Dumb Blondes

Hal calls her a dumb blonde, but she's not. I've seen her roots.

Her name is Caroline, and she works somewhere in the hospital, a secretary in some office. Hal never pays much attention to those girls. Oh yeah, he looks at 'em all right; he stands right in the middle of the mailroom when he's using the copier. That way they have to squeeze past him and he gets a free feel. Not with his hands, he's not that kind of guy; but he has been known to comment now and then. To “the boys.” I guess I'm one of them.

My name is Suzy Samuels, but they call me Sam. I work with the guys in the Information Systems department. Why they treat me like one of the guys is another story, but I guess it's okay with me. It's better than the way they treat Caroline.

I watched once while Hal was in the mailroom. It was very smooth. He moved over to get his copies, and backed up to another table to collate them. Yeah, he did it himself instead letting the copier do it. Gave him more time with girls trying to slip around him. Caroline, and most of them I noticed, raise their forearms up close to their chests, and they bend a little at the hips and at the waist. That's the posture for scooting past someone, so the silly guys really only get brushed by their arms, maybe a little hip.

Caroline asked me one day if I liked working with the guys. I said it was okay, and she said, “They're all so smart. It must be exciting to work with a whole roomful of smart guys. You're so lucky.” I didn't say anything, just smiled and thought, wow, if you only knew.

Anyway, one night we were working late. The whole eMail system had gone down, and we were trying to get it back up. I don't know why Caroline was there; maybe sending out memos to all the heads of departments before the exec meeting the next day.

Hal and I had had a quick supper and were on our way out to the area designated for smoke breaks. Caroline was out the door just ahead of us, and she stopped suddenly, blocking our path. I could see her clearly, lit by the lights from the hallway, but I couldn't see beyond her. Her eyes widened, and her hands went up to her mouth stifling a scream. Then she rushed forward, into the dark, and knelt down. “Help!” she cried. “Someone get help!”

Hal pushed past me, in an officious way, and barked, “What's going on here?” Seeing the body, he turned back to the doorway, his face pale. “I'll get help.”

Caroline was on her knees beside the man. She was breathing hard, working to stay calm. She averted her eyes from the blood that was pooling on the pavement, and leaned over his face to listen and feel for breath. “I can't tell for sure,” she said, “but I think maybe he's still alive. Have you had CPR?” I was really impressed at her cool.

I said I had, but I'd never had to use it.

“Who has?” she replied. “See if you can find a pulse. I couldn't, but blood is pumping out. I'm going to try giving him a breath. Can you back me up until someone else comes?”

I said I could, and I got into position to do chest compressions, glad that I had that job and not the breathing. I couldn't feel a pulse at his wrist and reached toward his neck. It might have been there, but I couldn't find it. And the blood seemed more to be oozing out than actually pumping. “Okay,” I said. I'll start some compressions.” I ripped open the bloody shirt to feel for his sternum. “So he wasn't breathing?” I asked. I thought I'd double check.

“He took one breath when I first got down there, you know, next to him,” she said. “I could hear it, but then nothing.”

“So then you gave him four breaths. You did the right thing.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, confused.

“If you're sure he's not breathing, you breathe for him. But not just yet. You can do it again after I've finished thirty compressions.” I felt certain on this score.

“I think I know him. I don't want to let him just die,” she wailed. “I need to do something! Besides, I always wanted to give somebody mouth-to-mouth, and he's so gorgeous.”

“Eight… How could you… Nine …even think… Ten… about that… Eleven… at a time… Twelve… like this?” I called.

“Isn’t it obvious, how great looking he is, I mean? He’s tall, has curly hair, flat ears, a nice nose, a strong jaw. Well, I could just go on and on.”

“Well, don’t. It’s time for you to give him more breaths. How long can it possibly take for Hal to find some help? It’s a hospital, for God’s sake. So, who is this guy, and what do you think happened to him?”

“If it’s who I think it is, his name is Pete, and he’s a pharmacist. He hasn’t been at St. Luke’s very long. I remember his picture in the “Please Welcome” section of the Rx Weekly. When can we stop to see if we’re getting any results?”

I finished my thirty before answering this time. It was too hard to talk and count at the same time. “One more round of this first,” I said. I was getting tired.

