Deadline (66 page)

“Know what he said to me, Jake? This will really frost you. He said he was acting in your friend’s best interests, death with dignity and all that. He said Doc probably wouldn’t have recovered and with his neck injuries likely would have been handicapped anyway. He knew Doc would have wanted his organs to go to someone else. He said doctors have to make tough decisions all the time, and there were other people who needed the hospital bed, and Doc’s heart could save someone else’s life. I told him I was deeply moved by his compassion, that in my book he was sort of a cross between Florence Nightingale and Mother Teresa.”

“What’s next for Simpson?”

“We’ll pit him and Mary Ann against each other, get him to incriminate her, then cut a deal with whichever can deliver some bigger fish to us, probably Mary Ann. Between her and your friend Charlie, we might reel in a marlin or two.”

Jake walked quietly, gazing at the patches of sidewalk not covered by snow, studying the cracks he’d stared at so many times before. Just when he thought he’d finally come to terms with all that had happened, it kept getting bigger. Doc was taken out by two men. One was paying him back for killing his child, wife, and mother, The other was treating him exactly as Doc had treated Clay’s mother, and rationalizing it just as he had. What was that Bible verse he’d read the other day? “Whatever a man plants, he also reaps.”

Jake thought about Mary Ann. No wonder she could afford such nice clothes and jewelry! He shuddered at how close he’d come to getting in bed with her, literally and perhaps figuratively. Why had she tried to seduce him? His ego hadn’t considered anything but the obvious, but now he realized she had an angle. Who knows what he might have told her that would help the wrong people, or how she might have steered him the wrong direction.

Thank you, Lord, for getting me away from Mary Ann that night. And thanks, Finney. For once, I listened.

“Something else I’m following up on now. You know the rash of murders that were holding us back from this case? Some of them were your usual street killings, but remember me telling you about this group of murders with no robberies or apparent motive?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, some of them may be related to this case.”

“Really?”

“We suspected the murders weren’t random, and we knew some of them were committed with the same gun. But we couldn’t find any link between the victims, so there: was no way to come up with suspects. But something Simpson said turned my wheels. So I followed a hunch and did some cross-checks. And guess what?”

“No clue.”

“In the last four months, three people on the waiting list for vital organ transplants at Lifeline have been murdered. It appears while your friend and Simpson were tinkering with the list on the inside, someone else was adjusting it their own way. The doctors had no idea this was happening. I don’t think so anyway. But someone had a plan. There’s more than one way for a wealthy unprincipled person to move up the list. I don’t know where this will lead us, but I can’t believe it’s a coincidence.”

“Incredible.”

“Which leads me to my last item. When I ran the cross-check and hit pay dirt, I thought of something else. So I pulled some strings and got hold of a different list, ran a different check. Three other victims—all yuppies—and no apparent motive for their murders. None of them were waiting for transplants, but they had one thing in common. You heard of Life-Givers, the organ repository in town that recruits organ donors through TV and newspaper ads and lectures?”

“I’ve seen their ads in the
Trib.
”

“Well, our three yuppies, with no other known connection between them, had all signed up with Life-Givers as organ donors within the last year. And they were killed in such a way that vital organs were still intact, with someone—we don’t know who in any of the three cases—calling 911 immediately.”

“You mean…”

“Why not? You need to get your vital organ sooner? There’s at least three ways. Bribe some doctors and get your name bumped up the list. Decrease the number of recipients ahead of you. Increase the number of donors. It’s supply and demand, right? We can’t prove anything yet. But if I could get hold of Life-Giver’s donor sign-up list, complete with home addresses, you can be sure someone else could too.”

Jake looked at Ollie, making sure his revelations were finally over. They walked a ways further in the wet silence of the sidewalk.

“Amazing, isn’t it? You’ve got good people donating organs and getting transplants, then greed gets its hand on it and turns it into a nightmare. I guess anything, no matter how good, can be corrupted.” Jake mulled it over.

