HEART STOPPER
R J Samuel
© RJ Samuel 2011
Smashwords Edition
Author’s Note
While some of the technologies mentioned obviously exist, the author has exercised broad license in altering them and creating new imaginary ones.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are fictional and the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or companies is purely coincidental.
License Statement
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Critical Acclaim for Heart Stopper
“This novel breaks barriers between genres. It is a medical drama, a murder mystery, and a love story, but it is so much more than any one of those. It is, more than anything else, a book of beautiful sentences.”
--- Kevin Higgins, author of ‘The Boy with No Face”, “Frightening New Furniture”, and “Mentioning the War: Essays and Reviews 1999-2011”
“Heart Stopper is a book about coming to terms with where you've been and who you are, and emerging with a sense of self more resilient and more open to others. This is what Priya, the main character, has to do, and Samuel depicts this process with such empathy that the reader feels encouraged to confront her own life with generosity and gentleness.
R J Samuel is a writer with integrity and skill. She invests herself in every project, and the result is writing that can move and thrill.”
--- Susan Millar DuMars, author of ‘American Girls”, “Big Pink Umbrella”, and “Dreams for Breakfast”
Twitter: @R_J_Samuel
PROLOGUE
Fairer Hall, New York
June 1974
Daniel Fairer the Third (or Three as his mother called him in her rare moments of levity regarding matters of the family) crouched behind the bulk of the couch in his grandfather’s study. He was nine years old. The sound of his mother crying cut through him bringing out tears of his own. He strained to hear her as she spoke, her voice filtered through the dust-laden sunlight that streaked its lines from the arched windows to the wooden floor. He could see the rocking horse his grandfather had carved for him hugging the paneled wall.
“You know this isn’t fair, he’s my son. Just because you didn’t have a son, that doesn’t give you the right to take mine from me.”
“I’m not forcing you to do anything.” His grandfather’s voice was only marginally louder than his mother’s was but the words carried farther and clearer.
“But you’re leaving me no choice!”
“You always have a choice. You can walk out of here with Daniel and try to make it on your own. It was your choice to get pregnant out of wedlock, your choice to have him. Your choice not to marry his father. And now you’re repeating your mistakes.”
“If it was all that bad why do you want him all to yourself now? Why can’t you help me for once and just let me take him with me?”
“He is still my flesh and blood; he will do what you would not. I will make sure of that. Catherine, these are your decisions. You can portray me as a villain all you want but I am doing, as always, what is right for this family. If you’re going to insist on leaving, on following these, these...barbaric people…”
“Father! They are not barbaric. I love Leo and he feels the same. He’s going to be really famous one day, as a true healer.”
“Those are your choices, Catherine, you take Daniel with you and bring him up in that pack of heathens, no money, no inheritance, no medical education, no chance to be what he is destined to be; or you leave him with me and he will have everything he could possibly need and he will be a Fairer.”
“I can’t leave him and you shouldn’t be punishing him for this.”
“Then take him, it is not my decision to punish him, it is yours.”
Daniel heard his mother’s footsteps walk past to the door of the study and then echo through the grand hallway.
“Daniel!” Her voice was shaky but determined.
Daniel crept out from behind the couch and walked over to his grandfather who was sitting at the antique desk, head in his hands, eyes closed. He touched his grandfather on the shoulder and the man raised his head to look at him.
“So, my boy, you were here the whole time, were you? What did I tell you about the nasty things that happen to little boys who eavesdrop?”
“Sorry, Sir.”
“Then you heard your mother. She has gone to find you. You had better get packed.”
“I’m not going to go with her, Sir.” Daniel rushed on when he saw his grandfather’s eyebrows rise slightly. “I want to stay here. You said I’m a Fairer, I’m Daniel Fairer the Third and I’m going to be a world famous cardiologist, just like you.” His back was straight but his lower lip was trembling. “Why can’t Mother stay?”
“Daniel, it is not my decision. She will be leaving today and if you don’t go with her you probably won’t see her for a very long time.”
“But if I go with her I’ll be a barbari like you said...”
His mother’s voice was sharp as she spoke from the door to the study. “Daniel! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Go and pack your things, we’re leaving.”
“I’m not going Mother, I’m staying here with Grandfather.” He glanced at his grandfather and then raising his chin he turned to face her. “Why don’t you stay, please?”
His mother’s shocked face made him feel nauseous and the tears started running down his face freely.
“I have to go, and you’re coming with me, you’ll see, you’ll be happier.”
“No, Mother, I’m staying here, please don’t make me go with them.”
He saw her face go white and then a flush of red crept onto its surface and she glared at the man sitting beside him. Her lips moved but he heard no sound and she turned and walked out of the study.
An hour later, he heard the gravel sounds of her car as it coughed out of the long circular driveway.
∞
Daniel listened for her every day and night until he left for medical school at the age of eighteen.
CHAPTER ONE
Galway, Ireland
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Priya didn’t want to open her eyes but the air felt different. Chilly, slight scent of aftershave. Both strange as her heating normally came on and warmed her bedroom in the morning, whatever the Galway weather outside. And she certainly never wore aftershave. Whatever she was lying on also seemed different, softer.
She opened her eyes. She was on her side so the first thing she saw was a door that she didn’t have. Her doors were oak stain-painted pine that looked like painted pine; this door actually did seem to be oak. The curvy blue and green glass handle glistened. She let her eyes wander closer, a bedside table with a large green-shaded lamp. Her phone and keys lay beside the lamp. She reached out for her phone and was suddenly aware that she was naked except for her underwear.
