Chapter 11
James mulled over all the information he’d just received from Bill Williams. Just made things more blurry. How was he going to sort this stuff out? James had at least two suspects without solid evidence for either. He’d just have to be patient and wait for the blood tests. If they could find blood on Mr. Dan Fields, they’d have a shot at finding something to link the deaths.
The next week passed quickly. James saw more colors and patterns of tile than he ever knew existed. Abbey remained ecstatic with the remodeling. She reigned supreme in her elements as she directed cabinet makers, floor layers, painters, and others. Her genius a flow of work and organization made the job smoothly. Stan said they ought to be finished with the whole job in about another two weeks.
James waited for the lab results from Skinner. He controlled himself. He knew Josiah would call the minute he heard anything. Fortunately, they’d found a frozen clot of blood at the hospital from Mr. Fields. The clot lay forgotten in the back of the blood bank freezer. Usually, they discarded clots after two weeks. Providentially, the clot lay forgotten.
James just finished his morning clinic when Laura buzzed him that Dr Skinner was on the line for him. James grabbed his phone, hit the hold button, and began, “What have you got, Josiah?”
“Well, we have good news and bad news,” began Skinner.
“What’s the good news first,” asked James.
“Good news is they had enough blood to do a total screen for toxicology. They looked at every known poison we could think about,” said Skinner.
“And the bad news?” said James his grip tightening on the phone.
“There is no poison present. Stone cold normal. Negative. Clean as a whistle. Even the insulin levels in Bessie were normal range for her therapy,” finished Skinner.
“So, what could it be,” inquired James.
“It has to be something that is either so new we can’t detect it or part of the normal body chemistry we can’t trace very well,” replied Skinner.
“What do think it is?” persisted James.
“Not sure yet, James. Could be potassium overdose. It works neatly to cause arrhythmias, heart block, and asystole. Can’t trace it. Potassium chloride is readily available in the hospital since it is not a controlled substance. Every medical floor stocks it. Could bolus it into the IV stop cock or just add it to the hanging bag of fluids. Open up the rate of flow, and, bingo. . .cardiac death. Still, could be some new-fangled poison we don’t have a handle on yet,” said Skinner grimly.
“Potassium would make sense, wouldn’t it? But do you think that is a good possibility,” asked James.
‘All the patients had IV’s didn’t they? They all had the same nurse didn’t they? They aall were non-paying patients. I think someone needs to visit John Edwards and talk to him about Sue Wilson,” began Skinner.
“Alright. I’ll try again. I’ll call you back later after I talk with Edwards,” said James with doubt in voice.
James felt sickened. He knew in his heart Skinner might be right. The perfect poison to use would be potassium chloride. A quick bolus would stop the heart and no one would be the wiser. Diabolical. But, was Sue or Wil capable of such action? James found himself honestly not knowing. Or could there be some other newer poison?
He picked up his phone. Edwards should still be in his office if he hadn’t left for lunch yet. Frank answered the phone.
“Madison County Sheriff’s Department, Deputy Thompson. May I help you?” asked Deputy Thompson.
“Yes, Frank you may. I need to talk with John if he’s there,” asked James briskly.
“Sure. He’s right here. I’ll patch you right through,” said Deputy Thompson.
“Edwards here,” crackled over the line from John Edwards. “What can I do for you Doc?”
“I just found out some information I think you need to have about the Mary O’Brien case and a possible link to other deaths,” said James forcefully.
James felt the tension vibrate through the line, “Whoa now! You mean you still are pokin’ around that O’Brien case and now you’ve got other deaths? I think you’re a little obsessed about all this Doc,” rumbled the Sheriff.
“Could you just listen to me for a minute,” shot back James trying not to become angry.
“Cool down, Doc. I’m listenin’ to ya. Give me the whole story and let me be the judge of criminal activity,” said the Sheriff.
‘Self serving prig,’ thought James. He shared patiently, “Dr Skinner and I took the liberty of investigating the mysterious deaths of a couple of patients at St Francis by doing some blood toxicology. We also matched up the nursing schedules with Mary O’Brien’s death and these other deaths. We believe we have enough evidence to at least open an inquiry,” finished James.
“What did ya find from the blood tests?” asked the Sheriff.
“Nothing,” responded James.
“Nothing? What kind of answer is that? What can we do with nothing? You expect me to reopen a closed case and initiate a murder investigation with nothing?” shouted Edwards. “You’re wasting my time again, Phelan. Don’t talk to me about this anymore. You understand! You are loony! Leave it be! Goodbye!” Edwards bellowed as he slammed down the receiver down.
“But, I. . .,” trailed off James. He should have known that Edwards would not listen. And James never even had a chance to share the nursing schedule information concerning Sue Wilson or the suspicions about Wil McAllister. James buried his head in his hands. Maybe he and Josiah were crazy? Maybe they over read the whole thing? He’d call Skinner after work.
James spent the rest of the afternoon depressed. The staff sensed his gloom but couldn’t shake him out of his low mood. Laura, the receptionist, even told him a stale, old joke to try and cajole him. Nothing helped.
James ended the clinic and called Skinner, “Hello, Josiah. Talked with Edwards and he hung up on me.”
“Nothing surprised. Guess we ought to look at it from his standpoint. We look crazy telling him about negative lab tests and our suspicions. Not to mention that he’d have to admit to mishandling Mary O’Brien’s case. That’d bruise his ego for sure. No, we need something more concrete than what we have,” replied Skinner.