 
Death by Intention

## by

## Byron Calhoun

## Copyright 2014 by

## Byron Calhoun

## Smashwords Edition

Dedicated to my loving wife Kathryn, my special children-Paul, Daniel, Joshua, Faith, Mercy, and, my gracious Lord Jesus Christ to whom I owe all. Soli Deo Gloria!

". . .whereunto ye do well that ye take head, as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day star arise in your hearts." II Peter 1:19

This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, business, organizations, and locales are intended to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

James Gerrard Phelan leaned over and shut off the squawking alarm sitting on his night stand by his head. He squinted at the time to make sure he awakened at 5 o'clock AM. His wife Abbey sighed deeply and shifted slightly as she moved away from him to the other side of the bed. She lay there with her shiny, blonde hair surrounding her head like a cascading flow of silvery water. The soft, curved outline of her cheek glowed with the life in the early light as she breathed deeply in sleep. He marveled at his blessing at meeting her and making her his wife. She could have married any man she wanted in the church but she chose him. They met in James's third year of medical school at a fraternity party he belonged to during his medical school days. Abbey attended only because a good girl friend of hers wanted Abbey to see the frat house and meet one of James's Christian classmates. James remembered seeing Abbey enter the frat house door. She was dressed in a simple off the shoulder gown of dark blue with her blonde hair swept upon her head. Her blues eyes sparkled with life. James saw her as a willowy, five foot-seven inch goddess, and knew he was smitten the moment he saw her. Abbey, on the other hand, had not been impressed when James stumbled over to her half-drunk to introduce himself. He'd blown that first impression, especially when he spilled his beer all over her new gown. From that night, James harassed, begged, cajoled, and pleaded with Abbey for a date. She refused him categorically but consented to allow him to attend her church with her. James recalled he'd been less than enthusiastic but wanted to impress Abbey so much that he went anyway. The church service turned out to be unlike anything he ever had been involved in at home. The people sang, prayed, and acted like they really believed in "religious stuff".

Abbey came alive in the service and fastened a brilliant smile on James as the pastor of the Reformed First Presbyterian Church gave the invitation to come forth and be saved. James looked into Abbey's deep blue eyes and found himself weeping uncontrollably. He didn't even know wy at first. . .then, all the emptiness, hollowness, and despondency overwhelmed him. James felt Abbey's gentle hand on his arm. Abbey guided James down the aisle as he stumbled forward to the front of the church. All the bravado, excuses, and junk poured out of his soul as he met the King of Kings. At first, Abbey seemed skeptical. Even though he'd gone down front to the altar, she felt maybe James went forward to impress her. But, James proved true. He struggled out of the alcohol that he did not even realize he had become addicted to in college and ended his wild, partying lifestyle. Two years later, they were married. God was certainly good.

He rubbed the "sleepy dirt" from his eyes, shook his head slightly, stretched out his arms, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. James stumbled to the closet, removed his pajamas, and placed them quietly into the drawer. He next put on his running shorts, shirt, pulled on his shoes and socks, and flung his sweats over his shoulder. James loved this time of the day as he awakened taking his time slowly, stretching the sleep tightened muscles. He began with the calves, moved to the quadriceps, hamstrings, and finished with the arms, shoulders, and back. James walked to the back door and turned off the security system. The security system had been a real boost to Abbey' sense of safety for those long nights he had to stay in the hospital on call. She felt much better with the alarm installed even though they lived in the safe countryside.

Pulling on the sweats, he opened the kitchen door, and met the twilight, morning air. It had that bite to it this early March morning. James stretched out his legs and arms a bit more. No sense in pulling a muscle due to an inadequate warm up. Zeke, his Labrador, having been all night out in the kennel, began whining to go run with him. Zeke was short for Zechariah, which was appropriate for a chocolate male lab. Zeke was two years old, in his prime of life, and loved nothing better than going out with James for a morning run.

