Depth of Deception (A Titanic Murder Mystery) (6 page)

Callum flipped the pages back to look at the top of the report, and there saw the name of the investigating officer: Inspector John Toughill, Callum’s own grandfather.

Chapt
e
r
VI

"She's gone," a voice said solemnly. Denise had already known it was hopeless and stopped doing the chest compr
essions. The ECG was turned off
and the Respiratory Nurse began to remove the tube from the patient's mouth.

"Note T.O.D..." started Dr. Rowland.

"Hold on," interrupted Denise as she grabbed the clipboard and clicked the pen to write. She then repeated, "Time of death..."

Dr. Rowland looked back at the clock on the wall. "Time of death occurred at..."

His words were quickly cut off as the patient opened her eyes, gasped and screamed. Denise dropped the clipboard and pen as much from surprise as from a sense of duty, and she rushed to her patient's side. Without another word, the woman fell back on the bed. The ECG bleeped back to life, as Dr. Rowland came out of a moment of shock and moved to open the patient’s eyelids and shine a light into the pupils. Denise noted on her chart: patient was PERRL, pupils are equal, round, and reactive to light, which was a surprising but good sign.

"She's breathing on her own," remarked the Respiratory Nurse.

"Pulse is strong."

Dr. Rowland looked at the monitor screen, and then grabbed the scroll of paper that curled to the floor. His eyebrows tightened.

"Is there a cardiologist on duty?" he asked as he stretched the paper out.

"I think Dr. Morales is," replied Denise.

He handed the printout to the Respiratory Nurse, "Have him take a look at this."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Should we get her to the Critical Care Unit?" asked Denise. The doctor didn't respond. "Doctor?"

"Sorry, um...no," replied the Doctor as he looked at 'Myra' Doe breathing on her own. "She does not appear to need to go on life support. Her vitals are strong now... as though..."

He paused and looked about at the others in the room. Denise knew what he was going to say but was afraid to do so. It was as though she had never gone into cardiac arrest. There were seven people in this room who knew otherwise, but they all looked at the patient and knew the unbelievable truth. Denise wondered how she was going to write this in a report without sounding crazy. "Page me immediately when she regains consciousness. Hopefully she'll have some answers."

"Yes, Doctor," replied Denise as she picked the clipboard up off the floor. She was trying to wrap her brain around what just happened. She kept looking at the patient. How was this possible? That's twice in one night that this woman has defied the laws of physiology. In all the Code Blues that Denise had seen, only a small fraction 'come back' and most of those who do, don't last much longer on life support.

She looked up to see Dr. Rowland also looking at the patient as he waited for the medical team to file out. As he was about to leave, another nurse poked her head in, "Dr. Rowland? Here is the toxicology report you requested."

He thanked her absently as he snatched the file so quickly that the nurse looked at her hands to ensure that all her digits were still there.

Denise watched a look of confusion fall across the doctor's face as he whispered, "That can't be right."

He looked up at their mysterious patient and then looked back down at the report, his expression never changing.

"What is it?" Denise asked. The suspense was killing her.

"I fully expected to find some sort of narcotic in her system but this is... odd." He took out his pen and scribbled on the sheet. He then handed it to Denise, "I need to run some new blood work on our Jane... er 'Myra' Doe."

Denise looked down at the page and saw what he meant. It was odd. She also found herself looking at the patient, wishing she would regain consciousness. There were so many unanswered questions. She no longer knew what to believe.

Chapter
VII

"
Titanic II
?" bellowed Edward Hoffman as he stormed into his father's Manhattan office. Edward threw down the current issue of
USA Today
. He had seen the newspaper on the waiting area's guest table outside his own office at Hoffman International Headquarters, as he popped in to pick up the messages he had received while he was out of town. Dropping his coat and scooping up the newspaper, he stomped directly across the executive floor and barged through the company president's door.

His elderly father, Archibald Hoffman, steered his antique wheelchair away as if he hadn't heard him. For a man in his early 70's, Edward took pride in his health and appearance. By contrast, his father, only 20 years his senior, looked well over a hundred and smelled like he had been dead for a decade but was too stubborn to accept it.

Archibald maneuvered through the antiquated furniture to th
e other side of the carved, wooden
desk. Whereas Edward embraced new technologies such as fax machines, multiline phones and even a word processor, his father clung to his manual typewriter, rotary phone, and even still had a Ticker Tape machine. Edward
wasn't even sure if anyone had
used the Ticker Tape to send financial information in over ten years. He had told his father many times of his certainty that computers would be the wave of the future. In a short time, just like the television set, there would be a personal computer in everyone's home, and in theory it could eliminate all paper waste. After all, Edward could now review a business letter and correct any error before putting it on the page. His father considered the entire notion to be science fiction fantasy. He was also one of those who believed Neil Armstrong's moon landing was done in a Hollywood studio. Even his wheelchair was an old fashioned model made of heavy wood, brass handles and wicker inlay. Ten years ago, Edward had bought his father a new motorized one but the old man refused to even sit in it. Edward was grateful that electricity had already been available when he was born or his father would likely have refused to buy a lamp.

