Death by Request (Caribbean Murder #11)

“Yeah, yeah, a good excuse. I heard it a thousand times. Everyone wants to blame someone when a patient dies. The doctors and nurses are convenient aren’t they, sitting ducks.”


“You know it’s interesting,” Mattheus veered off casually, “I was surprised to find out that when Tara was in a coma she shared a room.”

That took Konrad off guard. “What’s surprising about it? Nothing,” he said. “All patients in comas share a room. They have to be carefully monitored, don’t they? Besides, do you know how expensive it is to keep someone like that alive? Do you know how little room we have for them at our hospital?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Mattheus replied simply.

“Then cut us some slack, Mister,” Konrad burst out. “We’re not exactly equipped to keep someone here in a coma for two months.”

“Then why didn’t you move Tara to another place?” Mattheus shot back.

“The family wouldn’t hear of it,” Konrad retorted. “Believe me, we tried.”

Mattheus didn’t know that.

“Tara belonged in a hospice, but her husband refused. You know why? He wouldn’t have the same kind of access to her there. They wouldn’t let him hover over her the way we did.”

“There was pressure on you to get Tara out of the hospital for lots of reasons,” Mattheus remarked. “The case was making a stink, causing bad publicity.”

“Sure,” Konrad calmed down a minute and looked at Mattheus for a long time. “So what’s wrong with that? There’s pressure on me for everything, Mister. The buck ends here.”

“Rough job,” Mattheus commented.

“I’ve had worse,” said Konrad.

“It’s up to you to oversee who’s hired here, right?” Mattheus continued, glad that Konrad was like a loose cannon tonight, talking freely.

Konrad’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah I oversee who’s hired. So what?”

“So you knew about Alana’s past, didn’t you?” Mattheus said slowly.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Konrad looked puzzled for a second, then froze up. “You leave Alana out of it.”

“You knew that Alana had been fired from her past job for negligent patient care, right?”

Konrad lunged at Mattheus for a second and then pulled back. “See, that’s what I mean,” he breathed, infuriated. “No one gives anyone a break. Did you take time to check the facts of the case? The person Alana took care of was old; she died of old age. The family jumped all over it and blamed her for no reason.”

Mattheus remained unruffled. “You can say anything you want to excuse it, but how come you decided to hire a person with a past like that?”

Konrad stared at Mattheus in pain. “You stay the hell away from Alana,” he muttered. “She’s one hell of a beautiful woman and a fabulous nurse.”

“She has her moods though, doesn’t she?” Mattheus pressed harder.

“Oh yeah?” Konrad became furious. “Who’d you hear that from?”

“Just heard it,” said Mattheus, not wanting to tell him what the patient in Tara’s room had said.

“So, if she has her moods she has a right to them, doesn’t she?” Konrad suddenly guffawed. “You’re gonna tell me now a person’s doesn’t have right to have moods? You think it’s easy working here for rich, white people? You think they were all so good to Alana?”

“Tara never hurt Alana in anyway, though?” asked Mattheus, hoping to get more out of him.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Konrad’s eyes narrowed. “You’re accusing Alana of killing Tara now?” He couldn’t bear that thought of it. “That’s too much, way too much, Mister.”

“Listen,” Mattheus took a step closer, wanting to turn up the heat. “I’m not saying Alana killed Tara, I’m saying there are plenty of ways medical mistakes happen all the time.”

Konrad lifted his hands as if he were going to grab Mattheus for a second. “Not at this hospital, they don’t.”

“Oh yeah they do,” Mattheus got into his face. “In fact, from the research I’ve done, I see that there are more medical mistakes at your hospital than in most others. And, you guys got a drug problem and lousy accountability too. I’m sure your donors don’t know about all of it, either.”

Konrad stopped in his tracks and froze. In the silence between them the sound of the jazz below sounded almost like a distant cry.

“You get the hell out of Jamaica,” Konrad said then, in a threatening tone. “Or, for all you know you could be strung up to an IV too.”

Then he turned swiftly and fled down the hill, disappearing into the throngs of drunken people, happily singing along to the music below.





Chapter 18



When Mattheus returned from the jazz festival Cindy was downstairs in the hotel lounge, having a glass of wine alone. It was unusual for her to do this, but also comforting to be with others and listen to the supper music, lightly playing. Suddenly Cindy felt someone step up behind her, lean down and pull her into his arms. Startled, she jumped.

“It’s only me,” Mattheus whispered. “You weren’t expecting someone else, were you?”