Waking Rose: A Fairy Tale Retold (44 page)

“But it would really send a message, wouldn’t it? A lot more effectively than a sit-in,” Leroy argued.

Fish was, quietly and fundamentally, appalled. He was reminded of his conversation with Kateri and hoped that Leroy was one of those people who didn’t act on his insane, destructive ideas.  “Read more Chesterton,” was all he could say.

He drove out to Graceton Hall alone, and paced through the halls of slumber. Rose lay in her room with the same fixed beauty she usually had, despite the medical equipment. Seeing her brought with it the pangs of relief and sadness, mixed together. This evening, she was alone, and there was little movement on the floor.

“Hi again,” he said, and pulled up a chair. He leaned back in his chair, and gazed out the window at the trunks of the trees. “I wish I found it easier to put up with Catholics,” he said with a sigh. “Sometimes it seems much more reasonable to go back and be an agnostic Episcopalian like my dad.”

After recounting to her the day’s events, he said, “I feel as though I’m surrounded by crazy people. Prophetic nuns, wild activists, recovering female psychopaths, pseudo-anarchists, and a Catholic boys’ club with a medieval obsession. And the problem is, these are all the people who are supposed to be on the side of God.”

He had to grin darkly. “The most sane people around here appear to be the staff at the hospital. Dr. Prosser seems entirely sensible to me right now for keeping tabs on your friend Kateri Kovach. I would probably do the same if she were following me around.”

He ran both his hands through his hair. “Look, what I want out of this is very simple and very selfish. I just want you back. And all of this mess of threats and grisly medicine and political action is just so meaningless in the light of that one goal. I don’t know. Alex implied that I was running away from all of this, and I can’t really deny it. What reasonable person wouldn’t run away?”

He toyed with her hands. “The only reason I’m not running away for good is because I can’t take you with me. And as long as you’re here, I’m here. That’s the only thing I know for certain.”

Worn out, he heaved a sigh. “I would give a lot to hear your response to all this, Rose. Maybe you’d be able to clarify this situation for me.”

He waited, twisting his handkerchief in his hands. Absently, he knotted it several times, jerking it tight with frustration, then began picking the self-made problem apart. His companion remained in her usual still position, moving only with the ventilator, but he almost felt she was delaying an answer until he had finished with the knots in his hands.

At last he smoothed out the cloth between his hands, wrinkled but flat again. “So what should I do?”

He looked at her with a wry smile. Her expression was still as inscrutable as the Mona Lisa’s, half-amused, half-pensive. It was frustrating that she was in this limbo, on earth but as unreachable as though she were in heaven. But no, if she were in heaven, she wouldn’t be unreachable, he corrected himself. Father Raymond was, Fish didn’t doubt, in heaven, and perhaps Fish’s mother, perhaps even his father. Rose’s father, Dan Brier, who had started all this mess with his probing for the truth, was, at least according to what Rose had been certain of, in heaven, having made what she described as an incredibly holy and sacrificial death, offering up all his suffering for his family.

Well, Sir
, Fish addressed the photograph of Rose’s dad sitting on the bedside table,
I could sure use your assistance now to help your daughter. If there is any action of mine that will help her. You know her better than I do. If there’s some grace or insight you can send this way, I’d appreciate it.

Dan had taken up this investigation into the possible medical murder of homeless and helpless people because he believed that justice needed to be done.

That’s why you took up trying to solve my murder,
the voice of Father Raymond broke into his consciousness unexpectedly.
I wouldn’t have asked you boys to do it, but when you took it up of your own accord, I would say you did well.

Something similar had motivated Dan Brier, apparently. Yes, he could understand why Dan would have worked so hard to get the truth out. Fish tried to imagine what would have happened if he and Bear had been forced to set aside the matter of Father Raymond’s murder, or if, like Dan, they had apparently failed.
I would want someone else to step in where I couldn’t
, Fish thought. Perhaps Rose had felt that impulse.

Perhaps that was what was being asked of him, after all. And as usual, he couldn’t hear the truth from the loud and insistent voices of the living. It took the gradual pressure of internal nudges of conscience—and maybe the prayers of the dead—to edge him in the right direction. He sighed, and gave up in the face of the silent personalities around him.

“All right, Rose,” he said aloud, rubbing her hand. “I’ll give it a try.”

He sat back in his chair, thinking. Unlike Dan Brier, he was single, and had more material resources at his disposal. The problem was to set up a legal situation in which he had clear evidence of the hospital’s involvement in selling organs, if that was indeed what they had been doing.

There were footsteps behind him, and Dr. Murray said, “Excuse me? Mr. Denniston, it’s almost nine o’clock.”

He roused himself at once. “I’m sorry. I must have lost track of time.”

She must have been having a bad night, because she gave him a perfunctory smile. “I understand, but we have to get the patients ready for the night.”

