A/N: This chapter is more detective work than exciting adventure, but don't worry—we'll get to it! Anyway, thanks for your the swell reviews. I really do appreciate them and humbly ask that you keep 'em coming. They're very helpful. Also, just so you know, this is set before BBQ Bob's and all that (which explains the Chinese food).
Chapter Two: Mark Jr.
Jesse sat in his apartment with a pot of coffee and Mr. Harrow's charts. He had tried to go to sleep—he really had—but thoughts and worries kept him awake.
At first it had been a matter of screwing up; what had he done wrong? After the disturbing revelation that someone had lied on the admission forms, he couldn't shake the feeling that his patient's death was suspicious. It gnawed at him.
A loud knock interrupted his reverie. "I'm coming."
It was Steve, holding the best smelling Chinese food on Earth. Jesse grabbed it and walked towards the kitchen, leaving Steve at the door empty-handed. "And a fine good evening to you, too."
Jesse skid to a halt, then turned around sheepishly. "Sorry. I just didn't realize how hungry I am 'till I smelled food. I wondered why I felt nauseous."
"Well, then go grab some plates because I'm famished, too. And get a couple of beers."
When he returned, he found Steve holding the charts and glaring. Jesse knew that glare but asked anyway. "What?"
"You didn't get any sleep."
"And how do you know that I didn't just wake up? It's been three hours since I left the hospital."
"Oh? And did you just wake up?"
"Well, I…um…no."
"Jesse!"
"Steve!"
Steve sighed and took his plate. "You can't do this to yourself. You work ridiculous hours at the hospital, then when it's time for you to leave, you stay. And when you finally get home you spend your time pouring over work. Even I'm not that bad."
"Okay, first of all, yes you are. And secondly, there's something weird about this case."
"And that would be…?"
Jesse, who had already finished both his food and his beer, explained what he had learned. "It doesn't make any sense; the woman who filled out those forms answered three important questions incorrectly."
"And you don't think it might just be a mistake?"
"Steve, smoking, drinking, and especially high blood pressure all contribute to a heart attack. If his chart had been true, Mr. Harrow would have been a walking coronary. But it wasn't."
Steve's brow furrowed. "You think this was murder?"
"I don't know—maybe. It's suspicious and I'm not gonna be satisfied until I figure out these discrepancies. He was my patient, Steve; I was responsible for him."
The older man nodded slowly, but he was smiling on the inside. Jesse was an awesome doctor—Mark was always extolling his praises—but it was his passion, persistence, and dedication that put people in awe. "Look, Jess, if I look into this, will you take a break? Get some rest? Y'know—stop obsessing?"
A smile lit the doctor's face. "Really? Will you? That'd be fantastic! I know if something's wrong, you'll be the first to spot it. Now, here, on his chart…" Jesse explained the more complicated medical aspects, but quieted down when Steve read over the admission forms. He read them absently, more concerned with the same inconsistencies that plagued Jesse. He had to admit it was odd, but a few false answers on paperwork didn't constitute murder. Then again, it wouldn't hurt to just poke around a bit.
After twenty minutes of silent reading, Steve finally noticed how very quiet it was. He rolled his eyes when he found Jesse sound asleep—on his shoulder no less. Apparently he wasn't content to just read over that shoulder, as he had been doing a few minutes earlier.
"All right, come on, Jess. It's time to go to bed."
Jesse mumbled, agitated that his pillow was getting up. He let Steve haul him off the couch and walk him to his bed, then pull up the covers. He settled down happily and murmured a thank you. Steve just stared down and shook his head. "He definitely needs to find some hobbies."
"So, are you ready?"
Steve stared blearily at the eager young man at the door. "Jesse, what are you doing here at…eight in the morning?"
"I thought you'd want to get started on Mr. Harrow's case. I have the day off thanks to somebody's over-protective father, so I thought I'd go with you. Why aren't you ready to go?"
"Yeah, remind me to thank dad for this." Steve stepped aside so Jesse could enter the house. "First of all, Mr. Harrow doesn't have a case. I'm just going to poke around a little. Secondly, I'm not ready to go because I have the day off. I was asleep. Was being the operative word. And thirdly—I know I've tried to make this clear before but let's give it another try—you are not a cop. You are a doctor. And possibly a clone of my father."
Jesse just smiled. "Okay, so you go get ready for the day and I'll make breakfast. I figure we can leave in about half an hour if you move it. Wha'dya say?"
