“And one of those involved your silence?”
“Yes. However, I will not deceive anyone in a court of law, or under official questioning. But, I gather this call is informal.”
“Indeed it is.”
More silence.
The nurse was a kind lady, and Gage understood personal promises, so he decided not to press. If the situation ever dictated, perhaps she could be deposed by Claudia’s attorney, Boris.
“Thank you, Olga. Don’t worry about this. Have a nice day.”
After backing from his parking space, Gage merged back onto the Autobahn. Olga’s silence was telling. Clearly, there was something more to what she’d discovered the morning of Karl’s death. Had there been nothing else, she’d have said so.
But her silence confirmed Gage’s suspicions, brought about by Doctor Kudlak’s blood tests. Perhaps Gage could convince the original pathologist to talk. As he neared Bad Hersfeld, Gage transitioned to Autobahn 7 for the final leg of his brief journey.
Though he was moderately familiar with the northern Hessen city of Kassel, Gage had never spent any appreciable time here. As he navigated the streets on his way to the pathologist’s office, Gage stared in wonderment at the old city. He had no idea it was so picturesque and made a mental note to come back here someday.
For now, he located the pathologist’s address in a sizeable, post-war 4-story medical building near the university. It was a carbon copy of similar Bauhaus-style buildings that endured all over Germany. No doubt, plain buildings such as this one had been easy to construct during the rebuilding era after World War II. The pathologist was listed in a column of approximately 20 doctors with offices on the third floor. Gage entered the waiting area and queued until it was his turn. The attendant handed him a clipboard and asked for his medical cards.
“I’m American,” Gage said in German.
“Oh? Do you have your American insurance information?”
“I won’t be using my insurance.”
The attendant was momentarily perplexed. “You’ll need to pay with cash or credit card.”
He handed the forms back. “Actually, I’d like to speak with Doctor Esser.”
She smiled as if Gage’s request were utterly ridiculous. “I’m sorry but Doctor Esser doesn’t see patients. He’s a pathologist and only maintains an office here due to the lab. You’ll see one of our general physicians and depending on their diagnosis—”
“Excuse me, will you please inform Doctor Esser that Gage Hartline is here. He’ll see me.”
“Sir, like I said, he doesn’t—”
Gage placed his elbows on the counter and lowered his voice. “Lady, I don’t want to be rude. This concerns an autopsy he performed. In fact, the Ministerpräsident of Hessen, Michael Boden, set this meeting up for me.” He let that sink in for a moment. “Now, please, pick up the phone and call Doctor Esser and tell him Gage Hartline is here.” Gage straightened and took a step backward.
Unimpressed, she eyed him for a moment before making two phone calls, speaking in low tones. When she hung up, she spoke to Gage with just a trace more respect. “He’s in the middle of a procedure and said it will be about fifteen minutes. Have a seat.”
“Thank you.”
The wait was actually 25 minutes. Eventually, a young man in a white uniform called for Gage and led him to a tidy office. Gage sat and, in another few minutes, Doctor Esser entered. He did not shake Gage’s hand and greeted him perfunctorily. The doctor took a seat behind his desk, peering irritably over his spectacles at Gage as if this were a tremendous interruption to his urgent work—on dead bodies.
If forced to guess, Gage would put the man in his mid-fifties. He was of average height and rather slim. He had dark, severely combed-over hair and a salt-and-pepper beard that seemed to fit him well. He wore a spotless white lab coat and had brought with him a small binder and tablet.
“My time is limited,” the doctor said.
“So is mine. I’m here on behalf of the Vogel estate.”
“It’s my understanding that Claudia Vogel passed away last week. Without her written approval, or an order from a German court, I cannot speak to you about any medical procedures I might have performed for their family.”
Ignoring the preamble, Gage replied in a laconic manner. “I sent Karl Vogel’s blood retain, that you provided, to a laboratory in the United States. They confirmed an unnaturally high level of potassium chloride.”
Doctor Esser remained in his pedantic forward-leaning position. He said nothing, but did steeple his index fingers in front of his mouth. He also blinked several times, as if Gage were doing nothing but making a fool of himself.
Gage continued. “The lab, and my doctor friend who read the results, also reported an abnormally high level of catecholamines.”
That got a mild reaction out of the doctor. Rather than respond, he sat back in his chair and stared.
“I’m assuming you know what those are,” Gage said.
The doctor rolled his eyes as if Gage had just made a ridiculous statement.
“Come on, Doctor Esser. The quicker you talk the quicker I’m out of your hair.”
“Catecholamines, in general terms, unrelated to a particular person?”
“Fine.”
“Of course, I do. A pathologist would expect to find high levels of catecholamines in any patient who died a labored death.”
“Really? In the blood sample you provided, the levels were consistent with a grave wound, not a fatal injection.”
The doctor frowned. “That’s a broad leap to take from a single blood sample. What sort of doctor told you that, or is this your own inexpert opinion?”
Ignoring the insult, Gage said, “What other injuries did Karl Vogel have?”
The doctor remained in his reclined posture. “Mister Hartline, as I already said, I’m not speaking about any specific procedures I may, or may not, have done.” After a moment, the doctor
