Chapter                                                                                 Words: 2019
 
 
The Jeep Plant. Toledo, Ohio.
 
Barnett arrived home to his apartment just after eleven o’clock. He was excited—happier than he’d been in a long time. He stripped down to his T-shirt and skivvies, brushed and flossed his teeth, and jumped in bed. David rarely used an alarm clock, his brain would take care of waking him as it did every day at six am. He lay in bed, rearranging blankets, moving his legs, and adjusting his pillow to varied positions, trying desperately to find a comfortable, sleep inducing position. It was pointless. He was wide awake and the reason was obvious. His date with Laura had sent him to outer space.
 
David was familiar with the body’s biochemical and physiological response to new love, the adrenocortical hormone surge makes one euphoric, and the associated release of testosterone that was, at the moment, pushing his libido to new heights. His mind raced back and forth between thoughts of Laura, and anxiety filled thoughts about his courtroom appearance in the morning. The scent of Laura’s perfume swirled in his head. After a restless hour in bed, he got up, turned on his beside lamp, grabbed the phone and dialed information.
 
“What city please?”
 
“Detroit.” 
 
“May I help you?”
 
“Yes operator. I need the numbers for three hospitals in the Detroit area. I believe they’re all in the 313 area code. 
 
“Yes sir, go ahead.”
 
“The first is Henry Ford Hospital’s main campus on West Grand Boulevard. I also need the number for Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak and Providence Hospital. I think it’s in Southfield, Michigan.”
 
“One moment . . . Here are your numbers.”
 
Barnett memorized the first number and jotted down the last two on a pad of paper. A computer generated voice came on and repeated the three numbers. He pushed the receiver button and dialed.
 
“Henry Ford Hospital. How may I help you?”
 
“Operator, this is Dr. Barnett calling from Ohio. Could you please connect me with the medical records department?”
 
“Certainly, Doctor.”
 
A women’s voice came over the phone. “Medical Records.”
 
“Yes, hello. This is Dr. David Barnett calling from Toledo. I need to know if one of my former patient’s was seen at your hospital within the past four to five years. The patient is now deceased. Her name is Marie Conti. David spelled out C-O-N-T-I.
 
“It will take a minute, Doctor.”
 
“That’s fine. I’ll hold.” Barnett waited for two to three minutes; thinking about Laura the whole time. 
 
“Doctor.” 
 
“Yes.”
 
“Our computer data bank has six Marie Conti’s all the way back to nineteen-fifty.”
 
“I’m not surprised. It’s not an unusual name.”
 
“Four of these are deceased. Do you have a birth date?”
 
“No, I’m sorry, not an exact date. But I know she died in nineteen-ninety-five and was sixty-eight years old. That would place her birth date at about nineteen-twenty-seven, right?”
 
“Yes. There is one here. Marie Anna Conti. Born in April, 1927, expired 1995.”
 
“Great. So she was seen at Ford Hospital?”
 
“Not here at the main campus. The records indicate she was a patient at a satellite, the West Bloomfield Office. Charts for deceased patients from that facility are kept in a separate archive building in Bloomfield.”
 
“Can you give me their number?”
 
After relaying the telephone number, the women added. “Their closed until eight a.m., Doctor. You’ll have to call in the morning.”
 
David’s enthusiasm waned. “Alright. I can do that. Thanks for your help.” 
 
“Your welcome.”
 
Since Marie had been admitted to Ford Hospital, there was no need to call the other two hospitals, Beaumont and Providence. David set the phone on the table, rolled back on his pillow, and considered his plan of action for the morning. I have to be in court by eight-thirty. I’ll have to be there by eight to make the call to West Bloomfield. I’ll call from downtown, probably from the courthouse.
 
David couldn’t decide if he should bother with calling in the morning, especially right before his courtroom appearance. He was about to forget the whole issue when he had another thought, Peggy could call. David had known Peggy, his office manager, for many years. She could make the call for him in the morning. He turned the lamp off and stretched out in bed. It was one-forty-five and he still wasn’t the least bit sleepy.
 
