Chapter 14 Section Thirteen

Kenson was at Juda's clinic and seemed unwilling to return calls, so Hardy decided to make the trip himself, hoping that his unexpected presence would help convey to Kenson the tension he was already feeling.So he braved the raging storm into the rain and made it all the way to the clinic, waiting in the crowded waiting room for more than half an hour before Kenson, in a white coat and stethoscope, came out to meet him.Dr. Kenson told him he couldn't walk away, not even for a few minutes. His job as a doctor is important, and as Hardy sees it, he has his hands full.But anyway, isn't this a pre-appointment they were supposed to meet tonight?

Hardy tried to make him understand the reality of the situation they both faced, but the doctor didn't seem to agree with it. "I don't see anything different than yesterday," Kenson replied.He waved his hand, making a look of helplessness. "Everything about this is different," Hardy explained to him with patience he never had before. "Yesterday, no one realized that Markham was murdered, so you hate him." It doesn't matter. But now it matters. It matters. It's because you have the motive, the means and the timing. If you have all three in a homicide, it's bad luck, trust me. "

He just shook his head, seemingly indifferent to Hardy's concern. "We talked about it this morning, didn't we?" He touched Hardy's sleeve with his arm. We can't talk. I'm sorry to make you come here for nothing, but even so, we can't talk now." Hardy moved closer to him and lowered his voice. "That's what I've been meaning to tell you. We're not going to talk tonight, doctor, at least not with the police. I'm canceling this interview." A dissatisfied look appeared on Kenson's face. "How could you do that?" "Because I'm your lawyer and it's my job to protect you."

"I don't need protection. Once they hear what I have to say, especially if I volunteer to tell them what I know, they will take me off the list of suspects." "Really? You know this because you have a deep understanding of criminal law, is that so?" Hardy stared straight into his client's face, "Listen to me, I swear to you— —I tell you for the record—they wouldn't do that. Don't lie to yourself. You're a murder suspect whether you like it or not. They won't make excuses for you, They're going to find a reason to put you in. But I'm not going to give them a chance to do that. You and I need more time together. More time. Like most weekends."

Kenson shook his head disapprovingly. "I don't understand. I've bought tickets to the Giants game on Saturday. I'm going to be with the kids and I'm going to take them to the game." "Sounds good," Hardy said, "but if you're in jail, you can't take anyone around. The important thing is, you and I need some time. This is not a joke, okay? " Looking over Kenson's shoulder, a baby is crying in the waiting room. Kenson looked at his watch, frowned, and turned to look at the crying baby. "Okay," he said, waving his hand in the direction of the wailing, "but it's not a joke either. I think," he smiled professionally, "maybe Sunday, however, how could that be What?" He patted Hardy on the back meaningfully, turned around and disappeared behind the door leading to the doctor's office.

Hardy walked the street and a half in the rain from his parking lot to the clinic, feeling the creaking of his soaked shoes, the coolness of his lower body and the dampness beneath his knees.After Kenson left, he sat in a plastic chair for a while, running his fingers through his wet hair, then stood up, buttoned his raincoat, and prepared to walk back to his car in the squall. "Just checking my investments," Hardy told Moses McGuire as he watched him startled from behind the bar at the Clover.At this point, he was the only one in the bar. "What investment? I gave you a quarter of the proceeds of the business, in case you don't remember, but it never happened. Have you been drinking?"

In the past six months, Hardy has not had a drink during the day, but after encountering a series of unsatisfactory things-the failure to find someone to talk to in the judicial building, Freeman's annoying attitude, bad weather, and There's his recent out-of-sync with Kenson - he's going to try anything and everything to change his luck or the rhythm of his life. "Do you have Sapphire gin behind the bar?" Although McGuire was 100% reluctant to give him gin, he didn't need to ask him how to drink it.The cool, wiped dry glasses standing on the bar were brought up.As he poured the wine, he asked, "Are you all right? Is Franny okay?" He used to refer to his sister, Hardy's wife.And he himself felt that it was also a way of greeting her.

"We're fine. I have an undecided appointment not far from here. Nothing to do with Franny though." He took a sip of his drink and nodded appreciatively. "This wine," he said ,"It tastes great." Before Moses himself stood straight Scotch whiskey, which is always mixed with other things in the bar.He touched Hardy's glass with his own and raised it to his lips. "That," he replied, "is a mixture of gin, dry vermouth, and ice cubes. This," he held up his glass, "is excellent. But I accept your kind modesty and compliment .Why don't you let him meet you in your office?"

"Who?" "Your date. I didn't know you called home." "I haven't. It seems like an important thing." "Yes, at least for one of you two." After all, this is the truth, Hardy nodded regretfully. "You are here again, maybe I just need an excuse to break the routine of life." Moses pulled up a chair behind the bar and sat down. "I hear you," he said, "do you want to take a road trip? Let's go now, maybe we can make it to Mexico before dark." "Don't tempt me." Hardy took a shallow sip of the wine and said with longing, "Maybe I can pick up the kids from school..."

