The Brain Vault (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 3) (23 page)

Ambler looked up when he heard the dogs yelping and whining around the periphery of the white cedar swamp. Their handler was kneeling next to the dogs and rewarding them with treats. They chewed them happily and quieted down. The male crushed his bone in two powerful chomps and swallowed. The handler tossed him a second bone, which he caught in mid air. Two more powerful chomps and then he ran off to scratch his belly against the tall-growing sedge. He smiled as the sedge’s stiff shafts grazed his funny bone.

Ambler waved the handler over.

The handler was rubbing the female’s tummy. He scratched her behind the ear and then responded to Ambler’s signal.

“Playing favorites?” Ambler asked. “You gave the male two treats; you only gave the female one.”

“We’re watching Lucy’s weight. She’s a little more sedentary than Ricky is.”

“So what’s going on?” Ambler asked.

“I’m sure your man has spent a lot of time in this area. Ricky and Lucy have been trained only to ask for rewards after they’ve made a significant discovery.”

“I love the name choices.”

The handler smiled. “I named them. I was a big fan of I Love Lucy.”

Ambler smiled. “Me too. You see anything significant here?”

“Whatever has the dogs on alert seems to be coming from the swamp. There was one time that Lucy accurately indicated the bodies of two homicide victims that were submerged beneath a hundred feet of water in a Pennsylvania quarry. The water was so cold that it delayed putrefaction for days, which kept the bodies from floating to the surface.” The handler swept his tongue behind his top lip and then spat on the ground. “I’m telling you these two dogs are uncanny. If they’re telling us that there’s someone in the swamp, there’s someone in the swamp.”

“Fine,” Ambler said. “I’ll give the order; we’ll dredge the goddamn thing.”

I
t’s amazing how quickly we made the trip back to Manhattan.
We were walking into the lobby at Lenox Hill Hospital in under an hour. Zugg and I were eager to spend some serious time with Rat, but I could see that Zugg was losing steam. He excused himself and went to the men’s room while I pulled out my Palm Treo. It was equipped with GPS, and I wanted to get my arms around The Pine Barrens’ geography. I needed to understand just what exactly we were up against in terms of sheer size and complexity.

My location must’ve been poor because it took forever for the Palm to bring up The Pine Barrens’ location. The phone rang while I was waiting. It was my dear friend Glenaster Tully from the Medical Examiner’s office. I answered the call while the unit searched for the proper map.

“Tully, how are you?”

“Just fine, Chalice.” Tully had only lived in New York for about half a dozen years and spoke with the heaviest of Jamaican accents. “What’s my fine lady up to today?”

“Solving crime, jailing slime, same as any other day—you’ve got some news for me, my friend?”

Tully chuckled. I could picture his happy grin on the other end of the line. “Ya,
mon
, I do. It’s about your John Doe. Cause of death was respiratory failure, but there’s something I don’t like.”

“What’s that?”

“Toxicology found opiates in his bloodstream, but you said he was in the hospital a couple of days—he should’ve come up clean.”

“That does sound a little odd. Why would you give morphine to someone in a coma?”

“That’s exactly what I mean, Chalice. The victim’s lungs were healthy. I’m not so sure he didn’t have a little help checking out of this world.”

“So you’re saying that he might have been murdered?”

“Don’t know one hundred percent, Chalice. All I’m saying is something don’t add up.”

“I’ll look into it. Was there anything else?”

“The victim was not capable of speech. His vocal cords were destroyed by caustic injections to the voice box. Someone wanted to make sure John Doe didn’t make noise, not a peep.”

Tully’s news made my own throat ache. It all made me start to wonder. Was Rat capable of doing that too? Doe had been tortured, blinded, and had his vocal cords destroyed. Whoever did this was a monster. There was no other name that applied better. Alas, a lot still remained unexplained. “Good work, my friend. As always you’ve been a big help.”

“Bring it home, Chalice. If anyone can do it, it’s you,
mon
. I got faith in you. Take care.”

I was picturing that wretched deformed man lying in his hospital bed. What were we dealing with here? Was he a victim or was it the other way around? The question would have to keep a little longer as I was startled by a loud thud that seemed to emanate from the men’s room. I knew in my heart that it represented bad news. I jumped to my feet, jammed my Palm Treo into my pocket, and raced into the men’s room.