The overhead speaker blared into the quiet night, and I jumped.

“Attention: Code Six O Six on the ground level patio.”

“That’s a stupid thing to call this place. Will anybody ever find it? What the heck is it called anyway? “

Someone else had caught that error, and the operator’s voice came through again.

“Attention: Code Six O Six—that’s on the smoker’s patio, ground level.”

“At least respiratory will find us. They practically all smoke.”

“Isn’t that crazy?” I commented, knowing that both of us needed some small talk just now to keep our minds off this gruesome scene.

Then all of a sudden the door opened and half the ER came rushing out, or at least it seemed that way. All that mattered to me was that someone knelt down beside me and said, “Good job. I’ll take over now.” I was out of the way in a flash, without even looking to see who my rescuer was. That’s when I started to shake, and I had to lean against the building I was shaking so hard.

I looked across the deck and saw that Caroline wasn’t doing any better than I was. She was doubled over, and crying so much that she couldn’t get her breath. Selma, the evening shift supervisor, was beside her, crouched down so she could try to make out what Caroline was saying. Then Dr. Ben came up beside me, and I fell into his arms. Literally, I mean. I almost passed out.

Dr. Ben is works in ER. Another ER doc had beaten him down here and was already directing the show, getting the victim onto a gurney and what not. Dr. Ben put his arm around me to keep me from falling, and took my pulse. “Now, what happened?” he said. “What can you tell me?”

I told him all I knew, which was nothing. “Is it that Pete guy?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s Pete.” His face looked tight and drawn. “Did you know him?”

“’Did I?’ You mean he’s dead?”

“No, he’s alive for now anyway. I meant, were you friends?”

I shook my head.

“Look, was there anybody else out here when you found him?” Dr. Ben asked.

“I didn’t find him. Caroline did. Maybe she saw somebody, but I didn’t. What happened to him? Was he stabbed? That’s all I could think of when I was doing CPR, but I didn’t ever look close. I was afraid that maybe I was pumping all the blood out of him, through the holes.” I thought for a minute I was going to be sick at my stomach, but I took a deep breath and it passed.

“That’s what it looks like, that he was stabbed. You did real good, incidentally. He lost a lot of blood, but he’s breathing on his own now. Have you got someone to take you home? Selma said you should get on out of here.”

“But Hal and I had a lot of work to do.”

“Hal can do it by himself. Besides, it makes him look so macho.”

I looked at Dr. Ben funny, ‘cause I didn’t know anyone else knew about Hal and his ego. We both laughed.

“I think Connie would come get me if I called,” I said. “Or I could just drive myself. I’m okay.”

“Call,” he said, and I did.

I don’t know what happened to Caroline that night. I guess she went home too. I didn’t see her again until the next day. She didn’t look so good, sort of flushed and pale at the same time, if that makes any sense.

“Sam!” she said, like I was the least likely person she’d expected to run into.

“Hi Caroline,” I said. “You did a helluva job, taking control of the situation like that.”

“You did good too,” she said. “Did you hear any news today?”

“Pete’s in ICU. They had to take him to the O.R. last night. Removed his spleen. He’s doing okay. Did the police talk to you?”

“Over and over. They kept asking the same questions, but I didn’t know anything. You didn’t see anybody else out there last night, did you? I don’t see how they could have gotten by us without our seeing them. It must have happened a little bit before we got there, and the attacker escaped.”

I nodded. “So, do they have any idea who did it? Or why?”

“Probably drugs, that’s what I heard.”

“Probably,” I agreed. Then I had a thought. “Do you think they were trying to steal them from him, or buy them?”

“Or maybe he was trying to buy them,” she said. That didn’t make any sense to me, but I didn’t say anything, just thought about it some more.

Well, the rumor mill was going strong by noon, and there was a whole lot more about Pete that we didn’t know. Seems he was married, or maybe not anymore. Nobody knew for sure about that. But he’d definitely left his wife because she was on drugs and couldn’t get off, at least that’s what I heard. Back in Phoenix, where he was from.

Caroline and I had never been best buds before, but now we were calling each other several times a day with new information, although I doubt half of it was true. We were drawn to each other, like partners in crime, which is kind of funny since neither of us committed a crime.

The cleaning lady told us she’d seen some company in Pete’s room, and she thought it was his parents.

