Past Lives (9 page)

Karen turned and looked at Macandrew who shrugged. Up until that moment he had been worried by what he was hearing. It almost came as a relief to have something remind him that he was listening to the ramblings of a sick woman.

Jane Francini opened her mouth to reply but suddenly froze as if she'd been struck dumb then she let out a loud, harsh wail of anguish.'

'What is it, Emma?' asked Karen. ‘What’s the matter?’

Jane Francini had totally changed in demeanour. Gone was the timid little girl who wanted her mother and her doll. In her place was an angry woman who let out a stream of unintelligible words at Karen who stepped back in surprise.

Jane Francini was now completely out of sedation and obviously in great distress. She threw her head from side to side and slapped her hands angrily down on the bed. There would be no further discussion with her.

I’ve heard about this and I’ve read about it in the journals, but I’ve never actually seen it for myself,’ said Karen. ‘Your patient seems to have developed Multiple Personality Disorder or Dissociative Identity Disorder as they’ve started calling it these days. We'll talk further when I've listened to the tape and had a think about what's going on.'

She returned to Jane's bedside and switched off her recorder. She had to move smartly out of the way to avoid a flailing arm. 'I'm sure her husband will change his mind about sedation when he sees her like this,' she said.

*

'What in Christ's name have you done to her?' stormed Tony Francini when he entered the room and saw the disturbed state of his wife. Two nurses were trying to restrain her.

'She has been allowed to recover full consciousness on your instructions,' said Macandrew coldly. 'I strongly recommend that she be put back under sedation immediately in view of her cardiac history.’

Francini's eyes were wide and unblinking as he watched his wife rant and rave. He appeared to have been shocked into silence by the sight.

'Mr Francini, do you understand what I'm saying?'

Francini turned slowly towards Macandrew and nodded. 'I understand all right,' he said. 'You'd rather no one saw the full horror of what you've done to Janey, you butchering bastard!'

'Mr Francini, your wife’s condition is the result of a brain tumour, nothing else. Now, can I sedate her?'

'Go ahead. Do what you have to to get her through the night,' said Francini with a shake of his head. His shoulders slumped forward in obvious despair. 'After that, you leave her alone. Understand? My man's flying into Kansas City in the morning.'

Jane’s ranting subsided almost immediately the injection was given and became a murmur as she relaxed on the pillow. Her eyelids flickered briefly before she fell into a deep sleep.

'I know so. She's going to have to be certified: that’s what happened to all previous Hartman patients according to Carl Lessing.'

'Lessing was absolutely sure about the nature of the tumour wasn't he?' asked Klinsman. ‘I have to be sure of our position. Francini is determined to apportion blame for this one and with his financial muscle he's going to be a formidable proposition.'

'Carl was certain and I don't care if Francini’s got access to the Federal gold reserves. His wife had a malignant tumour and that’s what caused her condition.' said Macandrew angrily. 'Bringing in the best neurosurgeon in the country isn't going to change anything apart from make the numbers in his bank account fall like leaves in October.'

'That’s what I wanted to hear,' said Klinsman. 'We'll be having a meeting with Francini and Weber after he's had a chance to examine Jane tomorrow. Probably some time in the afternoon. Keep it free will you.'

Macandrew put the phone down. He'd had more than enough for one day. He told Reception he was going home.

Macandrew’s landlord was still away and the house was completely silent as he looked out of his room window and noticed for the first time what a beautiful day it had been. The sun was going down and the western sky had become a deep red. The sky directly above however, was still unbroken blue and marked only by a thin vapour trail from a jetliner heading east. It was too high to be heard.

He wished he could rid himself of the uneasy feeling that the Francini case had left him with but it persisted. The fact that someone thought he was incompetent bothered him; even it happened to be a guy like Francini. But he could see no easy way round the problem. He poured himself a large drink, put Miles Davis on the stereo and turned it up a little louder than usual.

Saul Klinsman called at four the following afternoon to say that Weber had finished his examination of Jane Francini and her medical records and case notes. Would Macandrew care to join them in his office? Macandrew was surprised to find not three men in the room but four. Klinsman introduced him to the two he didn’t know.