"I guess I say two poached eggs and toast. And very strong coffee."
Thirty minutes later they were out the door and on their way to Lealer, Rubin, Horn, and Associates brokering company. It was where Bill Harrow worked and the last place he had been before getting sick. They stopped in front of the receptionist's desk.
"How may I help you?"
"Detective Steve Sloan. I'm here about William Harrow's death. Is there someone I can speak to?"
The receptionist's face grew somber. "Oh, I just couldn't believe when I heard. He was such a wonderful man. Now, let me see, you'd want to speak with Julie—Miss. Nelson. She was Bill's secretary and probably knows more about him than anyone else here. She's in room 623; you can take the elevator up there."
They arrived to find a young woman placing office supplies into a box. She was smartly dressed and quite attractive, though her demeanor screamed efficiency. She stopped as soon as she saw Jesse and Steve. "Can I help you?"
Steve introduced himself and Jesse, not letting the doctor get a word in. "There were a few odd discrepancies in Mr. Harrow's charts that I was hoping you could clean up. Do you have a minute?"
"Oh…yes. I was just cleaning up Bill—er, Mr. Harrow's desk. What is it you need to know?" she asked, gesturing at two chairs.
"It seems some of the information was wrong and, as I understand it, you filled out the forms," he explained, sitting down. "Where did you get the impression that Mr. Harrow smoked, drank, and had high blood pressure?"
Miss. Nelson looked surprised. It was a look Jesse couldn't pin down but he knew he didn't like it. "Well, because he did, of course."
"But I spoke with Mrs. Harrow and she said none of that was true. Apparently Mr. Harrow had unusually good blood pressure and he wouldn't touch alcohol." Jesse shrugged imperceptibly in Steve's direction when the older man gave him a look.
"Oh, poor Mrs. Harrow had no idea. Bill didn't want her know he had bad habits like those so he never drank or smoked around her. As for his blood pressure, he was the one who complained the doctor wanted him to cut back on salt. I just assumed that was why. I'm sorry if I got it wrong. Am I in trouble for that?"
Steve shook his head. "Of course not. We just want to make sure everything is square."
"It's odd, though, that Mrs. Harrow never smelled the cigarette smoke on him," Jesse spoke up again.
"I'm sure he explained it away as second hand from a colleague. There are plenty of people here that smoke. Besides, Mrs. Harrow is a very trusting woman; she'd believe anything Bill told her."
There was a moment's silence and then Steve started to get up. Except Jesse had another question. "I noticed while we were driving here that you're closer to St. Lawrence Hospital. Why did you bring Mr. Harrow all the way over to Community General?"
Miss. Nelson shifted, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I know I probably should have taken him to St. Lawrence, but Community has a much better reputation and its facilities are nicer. Also," she explained, blushing, "my boyfriend works there so I knew he would get the best care and I would be kept up-to-date on his condition. Pete said I should always try to get to Community General if I could."
"Pete?"
"Pete Cummings—he's an O. R. nurse."
Steve stood up before Jesse could ask any more questions and physically helped the younger man towards the door. "Thank you so much for your time, Miss. Nelson. We'll let you know if we have any more questions."
As soon as they were outside, Jesse stopped to confront Steve. "What was that all about? Why did we leave? Couldn't you see she was hiding something?"
"Would you calm down, please? I can't handcuff her and interrogation with cattle prods is frowned on. I called Amanda when we were home and asked her to do a full autopsy with Mrs. Harrow's permission. Let's go get the results and see where that leads us."
Jesse huffed a little but settled back in the seat. "I guess so."
"You guess so. Thanks. Your confidence in my detective skills overwhelms me. You know you're more obsessive than dad?"
"Really? Thanks!"
"We got a problem."
Pete sighed on the other end of the phone. He was enamored with Julie, but sometimes she wore on his nerves. "What is it?"
"There was a cop and a doctor here today asking about Bill."
"What?"
"Yeah, they caught those little white lies in his charts. The cop seemed pretty satisfied with my answers, but the doctor wasn't convinced."
"Who was the doctor?"
"Jesse Travis."
"Travis? Great! He's the one who hangs out with Mark Sloan—you know, the doctor who's always helping out the police department. I'll bet the detective was Steve Sloan?"
"How'd you know? What are we gonna do?"
There was another sigh. "I don't know. I'll keep my eyes open here and try to find out what's going on."
"Good. Keep me posted."