James approached the kennel and the lab jumped on the gate with his tongue hanging out. Zeke's eyes danced with delight and his tail became a blur with wagging. The dog possessed the typical lab personality of over affection and consistent desire to be with his people. Zeke stood just shy of 23 inches at the shoulder and weighed in at over 100 pounds. His coat shone in the early light and his broad chest with well developed muscles rippled as he walked. The glow to his coat resulted (according to James) from the secret mixture of egg, mayonnaise, and milk Zeke ate twice a week. Zeke also had the rather droll streak in him as well. The dog loved to tease James at times and knew if he leaned against the gate that James could not get the door open. The door's lock would catch with the dog's weight. Zeke never tired of the game, and, each morning they ran he would toy with James.

"You old jar-head. How's my boy this morning? You ready to get your legs run off you old rascal?"

Zeke answered with a whine and a bark.

"Shhh, you trying to wake up the whole house?" scolded James.

Zeke just laughed with his mouth and tried to lick James hand as he undid the lock with the key. The gate opened inward and Zeke knew if he stood on his hind legs pushing against the gate, it couldn't be opened. The brown dog lead into the door and looked James with a sly-doggy face.

"Come on Zeke. Let me open the gate. We don't have all day to do this."

Zeke merely stood up against the gate and stared innocently at James.

"You keep this up you big lummox and I am just going to leave you here and to sit. I'll go run without you," said James pretending to turn away.

Zeke knew he'd lost. He whined and jumped down from the gate. James opened the gate and looked at him. "You're just one loony dog. You know that you big jar-head?"

The affectionate lab stood up, planted his huge paws onto James's chest, and licked his face. The substantial lab tongue swiped across his face covering him with sloppy, doggy drool. James laughed and removed the paws from his chest.

"Okay, okay. I love you too...we need to get going. I've the OR today so I need to get done and get in early to see patients. See if you can keep up."

They started down the tree lined road that led from the house to the main road. The trees looked just about ready to bud out. The tips of the branches of the oaks and maples sat fat with swollen potential this April morning. James figured that if he ran about an easy, eight minute mile pace he would make the trip to the main road and back in about 45 minutes. The two to three mile route to the main road ran up and down several hills in the deserted country. Their house sat back off the main road on an old farm site with just over 100 acres of land. He ran along the fence to their property and saw Sara's pony Abe munching on grass. Abe was short for Abraham, the patriarch, since the pony made it to the promised land of the farm. He lifted his head in mile interest, saw James with Zeke, and immediately went back to grazing the sweet, new, tender spring grass. They had lived on the farm almost three years. James completed his OB/GYN residency five years earlier and they had moved to New Hampshire at the same time Sara was not quite 2 years old. He entered practice in a middle sized, quaint town called New Bedford. Because of James reputation and hard work, they had been able to purchase the old farm place.

Zeke ran on ahead sniffing along the fences, scaring up rabbits, and generally enjoying himself. He loved to hunt and James trained him to retrieve not only ducks, but upland game birds as well. Zeke in his first full hunting season the year before had helped James limit out on his hunts several times. The dog never, however, went too far afield but kept a watchful yet on James to make sure he was still following.

As James ran he noted that the first signs of spring were upon them. The wild jonquils and crocuses in the meadow were blooming and the pasture beginning to green up. The air had a bite but still that hint of promise of the full spring to come. The little shower last night cleansed the air and left a damp, fresh smell. The snow banks were just about gone and James knew it would soon be time to plant the garden and flowers that he and Abbey loved so well. Sara even loved to plant her own little flower garden. She watched over it lovingly and kept it well watered and weeded. Sara seemed to have inherited her mother's way with plants.

James drifted along and turned to pray with God. He loved this morning time of prayer and praise with the Lord. It was at this time he let God talk to him about the day, his family, and where God wanted him to go next. Many a morning the Lord moved him to tears of repentance along the old country road. An ancient stump half-way to the main road in a little clearing often became his altar of prayer. He loved this place God had brought him to live.