She turned around quickly but there was no one in the double bed with her. The covers on the other side were not neat but right now, there was no one there. She checked the time on her phone, 5:08 a.m. It felt later, the light falling in through the skylight above the bed made it seem later but then Ireland was like that in the summer, gently lit by 5 a.m. and not switched off until 11 p.m. It didn’t help her scattered sleep patterns.
She had left the pub last night with a woman, an interesting woman, American, intense. Actually that was all she could remember about the woman. About the rest of the night. She didn’t think she had drunk that much.
Whatever was on the other side of the door beyond the bedroom was quiet. There was an open door on the far side of the room and it looked like it led into an en-suite bathroom. No sounds from that direction either.
She had woken up in a few strange apartments in the last few months but never empty ones. She was always the one who left early.
Priya felt the sudden urge to pee. She sat up and her head thumped in protest. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. The deep carpet welcomed her feet and cuddled them all the way to the door of what she had rightly assumed was the bathroom. Priya pushed the door open and rushed to the toilet. She raised her face and sighed in relief as she peed, there was a skylight here too but the Egyptian marble tiles absorbed and diffused the sunlight into soft terracotta warmth.
She looked around the bathroom. It was neat, almost hotel-like. There was a modern version of a Victorian bathtub at the far end, teetering on its claw feet. She washed her hands in the ornately tapped sink and examined her reflection. A bit worse for wear but she usually wore the minimum of makeup when she went on a night out and the only damage was a slight smudging of the kohl she had penciled around her eyes. The advantages of a brown complexion and good skin; she grimaced at the mirror; wouldn’t last much longer at this rate.
Priya went back into the bedroom. She looked around for her clothes and was relieved to see them draped over a stool in front of the dressing table. She dragged on her black silk trousers. Everything else she’d worn the night before was there, lacy black long-sleeved top, black sandals. Except for her jacket. With her keys and cards and money. And her ID. She grabbed her phone off the bedside table. It showed the time as 5.16 a.m.
She felt the smooth glass heaviness of the door handle against her palm as the door opened inward soundlessly. It opened onto a large airy living room. White walls. Skylights everywhere. A wall of glass proudly displayed a view of the Atlantic Ocean. The dawn red glinted over the flat sea calm. There were closed doors on the other side of the living room. The chrome and wood galley kitchen was visible.
Her jacket lay purple across the arm of a cream leather couch. Purple leather. Summer in Galway, unpredictable and a nightmare for wardrobe choices. She was certainly not going to be fading into the background.
She was parched, the lining of her throat felt like she had been sanding it for hours. She walked towards the kitchen and noticed one of the closed doors on the other side of the room was actually open a few inches. She found a glass and gulped down the cold tap water, washing the glass after in the empty kitchen sink and putting it back where she’d found it.
The silence in the apartment was tiptoeing into the folds of her clothes. She wanted to get out of here. But as she passed the open door to what she presumed was another bedroom she found herself drawn to it. And she was curious. The apartment seemed to give off a male energy. The vague scent of antiseptic cleaners mixed with the strands of aftershave and something else, something that reminded her of open drains on a wet day.
The bottom of the door stroked the carpet as she nudged it open and peered in. There was a skylight here too and the brightening dawn creeping in fought against the dark room but she didn’t need to switch on the lights to see. The body was dead. It was male and pale. He was sitting on the floor facing her, his eyes open and still, his hairless torso propped up against the bed. Priya screamed. Or thought she did, no sound came out. His mouth was open and she tried to scream again, still no success. Priya knew him. Knew enough of him to feel the shock of difference between her energy-filled charismatic boss and this slack-jawed empty shell of skin.
∞
The apartment was still. The only sound was her breath struggling against the bile rising in her throat. Priya took a step back, away from the room.
Her body made the decision. She turned and ran.
She prayed for the streets to be deserted as she grabbed her jacket and raced for the front door. She grasped at the handle. It was locked. Sobbing, she pulled at it helplessly until she discovered it was easily released by the knob below the handle.
The hallway outside was deserted. Priya slipped out of the door. The elevator was directly in front of her. She pressed the Down button. What was she doing? She could hear the lift ascending and polished the button frantically with her jacket, then with her sleeve. She realized she was moaning softly as she did this. The door to the stairwell was only a few yards down the hallway. Making up her mind, she turned and ran to it, grateful for the carpet in the hall dampening the sound of her shoes. The door swished open and she pushed through. It fell back into place and she rested the back of her head against it, catching her breath, listening.
The stairwell was dark, illuminated only by the greenish yellow glow of fire exit signs. No carpet here, just painted concrete, dully reflecting the dim light. Not meant for anything except for emergencies. Well this was an emergency. Why hadn’t she called the ambulance then, or the police? Ambulance wouldn’t have done Daniel any good. And the police, she didn’t want to think about why.
The sound of the lift opening. Then she heard a voice. Whispered, muffled.
She ran. Her footsteps echoed and bounced off the walls of the stairwell, down five shadowed flights of zigzag stairs. . She was running on instinct now. And her instinct screamed Michael, alibi though she knew she’d done nothing wrong, well, nothing violent. That she could remember. And she couldn’t explain to anyone what she was doing there anyway, least of all to herself.