“Oh good,” we said. “He needs plenty of support right now.”

We always talked about him as if he had been the victim, but I had begun to wonder if Caroline’s latest guess could make sense. Could Pete have been trying to buy drugs after all?

I would definitely get fired if anyone knew about this, so I couldn’t mention it to anyone: I looked into his computer files. Not much personal email, so that was no help. Plenty of standard queries about this new drug and that one and the side effects, but nothing about sources that I saw. There were several instances of research about crack cocaine and methamphetamines, and most of them were made the week before his death. That might be something worth looking into. Chances are, we had a patient who’d O.D.’d and Pete looked up some info for the docs. Maybe we’d have to nose around.

I called Caroline right away and told her we’d have to meet at break time. Then I swore her to secrecy, because I seriously didn’t want to get canned.

On Pete’s third day in ICU, I got a call from ER to fix their GroupMail program. The sent letter file wasn’t showing up. Hal started to send someone else, but I said I wanted to stretch my legs. It’s quite a run to the E.R. from our basement office. The place wasn’t very busy, but I’ve been shushed too many times to mention it. For scientific types, those ER folks sure are superstitious. It was quiet, and they wanted it to remain that way. That was just fine with me.

Dr. Ben was standing by the door chatting with someone from the lab when I got there. I sat down at a computer and began to do my magic, and he sauntered over to watch.

“Whatcha got going there?” he asked.

“First I’ll defrag the drive, and then I have a few other tricks up my sleeve,” I said, and grinned at him. He grinned back.

“Have you been up to see Pete yet?” he asked. Well, that surprised me. “I didn’t know I could go in, since I’m not family.”

“You’re part of St. Luke’s family, that should count. Plus, he’d be a deceased relative by now if you hadn’t gotten him started up again. I’m sure he’d like to say thank you.”

I sputtered a little, said it was really Caroline that was the brave one. “Maybe she had the idea first, but you took over and did the work. I saw you. Hon, you were in charge, and you were sailing! Whoever said you were blonde didn’t know what they were talking about.”

I was really blushing by now, but kind of irritated too. My hair is light colored, but I’m not a “blonde,” and I told him so. He looked at me and laughed. “It’s not a dirty word, you know. Blondes are beautiful.”

“And smart too,” I added, and he agreed.

“So you think I could just drop by and see Pete?”

“Sure.“

“Have you heard any more about the stabbing?”

“The detective has been back a couple of times, but he hasn’t let us in on anything if he has any leads.”

“Had you had any drug overdoses, street drugs I mean, before the stabbing? Like a few days before, of even a week?”

“Sure, we have ‘em all the time. What are you thinking about?”

I didn’t know what I was thinking about, except how close Dr. Ben was to my shoulder. “I wondered if Pete was doing any research about street drugs because of a patient coming in.”

“That’s an interesting idea. I’d just come back from a three day weekend, so you couldn’t prove it by me, but I’ll look in the logs. That’s probably worth doing,” he said, and, giving my shoulder a squeeze, took off round the corner.

I couldn’t exactly follow him, so I finished the job I came for and went back to my office. When I left for my dinner break at 5, I went by ICU. A nurse was just wheeling a patient out the door, and she said, “Hi. It’s Suzy, isn’t it? Did you come to see Pete?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Is that all right?” I don’t know how she knew who I was. And nobody calls me Suzy.

“Just stop at the nurses’ station and tell them I okayed it. I’m Jan, by the way. Nice work the other day.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling proud of myself. It was a good feeling. “Uh, what room is he in?”

“He’s in 436, on the end over there.”

I’d been in ICU once or twice, but only in the station, safely behind a computer. Now here I was, walking down a hall with everybody’s door more or less open. There were people hooked up to all kinds of things, and family members looking pretty sad. I made myself look straight ahead, like I wasn’t even curious.

I hesitated by the door, but as I pushed it to peek in, the hinge squeaked just a little. Pete was lying in the bed with his eyes closed, but he opened them when he heard the squeak.

“Yes?” he said.

Inching a little further into the room, I made a little waving motion with my hand in front of me, and said, “Hi.”

“Did you want something?” he asked.