“H
ow’s he doing?”
I wasn’t used to seeing Zugg in a hospital gown. As sick as I knew he was, I hadn’t really thought of him as an infirm. I’d thought of him as a struggling investigator, trying to make a contribution despite it all, one who was still able to stand on his own two feet, however briefly. Seeing him now, pale and unconscious in a hospital bed, gave me a real understanding of just how ill he really was. His Yankees cap was conspicuously missing, giving me ample time to study the surgical scar that traversed the top of his head.

About an hour had passed since I had found him unconscious in the men’s room with a syringe dangling from his arm.

The attending doctor’s name was Kahn. “He’s in shock. I won’t know what we’re up against until we know what he injected himself with. Do you know what medications he was on?”

“I know he took Imitrex—he gets terrible migraines. I saw him pass out after injecting himself once, but he came right back.”

“We’re having the contents of the syringe analyzed. I hope that’s all it was. His scans didn’t show a concussion. We have God to thank that he didn’t hit his head when he fell.”

I did the sign of the cross mentally. “Yes, thank God. Why would you think otherwise? I mean what else might he have injected himself with?”

“I’m not sure. Imitrex makes sense. Glioma patients often suffer from headaches, nausea, and vomiting—seizures are possible. More worrisome is that glioma patients sometimes suffer with personality and mood swings. They have problems with judgment. Almost anything is possible when alterations take place in the gray matter. I’m trying to locate his medical records and contact the doctors who are familiar with his case. You wouldn’t happen to know where his surgery was performed, would you?”

I shook my head. “I’ll try to find out. Glioma is brain cancer?”

Kahn nodded. “Yes, it’s one form of anaplastic malignancy”.

I began getting choked up. I could still see him rising naked from the pond, having given himself his daily baptism. It was all starting to hit home, the full severity of Zugg’s condition. “Are we in danger of losing him?”

Kahn put his hand on mine. “Not today.” He smiled warmly. “Let’s be optimistic, Detective. Does he have family we should notify?”

“I’m not sure if he has family. I’ll find out.”

“Well then it’s good that you’re here for him. I have to make my rounds, but the nurses can page me if there are any changes.”

“Thanks, Doctor.”

I pulled up a chair and began a vigil, watching over him. I didn’t know if there was anyone else he could count on.

I really wanted my friends and loved ones around me: Ma, Ricky, and Gus. I was going for my phone to call Gus when I remembered that Dr. Kahn needed as much information about Zugg as possible. As I reached for my phone to call Ambler, I saw that the GPS system had finally located a map of The Pine Barrens. I’d forgotten that I had started a search just before finding Zugg passed out in the men’s room. It was fortuitous that my Palm had completed its assignment. It had secured a very clear map of The Pine Barrens, complete with details of the major structures within it. One area in particular caught my interest. I took a closer look at the map and got an eerie feeling as to why our investigation had shifted from Manhattan to The Long Island Pine Barrens. I keyed Ambler’s number and waited for him to answer.

“C
halice, what’s up?
We found a body.” Ambler was staring at the remains being pulled out of the swamp; a skeletal arm dangling out of a cocoon constructed from a vinyl tarp. “They’re pulling it out of the swamp now.”

“Zugg’s not doing well. He passed out giving himself an injection and went into shock. He’s here at Lenox Hill. He’s been admitted.”

“Shit. What are the doctors doing for him?”

“They’re trying to determine what he injected himself with. Do you know what medication he takes?”

“Imitrex.”

“That’s what I said, but the doctor wasn’t sure. Do you know the name of the doctor that takes care of him?”

“No, he’s very private about that stuff, but he’s still getting Bureau benefits. I’ll make a call and see what I can dig up.”

“He’s very sick, Herbert.”

Ambler must’ve sensed the sadness in my voice. “You knew that, kid. I told you what he had.”

“I know, but hearing it from you and hearing it from an oncologist are two separate things. He’s unconscious.”

“Steady, Sweetheart, he’ll pull through. He’s tougher than you give him credit for.”

It had only been a few years since my dad had passed away. The pain and unhappiness was all coming back. “Please see what you can find out and call me back. The doctor needs to know what he’s dealing with.”

