Angela nodded, secretly pleased that she’d suggested it to Dr. Cornish the night before.
Walt carefully slipped the hands out of their covers and used a magnifying glass to examine under the nails.
“There is some foreign material under some of them,” Walt said. He leaned back so Angela could take a look.
“Any idea what it is?” Angela asked.
“We’ll have to wait for the microscopic,” Walt said as he carefully removed the material and dropped it into specimen jars. Each was labeled according to which finger it came from.
The autopsy itself went quickly; it was as if Angela and Walt were an established team. There was plenty of pathology to make things interesting, and, as promised, Walt enjoyed his didactic role. Hodges had significant arteriosclerosis, a small cancer of the lung, and advanced cirrhosis of the liver.
“I’d guess he liked his bourbon,” Walt said.
After the autopsy was completed, Angela thanked Walt for his hospitality and asked to be kept informed about the case. Walt encouraged her to call whenever she wanted.
On the way back to the hospital, Angela felt in a better mood than she had for days. Doing the autopsy had been a good diversion. She was glad that Wadley had let her go.
Pulling into the hospital parking lot, she couldn’t find a space in the reserved area near the back entrance. She had to park way up in the upper lot instead. Without an umbrella, she was quite wet by the time she got inside.
Angela went directly to her office. No sooner had she hung up her coat than the connecting door to Wadley’s office banged open. Angela jumped. Wadley loomed in the doorway. His square jaw was set, his eyes narrowed, and his customarily carefully combed silver hair was disheveled. He looked furious. Angela instinctively stepped back and eyed the door to the hall with the thought of fleeing.
Wadley stormed into the room, coming right up to Angela and crowding her against her desk.
“I’d like an explanation,” he snarled. “Why did you go to Cantor of all people with this preposterous story, these wild, ridiculous, ungrounded accusations? Sexual harassment! My God, that’s absurd.”
Wadley paused and glared at Angela. She shrank back, not sure if she should say anything. She didn’t want to provoke the man. She was afraid he might hit her.
“Why didn’t you say something to me?” Wadley screamed.
Wadley paused in his tirade, suddenly aware that Angela’s door to the hall was ajar. Outside, the secretaries’ keyboards had gone silent. Wadley stomped to the door and slammed it shut.
“After all the time and effort I’ve lavished on you, this is the reward I get,” he yelled. “I don’t think I have to remind you that you are on probation around here. You’d better start walking a narrow path, otherwise you’ll be looking for work with no recommendation from me.”
Angela nodded, not knowing what else to do.
“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Wadley’s face was inches from Angela’s. “Are you just going to stand there and nod your head?”
“I’m sorry that we’ve reached this point,” she said.
“That’s it?” Wadley yelled. “You’ve besmirched my reputation with baseless accusations and that’s all you can say? This is slander, woman, and I’ll tell you something: I might take you to court.”
With that, Wadley spun on his heels, strode into his own office, and slammed the door.
Angela let out her breath unevenly as she fought back tears. She sank into her chair and shook her head. It was so unfair.
Susan poked her head into one of the examining rooms and told David that the ICU was on the line. Fearing the worst, David picked up the phone. The ICU nurse said that Mr. Tarlow had just gone into cardiac arrest and the resuscitation team was working on him at that very moment.
David slammed the phone down. He felt his heart leap in his chest, and he instantly broke out in a cold sweat. Leaving a distressed office nurse and receptionist, he dashed over to the but he was too late. By the time he arrived it was over. The ER physician in charge of the resuscitation team had already declared John Tarlow dead.