LITMIR.BIZ

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and threw it into the trash. “Big mistake, Bower.”

      He glanced at his left hand, flexed it. He’d scrubbed it well after the needlestick. There was nothing more to do. You don’t catch Alzheimer’s from contaminated blood, and that was this poor old gal’s problem—increased dementia over the past weeks. Alzheimer’s.

      Someone knocked on the door. “Jarvis? You in there?”

      The sound of Ivy Richmond’s voice lightened his expression as he jumped up from his chair and rushed over to open the door for her.

      His frown returned when he saw her face, drained of color and lacking its usual smile.

      “Come in, dear, come in.” He gently took her arm and led her to the leather couch, where he sat beside her. “How are the funeral arrangements coming? Do you need any help?”

      Ivy shook her head and disengaged her arm from his grip. “Got it done. It’ll be tomorrow at ten at my church. Will you sit with the three of us? No other family is coming.”

      “I’d be honored, Ivy. Pardon me for saying this, my dear, but you could do with some rest. Are you feeling okay?” He reached up and felt her cheek with the back of his hand.

      She leaned her head back on the couch and closed her eyes. “Maybe some chest congestion…or something. I don’t know. I’m just tired, Jarvis.”

      He eyed his stethoscope over on his desk, but before he could decide to get it, Ivy opened her eyes and fixed him with an intent look.

      “I’m worried about something, and I don’t know if I have a valid complaint. I’m just confused. I’ve gone through this grief process before, and I know what it can do to your mind. I think it’s working a number on me, but I just can’t tell.”

      Jarvis took Ivy’s right hand in both of his. “Why don’t you tell me about it? If there’s anything in my power I can do to help, I’ll do it. You know that.”

      She nodded. “But I’m not sure it’s fair to drag you into it—not fair to you or Dr. Bower.”

      Jarvis tensed. “Dr. Bower?”

      “I shouldn’t even be talking to you about him. I know you didn’t want him here.”

      “I still don’t.” And the whole thing was getting harder to swallow as time went on. “We don’t need a full-time doctor here.” And especially not Bower. Already two of Jarvis’s regular patients had been treated by the younger doctor in the emergency room, and their glowing reports about Bower’s compassion and kindness hit a raw nerve. He could be a horrible diagnostician, write scripts for all the wrong drugs, but as long as he had a “good bedside manner,” he was praised as a good doctor. Sounded like slick politics. What about good, honest medicine? How long would it take Bower to convince administration to get rid of all the older docs and replace them with fresh grads who cared more about covering their tails from lawsuits than they cared about human beings?

      Ivy pulled her hand from his.

      Jarvis released her, shrugging off the bitter thoughts. “I’d like to think I’m enough of a professional to be objective. I think I can make a sound judgment call, especially for your sake.”

      She shook her head and sighed. “I may be stirring up trouble for nothing.”

      “Hey, I’ve been practicing objectivity as long as I’ve been practicing medicine. You trust me as a friend, don’t you?”

      “Yes.”

      “Then let’s figure out this Bower business together.”

      Ivy took another deep breath, let it out and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I had to fight him to get him to try to save Mother yesterday. I felt as if he wanted to dismiss her as just a dying old woman. Maybe it was my emotions talking, I don’t know, but I question his ethics, Jarvis. I don’t think he holds human life sacred. That’s important to me, especially in my financial relationship to this hospital.” She spread her hands “What do we know about him?”

      “Just the basics. What do you want to know? I’ll try to find out for you.”

      “For instance, what is his background? Where did he come from? I know he’s a Doctor of Osteopathy. Is he an experienced emergency room physician? How does he feel about abortion and euthanasia?” She shook her head apologetically at Jarvis. “I’m sorry, but these are questions I really want answered.”

      Jarvis frowned. Okay, maybe he was going to have more trouble with objectivity than he thought. It was too tempting to play on Ivy’s suspicions, but it wouldn’t be fair to Ivy. He didn’t care about Bower.

      “I don’t know much about him,” Jarvis said. “His credentials are obviously in order, or our administrator would not have cleared him to treat patients here. She’s conscientious. I’ve heard that Bower comes from Truman Medical Center in Kansas City, so he’s obviously had some good experience.”

      “Is he board certified?”

      “I don’t think so. Most docs will include that with their title, and he hasn’t. He would at least have done his internship before he could practice medicine in Missouri, so I’m sure he has a permanent licensure.”

      “Did he bring any references from Truman?”

      “I’m sure he did, but no one has seen fit to share them with me. Remember, I’m just the director.” Jarvis didn’t try to keep the resentment from his voice. It had even been suggested by the hospital’s chief financial officer that this new upstart should receive the director title since he was going to be the only full-time physician on staff for emergency room. Even the gung ho administrator had refused to consider that—for now. She’d suggested that they try this guy out first and see how capable he was. These people had no loyalty to their tried-and-true medical staff.

      “Jarvis, did you hear me? Do you know anyone at Truman? I would think after all these years and all the medical seminars you’ve attended—”

      Jarvis straightened. “Of course. One of the advanced trauma life-support instructors is a trauma surgeon at Truman. I’ve taken the course with him several times, not that I couldn’t teach it myself if I were so inclined.”

      “Would he have worked with Dr. Bower?”

      Jarvis got up from the couch and went to his desk. He fanned out a business card file. “Dr. Sal Probstfield just happens to be a duck hunter. Ducks aren’t my forte, of course, but you get a couple of hunters into a room with 150 golfers, racquetballers and tennis jocks, the hunters will tend to find each other. Ah, here it is.” He pulled out a card with a mallard printed on it.

      “Don’t tell me that a trauma surgeon hands out business cards.”

      “For his guide service. During duck season he takes groups out on hunting trips. It’s what he plans to do with his time when he retires in three years.”

      “Sounds like you know him pretty well.”

      Jarvis reached toward the speakerphone and punched his numbers. “Well enough to get information from him about Bower.”

      They reached Dr. Probstfield at home. After a few preliminaries, Jarvis asked, “Sal, we have a new full-time doctor down here. Does the name Lukas Bower mean anything to you?”

      There was a pause, then a low whistle. “So you’re the guys who stole our whiz kid.”

      Ivy raised a brow at Jarvis. She mouthed the words, “Whiz kid?”

      Sal continued. “He’s awful at hospital politics, so his colleagues tend to resent him. He’s great with patients and diagnoses and he puts on a good show of confidence, so his colleagues tend to resent him.” He chuckled at his own attempt at humor. “Give him time. He’s not obnoxious. He’s just got a small problem with social graces. He’s not as cocky or self-confident as he seems.”

      Jarvis saw the relief in Ivy’s expression.

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