Inadvertent Disclosure (21 page)

Kayser reared his head back and
sneezed, a violent burst. Another. One more. Then he reached into one of the
pockets of his trousers and pulled out a package of travel-sized tissues.

“Gesundheit,” Connelly said.

The doctor wiped his nose,
found the pedal-operated trash can near the foot of Jed’s bed, and disposed of
his tissue before responding.

“Thanks. Allergy season. The
trees in Pittsburgh don’t bother me, but if I go any further north than
Tarentum this time of year, look out.”

“That’s miserable,” Jed piped
up from the hospital bed. “You should see a doctor. Pretty gal I go to told me what
to take. Dried everything right up.”

Kayser turned toward Jed. “Your
doctor?  Is that Dr. Spangler?

“Yep.”

“Do you know the name of the
medication?”

“Afraid not.”

“How long have you been taking
something for your allergies?  I mean, this year?”

“Welp, the pollen and ragweed
just started getting bad up this way. So, just a day or two.”

“Did you have a recent
appointment with Dr. Spangler?” Sasha asked. If he had, he hadn’t mentioned it
to her, but she found his sudden lucidity encouraging.

“Who?”

“Dr. Spangler.”

“Spangler?  Who’s he?”  Jed
looked at her blankly, then turned to Connelly. “Aren’t you my doctor?”

Without waiting for an answer,
he returned his head to his pillow and his eyelids fluttered twice, then shut.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sasha escaped to the hallway.
She ducked into a little alcove next to the stairs, pressed her back against
the cool tile wall, closed her eyes, and tried to erase the image of Jed, pale
and quiet, his blue veins stark against his rice paper skin, looking up at her
with a face full of confusion and hope then drifting to sleep without warning.

Her vibrating cell phone buzzed
against her thigh. She removed it from her pocket and checked the display. 717
area code. Harrisburg. She didn’t recognize the number but answered the call
anyway.

“Sasha McCandless.”

“This is Justice Bermann.” Despite
the late hour, the chief justice sounded fully awake. And not particularly
happy.

“Hello, your honor.”

He ignored the greeting and got
to the point. “Ms. McCandless, I just received a phone call from the court
administrator from the Supreme Court, who was interrupted by her babysitter
while out for an anniversary dinner. It seems she had received a panicked call
at home from Judge Canaby, whom I just this afternoon appointed to hear Judge Paulson’s
docket. Judge Canaby, I am told, received an urgent call from a Martin Braeburn
earlier this evening, asking the judge to preside over a telephonic emergency
hearing because you’re trying to prevent Mr. Craybill’s physician from treating
him.”

His tone—sharp to begin
with—grew increasingly irritated until, by the end of the summation, he was
unmistakably scolding her.

She fought her urge to
apologize and waited. If he wanted her to say something, he’d ask her a
question. If he just wanted to rant, then so be it.

“Well, what do you have to say
to all that?” he snapped.

“I’m Mr. Craybill’s
court-appointed attorney. I can’t really discuss my representation of him with
you, your honor.”

“Don’t be cute. What are you
even doing up there?  You should be in Pittsburgh. The attorney general
informed my clerk this afternoon that your investigation had been closed
because you and Sheriff Stickley had almost immediately determined no members
of the local bar were involved in Judge Paulson’s murder. Go home, Ms.
McCandless.”

“Your honor, I did go home, but
my client needs his attorney, so I’m back. I have a duty.”

His voice got crisp and
official. “Okay, Ms. McCandless. I’ll give you some rope. Try not to hang
yourself. But, I’ve no intention of saddling Judge Canaby with this morass.
Tell Mr. Braeburn I’ll hear his emergency motion. Have him call this number in
ten minutes and we’ll get this done.”

“You?  Respectfully, can you do
that, your honor?”

Justice Bermann laughed. “I’m
the chief justice of the commonwealth’s supreme court, Ms. McCandless. I most
assuredly can.”

He was still laughing when he
ended the call.

She slipped the phone back into
her pocket and went in search of Braeburn.

She found him in the
twenty-four-hour coffee shop, hunched over a sudoku puzzle. He looked up as her
shadow fell across his number grid.

“Ms. McCandless.” He half-rose
and gestured to the empty seat across from him.