"I don't want to take my children with us." Hardy noticed the change in his tone and stared at the thin face across the bar. "How are you and Susan?" "At least we're not divorced, I haven't thought about it." He drank some of his scotch, "But sometimes I'm sure it's just because there's an agreement between us, who's the first to file the 'divorce' This word, whoever brings the baby. I heard that the weather in Mexico is very hot at this time." "It's been hotter there than here." Both of them turned their heads and looked out of the large French windows. It was still raining heavily outside the house, and the cypress trees on the edge of the park were blown half-bent in the strong wind.

Suddenly, Hardy stood up and pushed his unfinished drink over the edge of the bar. "Are you leaving?" McGuire asked him. "You just got here." Hardy pointed to his drink. "If I drank it all, and I really wanted to, I'd never go out." "Luckily, you don't have to go out." "No, I gotta get out. I have a job to do, but the devil keeps trying to give me an excuse not to. But I have an idea for you and Susan. Why don't you get someone to watch over here for you tonight , and convince the kids to stay home? We'll watch over them for you. Go out and play. What's the idea?" "It might work," McGuire said, "but we're not going to Mexico." "Yeah, but what?" Hardy punched McGuire in the arm kindly. "Think about it." After a working lunch with Clarence Jackman and Abugriski, Marlene Ash took her time before the grand jury.Nineteen citizen jurors assembled before her in the Police Commission hearing room on the fifteenth floor of the Judiciary Building, watching closely for justice to be done.Griskie's office was one floor down, and Jackman's two floors up.They may seem like a hodgepodge of human beings—of course there are men and women, and they represent the majority of the city here today—but Marlene knows in her heart that these people sitting in front of her now, and other such people in the country The members of her jury—not just the grand jury—are the backbone of the legal system in which she is a part.Without them, the "general criterion" of good citizenship and justice would be an empty concept, and the very fabric of society would be torn apart. Therefore, she treats them equally, respecting their wisdom and experience. "Ladies and gentlemen of the grand jury," she began, "on Tuesday, April 10, Tim Markham began his usual, persistent morning run. When he reached Twenty-sixth Street In this part of the city, he was hit by a green, old-model American car. The driver fled the scene. "But that vehicle accident was not what killed Mr Markham. "In contrast, he has stabilized somewhat following surgery at Portola Hospital, and it is not clear that one or more persons injected him with an overdose of potassium. "Potassium is a common drug that is readily available in emergency and intensive care units, but it can kill people in large doses, and one such dose was used on Mr Markham. "His wife, Carla, and their three children died of gunshot wounds in their home that night. We are gathered here today to gather evidence to establish the identity of the perpetrator or perpetrators of this series of brutal deaths." All eyes were on her.Most members have pads on the table in front of them, ready to take notes. "The medical examiner has ruled that Karamakam's shooting death was probably a suicide, but that's a moot point. Captain Griski, the homicide squad chief, will confirm that with you shortly. He'll look at it from that angle. investigate the case, and he may settle to his satisfaction that it was in fact Mrs. Markham who killed her family and herself, or he may arrest a Suspect.” She paused, exchanging glances with some of her jurors, “We’ll make some interim notes when we get to that. In the meantime, the municipality has received Thirteen million dollars in Medicare service bills..." Hardy wasn't sure at first what exactly brought him to Portola involuntarily.He vaguely wanted to speak to someone in the governing body, but he didn't think anyone would.He didn't have an appointment—it's been his style these days.Everyone is busy, all the health maintenance organization professionals and administrators are dealing with the amount of headaches and work that has been generated within the hospital for a week, and what is happening under the common umbrella Keep silent about the upheaval.They don't have time for such impromptu meeting requests. This whole day should teach him to curb his boyish passions, he told himself as he clattered down the corridor to the hall.He stepped outside, noticing a directional sign that said "Restaurant," and encouraged himself.He realized that if he didn't ask, no one would say no, so he turned around and walked in the direction of the arrow.It's been a long time since lunch time, and the place is not crowded now, but there are still some people.Hardy picked up a muffin and a cup of coffee, paid for it, and stayed where he was trying to figure out what he had to say.At a table by the window, a woman in a nurse's uniform sat alone reading a book.He walked towards her. More recently, he estimated her age to be between thirty and thirty-five, with good features, light brown hair cut short, and of medium build. "Excuse me," he said. Her eyes were fixed on the book, she didn't even raise her head, she just stretched out a finger to indicate "please wait a moment".After finishing the section she was watching, she raised her head to look at him. "Really? Do you need my help?" This is a useful word.But Hardy wondered if, through her conversation, he could get anything here that he expected to discover.But if he doesn't start, he never knows what the outcome will be. "My name is Dismas Hardy, and I'm Dr. Kenson's lawyer. You don't mind if I sit here for a while?" A skeptical expression flashed across her face, but it was gone in an instant.She shrugged her shoulders and said, "Of course I don't mind, but why are you looking for me? Am I in trouble?" Hardy pulled a chair across from her and sat down. "I don't think so. Are you in trouble?" The words stirred her emotions. "No! I mean, you said you were