“I’ll check into it and get right back to you.”

“Oh, guess what else?”

“Surprise me, I know that’s the way you want it.”

“Pilgrim State Mental Hospital—it’s located smack dab in the center of The Pine Barrens.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Its vacant now, isn’t it? I mean the place was shut down years ago.”

“No, not shut down, just scaled back. They still have thousands of inpatients and outpatients.”

“And you think that figures into our case?”

“Let’s see, we have a lunatic looking to swap skulls with Paul Liu and he needs someone equally insane to help with the procedure, not to mention that we just found another skull in their backyard—I don’t know, I think Pilgrim State might be worth a look.”

“Alright, you’ve made your point. I’ll check on the progress of the facial reconstruction project and have the photos brought over to Pilgrim State as soon as they’re ready.”

“That’s a good lad. Check into Zugg’s records, will you, and please call me right back.”

Ambler was chuckling on the other end. “God love you, you’re a piece of work—later.”

M
elancholy wasn’t big on my list of healthy personal traits, so I switched gears and refocused on the case to keep my mind busy.
The conversation I’d had with Tully was coming back. Why had Doe been given morphine? It was time for me to track down Dr. Maiguay. I paged him several times without receiving an answer, so I took an elevator to ICU so I could look for myself. Maiguay, who had always been handy, was nowhere to be found. The evening nurse had just come on duty, so I figured I’d see if she knew how I could get a hold of him.

“Good evening.” I flashed my shield. “I’m Detective Chalice. Can you tell me where I might find Dr. John Maiguay?”

“Did you try paging him?”

“Several times, no answer.”

“He may be off, but let me try.” I watched as the nurse looked up Maiguay’s number and paged him. “Let’s give him a few minutes and see if responds. Is this about John Doe?”

“Yes… I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.”

“Adelaide Tucker. That poor man, he sure was a terrible mess. Who would do that to another person? Terrible, just terrible—maybe it’s better the good Lord took him.”

“Can you tell me why Dr. Maiguay might have prescribed morphine for someone in Doe’s condition?”

“Morphine? I don’t remember him prescribing morphine. He gave him a small does of Valium once, just enough to calm the poor thing down. He had a bad case of dream terror—got all agitated.”

“How does a coma patient get dream terror?”

“Don’t know. I suppose they still dream. At least that’s what Dr. Maiguay thought it was. The man was moaning and shaking. Dr. Maiguay had to give him something to settle him down.”

“Valium you said, but not morphine—you’re sure?”

“Oh definitely. The Valium worked just fine, settled him down right away.”

“Can you check the charts for me?”

“They’re long gone. They go right to accounting and then audit and archive. You’re best bet is talking to the doctor.”

I looked at my watch. “He should have called by now.”

A second nurse was on her way out. Adelaide flagged her down. “Diana, you see Dr. Maiguay today?”

Diana looked worn. “I think he’s off. He hasn’t been around all day.”

My cell phone rang. It was Ambler, no doubt, calling me to provide an update on Zugg’s medical information. Ma always said that a hospital was the unhealthiest place in the world. Of course she was talking about hospitals in terms of accidental deaths, and for being a cesspool for diseases you would never normally encounter in the course of your day to day life. Suddenly there was new wisdom in words. No disrespect to Lenox Hill, fine institution that it was, but it was time to convey Ambler’s information to Dr. Kahn, and then get the hell out of the building.

I
found Dr. Kahn leaning against the wall outside Zugg’s room.
He looked pale, as if he had just been informed as to the imminent demise of the earth’s population as the result of a global pandemic.

“Are you alright, Doctor? I have a phone number for you and the name of Dr. Zugg’s oncologist.” I handed him the information on a slip of paper. He looked at it and put it in his pocket. I asked again, “Are you alright?”

“He’s been self medicating.”

“How bad? You’re not talking about aspirin, are you?”

Kahn looked even paler than he had the moment before. “He’s been injecting himself with neurotoxins.”

I didn’t know what Kahn was talking about and I needed clarification. The word toxin needed no translation. I was hoping that Zugg wasn’t intentionally poisoning himself. I dragged him down the hall to the lounge. We sat down in chairs facing each other. “What exactly has he been doing?”