“You know, Ollie, I used to think Finney was overreacting to all the changes in this country. But now I think he was right about a lot of things. We say you can’t go by the old standards of right and wrong any more, so we’ve left everyone to decide for themselves what’s right and wrong. Well, it isn’t working. It just isn’t working.”

Ollie shrugged. “You’re telling me? Remember what I do for a living.”

“Yeah. Right. You know, when organized crime first came into the picture I thought, these guys are dangerous because they break all the rules. But now I’m not so sure. Maybe the greatest danger isn’t when the rules get broken. Maybe it’s when the rules get changed. Once they’re changed, you can follow the new rules and think you’re doing the right thing. And all the time your new truth is just the old lies. You tell yourself it’s okay because the standards have changed, but if the standards mean anything at all, they don’t change. They can’t. I mean, a yard is still thirty-six inches long, even if everybody says otherwise, right?”

“Sounds like you’ve been doing some heavy thinking, Socrates.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I know we’re all biased, and we’re going to be driven by our biases. But we need to make sure our biases are based on truth. That’s what I want to do, Ollie. With whatever time I have left in this world, I want to find the truth and then build my biases on truth instead of just whatever society happens to be saying. I’ve been thinking about something Jesus said—’the truth will set you free.’ I want to pursue the truth no matter where it takes me. I don’t care anymore whether something is liberal or conservative. I only care whether it’s true or false.”

He paused, then added, “If I’m going to be part of a conspiracy of shared values, I want to make sure they’re the right values. I don’t want to be caught short come deadline.”

Ollie registered surprise and lack of comprehension, and he looked at Jake’s eyes as if examining someone for a concussion.

After a few minutes more silence, Ollie said, “Jake, I’m going to have to tell Dr. Lowell’s wife about this latest stuff. I hate to just call her. You want to go with me to her place?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jake didn’t want to go, but he knew he should. Betsy had been shocked and humiliated by all that had come out about Doc. He needed to be there for her with this latest shock, to help however he could. It was his responsibility. No matter how unpleasant, he wouldn’t shirk it.

Jake stopped at a pay phone to call Janet and Carly, telling them something urgent had materialized and he couldn’t come tonight. He said if it was okay he’d be there tomorrow, Saturday, and wanted to spend all afternoon with them. Janet was disappointed he couldn’t come tonight but said she understood. Both she and Carly would look forward to tomorrow.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

J
ake arrived at Janet and Carly’s around noon, with nachos, salsa, a box of Lemon Zinger tea, pink carnations, and a Bogart movie. After the movie Jake helped Carly with her journalism project and listened to her first run of an upcoming speech. He was impressed. She had her father’s skills in crafting sentences and her mother’s warmth in relating to an audience.

The HIV hadn’t produced any noticeable effects yet, and the doctor was optimistic that the baby, due in June, would remain unaffected. Carly was considering her options, whether to raise the child or give him up for adoption. She hadn’t decided, but carrying this little person, being responsible not only for her welfare but for his, was maturing Carly, deepening her. In the face of all this teenage girl’s challenges, the baby had become a comfort to her, a source of strength. So, too, had her father, who promised her he’d support and help whether she chose adoption or single parenting.

Janet baked her legendary cinnamon rolls. The warm, sweet, doughy smell permeated the apartment until Jake paced the kitchen floor in anticipation of his first bite. Gooey and mouthwatering, he’d forgotten how delicious they were. He savored them, putting down three of them with two large glasses of cold milk. He ate to the point of feeling delightfully sick, like he had as a little boy.

The three played 221b Baker Street in the late afternoon, and now, at half past five, sprawled out in the living room, talking and relaxing. The phone rang, and Carly answered.

“It’s for me. I’ll take it in my room.”

She looked at her parents sitting on the couch next to each other and flashed them a deliberate approving smile.