James remembered to pray for each of his patients and their surgeries for the day. He often quoted the old Puritan Round head general (whose name he'd forgotten) who had prayed before his battles, "Though I forget thee this day Lord, do not forget me." He prayed for Mrs. Kenton who he would do a hysterectomy on for an enlarging uterus. He knew she was anxious and prayed for her peace of mind. James prayed for Mrs. Johnson who he would be doing a laparoscopy for pain. He knew she had many other things on her mind as well. Her husband often drank too much and she had to work to keep the family together. He prayed the surgery would not find anything serious and he could reassure her. James made a mental note to talk to her husband again about drinking and Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). His last surgery was Mrs. Prescott-Steuben who represented the oldest family in New Bedford. She was the matriarch of the whole clan, complete with snowy hair piled high in a bun, white parchment-like skin, aquiline nose, and piercing blue eyes. Her family, the Prescott's, settled New Bedford in 1694. Her marriage to John Winthrop Steuben, III melded the two oldest families in town into a single, powerful influence in the area.

She came to James almost four years ago as the "new doctor" in town when things were not going well for James in the initial stages of his practice. He had trouble getting into the practice due to many of the older doctors and towns people. The other physicians felt that a young, upstart doctor was a threat to their practices and the people of New Bedford were suspicious of anyone who had not lived in the area since at least 1750. Mrs. Prescott-Steuben arrived at his office with her son John who accompanied her almost everywhere. John, as the oldest body, ran the family businesses. The Prescott-Steuben families formed an alliance of interlocking conglomerates dedicated to manufacturing, trade, farm production, and communications. John adored his mother, although he stood somewhat in her shadow. Mrs. Prescott-Steuben told James she wanted to see him because he was "fresh blood" and desired some different opinions about her health. They became fast friends mostly due to James lack of fear of her and his rapier wit. Mrs. Prescott-Steuben read prodigiously and loved a good verbal joust. James liked nothing more than to verbally parry as well. The two became such good friends because James never allowed Mrs. Prescott-Steuben to intimidate him, often sending the older woman into mock consternation. She had finally decided that she could not live with her "female urinary problem" any longer since it interfered with her busy social calendar. James was to elevate her urethra, tuck up her bladder, and solve her leaking problem. He prayed for good success with the repair which he would do abdominally to repair the urethra and vaginally tuck the bladder.

By the time James finished praying for his patients, he reached the main road and turned around to head for home. The second half of the run went quickly and he arrived at home with Zeke. After rapidly feeding the dog and checking the automatic water bowl to see it was working, James scurried into the house and began to shed his running clothes. Everything was still quiet. He glanced at his watch and realized he had run closer to 7 ½ minute miles and had plenty of time to spare.

James wandered into his closet, removed his running togs, and carefully placed them into the clothes hamper. It had taken him while to get used to the idea everything had to be inside the clothes hamper and not on top. One of those peculiar differences between men and women he guessed. James figured that if the clothes were in the same room as the hamper, it was probably good enough, but, he loved his wife so much that he'd learned to be neater.

He threw on his blue hooded bath robe. It had been a hand-made Christmas gift from Abbey last year and he loved it. She painstakingly cut the pattern, machine double-stitched the seams for strength, and had even hand embroidered above the top pocket on the left hand side the Phelan family crest complete with his initials in red. He always felt a bit like a cowled monk or hooded Druid as he tied the warm terry cloth around his waist and lifted the hood up over his head. James massaged his eyes again and stretched luxuriously.

He thrust his feet into his slippers and padded down the hall to the bathroom. Along the way, he stopped at the door to Sara's room. He quietly opened the door and listened for her breathing. In the dim light from the hall, he saw her little form flung across the top of the bedclothes. Her blonde hair shimmered in the semi-darkness. James crept inside and gently placed her under the covers for warmth. The cool March nights were still chilly enough to require blankets. Sara stirred slightly, sighed deeply, and snuggled under the quilt. James stroked her curled locks and smiled to himself. He could never cease to be amazed how God could make such a lovely little person.

