The spot Lee had picked was a shaded niche on the east side of a quad. Half a dozen metered parking spaces were gratis on weekends and, today, unused. Each corner of the broad, green rectangle was occupied by one of the U.’s four original buildings. Romanesque Revival beauties that evoked a time when art was more than a concept.
I pulled into a slot and had just turned off the Seville’s engine when a wine-colored Mercedes convertible glided in next to me.
Lee was at my door before I opened it, looking as she always did. Five-five, minimal body fat, long, dark wavy hair crowning a girlishly open face marked by two of the sharpest eyes I’ve ever seen. As a post-doc, she’d done brain research with a Nobel laureate, could’ve easily gone the lab-poobah route but decided to help people directly.
Generally, she smiles a lot. Not today.
We hugged briefly. Between the leanness of Lee’s frame and her full-body tension, it was like embracing an iron gate.
She pulled away and looked around. Settled on a couple picnicking in the center of the lawn. “I was thinking we’d walk but let’s talk in my car.”
—
We settled in the Mercedes’s fragrant beige leather interior.
I looked at Lee. She looked straight ahead.
Finally, she said, “It’s complicated. I know that’s what people say when they’re bullshitting but I’m not.”
“Appreciate that.”
“Here’s the thing, Alex. I’m not sure I can give you any information unless you can assure me that no one will ever find out I was the source. Not for my protection, for…doesn’t matter. The point is without a source I can’t see it being useful for your friend.”
“Milo’s discreet.”
She kept her eyes on the windshield.
“I knowyourespect confidentiality,” she said. “For people like us it’s a religious observance. But cops are allowed to lie if it gets them what they want. For something to be useful to them, it needs to be recorded in writing. So it can be used in court. Correct?”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “Some stuff never makes it into the files.”
“Such as?”
“The identities of confidential informants and protected witnesses. Or just content detectives choose to omit because they don’t need it.”
“But you wouldn’t have asked me if you didn’t think he’d need it. And if he goes ahead and makes a—okay, I’m going to stop being all spy-novel and give you the gist of what I know but only that. And I’ll trust that our relationship will lead you to respect my wishes.”
I said, “That I can promise. Something happened at Cal Culver.”
She smoothed back her hair. Licked her lips.
“Something did, indeed. However, my source spoke on condition that the information not be made public. The stakes are high, Alex.”
“Financially.”
“Yes, financially, and yes, a patient was dumped there. Very similar to your case. Weirdly similar.”
“When?”
“Several months ago.”
“GHB overdose?”
“GHB plus diazepam. The poor woman was left out in the parking lot and lay there for hours before anyone noticed her. The obvious claim was the delay led to significant medical deterioration.”
“Claim as in malpractice suit.”
“Malpractice plus a request for punitive damages due to institutional negligence,” said Lee. “Massive damages demanded. During pre-trial depositions, the hospital’s experts tried to claim the victim had arrived extremely impaired and the passage of time wouldn’t have made a difference. The plaintiff’s experts said that was a lot of bunk. So the hospital legal staff…” She paused, blinking hard, and I wondered if her source had been a lawyer. “Their conclusion was that an institution fighting the family of a severely damaged victim would be a loser as well as a public relations disaster. They settled quickly contingent on a total non-disclosure agreement.”