“No, thanks. I just got off the
phone with Chief Justice Bermann,” she said.

Braeburn’s sleepy eyes were
instantly alert.

“Is that a fact?” he said.

“Yes. And it looks like you’re
getting your emergency hearing. Right now.”

Braeburn folded his paper and
slid it into his briefcase in one smooth motion, all business.

He stood quickly and said,
“Before whom? Judge Canaby?”

Sasha shook her head. “Nope.
The chief justice himself is going to hear it.”

Braeburn’s head snapped back.
“Can he do that?”

“Apparently.”

CHAPTER 33

Braeburn scurried off in search
of Dr. Spangler, and Sasha raced back to Jed’s hospital room to try to prepare
both him and Dr. Kayser for what was about to happen. Connelly, lost in the
flurry of hurried pre-hearing preparations, wandered away.

As Sasha explained the purpose
and procedure of the emergency hearing, Jed’s eyes fluttered open and closed.
He asked no questions, but he smiled weakly and said he understood. Dr. Kayser
stood at the head of his bed and shook his head at Sasha.

“You know you can’t let him
testify,” the doctor said in as low voice.

She knew.

“It’s all going to rest on you,
Dr. Kayser,” she told him.

She was overwhelmed with
gratitude that he’d agreed to come. She took a quick minute to appreciate the
charm her Nana Alexandrov had exuded until her dying day. But for Nana, Jed
wouldn’t even have a fighting chance.

He blinked behind his glasses.
He cleared his throat with two short coughs and began, “There’s something you
need to know before the . . .”

He stopped abruptly when the
door swung open and Braeburn rushed in, followed by a stunning redhead. She
wore a tight-fitting lab coat over a silk blouse and an equally snug black
skirt. Sasha was suddenly and acutely aware that she was wearing running
clothes and had her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

The woman sashayed—there was no
other word for it—across the room, her hand extended. “Shelly Spangler,” she
said to Dr. Kayser, her eyes never leaving his face.

He nodded and took her hand.
“Nice to see you again, Dr. Spangler. I’m Alvin Kayser. We met at the
Pennsylvania Medical Society’s retreat a few years back.”

Her lips turned down into a
small pout, “Oh, I feel so foolish. Of course, Dr. Kayser, how could I forget?”

Sasha thought it incredibly
likely that Dr. Spangler had forgotten meeting the kindly older man almost
instantaneously.

With a toss of her hair, the
taller woman pivoted to greet Sasha. “And you must be Jed’s attorney,” she said
with a wide smile.

Sasha shook her hand.

“Sasha McCandless,” she said,
trying to get a bead on Dr. Spangler. Was the sex kitten persona some kind of
act?

Dr. Spangler dropped Sasha’s
hand without ceremony and walked over to Jed’s bedside. She pursed the pouty
lips and placed two fingers on the underside of his wrist, as if she were
checking his pulse. The touch stirred him and he opened his eyes.

“Dr. Spangler,” he said in a
dry, creaky voice. He smiled at her.

She shed the vixen act and
smiled back at him, her eyes warm and shining. “How are you feeling, Mr.
Craybill?”

“Tired,” he croaked.

She patted his hand. “Let me
get you some nice cold water.”

She held the large plastic
pitcher with one hand and guided the flexible straw into his mouth with the
other.

“Now, you go ahead and rest. We
have to talk to a judge about you, but you can go back to sleep.”

“Harry? Is Harry coming?”  Jed
looked around, searching for Judge Paulson.

Dr. Spangler gave him a sad
smile, “I’m sorry, Mr. Craybill, but Judge Paulson passed away. Don’t you
remember?”

“Harry’s dead?” Jed said, his
voice rising in confusion.

Sasha closed her eyes so she
wouldn’t have to see the glow of victory in Braeburn’s. She inhaled, filling
her lungs, and let the air out as slowly as she could. Then she snapped her
eyes open.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

They arranged themselves around
Jed’s bed. Braeburn and Dr. Spangler on his left; Sasha and Dr. Kayser on his
right. They pulled the tray table out from the side of the hospital bed and
rested the phone on it. Jed was already sleeping again.

