you?” He glanced at Maryanne and Jennifer. “Patients probably say that stuff to nurses every shift and it means nothing. They’re nervous. I would be.”
“What patient and what stuff?” Jennifer asked, completely intrigued by Luke’s rambling soliloquy.
“Helga Klemens,” Maryanne answered. “She was 88 years old and her heart stopped on the operating table during a hip surgery. They got her back, only she died later in I.C.U.”
“That fills in half of my question. What did this woman say, Luke, that’s spooked you?” Jennifer held his attention with her eyes.
Luke gave Maryanne one final look and received a supportive head shake in response.
“When I walked in her room, the first thing she said was, ‘Don’t let them kill me,’ and now she’s dead.”
Jennifer wasn’t sure what she’d expected to hear, although a suspected elder murder storyline wasn’t in her Top 100 possibilities.
“Okay ....” she said cautiously. “A question for you, Maryanne. As a security guard, can you validate parking? Because I’m going to be here quite a while longer.”
***
Jennifer re-parked her car and met Luke and Maryanne at a picnic table on the edge of the hospital grounds. As both were on a break, time was of the essence and Jennifer wrote down their cell phone numbers first.
“How long were you with Helga when you transported her to the O.R.?” Jennifer asked Luke. “And why are you giving any credence to the theory she was murdered? Was there anything else she said that got your Spidey senses tingling?”
Again, Luke had a far-off expression as he considered his answers. “To be honest, I don’t know why Helga has had such an effect on me. On midnight shifts I do three I.C.U. rounds, stopping in each room to help turn, boost, or change the bedding of patients holding onto life by a thread. When I come back a few days later, many times these same people are gone – most of them passed away – and I don’t give it a second thought.” Luke stopped, realizing how cold that sounded. “You know what I mean. For me it’s a circle of life thing. I feel sad for the person’s family, but their loved one is no longer in pain and suffering.”
Maryanne looked affectionately at Luke and put her hand in his. “I feel the same way when I release a body to the funeral home.”
Watching the two lovebirds, Jennifer felt a twinge of jealousy. “So, Luke, why is Helga different, aside from her request not to be killed?”
“I guess it freaked me out. She reminded me of my grandmother and if she made the same statement at her nursing home, I’d be worried too.”
“Then to have Helga die, you stop and wonder if she wasn’t telling the truth,” Maryanne chimed in. “As a security guard and fledgling journalist that’s how I reacted.”
Yes, Maryanne, I recall you’re a budding reporter, Jennifer thought, annoyed by this declaration as she checked her watch. “Did Helga mention any family in the area or her address?”
“Only that when she was 10 years old her and her brother left Germany. I don’t know if he’s still alive,” Luke said. “Her medical chart listed her home out in Greenheart Station. I don’t recall the specific address.”
Jennifer jotted down the information. “Do you remember what room she was in?”
“8103.”
“When will that room be cleaned?”
“Fairly quickly,” Luke replied. “The floor could already know that Helga was going straight to I.C.U. A housekeeper would then clean 8103 for a new patient.”
“What about her belongings?”
“Normally, a porter would be dispatched to get the patient’s belongings and take them to the new room.”
Jennifer pondered this information. “Luke, without causing suspicion, could you go to 8103 and see if there’s anything out of the ordinary? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
Luke and Maryanne exchanged glances before he said, “I can do that. As a transporter I’m in and out of rooms all the time trying to find pillows, I.V. pumps or nurses.” He stood, ready to begin his new assignment. “Even if the room has been cleaned, I know the housekeeper on duty and can ask if she bagged any belongings.”
“Bagged?” Jennifer asked.
Maryanne got up and smiled. “That’s where I might be helpful, as security is in charge of securing deceased patient’s belongings, until they are claimed by the family.”
“And if they aren’t claimed?” Jennifer inquired.
“Clothing is donated to area thrift shops or possibly thrown out. I do know we hold onto it for thirty days.”
After promising Luke and Maryanne that she’d be in touch, Jennifer remained at the table to add to her notes. She wasn’t certain this was any kind of news story beyond the obligatory obituary notice. It was, however, a nice, albeit bizarre, distraction from the cheating councilman and his missing-in-action honey pot circus she’d been chasing the past two weeks.
On a whim, Jennifer called the hospital switchboard, asked for room 8103 and was put through. Two rings later, a familiar voice hesitantly answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Luke?”
It took him a few beats to catch on. “Jennifer?”
“Yes, it’s me. I’m still outside,” she said. “You work fast, don’t you?”
“Maryanne went on patrol and I headed here. I only see the clothes Helga came in with.”
“Any cards or flowers?”
“No cards, probably because she came directly from E.R. and not too long after went down for surgery. There are some flowers though, which is interesting,” Luke said, excitement in his voice. “A dozen yellow carnations and a card that reads, All the best, Helga! See you soon!”
“Somebody knew her,” Jennifer said. “Is there a store name or phone number on the back of the card?”
Luke gently removed the card and flipped it over. “It’s from the hospital gift shop.”
“Luke, I have a call for you, if you’re done with your break,” a female voice said on his work phone.
“I have to go, Jennifer,” he said. “Do you want me to take the card?”
“No, leave it. Good work though. You’re all right, Luke,” Jennifer said. “In the interim, if possible, see if you can find anything dealing with Helga’s operation or what happened in I.C.U. I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll do my best,” Luke replied.
While Luke and Maryanne did their respective insider’s work on her behalf, Jennifer visited the gift shop. The selection of items for sale were of the generic something-for-everyone
