The Loveable Resident Chapter 9

All Rights Reserved
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan 2018, 2019


"Chapter Nine

MANHATTAN WAS DELUGED WITH a torrential rainstorm that morning when Jonathan told Mike to return to New Haven. At the heart of downtown Manhattan, the traffic was snarled more than usual. There were no police to help guide the motorists through the maelstrom of gridlocked traffic that morning. More than a few disgruntled motorists laid on their horns and expressed their frustrations with uttered curses. A few blocks from the building where Henderson kept his office, a subway train disgorged a flood of passengers, and soon, they emerged from the bowels of the subway station and poured into the street. Umbrellas flickered into view. A lone figure emerged last from the stairs and walked purposely toward the side entrance of Henderson’s building. He was clad in a black raincoat, slicked wet from the rain. A dark fedora hid his face from view. He made his way to the elevator and rode up to the eighth floor. The hallway was dark at this time of the day. Henderson’s office was quiet. There was no secretary or receptionist at the front desk. Henderson’s door was closed as the man approached. He tapped on the door, then opened it. Henderson was seated, facing the window while speaking on the phone. “I’m sure things will be OK from this point on, Missy dear. Take a few days off. Come and stay with Marjorie and me over the weekend.” Henderson heard a creak behind him and looked around. “Oh, I have to go. See you this weekend, then? Yes, see you in Branford, then. Bye.” Henderson looked at the man finally. “I received your report. What more is there?”
 “Police have no idea who killed Levy.” The man’s voice was rough. “I need to get out of the East Coast.” “Are you sure they don’t know?” Henderson ignored the request implied. “Yes, I’m sure. They know that Levy was an SOB. Nobody’s that eager to help the cops find who offed him.” He leaned forward. “I’m leaving town, and I need to get my cut.” “And you’ll get it.” “Do you know if anyone else saw what happened?” “I was the only one who saw. I wanted to get Levy before Oates got him. Like you ordered, boss.” “What happened? Why didn’t you get him first?” “Levy’s an athlete. He runs like the wind.” The man frowned. “He was too fast for me. When I got there, Oates was there first. There was an argument. Then I saw Oates had a knife. It went quick.” “But after?” “Oates dragged the body out of view. He left like hell was after him.” “And then what did you do?” “I looked around and saw nobody. Levy was still alive when I got to him.” Henderson leaned back and steepled his fingers together. “OK. You finished him off.” The man grunted. “He would have bled out.” “But you finished him off.” Henderson’s eyes were sharp on him. “I did,” he replied finally. Henderson opened a drawer and took out a thick envelope. He looked at it for a moment and then gave it to the man in the black raincoat. “Here’s your cut. I don’t want to see you again.” “You got it, boss.” The door closed shut, leaving Henderson silent in the darkness. The unit was having a lull that morning. Morning meds had been dispensed. The OR was now taking care of the surgical patients that were scheduled for their respective procedures. Two nurses were manning the nurses’ station, and one of them had hung up her cell phone. She sighed and smiled sadly. “I am so ready for this weekend,” she uttered. “So am I, Missy,” said her companion, Karen Challoner. “What are
your plans?” Her smile was polite. Karen was a bit more senior to Missy and had a more sensible outlook, which served her well on the unit. Karen had a shock of blonde hair, slightly mussed and gray strands peeking through. Her face was a bit stern, borne of the duties of her job. Her eyes were blue, and she wore little makeup, unlike Missy who wore the latest in colors. “Oh, a friend asked me to spend the weekend with him and his wife in his house in Branford,” Missy said with pride. “He’s a pretty wealthy guy, a friend of the family. Known him for years.” “Nice!” Missy closed the binder she had in front of her. “I just wish I could tell when Mike comes back. If he gets back Friday, I could ask him to come with me.” “Mike Oates?” Karen replied. “He’s on vacation, I heard.” “Yes. I wish I knew earlier when he was going out of town.” “Sounds like you and he are serious, then?” “I think we are,” Missy replied, her lips pursed. “I heard he’s a Romeo around here.” Karen rolled her eyes. She had a low opinion of Mike Oates. She thought Mike was a bit of a suck-up, someone who carried the water for the one who gave the most favors, and that was “Lead” Bartholomew. Karen suppressed a snort and ended up coughing. “No way. He’s my Romeo.” “OK.” Karen shrugged. “Oh, I see Mrs. Plank is needing a nurse.” She nodded at the blinking lights on the monitor. “I’ll go find what she needs.” Missy nodded in agreement and then sighed again. Karen made her way to Mrs. Plank’s room and found that the patient was in need of her pain medication. She administered the medication and left Mrs. Plank’s room and almost bumped into Corcoran. “Hey, sorry, Karen!” Corcoran said, folding his flip notebook and tucking it into his pocket. “Kind of a quiet morning, eh?” he said with a slight grin. “It’s all good, Cor,” she said, smiling. She liked Corcoran. Her face became more radiant as she looked at him. She wished there were more jolly doctors like Cor. To keep the conversation going, she asked, “How are your patients doing, by the way?”