Braeburn hit the speaker button
and dialed Chief Justice Bermann’s home number.

He answered on the second ring.

“This is the chief justice.”

“Sir, it’s Martin Braeburn and
Sasha McCandless calling. Can you hear me okay?”  Braeburn held his tie down
with one hand and leaned over the bed to speak into the phone.

“I hear you fine, counselor.
You are on speaker phone, as well. I wasn’t able to scare up a stenographer at
one a.m., so I am going to record this call and have it transcribed tomorrow.
Do either of you object to that course of action?”

“No, your honor,” they said in
unison.

“Good. Now, one more
housekeeping matter. Mr. Braeburn, I spoke earlier to Ms. McCandless ex parte,
as I am sure she told you. When we had our conversation, this matter obviously
was not before me. I must tell you that I called Ms. McCandless to reprimand
her for her shenanigans, and it was my suggestion, not hers, that I preside
over the emergency hearing. I assume you have no objection?”

Braeburn flashed Sasha a cold
smile. “No objection, your honor.”

Her heart sank. She hated to
lose. She really hated to lose against a stacked deck.

“Wonderful. Why don’t you tell
me who’s in the room and we can get started.”

Braeburn spoke first. “I’m
Martin Braeburn, representing the Clear Brook County Department of Aging
Services. With me, I have Dr. Shelly Spangler, who is Mr. Craybill’s physician
and the county’s proposed guardian for Mr. Craybill.”

“Sasha McCandless, your honor.
I’m Jed Craybill’s court-appointed attorney with regard to the issue of whether
a guardian is required. With me, is Dr. Alvin Kayser, a board-certified
gerontologist, who is my expert witness for the upcoming incapacitation
hearing. He also happens to be Mr. Craybill’s new doctor. And, of course, Mr.
Craybill is here, as well.”

She looked at her client whose
eyes were still closed. He was breathing evenly.

“But, he appears to be sleeping
at the moment. We’re gathered in Mr. Craybill’s hospital room.”

“Mr. Braeburn, you requested
this hearing on an emergency basis, correct?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“What relief are you seeking?”

“Well, your honor, in light of
Mr. Craybill’s current condition, we cannot simply follow the briefing schedule
that Judge Paulson set and then wait for Judge Paulson’s replacement to
schedule the incapacitation hearing. Mr. Craybill was admitted to Clear Brook
County General Hospital this evening. He is not doing well. I’ll leave the
medical part to Dr. Spangler, but he’s going in and out of consciousness and he
seems quite confused when he is awake. Important medical decisions need to be
made, and he’s in no condition to make them. Because of the pending hearing and
the county’s request that Dr. Spangler be appointed Mr. Craybill’s guardian, I
called Ms. McCandless as a courtesy to let her know that Dr. Spangler would be
making Mr. Craybill’s medical decisions in her current capacity as his treating
physician. She objected to that course of action and asserted that Mr. Craybill
had selected a new doctor. So, we’re asking the court to appoint Dr. Spangler
as guardian immediately.”

“Ms. McCandless, do want to say
anything before Mr. Braeburn puts up his witness?”

Sasha took a step closer to the
phone.

“Yes, your honor. Mr. Braeburn
neglected to mention that the reason Judge Paulson postponed the incapacitation
hearing and ordered briefing is that, just last week, the county sought to have
Jed Craybill declared totally incapacitated, which would result in a guardian
being given carte blanche to make all of his decisions—medical, financial,
quality of life, everything. But, despite the extraordinary power and control
the county requested, it failed utterly to set forth any factual basis for its
request. The county submitted no expert report and failed to propose less
restrictive means that would enable Mr. Craybill to maintain his independence,
perhaps with support—such as a limited guardianship. It was a naked power grab,
your honor. And Mr. Craybill was quite vocal about the fact that he would not
consent to it; he wanted to continue to live independently, as he has done for
years.”

Sasha could hear her voice
rising.

Jed opened his eyes for a
minute and looked around with mild curiosity, then drifted off again.

She continued in a quieter
voice. “Last week, I retained Dr. Kayser to perform an assessment of Mr.
Craybill to determine if he could continue to manage his own affairs. Dr.
Kayser will testify as to his opinion of Mr. Craybill’s capacity.”