Priya reached the ground floor and flung open the heavy exit door to the outside. Dawn was almost fully dressed. She slipped on the neatly laid white stones as she ran between the manicured laurel bushes eying each other across the path that led out from the walled courtyard to a circular cul-de-sac. She scanned the cars parked there, but they were expensive ones awaiting their expensive owners. The tree-lined street was empty. It led out from the cul-de-sac and she could see where a larger street dissected it. She didn’t remember ever being in this part of Galway before. The black engraving on the grey stone at the entrance to the circular cluster of apartment buildings informed her that she was leaving ‘Seaview Close’.
The smell of the sea hit her before she saw it. The downward tilt of street ended at the sea, crossed by the main road that lined the Salthill promenade. There were quieter streets she could use but she decided to follow the main road that ran most of the way into town. She didn’t want to be seen but the thought of walking the little back streets did not appeal.
She reached the main road that traced the edges of the Atlantic Ocean. The breeze tugged at the sea, sending up tiny waves that reflected the dying dawn in white shards. The aging resort, catching up on its beauty sleep before the afternoon onslaught of both locals and tourists, did not spare her a glance.
The walk to Michael’s apartment took a very long 20 minutes. She worried past the housing estates full of B&Bs, mindful of holidaymakers having their early morning breakfasts, gazing out the window planning their sights for the day. Michael lived in the arty part of Galway. Near the Spanish Arch. The banners and posters prepared for the coming two weeks of the Galway Arts Festival. There was no one on the streets and apart from two homeless guys sleeping on the stone benches by the river, she saw no one and more importantly, she thought, no one saw her.
∞
Priya could see that Michael was struggling to keep his face calm when he opened his door to her. His normally wavy hair was sticking straight up, his pajama bottoms on inside out, the label sticking into the tiny roll of hair-covered middle that he tried so hard to exercise away. She had called him from the street outside his building, afraid that knocking on his door would awaken the neighbors. He’d answered after five rings, sounding groggy and tired. And hadn’t questioned her. Yet.
She edged past him as he eyed her clothes, her uncombed hair. He held her chin in his hand and examined the kohl-stained despair in her eyes. She pushed the door shut behind her and he hugged her.
“Hey, girl, bad night?” His voice was soothing. She was a whole foot and a half feet shorter than him and his voice whispered into her hair.
“It’s not what you think, Daniel is dead. I found him. Jesus, Michael, I found him, and I left him. I ran. I don’t know why I ran. But there was someone there. More than one, I don’t know how many.”
He had released her as she spoke, trying to hear the words muffled in his chest.
“What? Daniel? Did you say Daniel? Priya!” He shook her. “Stop for a second, you’re making no sense.”
Priya sank down onto the floor and he knelt beside her, rubbing her arms. He took her jacket from her hands.
“Could you put that in the washing machine, please? And this.” She flailed at her clothes pulling the lace blouse off and starting to unbutton the trousers.
“Whoa, whoa... Priya! What’s going on? Talk to me.” He picked up her blouse and laid it across her chest, draping the arms over her shoulders and down her back.
“You’ve seen it all before, you prude.” She laughed, and then covered her mouth in surprise.
“You’re in shock.” He raised her chin again. “Just tell me again, slowly this time.”
She told him. Every detail she remembered. Which was only from the moment she’d opened her eyes and checked the phone clock at 5:08 a.m. She remembered the exact time for some reason but only a vague outline of the night before, or at least the evening before.
“And last night?”
“I remember leaving Massimo. No, actually, I remember going into Massimo. I remember a woman. That she was American. There was something about her, intense or dark. But she was cute. I think. Well, not exactly cute, more attractive than cute, interesting.”
“Priya! This is surely not some weird dream brought on by drink and your endless search for the wrong woman! Jeez, that description...if you were one of my witnesses I’d never let you up on the stand.”
“I’m trying! And no, it was not a dream. If it were, I’d be waking up nice and comfy in my own bed right now! Not sitting on your very hard floor half-naked.”
“I’m going to call the Guards.” Michael got to his feet.
“No!” Priya slipped on the floor as she tried to stand up. Michael caught her by the hand and she winced.
“Please, Michael, no cops.”
They stared at each other. She was clutching her blouse to her chest with one hand, her other hand hanging loosely in his.
“I think a cup of tea might be in order, come on.” Michael turned and led her towards the kitchen. The relief spread through her but she knew she would have to explain her reasons to him, at least some of them anyway.
“You and your tea, I need a strong coffee or, preferably, a strong brandy.”
“I think I can manage both. Why don’t you go and wash up and I’ll get everything sorted here. I need to think.”
∞
She came back out a half hour later, her hair wrapped up in a fresh clean towel of his. She was wearing his sweatpants, the legs rolled up into two big tires of blue cloth, bumping off each other as she walked. His old UCG college sweatshirt snuggled around her chest but almost reached her knees.
They’d gotten their college sweatshirts at the same time. That’s how they’d met, bumping into each outside the college shop. He was a country lad from County Mayo, transplanted the hour away to the ‘big city’ to attend law school. He had that Irish complexion that reddened in a puff of wind. He was tall and lanky and had unruly hair the color of the brown gold gorse in the field behind her house. He wouldn’t have been much use on his family’s farm, his wrists too delicate, his nose permanently stuck in books on mythology and myth, Irish, Greek, Arabic.
She had taken him to the Science Ball with her. He’d been so proud to accompany her, the trousers legs and jacket sleeves of his black rented tuxedo only an inch too short. She wore a pink satin dress that contrasted so well against her brown skin that both glowed. He wore a pink cummerbund and bow tie. She left him for a minute to collect their posed photo taken by one of the many official photographers who hung around the grand hallway of the Great Southern Hotel when the various student Balls were held. The photographer showed her the Polaroid that he’d taken and remarked, “How did this Irish sod manage to catch an exotic beauty like you?” He leered at her “Guess I might have a chance then.” Michael never asked why she held on to the Polaroid only and never picked up the portrait that would have been prepared from the professional camera and probably sat awaiting them in the studio pile. He had framed the Polaroid and it leant casually on his French oak sideboard.
