Read Online Deadly Diversion: A Medical Thriller by Eleanor Sullivan - Free Book Online
Authors: Eleanor Sullivan
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me any questions. And besides, I said I wasn’t here when Mr. Guardino died.”
“So what made him want to see me, you tell me that.”
“What did he ask you?”
“I haven’t seen him yet. He’s waiting downstairs right now.”
“It’s probably the same reason he came to see me. He’s just trying to placate the family.”
She took a breath. “Maybe...”
“Are you going to talk to him?”
“It looks too suspicious if I refuse,” she said, biting a corner of her tongue. “But I’m going to have our attorney with me, that’s for sure.”
“It’s going to be all right, Judyth,” I said. She did have a tough job; everything that went wrong in patient care circled back to her eventually.
“Okay, Monika, I’ll let you go this time.”
Let me go?
“I won’t write you up for it, but you make sure you never talk to a lawyer without legal and me with you. Understand?”
Write me up? For what? My sympathy for her fizzled.
AS I NEARED the round table in the corner of the bar, the conversation dropped off suddenly. All the nurses from ICU had been invited to hear Serena’s boyfriend play in the band at Bubba’s Bourbon Street, a New Orleans-style hangout. On the mural behind the table a laughing jester cavorted among Mardi Gras revelers. Art Deco posters adorned the adjoining wall, interspersed with feather-decked masks, their delicate ribbons fluttering in the breeze of ceiling fans that kept the smoke-ladened air moving. A favorite of local St. Louisans, Bubba’s was crowded, as it was most evenings.
Only Serena, Tim, Laura and Peggy, who used to work in ICU, had shown up so far. The table was full so I pulled up a chair from the next table, and they squeezed together to make room.
I gave everyone a nod as I sat down, adding a small smile for Tim. He kept his face blank. Others shuffled in their seats or looked around the room. The band was apparently on break.
I broke the silence. “Glad you could join us, Peggy,” I said. Peggy had transferred from ICU to psychiatry after she had returned to St. T’s following treatment for drug dependency. She had said there were fewer narcotics in psychiatry and, more importantly, less stress.
“I gotta go,” Tim said, dropping a five on the table. He left with a quick glance at me.
“What’s wrong with him?” Peggy asked. Statuesque with a rosy complexion and aubum-hued brown hair, Peggy wore a turquoise short-sleeved camp shirt with white capri pants.
“It’s about the union,” Serena said, glancing sheepishly at me. “We were talking about it before you came in.”
“I figured as much,” I told her.
“He had just told us to not be swayed by the insurance that administration offered us,” Peggy said, referring to the announcement that had come with our last paycheck about how the hospital was now providing life insurance in the amount of our annual salary. “Tim said it was just a way to pretend they were trying to be fair. For myself, I’d rather have more money in my paycheck,” Peggy said to the table. “Not for my sister after I die.”
A blast of hot air hit us as the door opened and Bart walked in, his arm around a woman with short, dirty-blond hair cut pixie- style. She wore cutoffs, a snug yellow top that almost reached her waist and sandals. Bart’s navy T-shirt stretched tight across his muscular chest, and he wore khaki pants and loafers without socks. They pulled up more chairs and crowded around the table. Finally, Bart let go of his companion.
Laura said hello to them.
I introduced myself to the woman, whose name was Lisa.
“Lisa’s a nurse in the E.R. and helped us out one day last week when you were off,” Laura explained. “She’s Bart’s fiancee.”
“Girlfriend,” Bart corrected.
“Anyone else coming?” I asked.
“Jessie isn’t,” Serena said as a bored-looking waitress propped a small black tray on her hip and stood waiting, pencil poised over her order pad.
“Margarita,” Lisa said
“So what made him want to see me, you tell me that.”
“What did he ask you?”
“I haven’t seen him yet. He’s waiting downstairs right now.”
“It’s probably the same reason he came to see me. He’s just trying to placate the family.”
She took a breath. “Maybe...”
“Are you going to talk to him?”
“It looks too suspicious if I refuse,” she said, biting a corner of her tongue. “But I’m going to have our attorney with me, that’s for sure.”
“It’s going to be all right, Judyth,” I said. She did have a tough job; everything that went wrong in patient care circled back to her eventually.
“Okay, Monika, I’ll let you go this time.”
Let me go?
“I won’t write you up for it, but you make sure you never talk to a lawyer without legal and me with you. Understand?”
Write me up? For what? My sympathy for her fizzled.
AS I NEARED the round table in the corner of the bar, the conversation dropped off suddenly. All the nurses from ICU had been invited to hear Serena’s boyfriend play in the band at Bubba’s Bourbon Street, a New Orleans-style hangout. On the mural behind the table a laughing jester cavorted among Mardi Gras revelers. Art Deco posters adorned the adjoining wall, interspersed with feather-decked masks, their delicate ribbons fluttering in the breeze of ceiling fans that kept the smoke-ladened air moving. A favorite of local St. Louisans, Bubba’s was crowded, as it was most evenings.
Only Serena, Tim, Laura and Peggy, who used to work in ICU, had shown up so far. The table was full so I pulled up a chair from the next table, and they squeezed together to make room.
I gave everyone a nod as I sat down, adding a small smile for Tim. He kept his face blank. Others shuffled in their seats or looked around the room. The band was apparently on break.
I broke the silence. “Glad you could join us, Peggy,” I said. Peggy had transferred from ICU to psychiatry after she had returned to St. T’s following treatment for drug dependency. She had said there were fewer narcotics in psychiatry and, more importantly, less stress.
“I gotta go,” Tim said, dropping a five on the table. He left with a quick glance at me.
“What’s wrong with him?” Peggy asked. Statuesque with a rosy complexion and aubum-hued brown hair, Peggy wore a turquoise short-sleeved camp shirt with white capri pants.
“It’s about the union,” Serena said, glancing sheepishly at me. “We were talking about it before you came in.”
“I figured as much,” I told her.
“He had just told us to not be swayed by the insurance that administration offered us,” Peggy said, referring to the announcement that had come with our last paycheck about how the hospital was now providing life insurance in the amount of our annual salary. “Tim said it was just a way to pretend they were trying to be fair. For myself, I’d rather have more money in my paycheck,” Peggy said to the table. “Not for my sister after I die.”
A blast of hot air hit us as the door opened and Bart walked in, his arm around a woman with short, dirty-blond hair cut pixie- style. She wore cutoffs, a snug yellow top that almost reached her waist and sandals. Bart’s navy T-shirt stretched tight across his muscular chest, and he wore khaki pants and loafers without socks. They pulled up more chairs and crowded around the table. Finally, Bart let go of his companion.
Laura said hello to them.
I introduced myself to the woman, whose name was Lisa.
“Lisa’s a nurse in the E.R. and helped us out one day last week when you were off,” Laura explained. “She’s Bart’s fiancee.”
“Girlfriend,” Bart corrected.
“Anyone else coming?” I asked.
“Jessie isn’t,” Serena said as a bored-looking waitress propped a small black tray on her hip and stood waiting, pencil poised over her order pad.
“Margarita,” Lisa said
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