Exiting the room and grabbing a clean towel from the linen closet, James started the shower to let it warm up. He detested a cold shower in the morning. Slipping out of the robe, he took a quick shower using care to wash his hair thoroughly with shampoo-conditioner. He grinned as the plastic head turned off the "doggy shampoo" Sara had given him. Pretty tough to take yourself too seriously after washing in "doggy" shampoo-conditioner. One advantage was he didn't have to worry about the soap stinging his eyes since it was child-safe! Wandering out of the shower while toweling his hair dry, James stepped in front of the bathroom mirror. Wiping the condensation off the mirror, he saw with satisfaction there was not any spare flesh on his six foot-three inch frame. His running and all the farm work saw to it that he did not get extra poundage. He rapidly combed his auburn hair and shave off his stubble with the electric razor. James went to the kitchen and poured a piping hot, fresh cup of French roast decaffeinated coffee from the pot. They had one of the coffee makers with a programmable timer. By setting the timer to make the coffee while he ran, there was a hot cup of coffee to drink after his shower. He took the paper off the counter that he had thrown there on his way in the house after his run.

The local paper did carry much "real news" but it had a decent local news section and good business news. James' eye caught the local headline. "Local Woman Dead at St Francis Hospital" jumped out at him from the front page in bold relief. The article ran, "Local woman Mary O'Brien was found dead in her bed last night at St Francis Hospital. The sheriff's office will make no comment as to the cause of death pending a formal autopsy by the local coroner." The rest of the story dealt with the usual particulars about who survived her and her family.

The story shocked James because he and his partners had taken care of her throughout her pregnancy. He did not recall Mary having medical problems. He remembered her: a thin, frail little woman with two children and a somewhat shiftless husband Sam. They lived mostly on the welfare rolls except when her husband found work. Curious indeed.

James skimmed the rest of the paper. He went to the refrigerator searching it for his favorite yogurt: blueberry. He found one and grabbed it. Placing the yogurt on his bran nuggets cereal with some milk, he next poured a glass of orange juice and munched down his breakfast.

"Nothing carbohydrates, milk sugars, fruit, and non-caffeine coffee for breakfast," he thought.

Noting it was now quarter past six, he went back to his closet and laid out his clothes for the day. James carefully selected his tie. He made sure he put on one Sara chose for him the night before. Sara possessed a real eclectic flair for ties. She picked out extremely innovative, colorful, avant-garde, and bright ties. James must wear each one of them or frightfully offend his daughter. Actually, he secretly enjoyed wearing them to shock his patients and staff. His ties were famous in New Bedford and people even called any tie that they saw of a peculiar nature "a Dr Phelan tie". He chose the wide, orange orangutan tie today. It had large, orange-red orangutans staring out from the cloth. The tie always brought smiles to patients' faces and was perfect for an OR day to set people at ease.

He placed a light kiss on Abbey's brow and silently departed the still house. He gave Zeke an affectionate pat on the head, walked out the door setting the deadbolt, and turned toward the garage.
Chapter 2

James walked over to the garage and unlocked the side door. He reached inside and pushed the automatic opener on the wall. The garage light came on and shone on James' pride and joy. There sat a 1954 Chevrolet, 5 window cab, ½ ton pickup truck. Affectionately known as "Barney", the truck represented hours of satisfying labor. James replaced the old 6 volt system with a new 12 volt system, redid the wooden truck bed with new oak, overhauled the engine, recovered the upholstery on the seats, rewired the whole electrical system, re-chromed the front grill, and painted the truck the original forest green color fresh from the factory in Detroit. The other doctors teased him about it all the time. They could not understand why he did not have a Lexus, Mercedes, or a Porsche. James just could not see one of them on a farm. Besides, Barney remained a work truck. With the 4-speed transmission including the special, optional "granny gear", and low gear ratios, the truck worked perfectly as a stump puller, lumber hauler, and all around odd jobber. James could think of no vehicle he would like more. It was great fun to bounce around over rough pastures and dirt roads. Besides, in terms of stewardship, he could afford to redo his truck 3 or 4 times over for the cost of a single automobile. He could never get enough of driving trucks and loved shifting gears. Sara especially loved to take the truck out with hay for her pony Abe and sit on James lap to drive.

