“Somebody’s gotta watch, lady, while you take a leak.” He smiled while he chewed his gum intently.
Grace was just about to flush when she heard a shrill whistle— then a knock on the bathroom door.
“Grace, it’s her. Let’s move.”
“Who?”
“Somebody. Shoes gave me a signal. Come on goddamn it, get the hell out of the bathroom.”
She pulled the door open and ran to the elevator. It was waiting there for her on the third floor. It slowly moved down, two, one. Then the door opened and Grace stood face-to-face with her.
“Hi,” the woman smiled. “Is this your floor?”
The face was identical to that in the color Xerox of the hospital ID badge that Grace had seen in the discovery materials in Philadelphia. Just a little older and a little more tired. But who wouldn’t be, working through the night, caring for sick people? The same pure blue eyes, fine small nose, alabaster skin, blond hair pulled back in a barrette. And deep dimples. The dimples gave her away completely. They were like two bullet holes that appeared on command when she smiled. Even the slightest smile brought them on. “Dimples” was her nickname in the Metropolitan Hospital nursing school yearbook, which Grace had also seen in the discovery file, and which had led Maglio’s investigator to her whereabouts.
“Hi,” Grace responded breathlessly as she stepped out of the elevator, still holding the door back. “Yes. this is my floor. Sorry, I’m new in the complex.”
“That’s OK,” the woman responded politely, pushing back a strand of hair which had fallen to her face. She walked into the elevator and pressed number three. The door closed.
Grace was immediately on the cell phone. She punched in the woman’s phone number and the screen suddenly went blank. “Shit! Low battery.” Grace wanted to cry. She hit send again and the phone rang. She looked up. She could see the woman stepping out of the elevator onto the open balcony that led to her apartment. She saw the woman turn toward her apartment.
Inside the apartment, Nick picked up the phone, but said nothing.
“It’s her.” Grace’s heart was pounding. “Donna Price.”
“OK,” was all he said and then hung up.
Grace found herself on the third floor without even remembering the ride up. She saw the woman unlock the door and enter the apartment. The door closed just as Grace started to approach. She thought for a moment, gathered her courage, and knocked, wondering if they’d all wind up in the Pasadena jail.
“Yes,” the woman answered through the partly open door held back by a chain lock.
“Oh, I’m sorry to bother you,” Grace said. “I’m Grace Monahan and I just moved in today. My phone’s not connected yet. And my cell phone’s down. I have to make a quick call to the phone company. They were supposed to be here an hour ago.” She looked at her watch. “I have to leave for work in an hour. I’d hate to be gone when they arrive.”
The woman inspected her from head to toe as Grace assumed her most sugar sweet stance—shoulders slightly stooped, feet awkwardly turned in, and a smile that would melt the polar ice cap. She stared at Grace for a few seconds, saying nothing. Then she slid the chain lock off.
“Sure, come on in. I know what that’s all about. I moved here three years ago and I still have problems with big monopolies coming out to do their job. Wait till you try to get your TV connected…”
Grace stepped in and closed the door behind her. “Thanks.”
“The phone’s over here. The woman pointed to the kitchen wall phone. “By the way, I’m Jane Welles.” The woman held out her hand and Grace shook it firmly.
“Grace Monahan. You’re a nurse, I see.”
“Yes, I am. I guess you can tell from the high-fashion clothes I’m wearing.” She laughed, looking down at her white, crepe-soled shoes.
Grace smiled as she removed her hand slowly, looking about to see if there was any evidence of the others in the apartment. “Very nice place you have here, Donna.”
The woman’s face suddenly froze. “What? What did you call me?”
“Donna. Isn’t that your name? Donna? Donna Price?”
The nurse walked to the door. “Get out.”
“Not before I leave this.” Grace laid a witness subpoena on the entryway table.
“What the hell is that?” The woman snatched up the folded document.