“Uh, I just wanted to see how you are,” I said, feeling stupid now. He didn’t know me from Adam. “I’m Sam. Caroline and I are the ones who found you.”

“I heard it was somebody named ‘Suzy,’” he said, looking confused.

“Well, that’s my real name, but nobody around here uses it.” It was my turn to feel confused.

“That’s the name Human Resources told me when I asked who’d broken my ribs.”

“Oh, no!” I said, horrified.

“Just kidding,” he said weakly, “but they are pretty sore. Thanks for doing it. You were very brave.”

A little of that praise goes a long ways, and I was ready to talk about him, not me. “So, who stabbed you?” I asked.

“A guy,” he said. “I don’t know his name.”

“Was he still out there on the patio when we were, uh, working on you?” Now that was an electrifying thought!

“No, He got away when he heard people coming.”

“He didn’t pass us in the hall, I’m pretty sure of that,” I said.

“Maybe he went the other direction.”

Duh. I hadn’t seen anybody go that way either, but it could have happened.

“So, why did he stab you? Did he think you had drugs on you or something?”

“That’s what the police decided. “

“You didn’t, did you? I mean, pharmacists don’t just carry drugs around, do they?”

“No, certainly not, but maybe he didn’t know that. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m getting awfully tired. Thank you for coming though, and for saving my life.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” I said. “I didn’t mean to make you talk so much. Well, I’m glad you’re getting better. I’ll just go now.”

“Thanks again, and would you please close my door?”

I pulled it closed, and was walking out of the unit when someone at the station motioned me over. As I got closer, I saw it was Jan. “Did he say anything?” she asked.

“Anything what?”

“About why he was on the smokers’ patio at night with a stranger.”

“No,” I said, but that really set me to wondering. And I guess I wasn’t the only one. So I asked her, “Have you had any patients up here recently, because of street drugs?”

“We did have one, a teenager who had just moved here from Yakima. In fact, he died. It was in the paper. ‘Just smoking pot, ‘like hundreds of other kids who think it’s harmless,” she said in disgust. “Only this time it was full of rat poison.”

“Rat poison!” I was horrified.

“Why would anyone do that?”

“They don’t grow that stuff in some greenhouse, you know. It’s not what you’d call ‘organic.’”

“Oh, you mean it wasn’t intentional. No one was trying to kill him.”

“I don’t suppose so. Why wipe out a good customer and get the law’s attention?”

“Was the kid anyone Pete knew?”

“I don’t know. He never said anything about it.” Call lights were going off, and Jan was getting too busy to keep talking.

“I heard he was from Yakima though,” I said.

“It’s a big town,” she said, and I felt dumb.

I thought about it a lot that evening, and even pulled up the web site for the local paper, hunting for more information. There was no mention of anyone dying from drugs, no story about tainted marijuana, nothing. I looked on the obituary pages. There it was: a sixteen year old boy, Carson Goodson, died just over a week ago. No mention of a car wreck or donations to the Children’s Hospital or anything. Crap. They didn’t give any real news. I’d have to find out some other way.

Maybe I’d stroll through the ER again later, just to see who was working.

“Suzy,” Dr. Ben said. “And to what do we owe this pleasure?”

I had to look at him twice to see if he was making fun of me, but he wasn’t. He had on a big smile.

“I’ve been thinking about this case,“ I started, and then he did laugh.

“This case?” he said. “So this is Sam the Sleuth who comes to pay us a visit. “ This time I could feel my face get red. That was my nickname in IS: 'Sam the Sleuth, who’ll leave no stone unturned.' Hal gave it to me when I first started working there because I kept at a project that first night, when he wanted to wrap it up and go home. He thought he was being witty, but then he thought that a lot. Anyway, it stuck, and I didn’t particularly mind it. I do like a good mystery. That’s why I’m so good at my job.

I felt confused, and I didn’t know what else to do but say so.

“How do you know so much about me?” I asked, bold as could be.

“Maybe you’re not the only sleuth around,” he teased. “Truly, though, I didn’t know who you were till the night of the stabbing. Then I asked the Super who the pretty blonde was that had done the CPR. She said it was Caroline, and I said, ‘No, the other one.’ She asked around, and someone from HR said your name was Suzy.”

“HR, that figures. They never work nights. They only know what’s on the payroll record. I wondered why everybody was calling me Suzy now.”