She forced lightness into her voice, “What did you do with my stuff? I thought I’d left some here.”
He handed her a small glass of brandy. “I gave it all away to the charity shop.” He grinned at her shocked expression. “Ok, I put it in the hallway closet. Didn’t want my many women to think I had another woman living with me, did I now?”
“Huh! Like you’d bring a woman through those doors without my prior approval.” She gulped the brandy down and snorted most of it back out through her nose. “Damn! I hate that stuff! Adds to the shock.” She grabbed a neatly placed dishtowel off the oven rail and wiped the brandy off her nose. “That hurts!”
“Priya! There’s kitchen towel there, don’t use my dishcloth!”
∞
They sat in Michael’s living room, Priya swaddled in a quilt on his couch gripping a mug of coffee; Michael perched beside her on his Moroccan pouf. She knew the questions would need to be answered but her head still hurt and she just wanted to close her eyes and sleep and wake up to another day, a day without dead bodies in it.
Michael’s apartment was on the first floor of a medieval building converted into five apartments, each on its own floor. He had spent months decorating it, painting the walls with terracotta, he and Priya struggling with the over-sized brown leather couch and armchairs up the narrow twisty stairs. He had bought exquisite blue and green silk tapestries from India and red and black rugs from Turkey and had them shipped to Galway.
“He didn’t have any wounds on him, nothing, no marks on him at all.” Her voice was low and muffled as she spoke from the depths of the quilt.
The image of Daniel’s body, slumped against the bed, slammed into her mind. Daniel had always projected the right image for his setting, he had been the ultimate chameleon, smiled at the right times, said just the right things to the right people. He had worked out a lot but his suits, made for him, covered his physique and he managed to look elegant in his clothes; he never looked out of place wherever he was. Many times, she had seen the shift of colors in him as he started to reflect his surroundings; leaving the routine of their research, the crumples disappearing to be replaced by softer folds as he charmed a patient, the smoothened edges for the funding agencies. But he was constantly tugging at the stray cowlick on his head that refused to be tamed, the only part of his appearance he couldn’t control especially in death. She felt like reaching out and smoothing it down in her mental picture.
“I need to ask you, why didn’t you just call for an ambulance and the cops?” Michael’s voice was a gentle intrusion and her hand jerked spilling coffee on the quilt.
“I panicked! What would you do if you woke up in a strange apartment and found your boss lying dead? Ok, ok, don’t answer that, you’d never end up in that situation, would you? Just me, the screw-up.”
She swiped at the small stain of coffee and Michael got up, talking as he went into the kitchen.
“I’m not even going to dignify that... Do you want me to call the Guards now? We could say you panicked, or that you were still drunk. Are you sure he was dead? Could he have been passed out drunk or -” Michael walked back from the kitchen where he had retrieved the kitchen towel.
“He was dead.” She raised her head from the mug. “Definitely.”
He handed her a sheet of kitchen paper and sat down again.
“There’s more to this, Priya. You’re keeping something from me. We could still extricate you at this stage, it’s risky but possible. Why won’t you let me call the cops? The worst they could get you for is obstruction of justice but if you ran because you were scared for your life and you called them now, there shouldn’t be any problem.”
“The eternal lawyer, nothing slips by, does it?” She shifted her position, shrinking further into the warm cave of the quilt.
“Well...?”
She gulped down her coffee and handed him the mug. He looked exasperated but got up to get her more.
The day outside was waking up and she could hear the street noises drift in through the open window, the aroma of the different coffee brands brewed in the cafes below mingling with her own freshly ground coffee. She enjoyed annoying Michael by getting him to make an espresso in his specialty machine that occupied pride of place in his kitchen and then dumping the espresso into a large misshapen mug she had made in an unsuccessful experiment with evening classes in pottery. She had given him the mug as a present, chuckling inside at his polite but reserved enthusiasm.
“He hurt me.” She spoke through the hiss of the machine and Michael didn’t react. He finished making the coffee her way, walked back over, and handed her the steaming mug. She stared at him and he said, “Sorry, did you say something?”
“Daniel tried it on.”
“With you? But he knows you’re gay! When? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?”
“You remember the night of my birthday last year? You were in Mayo so I went out with the crowd from work. Stuff happened and well, he gave me a lift home.” She stopped. Her hands gripped the mug tighter, its roughness soothing.
“And...?”
“I was drunk, he wasn’t. He got the wrong idea. It isn’t that straightforward.”
“Did he, you know...?”
“No. But I got hurt.”
“And you didn’t report him?”
Priya looked away from Michael, the street was starting to come to life, cutlery being sorted and laid out on pavement tables, chairs unstacked to await the early morning people-watchers.
“Priya…? Why didn’t you report him?” Michael sat down on the pouf and leaned in to pry one of her hands off the mug and hold it between his own. She still didn’t meet his eyes.
“Because it was my fault,” she said.
His hands stopped their gentle rubbing motion.
“The Guards got involved. That was fun. Having to tell them that I let him take me home, that I’m gay and had no ulterior motive. That I was so drunk that I didn’t see the danger. Actually, I couldn’t even tell them the truth.”
“Why? What do you mean? What was the truth?”