“It’s called a subpoena. You have to come to Philadelphia to testify in the trial of Sean Riley versus Dr. Victor Manin. It starts this Friday. Three days from today. Give this to your boss.” Grace laid a copy of the subpoena down on the table. “Your airfare, wages, and hotel accommodations will be paid for by the plaintiff’s attorney.”
“That’s me.” Nick stepped into Jane’s line of vision.
“Who…who are you—and what the hell are you doing in my apartment?” Jane’s voice was rising as she grabbed her purse from the entryway table.
“I’m Nick Ceratto. I’m the attorney representing the Estate of Sean Riley, and you’re Donna Price, the other operating room nurse, and I need to talk to you.”
“I’m Jane Welles,” she insisted. “And get out of here. You’re breaking the law being in here without my consent. You just can’t break into my apartment. Who the hell do you think you are?” She would have gone on, but Nick interrupted her diatribe.
“Yes.” He removed the color copy of the ID badge from his pocket. “And so are you, breaking the law. That is, by impersonating another person, assuming someone else’s identity, Ms. Price.” He held the picture up for her to see.
“How did you get that?” she snapped.
“From hospital records provided in discovery. The defense has it, too. But…” he paused , noting how pale she had become—there wasn’t a hint of color left in her face—”I presume we were the first to arrive, uninvited. Or were we?”
Jane began to shake uncontrollably. “I need my medication or I’m going to faint.” She started rummaging in her purse, throwing the contents on the small table. She pulled out a container of pepper-mace and aimed squarely at Nick, a few inches from his face. “Get out,” she snarled, her hand trembling. “Get out or you and your friend won’t be able to see or breathe for twenty minutes.”
Shoes soundlessly stepped out of the kitchen and pushed the barrel of the Beretta into the back of Jane’s head. “Neither will you if I pull this trigger. And it’ll be a lot more than twenty minutes.”
Jane dropped the mace. Her shoulders sagged and she began to cry. “What do you want? Why are you here?” she wailed.
“I just want the truth. Just the truth, that’s all,” said Nick quietly. There was a note of sympathy in his voice. “I’m sorry we had to do this. But there are a lot of lives at stake, including yours, I’m sure you had a good reason for hiding out. I want to know why. And I want to know what went on in that operating room the day Mr. Riley died. I want to know everything.”
“OK,” Jane said defeat clearly in her voice . “You’re right. I
am
Donna Price. But show me some ID.” She wiped her eyes with her fingers trying hard to control the flow of tears. “If you’re who you say you are, I’ll talk to you. Only if I do, you have to promise to leave.”
Grace handed her a tissue and led her to the leather couch.
It was coming through loud and clear. Marty Silvio and Harry Levin listened intently as Donna Price told her story in fits and starts between sobs. The bug, hidden in the ceiling above her head, picked up every word with amazing clarity. Neither she nor the others in the room with her knew that she was broadcasting live across the country.
“He was a police officer. Dr. Manin said he wanted to see Captain Riley through the surgery. He wanted to do it himself. Dr. Manin always took a special interest in cops. His father had been one. He said that he owed something to the people who protect us. He was going to perform the surgery himself, he said, even though he was on his way out of the hospital when Captain Riley was brought in. He told one of the nurses to call his wife and tell her that he had an emergency and she was to go on ahead without him. He’d meet her at the dinner party later. Then he told me to get scrubbed and get to the OR right away. Captain Riley was already in there. He’d lost a lot of blood, but his leg had been tourniqueted and the bleeding stopped. The wound was clean and his vitals were good. He was in good spirits, although a little groggy from morphine. But he was aware of us before the general anesthetic was given. He even smiled and said hi, and thanked us for helping him—for saving his life.”
She stopped and asked for a glass of water and more tissues. Grace was quick to supply her with both and squeezed her hand for encouragement.
“The surgery went fine. It wasn’t complex. The artery wasn’t mangled. It was a clean cut. All we had to do was clamp it and suture it, which Dr. Manin did carefully, as usual. I watched. He’s been doing this kind of surgery for years. I’ve seen artists like Manin as well as butchers, but I won’t mention who. This op was as
perfect as you could get. The wound was irrigated and Manin did the close himself. Captain Riley was sent to recovery in great shape. Everything—his vitals—perfect.” She took a shuddering breath, and a quick sip of water. “I’m…I’m so afraid to go on…” Her hands shook as she clutched the glass.