Edward yelled after him, "I thought we made it clear that we weren’t going to name it that!"

Archibald waved his attending nurse away, who was glaring at the younger Edward. As soon as the nurse left, Archibald retorted,
"
The
Titan
does not have the same impact, nor does it make the front page of any newspaper.
"
His bony, gnarled finger trembled as it pointed at the newspaper Edward had thrown down on the desk.
"
You yourself brought the proof of that, Sonnyboy.
"

Edward bit his tongue as his elderly father launched into a coughing fit. His father knew how much he despised the ‘Sonnyboy’ nickname, but Edward was careful to choose his battles. He would not be baited into changing the subject.

"
This Time It Really Is Unsinkable?
"
read Edward aloud. Even though it was there with the headline on the front page, Edward found it difficult to believe.
"
How could you print something so abhorrent without consulting with me first?
"

Archibald spun his wheelchair around and opened his mouth… and coughed again. As Edward waited, he studied his father for a moment. Pushing a hundred, Archibald still had control of his faculties. He was living proof that money could buy everything... even longer life. Over the last few decades he had been the
recipient of a kidney, a cornea
, and had somehow successfully placed himself at the top of a heart transplant list last year. At this rate, Edward suspected that Archibald would Frankenstein himself into a new man by the end of the decade. If only the good die young, Archibald Hoffman would live forever. He definitely showed no signs of slowing down, and had been down to South America last week to meet with
El Consorcio
, their Latin American counterpart. Archibald felt that their staff needed motivation and went personally to meet with them.

Over the years Edward had witnessed the ruthless, cutthroat actions of his father. Archibald lived by the Sun Tzu’s
Art of War
and read it several times a year, treating family and colleagues alike as the enemy, using their weaknesses to his advantage. Even now, Edward was acutely aware of the recorded music playing on the old record player. Was it a coincidence that the familiar tune of
The Last Rose of Summer
was now haunting the room? It was taking him back to a painful time. Edward would never forgive his father for w
hat he did to him… to Dolanna… p
oor Dolanna. The only woman Edward had ever loved. The coughing stopped. Edward had to re-focus. He would not fall prey to his father's mind-games.

"
Aside from the poor taste,
"
Edward continued, trying to ignore the music.
"
It’s bad luck to name a ship after a doomed one.
"

"
Isn’t it also bad luck to change the name of a ship?
"
asked Archie as he wheeled himself in front of the west-facing window. It was a tactical positioning that he often did, forcing his opponent to squint into the afternoon sun, putting them at a disadvantage. Edward was not going to fall prey to his father’s tactics and casually strode over to one side. Without the sun in his eyes, he turned to his father,
"
Only after it’s been christened on its maiden voyage.
"
His father had some gall debating nautical superstition with him. He needed to get back to the heart of the issue.
"
If you don’t retract that statement...
"

"
If I do that it will look like I gave into that hag’s petition.
"

"
Hag?
"
Edward asked.

"
Eva Hart. Didn’t you see that interview with Eva Hart?
"
His finger stabbed towards the blueprints of the new ship.
"
She called it ‘macabre’ and whined that it would bring back a nightmare of memories."

Edward shook his head in dismay. He could never understand, as a fellow survivor, how his father could be so callous with such a tragedy. As unfathomable as it might seem, Archie Hoffman always seemed ‘glad’ that the
Titanic
sank.

Choosing his words carefully, Edward calmly said,
"
Like me, she was a child when
Titanic
went do
wn. But she wasn’t as fortunate:
she lost her father.
"

Archibald replied in some incomprehensible grumble.

"
Do you recall what her mother said that night at dinner, the night before the ship struck the iceberg?
"
Edward asked, but Archibald made no attempt to answer.
"
She s
aid, ‘To boast that a ship was u
nsinkable was a slap in the face of God.’
"

"
I was there, I remember better than you do. I’m not senile you know.
"

"
Did I say you were?
"
Edward asked,
"
You didn’t answer when I asked.
"

"
Did you see the story of the woman found in the North Atlantic?
"
asked Archibald, obviously changing the subject.

"
Yes, I did,
"
replied Edward.
"
Intriguing wouldn’t you say?
"

"
Rubbish!
"
wheezed the old man without missing a beat.
"
That’s all that is, sheer rubbish.
"

Archibald turned
and
trolled through a cabinet, hunched over the stuff, hunting,
"
Someone organized that hoax to steal my thunder.
"

"
Now, who would do that?
"
asked Edward.

"
Could be any number of past rivals. It wouldn’t surprise me if Eva Hart or someone like that Dr. Alpo put that woman in the ocean to draw attention away from our moment of glory.
"

"
Alpo?... You mean Dr.
Ballard
. He’s a respected scientist.
"

"
Who’s spent the last five years looking for the wreck of the
Titanic
. I imagine he would have trouble getting funding for his dives once our
Titanic II
launches next week.
"

"
There isn’t going to be a launch of a ship called
Titanic II
. The company spent a considerable amount of money on market research and focus groups and the response was that no one would travel on a ship named
Titanic
. The common consensus was that it was 'tempting fate.' If we don’t change the name we’re already sunk.
"