Priya looked away from the window and straight at him. “I can’t tell you, I don’t like to even think about it. It was stupid, unbelievably stupid. Valerie was there, it was my birthday, I had gotten the call from my dad a few days before, I drank a lot that night and I wasn’t used to doing that at the time...”
“Valerie Helion? I should have known she’d be involved somehow.” His hands were gripping hers.
“She was just her usual self. And I...well, I should have known better.”
“You’ve never known better when it comes to that woman. I can’t believe you hooked up with her again.”
“I didn’t. She was flirting with Daniel in front of me and I...” She slipped her hand out of his and slid down further on the couch.
“I don’t want to talk about that night.” Her voice was low but firm.
“So you went to the cops, what did they do?” There was a tremble in his voice.
“I didn’t go to them. They came to me. What do you think they did about it? He’s an important man. Fair play to them, they questioned him,” her mouth twisted, “very discreetly. Do you know how much money Daniel had invested in Galway, in Ireland?”
“I’m totally confused, Priya. They came to you? But they didn’t take it any further?” Michael’s fists were clenched; his eyes had watered. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have done something.” He got up and then sat down again.
“There was nothing to take further. And I hadn’t even been in the job a year; besides, that was just after dad had called from India to say mum was sick. He still managed to slip in how proud he was of me for getting the job, of making a go of it. That’s why I got so drunk that night, I was too busy burying my head in the sand to see anything. It just didn’t seem to matter after that when things got worse with mum. I hated Daniel for a while because the whole thing delayed me going to India. And then when she died, I just…” Priya looked at him and the emptiness had crept back into her eyes and settled into its comfortable nest, its home for the last three years.
Michael rested his hand on her feet through the quilt. “You know Priya, at some point you are going to have to accept help. You were always your own knight in shining armor but this is crazy. If you won’t accept it from me at least talk to someone, you know, in a professional capacity.”
“Armor was a bit tarnished after that I have to say.”
Michael was looking at her with that mixture of concern and exasperation.
“Michael, I just freaked out when I ended up there looking at him, like that. It was his apartment, or I least I assume it was. I know he lives in Seaview Close. I don’t know how I ended up in his apartment. I was in the guest room, I think. Come to think of it, the bedroom looked more like a hotel room than someone’s home. That’s why it didn’t make sense; it was off, you know...? I just reacted.”
She continued, “Look, I know I drive you crazy and I disrupt your life and I mess everything up. I don’t want to be involved in this. I just want it all to go back to normal, or at least, some semblance of normality. If I tell the cops now they’re sure to bring up the stuff that happened last October and they’re going to want to know what I was doing there and they’re not going to believe I don’t know and that I didn’t have anything to do with it. If we don’t say anything, someone will find him, they probably already have. I mean, why was anybody there at that hour?”
“Priya, slow down… I don’t know. I still think you should go to the Guards.”
“I can’t. I can’t go through that again. I didn't do anything but they’ll make it out that I did. I thought you’d understand.”
Michael was silent for a few minutes then he took in a deep breath and sighed.
He said, “I do understand. I understand that you’re carrying around so much guilt for all sorts of things and it doesn’t matter how many times I tell you that you weren’t responsible. I just think you’re making a mistake and you’ll regret it. But I won’t say anymore about it, for now. Let’s wait and see what happened, how he died. If there’s anything suspicious or anything you could clear up for them then I’d like you to tell the cops. I’ll stand by you.”
Priya had shrunken into the quilt as he spoke. She lay quiet and then eventually nodded, the movement of her head against the fabric ringing loud in her ears.
“Can I stay here for a little bit?”
“Yes you can stay here; of course you can stay here. Why don’t you try and get some sleep.” He got up and took the empty mug from her hands. “If you don’t want me to say anything, I won’t.”
She looked up at him. “I need you to say something if you’re asked... I need you to say I was here all night, well, at least from the time I’d have left Massimo.” He didn’t reply and she rushed in. “If we’re lucky, no-one will ask. Please Michael, it’s going to be so much of a mess anyway, with Daniel dead, just let me stay out of the way on it. I’m going to have to get through this weekend and go to the clinic on Monday and pretend like nothing’s happened.”
He looked at her for a long moment and then nodded and went into the kitchen to wash the mug. She’d never needed to beg him for anything before and it felt strange.
CHAPTER TWO
Sunday, July 10, 2011
The diplomat didn’t say much. Lay on the bed and stared at the white walls. Hid his pale flabbiness under the clinic gown. Smiled at the young nurse who didn’t speak his language and who smiled back as she shaved his graying chest hairs. He tried to hold in his stomach as she ran the razor under his collarbone. The procedure was quick and mostly painless, just the jab of the local anesthetic. But he didn’t like the feeling. The thought of wires being pushed through his veins. The doctor had explained it to him and he knew he wouldn’t actually feel the leads but the gray coils crawled through his mind on their way to his heart.
Afterwards the diplomat tapped the lump under his collarbone. Not hard. No. Just a light finger really. The man had reassured him it would work. It had to work though he knew deep inside that he was expendable, to them. His wife wouldn’t agree, or least he hoped she wouldn’t. The kids, who knew? These days, with their grown up ways, he wondered whether they would notice.
He wondered whether to write a Will. Despite the reassurances given by the man, he thought he would. It would be the responsible thing to do, just in case it all went wrong. August 1. He had 21 days.
He hoped the Will would not be needed.