Weber was pretty much as he expected, expensively dressed in a light grey suit, pale lavender shirt and deep purple tie which set off his tan and swept-back silver hair to advantage. His handshake was firm and his smile a tribute to the dentists' art. His voice had the practised modulation of a TV news anchorman.

The second man, Joel Kirschbaum, was introduced as Francini's attorney. He was slim and dark and avoided eye contact. It was difficult to put an age on him because of premature baldness and a naturally sallow complexion but if Francini had retained him it was odds on that he was both experienced and good. His handshake however, was limp and wet.

'Well, Doctor, what did you conclude?' Klinsman asked Weber as they all sat down. He was doing his best to appear relaxed.

'Mrs Francini is a very disturbed lady,' replied Weber. He turned to her husband. ‘Frankly, Mr Francini, I would be offering you false hope if I were to suggest to you that I could do anything about her condition. I’ve examined the scans and the case notes and the path lab’s report and I have to agree with the conclusions of the Kansas University Medical Centre that Mrs Francini is suffering brain damage brought on by an aggressive, malignant tumour, which they successfully and skilfully removed. I'm sorry.'

Macandrew felt the tension in his shoulders relax.

'But has it been confirmed beyond all doubt that Mrs Francini's current condition is due to the tumour?' asked Kirschbaum. He kept his eyes on the desk in front of him as if totally absorbed by the pencil he was turning end over end. The fact that he seemed to avoid looking at anyone directly made it difficult to know who the question was aimed at.

Weber looked uncomfortable when he concluded that it was aimed at him. He said, 'I suppose not, in the strict sense that the conclusive evidence in this case is pathological and I haven't seen it personally . . .'

'So, just for the sake of argument, it is conceivable that Mrs Francini's condition may have been caused by the
removal
of the tumour rather than the tumour itself? I mean, it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility?’

‘Our chief of neuropathology made the diagnosis,' Klinsman interrupted again. ‘He is a very experienced man. Just what are you suggesting, Mr Kirschbaum?’

'Collusion,' interrupted Francini, cottoning on to Kirschbaum’s line of questioning. ‘It’s a stitch-up. They’re covering each other’s ass.’

There was silence in the room for a few electric moments while everyone wondered of they had heard correctly. Francini repeated it. 'Collusion,' he said. 'The bastards have fitted it up between them.'

Macandrew gripped the sides of his chair until his knuckles showed white. Klinsman shot him a warning glance. Kirschbaum tried to warn his client not to say any more. Klinsman intervened with, 'Counsellor, my colleague and I understand the anguish Mr Francini feels over his wife's condition but he is going too far. If he persists in making such scurrilous accusations we will have to consider legal action ourselves.'

'You are right, Doctor,' said Kirschbaum, 'My client is under a great deal of stress and I am sure he did not mean to suggest what he appeared to.'

Francini snorted.

‘It appears to me,' said Weber, 'that this whole thing could be cleared up quickly and scientifically by an
independent
analysis of the tumour that was removed from Mrs Francini.'

'How would they know it came from Janey?' snarled Francini.

'The lab could establish that too,' said Weber. 'They could run DNA tests on both the patient and the tumour.’

There was an uneasy silence for a few moments before Klinsman took the initiative. ‘Perhaps this would be the way out of our dilemma, gentlemen?' he said. ‘Clear away any lingering doubts?’

Weber shook his head. 'I think not. Pathology isn't exactly my field. I’ll have our pathologist call yours and they can work out the details between them.'

Macandrew was left alone with Klinsman. He accepted the whisky that was handed to him and said dryly, 'That was a bundle of laughs.'

'It'll all be over when the Mayo lab confirms the diagnosis,' said Klinsman. ‘Put it behind you, Mac.’

'Something tells me Francini won't lie down. He's determined to blame me whatever he hears. He hates me; I can see it in his eyes.'

'Some people are like that,' said Klinsman. 'Come to think of it, a lot of people are like that. They need someone to blame. There's no such thing as fate or an accident. Someone always has to be at fault and they have to be hunted down and punished. It becomes an obsession with them. You see people screaming their joy outside the courthouse after a guilty verdict's announced. They've lost their kid or their wife and they're jumping up and down and cracking open champagne because some bastard is going down for it. Strange.'