“You’re famous,” he said. “Then when you were down here the other day working on our computer, I heard them call you Sam, and I asked around. And now you know the whole story, at least the whole story that I know.”

“The story I want to hear about,” I rushed ahead to cover my embarrassment, “is, what about the stabbing? Nothing’s been in the paper about it. Why’s that?”

“What can I say? It’s the Daily Herald.”

“Nah, come on,” I said. “They must be keeping it quiet till they get more evidence, or something.”

“Have you got any to spare?” he asked.

“No, but I’ve got questions,” I said.

“Okay, dish ‘em up. There’s no rush here right this minute. I’ve got time.”

“What do we know about Pete? His background, his family, that sort of stuff.”

“I don’t know much of anything, but I know how to find out,” he said. “Give me an hour or so. What else?”

“Did he know the kid who died in ICU last week? Whose ‘weed’ had traces of rat poison in it? He was from Yakima too, I heard.”

“Another very good question,” Dr. Ben said. He tapped his pen on the notepad while he thought. His eyes were intensely blue, I noticed. Gosh, I was beginning to sound like Caroline.

“What questions do you suppose the police have asked Pete?”

“Hmmm. That probably didn’t happen until the day after his surgery, so maybe someone in ICU overheard. Why are you curious about that? Just checking out the competition, Miss Sleuth?”

“I went to see him at dinner time, and he seemed a little reluctant to talk. That’s all.”

“He doesn’t know your reputation,” he teased.

“Okay, okay. It’s probably nothing. I just had the feeling he was hiding something.”

“What are you doing tonight after work? Never mind. It will probably be too late. I hardly ever leave this place before nine. How about I give you a call if I hear something?”

“That would be super,” I said, and hoped I didn’t sound as excited as I felt.

He didn’t call.

But Caroline did. She’d found out something very interesting. She works in the education department—who knew that? I guess it explains how she looked so comfy with CPR. She’d watched the training a hundred times.

…
“Listen to this,” she said. “Pete has a wife. She was in rehab, and now she’s in a nursing home with a brain injury.”

“Wow, how did she find that out?” I asked.

“It wasn’t news, except to us I guess. The Supervisor tried to call her the night of the stabbing because she was listed as next of kin. She made the call from ICU.”

“Do we know what happened to her?”

“Jan went into Pete’s room the next day and said something like, ‘I’m awfully sorry to hear about your wife. How did it happen?’ but he just nodded and looked angry.”

So that gave us one thing to think about.

The next day was hectic. We were trying to get a whole new office online, and work on updates to the Rx system. I was ready to go home when the phone rang. “IS, how may I help you?” I said, and I know my voice sounded put out.

“Sam? This is Ben. Are you still on the case?” His voice always had that soft undertone of a chuckle, and it warmed me right up.

“Sure,” I said. “What have you found out?”

“Pete’s wife is in a nursing home.”

“Yeah, we heard that.”

“Did you hear why? “

“No,“ I admitted.

“Seems she had a drug problem for a few years, prescription drugs. That didn’t look good for Pete. So she went through rehab and was staying straight, except for a little marijuana now and then.”

“And it had rat poison in it?”

“You’ve got it. She had a brain hemorrhage, and it’s left her paralyzed and aphasic.”

“That’s awful!” I said. “How did you find out?”

“The detective came by again and we chatted. He already knew about the Goodson kid. There’s been a couple of cases in Yakima, but this is the first one here. They figured either the he had his pot stashed away and just got to it after the move, or maybe the supplier moved here.”

“He wouldn’t keep on selling stuff that made people sick, would he? Wouldn’t he be just asking for more trouble?”

“It depends…on how bad he needed the money for his own habit.”

“How do you suppose Pete got involved?”

“I think the police have an idea, but I sure as heck don’t. Well, just wanted to let you know before you left.”

“Thanks. I’m just on my way out the door.”

As soon as I hung up, the darn phone rang again.

“Sam? This is Brent. Don’t go to your car,” he said, his voice urgent.

I’d never gotten a phone call from security before, and I gulped. “Why not?”

“I just got a call from Caroline, and she thinks she saw somebody get into your car.”

“Into my car?” I said.

“Are you parked over by the lab where you usually park?”