CHAPTER THREE
Monday, July 11, 2011
Priya sat in her car, her heart thumping, and stared at the building in front of her. The green glass walls of the clinic dripped rain. The sign above the sliding doors were in elegant script and read ‘Fairer Cardiology Clinic’. The walk to the front door was short but she was going to get wet. She never carried an umbrella despite the vagaries of the Irish weather.
She was delaying but she knew she would have to go in soon. Make it look like she was coming in for an ordinary day at work. She had slept badly for the last two nights. Several times, she’d thought of calling the Guards but she’d made no phone calls, and received none. Telling Michael she wanted to be alone, she’d returned to her house after a few hours crashed out on his couch. She spent the weekend lying in bed, alternating between long periods of sleep and long periods of tears. Loud jagged bouts of crying that surprised her with their intensity. She hadn’t cried like that even at her mother’s funeral. Then, she had held herself together and gone through the necessary movements, holding everything together for her father. Now, seven months later, she was falling apart. And outside, the July storms, heavy and gusting, had alternated with cool bright sunshine that gently baked the house.
The rain was falling harder as a car pulled in sharply beside hers. Aidan Lynch drove a midnight blue BMW that he’d had for a year but he was still like a little boy with a new toy. He was looking at Priya with curiosity so she made hand gestures to indicate she didn’t want to get wet. He reached back between the cream leather seats of the car and grabbed an umbrella.
“You’ll be late if you sit there waiting for this rain to stop.” He had opened her door. He held the umbrella for her and kept his hand on her elbow ducking his head to keep them both covered as they walked into the clinic.
∞
It was obvious there was something wrong the moment they walked into the plush reception of the clinic. The normally immaculately made up receptionist, Clodagh, was sitting dazed at her desk, her eye makeup smeared, and her nose red. She looked up at them and said, “Dr. Dan’s dead. They’re waiting for ye in the boardroom.”
Priya slumped down on one of the upholstered chairs in the little arrangement laid out in the reception area like a piece of art. She didn’t need to fake a reaction; her legs had felt weak as soon as Clodagh said the words.
Aidan said, “Daniel’s dead? What happened? When?”
“They’re going to tell us in there I think, the others are already here, I was just waiting for ye, we’d better hurry.” Clodagh came around the desk to Priya. “Are you okay, Priya? Do you need anything?” She got a cup of water from the water dispenser and handed it to Priya.
Priya gulped down the drink. “Thanks, yes. Sorry. We’d better go in.” She had to keep calm. There was no way anyone here could have known about her experience on Saturday morning but she felt like they could read every guilty emotion on her face. Aidan and Clodagh were both looking at her face and she realized they were noticing her eyes that were swollen from the weekend of crying.
“I had a flu, in bed most of the weekend. I hate getting flus, I’m a terrible patient.” She rubbed at her nose that was redder than Clodagh’s.
“You poor thing. Don’t give it to me though, I hate it too,” Clodagh said.
Aidan held out his arm for Priya and she leaned on it grateful for the support. Clodagh grabbed his other arm and led him down the glass-lined corridor to the boardroom, Priya in tow.
∞
The other members of staff were in the boardroom, all but one sitting solemnly around the large table. The clinical staff of two doctors, four nurses, and Priya’s closest colleague, and the other electrophysiology technician, Tara McFadden, were there as well as the two secretaries. One of the two doctors in the room, Dr. James Reddington, was also one of the co-founders of the clinic, Daniel being the other. James was standing at the window of the boardroom when Priya and the others trailed into the room. He looked tense and drawn, his thin face breaking into a frown when he saw them but he just inclined his head in greeting. The three latecomers hastily grabbed a chair each and nodded greetings around the silent table. James moved to take his seat at the head of the table.
“You have all probably heard the news by now. Daniel is dead. He was found in his apartment by his mother on Sunday afternoon.”
The buzz around the room sounded like bees in Priya’s head. Sean Brady, the other doctor, asked, “What did he die of?”
“Myocardial infarction. Ironic, isn’t it?” James rubbed his eyes. “He’s one of the leading cardiologists in the world, he saves people’s lives on a daily basis, and he dies at 45 of a heart attack.”
Priya felt a queasy sense of relief. The niggling worry at the back of her mind all weekend that she might have had something to do with Daniel’s death now seemed unwarranted.
“Who found him?” Sheila Hughes, a nurse at the clinic since it opened, was a small dynamo of a woman; but this morning she seemed drained of her usual excess.
“His mother.” James looked irritated at having to repeat himself. “She was visiting him; as usual it seems, for Sunday lunch. She found him, called the ambulance, who in turn called his GP. The GP signed it off as a heart attack. Daniel seems to have been there for the weekend. I just found out late last night when she called me. I thought it would be better to wait till this morning when you were all in and tell you together.”
Tara blurted out, “That’s why he didn’t turn up for my birthday on Friday night.” She put her hand over her mouth when James looked at her.
“Daniel’s body is going to be flown back to New York in the next few days. The Fairers are arranging to have him buried in the family plot. Anyone who wants to go to the funeral will be accommodated obviously.” James looked around the table. “I’ll be meeting his mother later today and I’ll have more details for you tomorrow but I think with all the arrangements that have to be made, the funeral will probably be at the end of the week. We have patients who are already booked in for pacemaker implants and programmer checks over this week and I don’t think Daniel would have wanted us to cancel anyone without proper notice.”
James continued through the murmurs of assent from around the table, “However, I think we can arrange it so that the clinic is closed from Thursday. I will be going to New York for the funeral obviously and I will arrange to meet with Daniel’s grandfather a bit later on to discuss the future of the clinic. I don’t think it will be appropriate to disturb him at this difficult time but I know you will all want some idea of what is going to happen.”
