Silent Treatment

named Stallings.Now, I'm very busy and-'

'Your name, address, and Social Securitynumber were on the note in my wife's possession when she died. So wereStallings's. It seemed to me she must have got them from your driver's licenses.Now, you can talk to me or talk to the police.'

'Dr. Corbett, I don't like peoplethreatening me. I don't know you and I don't know your wife. I'm going to hangup now. Don't call me again.'

'Mr. Loomis, I just hung up from talkingwith a nurse in the Memorial Hospital ICU. James Stallings had some sort ofcardiac arrest today. He's unconscious and on a respirator, but he's nevergoing to wake up again. He's brain-dead. Irreversibly brain-dead.'

The prolonged silence was a positiveresponse.

'I don't know Stallings, and I havenothing more to say to you.'

'My number is 870-3400 in Manhattan. Callme anytime, but make it soon. I have a feeling we need to talk.'

Kevin Loomis hung up without responding.

'He's going to check on what I told himabout Stallings,' Harry told the others. 'After that I think I'll be hearingfrom him.'

'One way or the other,' Maura respondedwarily. 'For all we know, he may have been the one who hired Evie's killer.'

Chapter30

Each patient was allowed two visitors inthe Memorial Hospital ICU. When Kevin Loomis arrived there at two- fifteen thefollowing afternoon, James Stallings already had his quota. He was directed toa small family room with overstuffed furniture, a selection of religious andinspirational reading material, and a television that was turned to the cartoonchannel.

Visiting hours were from noon until eight,but this was Kevin's first opportunity to get to the hospital since receivingthe call from Harry Corbett. As soon as he had hung up on Corbett, Kevin hadcalled Memorial. Patient information could tell him nothing more than thatJames Stallings was a patient in the ICU, and that his condition was critical.He dialed Stallings's office at Interstate Health, hoping to learn more, buthung up as soon as the secretary asked his name. Badly shaken, he managed tomake it through an hour-long meeting at work — a meeting in which Burt Dreisersat directly across the table, smiling at him benevolently.

Burt, you know Sir Gawaine, thetall, good-looking guy who came on board The Roundtable about six or sevenmonths before I did? You wouldn't happen to know how he ended up in criticalcondition in the Memorial Hospital ICU, would you?

After the meeting, Kevin had barely hadtime to make it home for Julie's dance recital. He would have preferred to havebeen assigned to Nicky's Little League game, but his deal with Nancy was thatthey would alternate. Now, with little Brian scheduled to begin various lessonsas soon as they were settled in Port Chester, the formula would have to berevamped.

By the time he caught up with Nancy, itwas almost nine. The kids were finally all in their rooms. With Kevin havingspent the previous night at the Garfield Suites, it had been a day and a halfsince he and Nancy had said more than a few words to one another. She hadpicked up on his uncharacteristic tenseness and asked about it. He made noattempt to disagree. Work had been unusually heavy, he said. When she asked howhe had made out in his poker game, he chose the 'won a few dollars' lie. Thenshe ran down two days' worth of family news, and began flirting with him,stroking the inside of his leg. It had been a couple of weeks since they hadmade love — since before the previous Roundtable meeting, in fact. But thisjust wasn't going to be the night. He begged off, citing a splitting headache,exhaustion, and a phone call he had to make to Burt. He forced himself not tolook at her hurt and concern, and shuffled down to his basement office. Therehe called Memorial Hospital once again. ICU, critical.

'Excuse me.'

'Huh?'

Kevin had been staring unseeing at a BugsBunny classic. A woman stood in the doorway of the family room. She was talland slender with sandy hair cut short. Her narrow face was attractive, andmight have been beautiful were it not for the dark circles under her eyes.

'You're here to see Jim Stallings?'

'I am, yes.'

The woman stepped forward and extended herhand.

'I'm Vicki Stallings. Jim's wife.'

Kevin stood.

'Kevin Loomis. I'm with Crown Health. I… I play cards with Jim.'

'Oh, then you saw him just the nightbefore. . before this happened. Did he seem all right?'

'Perfectly normal.'

'He was in the subway when he collapsed,'she said, talking as much to herself as to Kevin. 'City Hall station. Hissecretary said he had some sort of appointment downtown, but she had no ideawhat. How did you say you knew Jim?'

'I … um … I play cards in the samegame he does.'

'Oh, yes. You just said that, didn't you.I can't seem to keep a thought in my head. I assume he lost again,' she said,desperately distraught, but still trying for civility. 'Jim never was veryinterested in card games, or very good at them from what I could tell. But hewould never miss that game. I gather it was as much about business as aboutpoker.'

Kevin felt strange hearing the lie fromsomeone else's wife.

'I'm really sorry about what's happened,'he said. 'I couldn't get any information from the hospital other than that hiscondition was critical. Is he … I mean, does he. .'

Vicky Stallings shook her head and thensuddenly and rapidly unraveled. Kevin stood by awkwardly until she had regainedsome control. Her sobbing let up. Embarrassed, she apologized. He told herthere was nothing to apologize for.

'My sister just left,' she managed. 'Why don'tyou go on in there alone. I'll be by in just a bit. Jim hasn't mentioned you,but he kept that poker game pretty much to himself. It's very good of you tocome.'

'I'm sorry this has happened,' Kevin saidagain.

For as long as he could remember, Kevinhad had an intense aversion to hospitals. He disliked intensive care units evenmore. He checked in with the nurse at the desk and was directed to cubicle 3, aglass-enclosed box with drapes partially blocking the windows. The patient inthe cubicle bore scant resemblance to the urbane executive who had sat acrossfrom him through nearly five months of Roundtable meetings. Tape across hispuffy face held tubes in place through his nose and mouth. Beside the bed, alarge respirator hissed and whirred, its display flashing like some obsceneelectronic game. Stallings's lips — what Kevin could see of them — wereswollen, cracked, and bruised. His eyes were taped shut. Periodically, everymuscle in his body seemed to go into spasm, with his rigid arms twisting inwarduntil his palms faced away from his sides. Overhead, the monitor screendisplayed a heart rhythm that was quite regular. Kevin knew the innocentpattern was deceiving.

Brain-dead. That's how Dr. Harry Corbetthad put it. Brain- dead.

Kevin pictured Evelyn DellaRosa as shownin the newspapers and as he remembered her. Such a remarkable looking woman — so classically stunning. Was this how she ended up, too? Tubes coming out ofevery body orifice? Puffed and brain-dead on artificial ventilation, alive onlyuntil some doctor finally strolled in and simply pulled the plug? Was this whatwas in store for Kevin Loomis as well?

He moved closer to the bedside.

Was there any way Stallings's cardiacarrest on the IRT could have been a coincidence. The man was incrediblystressed over the situation with The Roundtable. It was a hundred degrees onthe subway platform and