“Yes, of course.”  He paused by Rose’s bed and took her hand. She seemed to be looking towards him with a worried but expectant expression. He stroked her cheek with the back of his other hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said to her. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

He detected Dr. Murray’s impatient shifting behind him and picked up his coat. “Sorry again.”

She didn’t respond, but merely stood aside for him to pass through, then closed the door behind him with an almost possessive manner.

Out in the car, he dialed his cell phone to call Charles Russell’s home number. The lawyer picked up the phone.

“Charles, this is Ben Denniston. I’m sorry to disturb you this late. Can I talk to you for a few minutes?”

“Certainly. It’s no trouble.”

“I wanted to ask you about a theoretical situation.”

There was a faint rumble of a sigh on the other end, but Charles said, “What are you thinking about doing now?”

“Let me lay out this scenario, from a hypothetical point of view.” Fish described the situation at Robert Graves Memorial Hospital. “Say someone wanted to get proof that these doctors were actually engaged in some kind of illegal activity, such as selling human organs. Let’s say this person was to set up a transaction with these doctors to try to get evidence that could be used to get the police to start an investigation, hypothetically. What kind of legal risks would this person be running if he did the following?” He sketched out a plan.

After listening, Charles said, “Now, this area of law is not my expertise, but one of my partners does know something of the legal ramifications involved. If I were the lawyer of the hypothetical person, I would, of course, advise against it because of the following personal liabilities.”

Fish listened intently to the lawyer’s advice and made some mental emendations to his plan. “I think what I hear you saying is that, on the face of it, it’s fairly sound.”

“However, I would advise your hypothetical person to get further legal counsel before doing anything.”

“I can do that,” Fish said. “Tell me who I should talk to and I’ll give them a call in the morning.”

He didn’t feel it was wise to discuss his plans with any of the other college students, but he did give his brother a call that weekend, and for a long time they tossed ideas around. There were significant gaps in their education, but one of the things life circumstances had taught the brothers was knowledge of how to buy or sell something on the black market.

“Granted, most of our experience is with drugs and stolen art objects. We’ve never tried to buy a human organ,” Bear said.

“True, and I don’t exactly want to obtain one,” Fish said grimly. “Particularly if it’s being forcibly taken from an innocent victim. But according to Charles’ colleague, if we can get a record of someone taking money for that purpose, that will be sufficient for prosecution.”

“And if the request comes from what the doctors would consider a legitimate channel, they won’t question it. As long as we have the money.”

 “At least ten thousand dollars is my guess,” Fish said. “Not too big of a deal for us. Or at least for me. I don’t know how much you have tied up in that stone-works venture of yours. Are you actually making money?”

“From a certain point of view, we’re breaking even,” Bear said, good-humoredly. “I wouldn’t say I’ve recouped my investment yet. Maybe in ten years, if we keep getting business. But I’m not in it for the profits anyhow.”

“Well, I can spare the money. It’ll probably be more than ten thousand when everything is accounted for. Anyway, we have to pass the request through the right channels so it can’t possibly be traced back to us. Then I can go down as the courier with the money to set up the details and get the whole thing on tape.”

“But they know you at the hospital, don’t they?”

“I’ve considered that. Not really. They’d identify you as much as me. Dr. Prosser is the only one who might recognize me, because she happened to remark upon my scars. But I think I can disguise that.”

“Well, depending on how things go, I can come down to help you out.”

“Depending on how what goes?”

“The baby.”

“Ah, yes. Blanche is due fairly soon, isn’t she? Well, that settles it for me. I should count on doing it alone.”

“Fish, but—”

“But but but. I know, you want to be here and be my bodyguard. But look, you’ve got a wife and kid now. I’m still the more expendable of the two of us.”

 “Still? Since when were you expendable? Says the older brother who nearly went out of his mind scouring the streets of New York for you when you were kidnapped for three days.”

“All right,” Fish said, exasperated. “All right. Point taken. I’m not expendable. But I
am
more available than you are. So I should do it.”

“What about if you get one of those college kids to help you out?”

“You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t want to be explaining to some bereaved parent or college official why their charge is dead, maimed, or serving a prison sentence because of something I set up.”

“Look, if I can’t be there, I want you to get someone else there, watching your back. Or we’re not doing this. Okay?”

“Okay,” Fish sighed. “I think there’s one guy I could ask. He’s twenty-one, at any rate. But remember, technically what we’re doing is illegal. If there’s a misstep, we have to carry the consequences. Anyone who helps us risks being charged with the same crimes that we might be charged with.”

“True. You know, Fish—not to get off track—but have you ever thought about being a lawyer?”

“It’s been suggested to me several times,” Fish said with faint annoyance. “Charles says that if I go to school, he’ll get me a place in his firm upon graduation. But I just don’t know if I have the energy for that type of thing.”