James climbed inside and fired up the engine. It ran like a charm, and, in a cloud of condensed exhaust vapor, he headed to town for his preoperative visits.

"I just don't get this mysterious death of Mary O'Brien. Young, healthy women just don't die in their beds," James muttered. "I wonder if Don got a drug screen on her admission? I suppose I am being too suspicious. A hold over from my residency days I suppose." James inner city OB/GYN residency taught him to expect the unexpected and to rule out illicit drugs as a cause of problems in any puzzling case. James continued to himself, "We'll need to look at drugs as a possibility, though. Oh well." James sighed. "I'll talk to Don between cases."

James wheeled into the parking lot of the St Francis Hospital. The hospital recently had been renovated and really looked beautiful on its site near the banks of het New Bedford River. The front of the hospital grounds commanded a sweeping view of the New Bedford River while the back nestled up against the mountain behind it. The trees ran down behind to the neatly kept grounds. The hospital was run by the Sisters of St. Clair head by Sister Mary Rosarita.

James cut the engine, clambered out, and walked in the rear entrance. He loved arriving early to get a fresh start on the day. Few of the other doctors arrived much before 8 o'clock but he liked to be in by 6:30 to 7:00 o'clock at the latest. James climbed up to the second floor and began his rounds. He visited with Mrs. Steuben, Mrs. Kenton, and Mrs. Johnson. He even had a chance to pray with Joe Johnson who was sober for a change and encouraged him to seek help with AA or with himself. Few people knew that James beat alcoholism himself while in medical school with Abbey's and God's help. He had been sober now for over 10 years. He daily thanked the Lord for his sobriety and his wonderful wife.

Joe agreed to come to the AA meeting at James' church that Wednesday night. James assured Joe that he would pick him up and drive him to the meeting.

James could not get Mary O'Brien out of his mind. He just could not piece together the death and the patient. Something did not seem to fit together for him. His battle with substance abuse himself made him acutely aware of when patients battled with demons. Mary did not impress him as an abuser. Still, perhaps he missed a clue to her possible abuse. Addicts and drunks were notoriously good at concealing things. They had to be to live their double lives.

James did Mrs. Kenton's hysterectomy without problems. He sat down in the recovery room to write his orders. The recovery room nurse Sandy Phillips walked over. She reminded him of a little bantam hen with her quick movements and her solicitous mothering of her postoperative patients.

"The usual postop orders Dr P?" she asked.

"Sure, except we need to watch her blood pressure. She's been on a beta-blocker and I don't want her pressure to go up. So, keep an eye on it for me will you?"

"No problem. Hey, what do you think about poor Mary O'Brien? Kind of sad for her to leave that new baby and those little ones isn't it?

"Really is a shame, that is for sure Sandy. Did you know her?" asked James.

"Yeah, we went to grade school and high school together. She always was a bit on the wild side and had plenty of male attention. How she ended up with that loser Sam O'Brien is beyond me. Mary could have had any boy she wanted. She was quite a looker in high school. Guess her bad behavior finally caught up with her, huh?" replied Sandy.

"I suppose you're right. I just don't figure her with any medical problems. She never mentioned cardiac problems, chest pain, or any other medical problems in the clinic. I need to talk to Don about it," replied James.

James walked back to the doctors' lounge and found Don Adams sitting reading the sports page in the Boston paper. Don, himself, and Oscar Rodriquez made up the partnership. Theirs was a relationship of contrasts with James the wry, tall, reserved one; Don the older, more rotund and jolly partner. Don also liked the business aspects of medicine and his innate shrewdness enabled them to profit well. Oscar made the third partner and he hailed from Los Angeles originally. As a first generation American, he felt very fortunate to be able to achieve the American dream of escaping the barrios and living in rural America. Oscar was the swarthy, Latin type but spoke perfect English. He brought an unreserved enthusiasm to the practice and the patients adored Oscar. In fact, they were doing so well the three partners anticipated a fourth OB doctor in another year or two.