Janet reached over to Jake, picking off a stray piece of cinnamon roll. Her hand touched his shoulder right where Mary Ann’s had. Jake remembered the lure of the forbidden he’d felt then but found himself enjoying much more the warmth and familiarity he felt now.

Jake and Janet talked about Betsy. Janet had called her four hours earlier, right after Jake filled her in on last night. She’d called Sue too, and they already had plans to spend tomorrow afternoon at Betsy’s. Sunday afternoons were especially tough, and though tomorrow would be fifteen weeks since the accident, for Betsy it promised to be one of the toughest yet.

Jake was surprised his concern for Betsy ran as deep as it did. He’d always left Janet to do the caring for the both of them, but now he thought about writing Betsy a note, taking her to lunch, and maybe spending some time with her kids. Especially Molly. Maybe he could take her and Carly out, do something special with them.

“You, know, I keep thinking about Mayhew, using that Nazi gun to blow away Sutter,” Jake said. “This whole crazy episode was like the Nazi doctors revisited. Choosing some people to live instead of others. Using human beings for their spare parts. Exploiting women and children, all in the name of medicine and social evolution. Getting power and money from the whole thing. Doc got what he gave. So did Sutter. Executed by a Nazi gun firing a Nazi bullet. Trigger pulled by a modern Nazi. I was reading the other day about doing to others what you’d want them to do to you. Well, Doc and Sutter ended up getting treated just like they treated others.”

Jake looked at Janet.

“People don’t really change, do they? Times don’t change that much. What’s right and what’s wrong doesn’t really change at all.”

She gazed back attentively. He’d forgotten how easy she was to talk to. Jake took a deep breath.

“Janet, I’m going to ask you something, but I don’t want you to think I’ve gone wacko or anything, okay?”

Janet nodded.

“I was thinking about doing something, and…” He took a second run at it. “Well, actually, tomorrow morning … I was thinking of going to Sue and Finney’s church.”

He watched her try to hide her surprise, and he quickly groped for a rational explanation.

“Little Finn’s been asking me, and it’s hard to say no to the guy. And, anyway, I guess I was wondering if … I was wondering if you’d be willing to come with me.”

“Jake. I haven’t been to church for twenty years, except for—”

“Weddings and funerals. Yeah, I know. Me too. I’ve decided I should though. But I’m a little … nervous, I guess. It sounds funny, but I feel like I need you to be there with me. I understand if you’d rather not. It’s no problem, really.”

“Oh, no, Jake, I’d love to. Really.”

“I was at Mom’s this morning,” Jake said, piling up one surprise on another. “I spoke to the old folks about journalism. You know,” Jake suddenly lit up, “there was a guy there, Jim, they call him ’Uncle Jim,’ who used to write for the
Chicago Tribune.
He’s in his nineties. He was a war correspondent in occupied Europe. He chased down news in London during the air raids. Are you ready for this? He interviewed Winston Churchill. Fascinating guy. I thought, what do I have to tell these people about the newspaper business? They should just listen to Uncle Jim! He edits this little newspaper just for the Vista Manor. It’s great. Features different people there, like this guy who flew a World War I bomber. World War I. Can you imagine? And this woman, Pat, who taught in a one-room schoolhouse before the depression, and over half her graduates went on to college. Mom introduced me to both of them. Then Jim sat with Mom and me for a little tea time afterward. I think he’s got a crush on her.”

Janet raised her eyebrows and laughed. “Mom must have been in heaven being at the same table with her pride and joy
and
a potential suitor!”

“Well, she was a lot perkier than I’ve seen her in years, I’ll tell you that. I admitted to her something I did when I was ten years old. Smoking out in the shed with Doc and Finney. You should have seen the look on her face. Anyway, I was going to tell you, I invited Mom to come with me to church tomorrow. So I could pick you up at 9:30, and we could go get her together. If that’s okay, I mean.”

Janet caught herself staring at Jake. “Of course that’s okay. That’s fine, Jake.”

“Well, great.”

