Читать книгу Revenge - Sheldon Cohen - Страница 10

Pollard’s forehead creased. He nodded his head. “That’s a very good question, Amanda. I thought of it, but in the heat of the battle, I didn’t factor that in as having any immediate relevance. His situation demanded absolute concentration on making a proper diagnosis to start immediate therapy, because his clinical picture was critical and every second counted. So let’s now think about the excellent question that you’ve asked, and now that the situation has been resolved—with an unfortunate outcome—I might add, we have the luxury and time for such thoughts, and since you asked the question about it you must have some ideas. What’s your interpretation?”

“Well,” she said, “he was listed as a missing person. That fascinated me because I heard all kinds of talk like that growing up. My father is a police detective you see...”

Pollard’s eyes opened wide. His mouth dropped. “Oh,” he interrupted. “I should have known. Your father is Richard Galinski.”

Amanda flashed a beautiful smile and her pearly white teeth and bright eyes sparkled in unison. “Why yes, do you know him?”

“Do I ever. We had an unusual case we both worked on once. One of these days, I’ll tell you all about it. Wow, you just brought back some great memories. So tell me, what do you think happened to this man from the time he left home one night in apparent good health to the time he came under our care in deep coma? We’d love to hear about this from the perspective of a detective’s daughter, don’t you think, Barry?”

“Yes, great idea.”

With her head nodding yes, she said, “Well, I have to wonder if he was beginning to feel somewhat ill the night he left to the pharmacy. Perhaps he had a slight headache with nausea, aches and pains...you know, the early symptoms of meningitis. But then his symptoms progressed. What confuses me is that if he got too sick why didn’t he go back home? Since he didn’t, maybe his symptoms progressed so fast that he passed out. Would that be possible with a staph meningitis?”

“I believe so, but if he passed out on the off ramp of a busy expressway, there’s no way he’d sit there for two or more days without anyone noticing,” said Pollard.

“Yes, that was going to be my next point,” said Amanda.”

Listening with great fascination Barry interjected. “Could the meningitis have caused a mentally confused state which resulted in the patient wandering around…a sort of amnesia? He got confuse, disoriented, didn’t know where he was?”

“Another bullseye,” said Amanda.

Barry looked at Amanda and said, “You heard about that?”

“I not only heard about it, I watched you play.”

A confused Pollard wondering about this interplay between his students, said, “Whoa, what’s going on. We’re suddenly off the track with something that sounds interesting. What’s this all about?”

“Oh, your student was a hot-shot basketball player at the U. of I. I saw him play. Bullseye was his nickname,” said Amanda.

Pollard smiled in admiration and looked at Barry. “Oh, I see. I’m impressed. You and I will have to go one on one some day.”

Anytime,” answered Barry.

In the meantime, Barry, your thought could be right on the mark. No one could prove you wrong and it’s as good an explanation as any we’ll come up with. What do you think, Amanda?”

“Yes, I suppose that a man could be so confused that he wanders around the city for a few days. Following that would you expect him to be brought to the Emergency Department looking like a fashion plate with a nicely pressed suit, shoes you could use for a mirror, and a perfect Windsor knotted silk tie?”

Pollard shook his head in amazement. “Spoken like a true detective’s daughter. What are you doing in medical school? With those powers of observation it sounds like you’d make a heck of a detective.”

“Yeah, I agree,” said Barry.”

“No thanks, my father’s got worse hours then any doctor I ever heard of.”

“The way you analyze I can see you as a great diagnostician some day, Amanda. And it brings to mind the fact that detective work and diagnosis in medicine have similarities, don’t they…collect all the facts, put them all together and come to a conclusion…interesting.”

“That’s true and thank you, but when I first heard about the history of this man disappearing for two days it reminded me of my father. He used to tell similar stories of someone who disappeared. They’d turn up dead in some field, or the trunk of a car, or in some Chicago back alley dumpster. The only difference here is that Dr. Spann didn’t show up dead, but he was as close as you could get.”

Pollard’s face changed from a fascinated to a serious expression and he said, “Are you suggesting some foul play here?”

“No, it’s just that the similarities struck me as strange. It looks like I’ll never get away from my upbringing in the house of a detective.”

“It may be to your advantage to think like you do. It just goes to show why I like teaching so much. I learn from my students. We’re going to have an enjoyable time these three months. Please say hello to your father, and tell him about your first day as a practicing physician.”

“I will do that. I’ll be seeing him Friday night.”