"Hey, that is a tragic story about Mary O'Brien isn't it, Don?" began James.

"Huh? Oh yeah. I just delivered her day before yesterday. I never even knew she had a possible medical problem. She never mentioned any heart or other problems to me. I guess you just can't figure everything out, can you?" said Don shaking his head. "I really feel bad for those kids with that worthless Sam O'Brien."

"I know what you mean. Mary never admitted to any medical problems to any of us. And as for her husband Sam, he isn't abusive or anything. Lazy perhaps, but he loved his wife and those kids. I truly feel for him. I wonder what he is going to do for them now?"

"Maybe the state will have to step in and see if he is a fit father. I know I wouldn't put too much confidence in his ability to care for the kids. You know he has a problem with alcohol once in awhile," returned Sam.

"I know, but he really loves his kids. I think I'll see if his new baby is gone home yet or if he needs some help."

"You're too much James. I swear you and Abbey would take in every stray dog, cat, or kid in the county."

"You've got a point," laughed James ruefully. "We just take seriously what Jesus said about helping those who are in need. The apostle James in James 1:27 says, 'Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.' I'll see you later."

"Yeah, okay. I need to get back to work before you get warmed up and start a sermon," joked Don. His partner believed that religion was alright in its place but talking about it in public made him nervous. James prayed for his salvation persistently.

"Before you go Don, did you happen to get a urinalysis on Mary for any reason at admission? I was hoping there'd be some left for a possible drug screen or toxicology."

"Nope James. Only got a urinalysis on admission to rule out bacteriuria and protein. I bet they pitched the urine already since it was clean on admission. I guess you could check."

"Yeah, okay. I'll do that. Thanks," returned James.

The conversation did nothing to enlighten James. In fact, talking with Don just raised more questions. Why had they all missed a possible medical problem, and, was there another answer? James did not like to think along those lines but know that things are not always as they seemed. James called the lab to see if they kept any of Mary's admission urine. The lab tech, Bob Tuttle, said they had already disposed of the urine sample since it was a routine, clean sample for admission to L&D. James thanked him for the information.

James walked up to the nursery and found the O'Brien baby still in the hospital but Sam nowhere to be found. Nancy Smith, the charge nurse on the mother-baby unit, informed James that Sam O'Brien had not been in since his wife's death the day before. James supposed Sam had a lot to do before he could think about taking a newborn home with him.

James wandered to the cafeteria. He saw Sister Mary Rosarita sitting a table working on some paperwork. James grabbed a cup of decaf coffee and sauntered over to her table.

"Good morning sister. How are you this beautiful spring day that the Lord has given us?"

"Dr Phelan. How are you? Won't you join me for a short time. I am weary of these ledgers anyway. I sometimes think this is my penance for all my wicked times as a child!" Sister Mary Rosarita exclaimed ruefully. So, what's on your mind doctor?"

"Nothing much," James replied innocently.

"Oh, and you just happened to be in the cafeteria, see me, and decided to sit down. I am a nun, not stupid, Dr Phelan. What is troubling you?" asked Sister.

James admired this tough, Godly woman who ran St Francis Hospital. Sister had been a nun for over 40 years, most of them as a missionary nurse in Africa. Due to her age and skills, she had been called to run St Francis five years ago when the hospital had been in some financial difficulties. Her face was serene with an almost glow to her skin with eyes of purest blue. He'd seem them brimming with love for a lost soul and flash with fire as she dealt with a recalcitrant physician or nurse.