Nick’s enthusiasm for the case waned with each glowing reference to Dr. Manin. Dr. Manin’s loyalty, Dr. Manin’s selflessness, Dr. Manin’s perfection. Shit, he thought, the last thing he needed was
her
on the stand. She was poison, death to the plaintiff’s case. All she had to do was smile at the jury with her dimples and show a tear in her pretty blue eyes, and he was done—finished. She would hardly have to say a word. Nick knew how it worked with a jury. They either fell in love with you and believed every word out of your mouth, or they hated you—or, just as bad, dismissed you as boring.
He got up and started to roll his shirt sleeves down and then put on his jacket
“Nick, where are you going?” Grace asked.
“I really don’t need to hear more.” He picked up the subpoenas. “Forget this. Forget you were ever served. We’re sorry to have bothered you.”
“Sorry!” Donna sprang up, her expression instantly changed. She turned on Nick like a wild animal. “You break into my apartment. Scare me half to death. Jeopardize my life by forcing me to talk, and now you say sorry, forget about it? No.” She shook her head violently. “No. You sit down,” she commanded, pointing to the sofa, “and have the decency to let me finish. Because you don’t know anything.”
Nick, amazed at the change in her demeanor, began to worry how he could hide her from the defense. Asher would have a field day with her testimony.
Fuck
, he thought. She was right. It was the least he could do—listen to the truth for a change.
“OK, but make it short. We have a plane to catch.” He looked at his watch.
She turned away from Nick and Grace and started to pace as she talked. “After the operation, Dr. Manin said he was going to change and go meet his wife, and would I please tell someone at the nurses’ station to call her. I left the OR. I was behind him. Captain Riley had already been taken to recovery. I took off my mask and phoned Mrs. Manin’s cell phone myself. I gave her the message and we joked for a few minutes about how unreliable Victor was. When it came to his home life, he always put his patients before family time and social life. I hung up and for some reason I decided to look in on Captain Riley before changing. I had planned to take a break in the nurse’s lounge. I went into recovery and there he was, asleep and looking fine. Nurse Doletov, the other nurse on duty, was with him. Nobody else was in the room. I lifted the sheet up to check the op site.” She turned quickly and stared directly at Nick. “He was bleeding badly. I yelled at Doletov to call Dr. Manin. I was going to call a code when she came at me. She dropped a pair of scissors and grabbed me. I saw blood on the scissors. I yelled at her to stop. She knocked me onto the floor and I saw her pull a syringe from her pocket. I knew it was meant to put me out, possibly permanently. I lay still for a second, and when she bent to give me the injection, I grabbed her foot and pulled it out from under her. She fell and the wind got knocked out of her. I ran to the nearest station for help— nobody was there—I called a code. No one responded. Somebody
should
have responded. And then Doletov came out of the room, yelling in Russian. And then
they
came at me—out of nowhere.”
“Wait—who came at you?” Nick found her story hard to believe.
“I don’t know who. They just started coming—two, maybe three men. I ran to an open elevator. Hit the down button. Two of the men came after me. I pushed a gurney into them—I thought I was trapped, but the gurney was heavy enough to knock the two of them off the elevator. As the doors started to close, the other one tried to hold the doors open and grab me with his other hand, so I bit it. He let go of the door, and the elevator went down. There was blood all over me and I had to spit out a piece of his skin.
My uniform was torn, and I just held it together and ran off the elevator on the first floor. I never went home. I knew they’d be waiting for me. I ran and walked four miles to my friend’s house. She lived by the art museum. She gave me a credit card, some cash, and a change of clothes. Her name was Victoria Grant…Vicki, yes, Vicki…my friend, Vicki…” Donna’s eyes had a faraway, glazed look.
“Was? Where is she now?” Grace asked gently.