 “Oh, they’ll live another day,” he said, strolling down the hall with her. “I’m also taking care of Mike Oates’s patients.” There was a twist in his mouth. “Damn Mike for taking off with short notice. Didn’t know his mom was sick.” “Oh. So when is he due back?” “I don’t know. Guess that is up to how his mom is doing.” “I heard he’s up for the chief residency spot.” “Yes,” Corcoran replied. “He’s on the make, that Mike.” “On more ways than one,” Karen said softly. “Are you interested in him too?” Karen laughed scornfully. “No. Missy’s cornered that market, I think. I don’t like men on the make,” she said with a sniff. “Missy’s in for a lot of heartache,” Corcoran said. “I don’t think Mike’s ready to settle down. Not for a while.” “Yes, I think you’re right.” In companionable silence, they walked back to the nurses’ station. When Karen and Corcoran returned to the nurses’ station, Leo Bartholomew was pacing the floor in front of the desk. He looked up at them impatiently and then rapped his pen on the counter. “Ms. Challoner, you do know that I am having open heart surgery tomorrow morning at 7:30 a.m.?” His voice seemed calm, but his eyes were blue and icy. Karen summoned up her reserve of strength to reply. Lead (as they called him) was not in a happy mood. “I need to check the schedule, Dr. Barth—” “No need for you to trouble yourself. I myself checked the schedule, and I am telling you now that I need Patricia Steele to be my rotating nurse on the operation.” He leaned toward her. “Why did you not schedule Mrs. Steele to be in my surgery team tomorrow? You know very well that my team is sacrosanct. Nobody can substitute themselves, and nobody can be given leave to be absent without my express permission.” Corcoran muttered something, “I just remembered I need to be somewhere else now.” He shrunk away and disappeared in a short minute. Karen straightened her slim shoulders and stared back at Bartholomew. “Doctor, I am aware that you prefer to have your . . . sacrosanct team . . . intact when you need to perform your open hearts, but—”
“Then tell me why Patricia isn’t in this roster?” He motioned toward the clipboard in his hand. “I don’t know, Dr. Bartholomew.” She knew he would hate her reply. And he did. “I don’t accept that reply. I want answers. If I have to have someone else, I am going to have to reschedule this. It will take a bloody lot of finagling to reschedule these things as they are too bloody important to delay. Now find Mrs. Steele, and have her do what she needs to do to be in my team at seven thirty a.m. sharp tomorrow. Is that understood?” Karen bit back a retort, and then to her horror, she realized she was about to burst into tears. She hated that and clenched her jaw. “Yes, Dr. Bartholomew. I’ll keep you posted.” “No need. I will expect her to show up tomorrow. I will be very unhappy if she doesn’t show up.” With that, he stepped away and walked off unhurriedly to his office. Karen watched his back as he went away, and then finally, she sat down in the nearest chair. She looked around and saw that nobody was there at the station. It was eerily quiet. She picked up the schedule and saw that, indeed, Steele was missing from the team roster. Karen took up the telephone and dialed a number. “Hello, Steele?” she said in an even voice. “Karen Challoner here. Listen, I somehow missed putting you on Bartholomew’s open heart tomorrow. By any chance, can you be there at seven thirty a.m. sharp?” She waited for the response. Then she lifted her eyes to heaven and uttered a silent thank-you. “Good. I will put you down. Goodbye.” Karen sat back and slumped in her chair. Corcoran came back and looked at her with pity. “How did it go?” he asked quietly. “It went. She’s able to do it. I’m ready to fall apart. Why the stupid, bloody temperamental son of a bitch—” “Careful, he’s within earshot.” “Well, I am going to be pretty frank with you, Cor. If that man weren’t so damned good at what he does, I would be the first person to give him a piece of my mind for his ridiculous ‘sacrosanct’ nonsense.” “Well, at least he’s not unhappy that Oates isn’t assisting him on it.” Corcoran lifted an ironic eyebrow.
 “Oh, potty on Mike Oates,” she said, finally snapping into some semblance of poise. “I need a drink. And I have three more hours to go here.” “Just call off and say you’ve been ‘leaded.’ The office will understand. They hate him too.” Karen looked up at him. “You think they’ll understand? I am not just one mealy-mouthed nurse that cavils when people like him throw their weight around, you know? I’m supposed to have some experience dealing with this.” “So what do you want to do now?” “I don’t know. I’m finally getting back my scattered thoughts.” Karen took the pen next to the roster and wrote Nurse Steele’s name in the list. “I am glad I don’t have to be part of his team.” “I remember he threw a scalpel at Oates one day in surgery. Oates hated him for it. It wasn’t really that he purposely threw it at Oates, but, well, he was in the way. He didn’t fancy using the scalpel—wrong type— and it just got into Oates’s way.” Corcoran chuckled. “I thought Oates was going to brain him then and there. And Lead said nothing—not even acknowledged what he did. I think Oates was fit to be tied for the rest of the surgery. Although Oates did something really interesting.” “What was that?” “When Lead wanted to have a break, Oates volunteered to monitor the patient while Lead went to change his scrubs. It had way too much blood on it. Pretty awful case, you see. Lead likes to keep himself above it all, you know.” Corcoran smiled at the memory. “Oates wasn’t the type to do that sort of thing. It’s an intern’s job to do that. But he did it, and Lead said yes. Oates looked at me with a hint of a smile and then did as he was told.” “I can’t stand Oates. He’s such a suck-up,” Karen said with an edge to her voice. “Yes, well, Lead remembers these things. I suppose Lead knew what he was doing to Oates then. Those two, well, they seem to be cut from the same cloth. Oh hell, there goes my beeper!” He silenced his beeper and stared at it. “Time to talk to Mr. Frobischer. He’s keen on leaving today. I have to sign off on his dispatch paperwork.” Corcoran ambled off, leaving Karen strangely calm."