“Even the autopsy,” said Bellows, “doesn’t always provide the answers. There are plenty of deaths where the exact cause is never determined whether they do an autopsy or not. I happen to know that two patients threw in the towel today, and I doubt very much if a diagnosis will be made.”
“Why do you think that the diagnosis won’t be made?” asked Susan.
“Because both patients expired from respiratory arrest. They apparently just stopped breathing, very calmly with no warning. They were just discovered dead. And in respiratory arrest you don’t always find anything to hang the blame on.”
Bellows had captured Susan’s interest. She was staring at him without moving, without blinking.
“Are you OK?” asked Bellows, waving his hand in front of her face. Still Susan did not move until she looked down at the IBM printout.
“What the hell do you have, psychomotor epilepsy or something?” asked Bellows.
Susan looked up at him. “Epilepsy? No, of course not You said these cases today died of respiratory arrest?”
“Apparently. I mean they stopped breathing. They just gave up.”
“What were they in the hospital for?”
“I’m not positive. I think one of them was in for some problem with his leg. Maybe he had phlebitis and they might find a pulmonary embolus or something. The other one was in for Bell’s palsy.”
“Were they both on I.V.s?”
“I don’t remember but I wouldn’t be surprised if they had been. Why do you ask?”
Susan bit her lower lip, thinking about what Bellows had just told her.
“Mark, do you know something? These deaths you mentioned could be related to the coma victims.” Susan patted the printout with the back of her hand. “You might have hit on something. What were the names? Can you remember?”
“For Christ’s sake, Susan, you’ve got this thing on the brain. You’re working overtime and you’re starting to have delusions.” Bellows switched to an artificially concerned tone. “Don’t be concerned, though; it happens to the best of us after we’ve stayed up for two or three nights in a row.”
“Mark, I’m serious.”
“I know you’re serious, that’s what worries me. Why don’t you give yourself a break and forget about it for a day or so? Then you can pick it up and be more objective. I tell you what. I’ve got tomorrow night off and with a little luck I can get out of here by seven. How about some dinner? You’ve only been here a day but you have to get away from the hospital as much as I do.”
Bellows hadn’t planned on asking Susan out quite so soon and in such a fashion. But he was pleased because it had come so apparently spontaneously and consequently it would be easy to deal with a refusal if it occurred. It sounded more like an offer to get together than an actual date.
“Dinner’s fine, can’t pass up an offer for a dinner even with an invertebrate. But really, Mark, what were the names of the two deaths today?”
“Crawford and Ferrer. They were patients on Beard 6.”
Susan pursed her lips as she wrote the names down in her notebook. “I’ll have to look into those in the morning. In fact …” Susan looked at her” watch “… maybe tonight. If they were going to do an autopsy on these cases, when would it be?”
“Probably tonight or first thing in the morning,” shrugged Bellows.
“Well then I better check tonight.”
Susan refolded her printout.
“Thanks, Mark, old boy; you’ve been a help again.”
“Again?”
“Yeah. Thanks for those articles you Xeroxed for me. You’ll make a good secretary someday.”
“Up yours.”
“Tut, tut. See you tomorrow night. How about the Ritz? I haven’t eaten there for several weeks,” teased Susan, heading for the door.
“Not so fast, Susan. I’ll see you at rounds in the morning at six-thirty. Remember our deal. I’ll cover for you another day if you come to rounds.”
“Mark, you’ve been such a dear, really. Let’s not louse it up so soon.” Susan smiled and pulled some of her hair across her face with coquettish exaggeration. “I’ll be up till all hours reading all this material you got for me. I need one more full day. We’ll discuss it further tomorrow night.”