She paused. She wanted to
mention the conversation between Jed and Dr. Kayser, where Jed had told the
doctor he no longer wanted to be under Dr. Spangler’s care. It was a delicate
thing, though. Jed was the logical person to testify about it, but, at the
moment, he wasn’t competent to testify—a bad fact for their position. If she
introduced the conversation through Dr. Kayser, Braeburn would almost certainly
object to it as hearsay.

She stifled a sigh and looked
at her client. Trying to pretend he wasn’t presently incapacitated was a lost
cause. Better to own it. Her motto as a trial attorney was if she could frame
the issue, she would win the argument. So she needed to frame it. Spin it to
her advantage.

She plunged in, talking a
little faster than she would have liked with the hope that it would discourage
Braeburn from interrupting. “In addition, Mr. Craybill advised Dr. Kayser that
he intended to end his relationship with Dr. Spangler and inquired as to
whether Dr. Kayser was taking new patients. Although Mr. Craybill had not yet
transferred his records to Dr. Kayser when he fell ill, his then-present
intention is of paramount importance—especially now, when I think all parties
would agree that Mr. Craybill is in no shape currently to tell us his wishes.”

Her eyes darted to Braeburn. He
opened his mouth, thought the better of it, and closed it again. Fast, like a
fish gulping. Dr. Spangler glared at him, her eyes cracking.

On the other end of the phone,
Justice Bermann exhaled heavily. “Okay, people. Let’s hear from the county. In
an effort to get this thing finished before sunrise, please limit yourselves to
five minutes on direct and five minutes on cross for both sides’ witnesses.”

It didn’t sound like a lot of
time. But, Sasha knew it would feel like an eternity to the doctors. She’d once
had an expert witness describe testifying as what he imagined it would have
been like to have defended his dissertation while naked and being pelted with
vegetables by a panel of ex-girlfriends.

Braeburn arranged his papers on
Jed’s tray table and turned to Sasha. “I guess we should swear in our own
witnesses?”

She shrugged, but the chief
justice rattled off the oath over the phone, and Dr. Spangler raised her right
hand and was sworn in.

Braeburn ran her through her
vitals and background information in a hurry, then got right down to business.

“How long have you been Jed
Craybill’s treating physician?”

“Oh my, forever. For as long as
I’ve been practicing medicine, I mean.”

“And how long has that been?”

“Let’s see . . .it’s going on
twelve years, now.”

Sasha did some rough
calculations in her head. That meant Dr. Spangler was probably in her
mid-forties, if not older. She looked like she was twenty-five. Tops.

“And, had he ever indicated
that he was displeased with the quality of care he received from you?”

“Never.” Dr. Spangler leaned
forward here and smiled at the phone, as if Justice Bermann could somehow see
her through it. “I treated his wife Marla, too, until she lost her battle with
cancer. They both seemed perfectly happy with my care; although, I suppose, Jed
stopped coming in after Marla died. That was concerning. You see that sometimes
with elderly couples.”

She turned and gazed sadly at
Jed before continuing. “The first one goes and the survivor sort of stops
taking care of himself or herself. So, when I ran into Jed at the gas station
over the winter and he mentioned that he’d fallen, I got to thinking about him
being all alone out there at his place and not coming in for routine checkups.
I was worried.”

She’d rambled far beyond the
bounds of Braeburn’s question, but Sasha didn’t intend to object. Let her run
on and eat up Braeburn’s time; given the late hour, she doubted the chief
justice was going to be generous in response to requests for additional time.

“What did your worry lead you
to do?”

“He’d injured his arm—not
seriously, thank goodness—and I kept thinking how much worse it could have
been. I prayed over it, and I decided I had a duty to report my concern to the
Department of Aging Services.”

She turned again and looked at
Jed’s sleeping form with liquid eyes.

Sasha jotted a few notes on her
notepad and waited.

“What happened next?”

“I met with the director of
Aging Services, and she determined it would be appropriate to file a petition
to have Mr. Craybill declared incapacitated. She asked me if I would serve as
the guardian. I agreed, of course. As the town’s population has aged, I have
had to take on that role more and more for patients and others who can no
longer manage on their own. It’s a sad fact of my practice these days.”