The Pain Nurse - [29]

Now he sat in a small conference room with Dodds and the head of hospital security. He was a former cop named Stan Berkowitz. Will never knew him well. He was always in patrol and had risen to sergeant. He had retired at fifty, but he looked ten years younger, right down to his fine suit, sculpted chin, and perfect haircut. He looked like a congressman.

Dodds said, “Stan ‘Don’t Call Me David’ Berkowitz.” Will chuckled, knowing Berkowitz hated the nickname.

“I made ninety-five thousand last year,” he said. “So screw you both.” He still talked like a cop. “Why are you still putting up with the shit out there when you could retire, get a pension, then start to make real money. Private sector loves retired cops for security gigs. They give you respect, too.”

Dodds said, “So how’d this guy get in the hospital with a knife, now that you got respect and all.”

“Welcome to my world.” Berkowitz opened his hands and smiled gently. “We do a lot of Medicaid cases here. This isn’t Indian Hill. We knew about Lennie, of course. Leonard Snowden Williams Jr.-he sounds like chairman of Procter and Gamble, huh? He had been a patient. He was homeless. He would sometimes get inside. That’s not uncommon, especially in the wintertime. We have to run them out of the old boiler room, the closed wings. We do what we can, what with budget cuts and all. We had to lay off nine security officers last year. There’s no money for screening devices at the doors. That wouldn’t be practical anyway. There’s always risks. We have a risk-management officer, know that? Some things fall between the cracks.”

“Like security for the basement wing where Dr. Lustig was killed,” Will said.

Berkowitz shifted his jawline to Will. “What the hell happened to you, Borders?”

“Bad back,” Dodds said, studying the knife through the plastic of a large evidence bag. Will stared at it, guessing it was a Ka-Bar brand, carbon steel blade, maybe seven inches long. It looked smaller in the bag than when it was being thrust over his head. He realized he hadn’t exhaled.

“We thought Lennie was harmless…” Berkowitz started.

“Did you know Christine Lustig?” Will asked.

Berkowitz paused, seemed thrown off stride. “Sure. They wrote her up in last month’s newsletter, the big computer project she was doing. She was a surgeon. So I saw her around. And, well. She was…well, hell, she was an attractive woman. You know how it is. I noticed her.”

“Did she know Lennie?”

Berkowitz pushed out his chest, knocking his tie aside. “What the hell, Borders, you’re a patient. Why are you asking questions?”

“Indulge us,” Dodds said.

“Oh, I get it, the great salt-and-pepper homicide team, back together again. How would I know if she knew him?”

“Maybe,” Will said, “you could check his records here, see if she ever treated him. Maybe there was a connection.” Will was surprised Dodds was letting him talk. He already knew there was no chance Lennie had killed Christine Lustig. He said, “Did you investigate any threats against Dr. Lustig in the months before she was murdered?”

“I thought the hospital president himself had already talked to the police. He came down here the night Dr. Lustig was, well, killed.”

“I didn’t see you that night,” Dodds said.

“The president talked to me. We thought everything that could be done was being done. I didn’t need to be in the way… You wouldn’t believe the bureaucratic crap we have here. Just like being with the cops, only more meetings. Anyway, I thought this was already resolved. You’ve got the man. It was obviously Lennie.” Berkowitz shifted imperceptibly, pushing back the chair slightly and running a hand across his congressional hair. Will had learned how cops showed discomfort during interviews.

“So what about it, Stan? Had she?” Dodds’ large almond eyes were innocent with inquiry. Suddenly it felt to Will like the old days, where they would double-team a suspect.

“Well, I’d have to check the records.”

“Didn’t you do that after the murder?” Will asked.

The sweat appeared on the sides of Berkowitz’s neck, an odd place. But it was definitely sweat. “Damn, do you have any idea? Can we go off the record here?”

Neither Will nor Dodds spoke, but just as they knew he would, Berkowitz filled the gap of silence. “There’s a huge issue of liability for the hospital here. Do you have any idea how much we could be sued for if it came out that Lustig had been threatened and the hospital didn’t do enough to protect her? You know how lawyers twist everything.” He swiveled toward Will and his mouth crooked down. “You know, you got kicked out of homicide and ended up on the rat squad. You twist cops’ words all the time. Why am I even talking to you?” By now he was sweating enough that it had broken through the light-blue dress shirt.

Will said, “So she had been threatened?”

“Phone calls, all right. Somebody was calling her office line. Mostly hang-ups.”

Dodds said, “Mostly?”

Berkowitz leaned forward, his face pinched. “We’re off the record, remember? Right? I’ve got a good thing here.”

“What is mostly?” Will demanded. Berkowitz’s youthful face started dissolving into wrinkles.