James got up from his chair. “Aidan, will you come to my office. We need to prepare a press release and get it out as soon as possible. The rest of you, it is going to be a very tough day and if you don’t have any patients in you are welcome to leave. Priya, obviously the research work will be stopped completely until further notice; we’ll need to meet the team at Research as soon as possible.” He muttered to himself, “I need to talk to Gerry and Valerie again,” and then sought out his secretary. “Mary, will you come in to me too, we need to draw up a list of people I need to call before the press release goes out.”
The noise level in the room went up immediately the door closed behind James, all the staff expressing their shock in repeated meaningless expressions that seemed to Priya to rub on every exposed nerve in her body. She nodded her head in the right places all the while desperately waiting for the right amount of time to pass before she could escape to the relative isolation of the office she shared with Tara. She knew some of the staff were looking at her curiously but it seemed inappropriate to mention her flu again. She knew they were wondering whether she had been as close to Daniel as the rumors suggested. The atmosphere was starting to weigh heavily on her and she excused herself and rushed to her office.
∞
Priya sat at her desk feeling the nausea hit her in waves. She could hear the murmur of conversation continuing to roll around the clinic as people wandered back to their offices. She heard footsteps outside the room and Tara walked in shutting the door behind her.
“You don’t look good, girl.” Her short blond hair tousled, her pale pretty face now rubbed clean of make-up Tara didn’t look too good herself, but Priya didn’t feel like pointing that out.
“Are you going to go to New York for the funeral?” Tara asked.
Priya nodded. She had just made up her mind. She needed to see this through. She had a sense that she was missing something.
Tara said, “Did Daniel seem sick to you? It’s strange; he was so into all that healthy living stuff, exercising all the time. And he ate healthy too, do you remember that time at the French restaurant when he would only eat the salad, none of that cream sauce he said. Seems a bit weird to me, having a heart attack at his age, and he never smoked, didn’t drink much. And look at me, drinking all the time, smoking. At least I eat healthy and the Pilates has been great.” She smoothed down her knee-length skirt and patted her stomach. “Priya, you’re really not looking good. Why don’t you go home, do you have any patients in for checks, do you want me to do yours?”
Priya shook her head. “I’ve got Jacintha coming in, I need to be here.”
“Hmm… yeah, you’d better do her check. Wouldn’t want to upset the old biddy again.”
“You know, one day one of the patients is going to hear you calling them names and report you.”
“Nah, my patients love me too much. It’s just your Jacintha that prefers the exotic brown Doctor Joseph to do her programmer checks. Funny how she trusts you in a medical capacity but would probably cross the street otherwise. And she doesn’t realize you’ve got a PhD not a medical degree.”
Priya smiled. “You know she wouldn’t, you’re too hard on her, she’s just old-fashioned. But she loves hearing an Irish accent coming out of an Indian looking woman. Besides I prefer her to the ones that say one thing but look like they’d rather not have me near them.”
“I probably doesn’t help that her son had a heart attack right there when I do her check, I mean, why couldn’t that happen when you’re doing it. Now she crosses herself when I pass her.”
Priya stared at Tara, her eyes pensive, and said, “I worked with Daniel on Thursday and he was fine. A bit quiet but that was more like he was thinking about things, not sick. But he’s been quiet like that for a few weeks now. Not his usual self.”
Priya hadn’t told anyone in the clinic about the night of her birthday or the subsequent humiliating experience with the Guards. So she couldn’t tell Tara that the last four or five weeks had been almost as bad as the months following the episode last October. The tense and hostile silence after it had been broken by her mother’s death in December. She had needed leave and Daniel had been surprisingly supportive and, despite their history, she had developed a wary sense of kinship with him when she returned to work in January. They had never spoken of that night again but the quality of their silence together had been different. Till a month ago.
Tara said, “You’ve been pretty quiet yourself. Was there a problem with the new Controller?”
The Program Controller Home was the third version of the machines they used in the clinic during the regular checks to communicate with implanted pacemakers. This version was being developed for home use. Priya had worked on the Controllers when she was doing the research for her PhD; the pacemaker it controlled, the Mark I pacemaker, had been Daniel’s personal project with his research company that had commenced prior to the opening of the clinic. Priya spent part of her time consulting on the coding, and the other part carrying out the regular checks on the programming of the pacemakers installed by the clinic.
Priya said, “We got the figures back about a month ago. There was no problem with the Controller Home. Daniel took the figures with him; he just gave them to me two weeks ago. I haven’t even had a chance to look at them properly. I’d better look at them after I do Jacintha’s check.”
Priya suddenly felt uneasy, she didn’t want Tara to know she’d taken the papers home. Along with the papers on the Controller II, which Daniel had also given her for some reason. There were strict rules in this very secretive business.
Priya said, “Talking of Jacintha, I’d better go, she’s probably chatting Aidan up as we speak if the poor lad is anywhere near the waiting room. But then, she’s not the only middle-aged woman who’d like a bit of that boy, is she?” Priya had to laugh at Tara’s face.
Tara said, “I am not middle-aged, unless you think I’m only going to live till I’m 60! By the way, I wouldn’t start anything if I were you; I haven’t even mentioned your Friday night adventures. I like how it’s my 30th birthday and you get the present.” Tara stopped. “Hey, you okay?”