a lawyer. Usually when a lawyer visits, that means trouble, doesn't it?" "Since you mentioned that, I think so. But this time it's not the same as those cases." He handed her a business card, asking her name as she looked at it. "Rebecca," she said, "Rebecca Sims." "That's my daughter's name too, we call her 'Baker'". She nodded in relief, and looked down at the business card again. "Dismas? Right?" He nodded yes. "A good thief from Calvary, where Jesus died, and a patron saint of murderers. I often wonder what my parents thought of giving me such a name." "So Dr. Kenson is in trouble?" she asked. Hardy didn't answer right away.He blew on the steaming coffee and put it in front of him before taking a sip. "The short answer is: yes." "Because of Tim Markham? Are they calling it a murder?" Hardy thought to himself that he had chosen the right table. "Completely correct." She looked disgusted and shook her head. "That's ridiculous. Murder. Go ahead." "Why is it ridiculous?" "Well, I'm not saying it was necessarily an accident. Someone may have given him the wrong dose on purpose, I guess. We use potassium all the time in the emergency room though." "Are you a nurse in the emergency room?" "Sometimes," she said, "we have multiple shifts. I'm there when my shift comes." "Is potassium readily available?" "Of course, it's the same for any medical staff. It's just behind the nurses' station." In Hardy's judgment, this was good news only because it also gave more people -- besides his client -- access to the drug. "So, in your opinion, surely an overdose of potassium couldn't have been intentional? Or malicious?" "Yeah, actually that's usually not the case." "Has this happened many times?" "Sometimes." She didn't seem worried about talking about it. "I remember we met on a Saturday night towards the end of last summer. I think there was one or two besides some of the gunshot wound patients." Crash victims. Anyway, the emergency room is a lunatic asylum, with every kind of person you can imagine. The doctors yell at you to go left and right. Among the guys with gunshot wounds are One was bleeding profusely, his heart was about to stop working, and he needed fluids containing potassium, so the doctor gave him one dose. Before the doctor came back to him again, someone gave him another dose, I thought it was the first time for him to use it." "What happened? Is he dead?" "No. The doctor realized what was going on right away, so he gave him an electric shock, then gave him insulin and glucose, and he was out of danger." "Then why, come to think of it, they didn't use that method on Mr. Markham?" "I don't know. I wasn't there. First they've got to realize that's the problem, right? I mean, in the case of this gunshot guy that I've been through, the doctor ordered potassium on the spot .Maybe Dr. Kenson didn't know, or didn't put the situation together in time. What did he say?" Hardy showed some disappointment. "He's been busy. Until it was in the papers, he thought Markham was just an accidental traffic accident." "That's what people think, you know, to die is to die." He nodded curtly.He knew why he did it, because it reminded him of the birthday of his long-dead son Michelle.He struggled to free himself from the memory. "One of the reasons I came here today was to get a basic idea of ​​the place. I heard rumors that some doctors were unhappy with the hospital. Patients were being turned away. There were things like Things like baby Emily." Her eyes widened in agreement. "Is Dr. Kenson like that too? Isn't he? He's the one who admitted her. I know what I remembered when you first mentioned him, and that's it." Hardy played it like he'd known about Kenson all along, even though it was actually the first time he'd heard it. "Did he get into a lot of trouble for that?" Suddenly, Rebecca turned her head to one side reflexively, staring at the corner of the wall behind Hardy over Hardy's shoulder.A thrill of excitement swept over him, and he realized that this question of his had aroused her certain vigilance. "What is it?" he asked. She let out a long breath, checked the room again, looked at the watch on her wrist and the book in her hand.Finally, her eyes returned to him. "You will never really understand these things, I mean the ones that actually happened. But don't believe those memos or anything, they are all confused..." She took a breath again, restraining herself from going to bed. Out of control, "Well, we've all been talking about this for weeks, and of course, all of us—staff, even doctors, you know, it's great that we can agree on something. Unusual - we all think he's doing exactly the right thing. I mean, she's just a baby. What do other people think he's going to do? Let them separate her from her mother and leave her alone In the County General Institution?" "But I don't think the hospital is happy about it, is it?" She laughed dumbfoundedly, then leaned over to Hardy across the table, and replied almost in a whisper, "I heard that, in fact, they fired him, when he was talking about it to the paper—" "Excuse me." For this client, Hardy didn't know more and more things, which surprised him.He thought he'd have to talk to his client, that's right.But he couldn't be distracted by it just now. "Are you telling me that Dr. Kenson broke the news? To the newspaper?" She nodded. "He never admitted that he did it. I think it's only a matter of time before they actually fire him if they have to make up a reason." "What do you mean by that?" She looked around again, making sure no one around could hear what they were talking about. "I mean, most people here are terrified of losing their jobs and are either doing something or not doing it, either way. That sucks," she said in disgust. Frowning, "So are they going to charge Dr. Kenson with this murder charge? That's terrible." "I don't know," Hardy said, "they might do that." "Is it because Mr. Markham intends to fire him?" "That could be a motive, yes." This is another new situation, Hardy thought to himself, but asked calmly, "Are you sure it was Markham who wanted to fire him?" "Yes," she said. Said, "He runs everything here. Who else but him?"