Brent never missed when it came to cars. He knows what everybody drives.

“Yeah, “ I said.

“She was looking out the window while they were doing some in-service in the blood bank. She said a man walked up to the door and got in. I have the police on their way right now.”

“What do you want me to do? “

“When they get here, we’ll go take a look.”

I was torn. I wanted to go to a window where I could look out on car. And I wanted to call Caroline. Oh, the surgical floor. That would work. I raced upstairs, and Brent, radio in hand, followed me. “Here’s an empty room,” I said. He went to the window. I grabbed the phone.

Caroline was so excited she could barely talk. “It was that good looking guy I saw the other night,” she said. “I don’t know where he works, maybe Central Supply, but he wears scrubs.”

“Which good looking guy?” I asked.

“The dark haired one, about 5’8’, muscular build. I pointed him out to you at lunch.”

She had pointed out too many “good looking guys” in the few days we’d actually known each other. There was no way I’d remember. Not that it mattered. He was in my car! My carefully locked car.

When the cops got here, we scooted out the lab door while Brent kept his eye on the car. They approached it first, looked inside, and ordered the man out. He wasn’t very old, sixteen at the most, and they patted him down and cuffed him. He was carrying a knife. I didn’t remember ever seeing him before.

“What were you doing in this car?” they demanded.

“I wasn’t gonna hurt her,” the boy protested. “I just wanted her to know that it’s Pete that’s to blame.”

“To blame for what?” They weren’t buying his story, but it had taken an unexpected turn.

“It’s his fault Nicky’s like she is.”

“Nicky? Who’s Nicky?” the big cop said.

“My sister,” he said, like we were stupid.

“What about your sister?”

“She’s married to that bum, the one who got her hooked on drugs.” He was almost crying.

“You mean Pete?”

“Yes, Pete. Who do you think I meant? But I didn’t stab him.”

That was enough. They read him his rights and arrested him for illegal entry with intent to do harm. I was going to press charges, but later I changed my mind. I couldn’t be absolutely sure I’d locked my door, and I hadn't gotten hurt. Who's to say what might have happened?

***

The detective paid a visit to the ICU that night.

“So, Pete, why didn’t you tell us about your wife’s brother? “

Pete looked surprised but said nothing.

“We’ve got him in custody. Why don’t you tell us some more about that night?”

“I didn’t recognize him at first,” Pete said. “He’d dyed his hair black, and he was standing by the cafeteria door when I came out from supper. He said he wanted to tell me about Nicky, so I went with him. Then he pulled the knife and threatened me with it. He told me not to come near her again. He thought I'd given her drugs in the first place.”

"Had you?"

"No."

“Why did you tell us you didn’t know who stabbed you?”

“I didn’t say that. I said he didn’t look like anybody I knew. He didn’t. If I’d seen him coming, maybe I’d have called the cops. He’s the one that did this to Nicky. I can’t prove it, but he’s the one.”

“Did what?”

“He gave her that pot. She was in rehab, but he got her some. He's her favorite brother. He'd do anything she asked. ”

“Did she tell you that?”

“No,” he said, "she denied it."

***

It was several nights later and way after nine when Ben called. If he hadn’t told me the rest of the story, I might never have heard it all.

Pete refused to press charges. He insisted he didn’t know who stabbed him. Even though the boy had a knife, it was clean. There was no evidence. And, no matter what the boy said, there was no evidence that Pete had been connected to Nicky’s drug use either. It was a stalemate.

What there was, turned up in Yakima. The detectives there found traces of marijuana and rat poison in the rafters of Carson Goodson’s house. There was a plastic bag, but it was torn and the pot was strewn out like it’d been used for nesting material. They also found discarded prescription bottles that had contained narcotics. The boy who died in ICU had been the supplier. He’d moved out of the area before he heard about Nicky. He died from smoking his own dope.

***
Caroline had some news too. She got it from her cousin who lives in Yakima. Nicky is getting better, but the process is slow. Pete moved back to take care of her. There’s a really good rehab center there—physical rehab, that is. Nicky’s brother is staying off marijuana and is doing better in school. He wants to be a doctor.

Caroline says he’s too young for her, “but he’s gorgeous anyway.”

Ben said he’d call. I’m waiting.