Doctor Barnett’s mind raced with a frenzy of memories, ideas, past events, old consequences and new possibilities. Thoughts and visions tumbled through his head as he recalled the evening’s conversation with Laura Conti. Imaginings of Laura, Michael, Carlo and Cassie, were interchanged with anxiety provoking thoughts of Judge Richardson, Gallagher, Burkhardt and Tamayo. Intermittently, Susan and his children, Erin, Peter and Jennie, would flash through his mind.
 
After minutes, seeming to David to be hours, his mind slowed, settling on one thought, —one question. David asked himself, why did Cassandra, Marie and Michael Conti all succumb to acute myocardial infarctions? Recalling Laura’s comment about her husband’s sudden obsession with health, diet and exercise, he surmised, Michael must have been worried about his heart—worried about having a heart attack and his concern started when he moved to Toledo. What happened? Maybe some medical test result bothered him . . . but he never saw a doctor. If he never saw a physician . . . It struck him, a thought flashed through David’s brain. His new job, that’s it. He would have had an executive physical at Jeep, the company would have required it.  
 
Barnett jumped out of bed, switched on the light and dialed the phone. 
 
“What city please?”
 
“Toledo, Ohio.”
 
“How may I help you?”
 
“Yes, the number for the Chrysler-Jeep Plant in Toledo. I would like their Medical Department, if there’s a listing.” As he waited for the number, another thought hit him. His cholesterol . . . he had lab work . . . that’s gotta be it.
 
“Here’s your number. Another computer generated voice spewed out a number. David hung up and redialed. 
 
“Med Clinic.”
 
“Yes, this is Dr. Barnett calling.”
 
“Well, Dr. Barnett, how are you? This is Karen Whitaker.”
 
David knew Karen from her nursing position at St. Vincent’s Hospital. He’d just seen her a few days ago. “Hi Karen. I didn’t know you worked at Jeep.”
 
“Nurses have to do a little moonlighting sometimes. You know, gotta make ends meet. What can I do for ya, Doc?”
 
“Karen, I have a favor to ask.”
 
“A favor, such as? Don’t start flirting with me Barnett, it won’t help get your favor.
 
 
David laughed. “I promise. I’ll be nice.”
 
“Okay. What do you need?”
 
“A former plant manager there at Jeep died from a heart attack about two years ago.”   
 
“I remember. It was Mr. Conti.”
 
“That’s right. Michael Conti. I was involved with his care. As it turns out he had really severe coronary disease, which for a lot of reasons, didn’t seem to make any sense to me. No risk factors, young age, you know.”
 
“Really. I know he was pretty young when he died. In his thirty’s as I recall.”
 
“He was thirty-eight.”
 
“So, how can I help you, Dr. Barnett?”
 
“Well, quite frankly, I’m currently involved in a malpractice case over his death.”
 
“You! I can’t believe it. Not the great, David Barnett. What happened?”
 
It’s a long, complicated story. I’d rather not get into it right now. But I am curious about something.”
 
“What’s that?”
 
“I have suspicions that Conti may have had a hereditary cholesterol problem that was never detected. The only lipid test we have for this law suit, was done by Dr. Tamayo and I’m not sure I trust Tamayo’s report on this.”
 
“No kidding. Who would trust that jerk?”
 
“So you know Tamayo.”
 
“Every nurse in Toledo has heard of him. He’s famous around for being a crook and an asshole. Incredibly arrogant. I’ve had some run-ins with him myself.”  
 
“Well, I’m not here to bash another doctor. I was wondering if any blood tests were done on Michael Conti when he was hired. Specifically, a cholesterol profile.”
 
“They probably were. All of the executives are required to have annual physicals.”
 
“That’s what I figured.”
 
“So you want me to check his file for you.”
 
“If you could.”
 
“To look for what?”
 
David raised his voice a bit to give Karen a little jab. “To see if there’s a cholesterol level.  What else!”
 
