“I don’t think Dr. Nelson would be interested,” said Susan.
“Why is that?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. To tell the truth, I already spoke with Dr. Nelson. So I already know he’s not interested. And he wasn’t the only one. I mentioned my ideas to another department head and I thought I was going to get swatted like some naughty child that needed chastising. Trying to incorporate that episode into the whole picture, I get a feeling that something else could be operating here.”
“And what is that?” asked Stark, glancing over the figures Susan had provided.
“Well, I don’t know what word to use … foul play … or something sinister.”
Susan stopped talking quite suddenly, expecting either laughter or anger. But Stark merely rotated in his chair, looking out over the city again.
“Foul play. You do have an imagination, Dr. Wheeler, no doubt about that.”
Stark turned back toward the room, rising up and walking around his desk.
“Foul play,” he repeated. “I must admit I’d never even considered that.” Stark had been briefed only that morning about Cowley’s discovery of the drugs in locker 338; that information had disturbed him. He leaned against his desk and looked down at Susan.
“If you think about foul play, motive becomes of paramount importance. And there just isn’t any motive for such a series of heartbreaking episodes. They are too dissimilar. And coma? You’d have to implicate some very clever psychopath operating on a premise that’s beyond rationality. But the biggest problem with the idea of foul play is that it would be impossible in the OR. There are too many people involved who are watching the patient too closely.
“Certainly investigative activities should be carried out with an open mind, but I don’t think foul play is possible in this instance. But, I must admit, I had not thought of it.”
“Actually,” said Susan, “I hadn’t planned on suggesting foul play to you, but I’m glad that I did so that I can forget it. But back to the problem itself. If antibody screening is too expensive, the chart review and interviews would, be comparatively cheap. I could take that on myself, except I’d need a little help from you.”
“What kind of help?”
“First of all, I’d need to have authorization to use the computer. That’s number one. Secondly, I’d need authorization to get the charts. Thirdly, I may have run into a problem downstairs.”
“What kind of a problem?”
“Dr. Harris. He’s the one who blew his cool. I think he intends to have my surgical rotation here at the Memorial cut short. It seems that he is not fond of women in medicine, and perhaps I have served to underline that prejudice.”
“Dr. Harris can be difficult to get along with. He’s an emotional type. But at the same time he’s probably the best mind in anesthesiology in the country. So don’t damn him until you see his other side. I believe he has specific personal reasons for his attitude toward women in medicine. It’s not admirable, perhaps, but it is potentially understandable. Anyway, I’ll see what I can do for you. At the same time I must tell you that you have picked a very touchy subject to become involved in. You have undoubtedly considered the malpractice implication, the potential bad publicity for the hospital and even the Boston medical community. Tread lightly, young lady, if you choose to tread at all. You’ll make no friends on the course you are embarking on, and it’s my opinion you should drop the whole affair. If you choose to go on, I’ll try to help you, although I can guarantee nothing. If you do turn up any information, I will be happy to offer an opinion. Obviously the more information you have, the easier it will be for me to get you what you need.”
Stark moved toward the door from his office, opening it.
“Give me a call later this afternoon and I’ll let you know if I’ve had any luck with your requests.”
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Stark.” Susan hesitated in the doorway, looking at Stark. “It is reassuring that you have not lived up to your reputation of being a man-, or should I say, woman-eater.”