Jake rubbed his hands on his pantlegs, relieved to have finally asked the question and pleased at Janet’s answer.

“It’s not exactly a wild and crazy date, a guy asking you to go to church with him and his mother, but…”

Janet laughed. She hadn’t heard Jake say
date
for twenty years.

Jake paused, then said, “I’ve thought about this church thing, and it just seems right. It’s something I’ve made up my mind to do.”

Wait till I ask her to go with me for counseling with Dr. Scanlon. Then she’ll
know
I’ve lost it.

“I’m glad, Jake. I’ve been feeling a need for something too. Life’s been hard and … pretty cold. I worry about Carly all the time. I keep thinking there has to be something to help get me through it, something better than my way.”

“I took Alan Weber to lunch a couple of days ago, you know, the pastor at Finney’s church? It was really a great time. I can see why Finney liked him so much.”

Janet tried to remember Jake ever saying something kind about a pastor. She couldn’t.

“Alan invited me to some men’s thing next Saturday, something called Promise Keepers. I don’t exactly know what it is, but I said I’d go. It’s funny. I actually want to go. Maybe I’ll ask Clarence to come too.”

Janet nodded, not knowing what to say. She just looked at Jake.

“Janet … do you think Carly would come with us? To church I mean?”

“I think so. If her dad asked her, I think she’d go just about anywhere.”

“Okay, I’ll ask her.”

He started to get up, then turned back to Janet.

“How ’bout you and I go to Lou’s for dinner?”

“That sounds great.”

Janet smiled and with a mischievous look reached for her purse and pulled out a quarter.

“Call it. Loser pays.” She flipped the coin in the air.

“Tails.”

The quarter fell on the coffee table, bounced up and wobbled for one uncertain moment, then fell tails up.

Janet smiled. “You win. I pay.”

“No.” Jake’s voice was firm. “I win, so it’s my choice, and I choose to buy you dinner. I owe you a lot of dinners. It’s been a long time, Janet.”

Janet looked Jake in the eyes, and for the first time she could remember, he returned her look without hesitation, like a man no longer proud and no longer ashamed.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Lou’s isn’t that far. I feel like walking.”

“Its over a mile. And it’s cold.” Jake looked out the window. “Still snowing out there.”

“That’s okay. We’ll bundle up. It’ll be fun.”

Janet, despite the wrinkles, looked younger and more alive than Jake had seen her in years. He’d kept looking at her all day. It was as though he could see through her eyes into her soul.

“Yeah. Walking sounds good. It’ll give you time to tell me any dreams you’ve had lately.” Jake grinned.

“You’re asking for trouble. You’re just lucky I haven’t been writing them all down, mister!”

“I’ll be right with you. I need to talk to Carly about tomorrow.”

Jake stood by Carly’s open bedroom door as she was hanging up the phone. Janet was reaching in the closet for her coat, and had a clear view of Carly’s room at the far end of the hall. Janet could see the big new maroon scrapbook Carly was using to collect Jake’s newest columns. Jake was asking her something. Carly looked surprised, then nodded and reached out to hug him. The image of father and daughter hugging grew blurry in Janet’s eyes.

A few minutes later, buried under thick coats, hoods up, Jake and Janet went down the apartment steps and out to the sidewalk. They walked the street alone. The fresh snow was undisturbed, every footprint on virgin ground, every step as if it were the first step there had ever been.

They’d walked but a short distance when the man reached out his hand and the woman took it, leaning against his side. The two coats seemed joined at the cuffs. They thought no one noticed. They were wrong.

Far away, in another place, hands applauded and mouths voiced approval that could be heard only by the most sensitive ears on earth, and even then only as whispers in the wind. One of the voices would have been familiar to the couple, had they been able to hear it.

And very near, from a second story apartment window, a seventeen-year-old girl with a silly smile and teary eyes, her hand just that moment sensing the movement of life within her, watched the couple as they walked around the corner.

Even after they disappeared, the girl continued to gaze at their footprints in the snow.