take long. Jennifer scored on the third hotel, the Imperial.
“Can I connect you?” the Imperial operator asked.
Jennifer hesitated. She would be seriously disturbing and upsetting the woman, no matter whether the woman was aware of her husband’s status or not. Yet with the similarities between her grandmother’s case, Mr. Benfatti’s, and this current one, she felt she had little choice. “Yes,” Jennifer said finally.
Jennifer grimaced as she heard it ring. When it was answered she rapidly jumped and initially stumbled over her words as she explained who she was and apologized effusively for being a disturbance.
“You are not disturbing me,” Mrs. Lucas said. “And please call me Rita.”
“That’s awful learning like that,” Rita said sympathetically, but her voice trailed off as if she reluctantly sensed why Jennifer was calling her after nine at night.
“Yes,” Jennifer agreed, “especially since in the U.S. the media go to great lengths to avoid it because they want the family informed first. But Mrs. Lucas, just a few moments ago I had CNN International on, and the anchors discussed the tragedy of your husband’s passing.”
After finally getting herself to say it, Jennifer fell silent. As the seconds ticked by, Jennifer didn’t know if she should express sympathy or wait for Mrs. Lucas to respond. As the time passed, Jennifer could no longer stay silent. “I am so sorry to have had to be the one to tell you this awful news, but there is a reason.”
“Is this some cruel prank?” Rita demanded angrily.
“I assure you it is not,” Jennifer said, feeling the woman’s anger and pain.
“But I just left David only a little more than an hour ago, and he was perfectly fine,” she yelled.
“I understand how you feel, Mrs. Lucas, with a stranger calling you up out of the blue. But I assure you it was broadcast around the world that a David Lucas of Jacksonville, Florida, passed away at the Aesculapian Medical Center an hour or so ago, and he is survived by a wife and two children.”
“My God!” Rita voiced in desperation.
“Mrs. Lucas, please call the hospital and make sure of this. If it is true, which I hope it isn’t, please call me back. I’m only trying to help. And if it is true, and they try to pressure you into agreeing to cremation or embalming immediately, please do not do it. Because of my experience with the hospital where my granny and Mr. Benfatti had had their surgery, I’m thinking there is something wrong, something very wrong, with Indian medical tourism.”
“I don’t know what to say!” snapped Rita, angry but confused that Jennifer sounded so sincere.
“Don’t say anything. Just call the hospital, and then call me right back. I actually already called the hospital, but they wouldn’t give me any information, which is silly, since it has already been on international television. I’m staying at the Amal Palace Hotel and will stay here by the phone. Once again, I’m sorry to be the one to have had to call you when it was the hospital’s responsibility.”
The next thing Jennifer knew, she was listening to a dial tone. Rita had hung up on her. Thinking she might have done the same had the situation been reversed, Jennifer slowly hung up the receiver. It gave her a terrible feeling to have been the messenger with such bad news, and she found she hated the role. At the same time, as a physician in training she knew that she might have to do it a number of times over the course of her career.
Knowing that sleep was now completely out of the question, Jennifer wondered what she should do. She thought about reading more in the guidebook but then gave up. She couldn’t concentrate. She began to worry that even if the CNN report had been correct, Rita might leave her in the dark and not call her back in a kind of passive- aggressive reaction, blaming the messenger.
Without coming up with a better idea, Jennifer turned up the volume on the TV and blankly began watching a CNN segment on Darfur. But no sooner had she gotten herself comfortable when her phone rang. She snatched it up practically before the first ring terminated. As she hoped, it was Rita, but Rita’s voice had changed. She was now choked up to the point that it was difficult for her to speak.
“I don’t know who you are or what kind of human being you are, but my husband is dead.”
“I’m terribly sorry, and I certainly didn’t get any pleasure from having had to be the one to tell you. The only reason I was willing to do so is to warn you about the hospital possibly trying to bully you into giving them permission to cremate or embalm.”
“What difference does that make?” Rita snapped.
“Only that if either is done, an autopsy can’t be done. It seems already that there are similarities between your husband’s unexpected passing and my grandmother’s and Mr. Benfatti’s. I would assume your husband’s death was unexpected?”
“Absolutely! We had him cleared by his cardiologist only a month before.”
“It was the same with my grandmother and Mr. Benfatti. To be honest, I’m concerned these deaths are not natural. That’s what I meant when I said something was wrong.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“I’m concerned these deaths might be intentional.”
“You mean someone killed my husband.”
“Somehow, yes,” Jennifer said, realizing just how paranoid such a statement sounded.
“Why? No one knows us here. There’s no way for someone to benefit.”
“I’ve no clue, I’m afraid. But tomorrow night two forensic pathologists who are friends of mine are arriving. They are going to help me with my grandmother. I could ask them to check your husband’s case, too.” Jennifer knew she was going out on a limb offering Laurie and Jack’s services without consulting them, but she thought they’d be willing to help. Jennifer also knew that in trying to solve a conspiracy, the more cases there were, the more chances of success.
Jennifer could hear Rita blow her nose before coming back on the line. There were catches in her breathing as she tried to control her grief.
“Please, Mrs. Lucas. Don’t let them destroy any potential evidence. We owe it to our loved ones. Also, you could ask whoever found your husband if he was blue. Both my granny and Mr. Benfatti were blue.”
“How would that help?” she demanded, fighting tears.
“I don’t know. In this kind of situation, if what I fear is true, there’s no predicting what facts might solve the mystery. I’ve learned that studying medicine and trying to make a diagnosis. You just don’t know what’s going to be important.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“Not yet. I’m in my last year of medical school. I’ll graduate in June of ’08.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, although with considerably less acrimony.
“I didn’t think it mattered,” Jennifer said, although when she thought about it, she had experienced episodes where people seemed inappropriately to give her opinion more credence, even about issues unrelated to medicine, when they found out she was a medical student.
“I’m not going to promise anything,” Rita said. “But I’m on my way to the hospital now, and I’ll think about what you said. I will call you in the morning.”
“Fair enough,” Jennifer said.
The fact that Rita went on to say good-bye gave Jennifer reason to be optimistic. The woman would not only get back in touch with her but would also cooperate. But as Jennifer thought about this third death in so many nights and its implications, it reminded her of a famous Shakespearean quote: “Something is rotten in the State of Denmark.” At the same time, it did cross her mind that she could be using this conspiracy idea as another way of blocking the real impact of her grandmother’s passing.
Chapter 22