“Be nice now, Doctor. You know I’ll need a signed consent.”
 
“That’s where the favor comes in.”
 
“Dr. Barnett!”
 
“I know, I know. But it’s just a cholesterol. I don’t need anything else, and I was his physician for a short time.”
 
“Yea, but now their suing you.”
 
“Your right. It’s your call. I’ll understand if you don’t want to help me.”
 
“Okay Dr. B. Knock off the ‘poor me’ routine. You’re lucky I like you so much.”
 
“You do? I guess I am lucky. And I’m sure you know I like you.” 
 
Karen responded with mock exasperation. “I suppose I’ll have to help you. Hang on a minute.” The phone went silent. David waited.  “You still there Barnett? Or did you fall asleep waiting?” 
 
David laughed. “I’m here.”
 
“Okay. I’ve got the chart and it wasn’t easy finding it.”
 
“Karen, you’re a sweetheart.”
 
“Yea, yea. Cut the crap. Now what do you need?”
 
“First, check the comments on his physical exam.” Look in the lab results to see if there’s a cholesterol level. Hopefully a fractionation.”
 
“I’m looking.” There was a brief pause. “Here it is. Seems to be ok. It say’s the patient had no complaints or symptoms. The final impression is, ‘Normal Pre-Employment Examination, Lab Results Pending’.”
 
“I’m curious, who was the physician.?”
 
 
“Dr. Lewinski saw him. He’s an old timer who works here, semi-retired.”
 
 
 
“Yea, I know Phil. He’s a nice man and a good family doc. Okay, good. Now, please review the blood test results.”
 
“I’ve got it. He had the standard profile, CBC, metabolic panel, you know.”
 
“Anything flagged as abnormal?”
 
“Yea, the cholesterol level . . . Holy shit!”
 
“What?”
 
“His cholesterol is twelve-hundred-sixty-three.”
 
“Karen. Are you saying it’s one-thousand two-hundred and sixty-three?”
 
“That’s right doc. It sounds a little high to me.”
 
David felt a surge of self-satisfaction and exuberance. His hunch was right, Familial Hyperlipidemia, a one in five-hundred shot and he’d nailed it. He excitedly asked, “Karen, did they fractionate it?”
 
“Did they what?”
 
“You know, break it down into HDL and LDL.” 
 
“Let me see . . . Yep, here it is. His HDL is, or was, really good at one-hundred-twenty.”
 
“And his LDL?”
 
“Wow! Eleven-twenty-three. It’s eleven-hundred-twenty-three.”
 
“That’s what I suspected. One more thing, Karen. Did they repeat it later?”
 
“I don’t see any other labs in here, just this profile panel from his employment physical.”
 
“Karen, look in the physician’s notes to see what they recommended to him.”
 
“I’ve got it. Lewinski said he called Mr. Conti and strongly recommended treatment for his cholesterol.”
 
“And?”
 
“The last entry says Mr. Conti told him he would take care of it with his family doctor.”
 
“And?”
 
“And what? That’s it. That’s the last note.”
 
“Karen you’re a spectacular woman and an incredibly good nurse.”
 
“And Dr. B, you’re a big bull shitter.”
 
David laughed, “I know.”
 
“You’re lucky I was here tonight, Barnett. The usual night nurse would have hung up on you in a heartbeat.”
 
“Yep. I guess I’m just a lucky guy. Thanks for your help, Karen.”
 
“Your welcome. Hey, I hope this malpractice thing works out for ya. Good luck with it.”
 
“Thanks again. I’ll be fine. See you later.”  
 
“Bye-bye, Doc.”
 
Barnett hung up, thinking of his remark, ‘Guess I’m just a lucky guy’. Maybe I am lucky, he thought. He was starting to believe that. In many ways he was a fortunate person.  Many of his problems were behind him. Sobriety was giving him a new life. He thought of Laura, the exciting new entry in his life. He turned off the light, returned to bed and fell asleep. David Barnett  had a wonderful dream about Laura Conti.