensive, but she knew he meant her well. “Oh, Dr. Carpenter, you know how it is. Sometimes it’s so sad. Sometimes something wonderful happens. A patient gets good news or makes you laugh. I always think, no matter how bad the news, at least I can control their pain.”

They walked again, in the direction of the cafeteria, moving to the edge of the hallway as five people walked past, closely bunched together. It was obviously a family, three generations of women, the oldest looking a little older than Cheryl Beth. Eyes red with tears and faces stretched with fatigue, they bunched together in their thick winter coats as if any straggler would be pulled irretrievably into the deep space.

“Dr. Carpenter, who would want to hurt Christine?”

“Want me to make a list?”

“I’m serious.”

He said nothing until they were in an empty hallway again. “Christine was a big personality, as you know. People loved her or hated her. Well, no, that’s not true. People tolerated her or hated her. She didn’t have many friends. You tangled with her, remember? When you were trying to get us away from using so much Demerol, using all your charm and all your data, she went ballistic. That was classic Christine.”

“I’d actually forgotten that. There was another time, too. She told me her patient was being a problem, and I said, ‘Dr. Lustig, the problem is how you’re writing the orders.’ She was way under-prescribing for this particular patient, who was just moaning, really hurting. The nurses were afraid to cross her. I wanted to say, ‘You’re killing people with these PCAs,’ but I didn’t. Great. These will be more reasons for the cops to suspect me.”

He chuckled. “If arguing with Christine Lustig was a crime, I’d be under the jail. I knew her for fifteen years, and I can’t think of one day when she wasn’t after somebody. The truth is, she was brisk…well, beyond brisk, because usually she was right. I saw her stand toe-to-toe with the big guys many times, and that wasn’t easy for a female doc of her generation. On top of all that, she was gorgeous and knew it. My God, those cheekbones…”

He stared wistfully. “She felt entitled and she was incredibly competitive. She and Gary were both that way. It’s amazing they didn’t kill each other. Guess I shouldn’t say that. I thought she was a gifted surgeon, especially on gall bladders and GI stuff. But she was kind of a technician, if you know what I mean. Her people skills with patients sometimes left a lot to be desired. Let’s just say she didn’t have your emotional IQ. Not to speak ill of the dead.”