Priya’s stomach had clenched at the mention of Friday night and her face had obviously reflected the sudden rush of adrenaline. She got up and rifled through the filing cabinet searching for Jacintha Whelan’s file. Priya hated being at a disadvantage, at not remembering the night. She hated anyone knowing more about what she had done than she did. She was about to swallow her pride and ask Tara when Clodagh opened the door and popped her head into the office.
“Priya, Ms. Whelan is waiting in Room 3. I had to put her in there to give poor Aidan a break.”
Priya grabbed the thin file and hurried out of the office and down the hallway to the room she used for the pacemaker checks. She tried to gather her thoughts, to focus on the patient awaiting her.
∞
Priya used the room for her research as well as the routine pacemaker checks so there were different versions of the Controllers on trolleys lined up alongside one wall.
“I’m so sorry, Jacintha, things are a bit in a state at the moment here.” Priya placed the file down on one of the trolleys.
Jacintha Whelan put her teeth back into her mouth and smiled at Priya. She sat up straight in the chair. Jacintha’s son, Liam was seated in his usual place at her side.
“Good morning Dr. Joseph, you’re looking a bit better since I saw you in March.” Jacintha turned to Liam. “Isn’t she? Sure, she was so thin then I thought we wouldn’t be able to see her after a while.” She adjusted her glass and stared through them at Priya. “Bit better, but still not as good as before.”
“You know how to make a person feel good, Mam.” Liam had his usual look of apology for his mother’s forthrightness but Priya was used to it.
Jacintha continued with a short pause for breath, “Isn’t it awful, dear, about Dr. Fairer. Scared me when Clodagh said it, it did so. He looked so healthy. Such a handsome man, you know, with that lovely tan and those white white teeth. You know, the Americans always seem to have such lovely teeth. Not like yours Liam, my fault that.” She patted Liam’s thigh.
Priya rolled the trolley with the Controller II on it up to Jacintha’s side using the movement to hide her smile at Liam’s expression. He had stained teeth from his mother taking medication when she was pregnant. He was forty and he still lived with his mother and brought her to every clinic check. Now he had to come for his own checks at the clinic and his mother accompanied him but sat out in the waiting room while he was seen, the girls joked that Jacintha did that to keep an eye out for Aidan.
Priya asked, “When’s your next check, Liam?”
He was Tara’s patient, which seemed fitting considering he had had his heart attack in the room while Tara had been carrying out the check on Jacintha when Priya was on leave following her mother’s death. Jacintha was Priya’s patient; Priya had carried out Jacintha’s monthly checks for the two months post-op.
Liam said, “I had mine in June; Mam’s was delayed so we couldn’t have it on same day as usual.”
Priya said, “Sorry, I think that’s my fault. I was out for a week and somebody here didn’t want to have her check done by Tara for some reason.” Priya smiled at Jacintha. “You know, she’s very good at her job, Liam will tell you that too.”
Jacintha spoke over Liam’s assent. “Sure, she might be good but I’m happy with you and I just couldn’t, you know, after what happened. It was awful! I thought he was gone. All I can say is Thank God we were in here. Trust Liam to have a heart attack in the best heart clinic, he was always such an obliging boy. They had him taken care of so fast. He’s fine now, aren’t you, Liam? One of those pacemaker things in, just like your mother.”
Liam had given up trying to find a gap in which to speak. He just nodded.
Jacintha stopped talking as well while Priya started the check. She used the Controller II that was designed for checks in a clinical setting and worked using wireless technology.
She set up the frequency of the controller to match the frequency transmitted by the pacemaker. Priya rolled the trolley as close as possible to Jacintha’s side and held the programmer wand over Jacintha’s collarbone. There was a beep and the LED display on the wand showed that the controller and the pacemaker were locked onto the same signal frequency.
The controller started the communication by sending an auto-identification sequence to the implanted device that resulted in an identical response from the implanted device detailing its serial and model numbers. The controller then sent an interrogation command that elicited more information from the device including Jacintha’s name, diagnosis and other medical details.
The controller requested information from the pacemaker on any untoward incidents recorded since the last check. It checked on battery power remaining in the lithium battery. Although the device ran on a patented self-sustaining form of energy, the smaller than normal battery was installed in the device as a backup.
That was strange. Priya examined the readings for the battery power. The normal range was between 95% and 100%. Jacintha’s readings showed the remaining power at 90.28%. She repeated the communication but the result was the same.
She checked Jacintha’s folder. The summary results of the controller readings for battery power for all the previous checks were listed as ‘Within Normal Range’. The actual receipt-shaped printouts were stapled to a card at the back of the folder. Each sheet had a line for remaining battery power. Priya was conscious that Jacintha was waiting and decided to examine the figures in more detail later. The battery lasted 6 years so there was no risk but it should not have been utilized at all. She continued with her routine.
Priya said, “We’ll soon have the new version of this controller on the market. Then you’ll be able to do the checks at home and just send in the readings.”
Jacintha said, “I like coming in here, do we have to use the home one?”
“Well, your checks are going to go to 6 monthly after this one and it would be better if you had the home controller in between times. You can come in with Liam on his 1-year check in December and hopefully we’ll be able to send ye home with the new controller then. And we’ll see you 6 months later anyway. Don’t worry; I’ll keep an eye out on Aidan for you.”
Jacintha giggled. “Sure that boy is a bit young for me, more your age I’d say. Ye’d be a good match, you with your lovely skin. You Indians girls are so pretty and that boy with his blonde hair, he’s like one of those gods, you know, the ones from ancient times, not the Irish ones, Liam, where are they from?”