She was one of the first people James met when he began his practice in New Bedford. IN spite of the previous Vatican edicts, she still wore the traditional, long black habit with a white wimple over her brow. Sister believed her clothing helped others identify her more readily and opened hearts to her. He knew her stories of Sister's self-less love for the people of Africa and her heart of prayer. He'd spent many times with her in supplication for the Hospital and community. James opened up, "This death of Mary O'Brien is bothering me a lot. I just can't pull all the pieces together. I helped take care of her and she never mentioned medical problems or a heart condition. I spoke to Dawn Watson, Mary's nurse the night she died, and Dawn mentioned that they found some white powder by Mary's bedside. Do you think Mary was a substance abuser? Did you know her and what do you think?"

"Yes, I knew Mary quite well. I have been around her family for over 20 years off and on. I used to come home to the convent here in New Bedford for furloughs from my mission trips. On those furloughs I spent time ministering to the families in St Catherine's parish. She attended St Catherine's as a child but she most recently went to her husband's church, I believe. Mary led somewhat of a wild and dissipative life and delivered a child out of wedlock before she met Sam O'Brien. Sam may not have been a paragon of virtue, but he loved Mary and those children. He even adopted Martha, Mary's oldest daughter. Martha must be about ten now. It is going to be a very hard time on those children losing their mother with a new baby at home and the present situation. I am shocked you would mention possible drugs by the bedside. Dawn didn't tell me about the possible drugs in the room at the bedside when we discussed the death. Mary was so happy and looking forward to going home today. Drug abuse does not make much sense to me."

"Perhaps Dawn felt so overwhelmed by the death she forgot to mention the bedside findings. The powder may be nothing but powered creamer or talcum for the new baby. This whole idea of Mary's mysterious death and possible drug abuse is disturbing to me. I hope we get a quick autopsy done by the coroner. We need a good toxicology screen to see if she had any traces of drugs in her system," responded James.

At that moment his beeper sounded telling him to report to the OR. "Duty calls Sister. I'll talk to you more later. I think I'll talk to the coroner and maybe the police. This not making sense to me."

James rose and went to the preoperative holding area outside the operating rooms to see Mrs. Johnson before her laparoscopy for pain. He prayed with her and they wheeled her into the room. James performed the laparoscopy and found some small adhesions from the ovaries to the side walls of the pelvis. He took these down bluntly and sharply with his scissors. After the case, he met with Joe again and told him everything went well and they hopefully solved the problem. He reminded Joe about the AA meeting on Wednesday.

James returned to the doctor's lounge and sat down in a large overstuffed recliner. He tried to read the financial section of the newspaper but could not concentrate. The poor O'Brien family kept coming back to his mind. He'd talk to Abbey about it later and perhaps offer to take the children off Sam's hands for a few days to allow him to bury his wife and get things together for his family. James' beeper went off again. He sighed and got up. Time to fix up Mrs. Steuben's bladder problem.

Things went well in the operating room and they had Mrs. Steuben's bladder tucked up for her urinary incontinence in 45 minutes. James followed into the recovery room, wrote his postoperative orders, and changed his clothes. He headed upstairs to see if Sam O'Brien had arrived yet. James wandered into the nursery and saw Sam holding his new son with tears running down his cheeks.

Walking over to him, James gently placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam looked up and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Sam stood over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a plain, honest face. His hands were calloused from hard work. Sam had light brown hair with light grey eyes. He had barely managed to finish high school due to the need to support his mother and family. His father had abandoned them when Sam was fourteen, so he became responsible for placing food on the table.

Sam looked very lost with this infant son in his arms. He greeted James, "Hi Dr Phelan. I just can't believe she is gone. I love my new son but what am I gonna do now with Mary gone? I've got two other girls to take care of at home."

"I know Sam and I am so sorry about Mary. But Abbey and I would like you to know that the girls can stay with us as long as you like until you get things all settled. Sara would love the company. She and Elizabeth are good friends. Plus, Abbey loves company as well."

"You sure it wouldn't be any trouble? That'd help take a load off my mind. I need to get the funeral arrangements made too. I don't know exactly what to do with this little guy yet. I know he needs to go home but I haven't got much there and I'm not the best with new little babies," admitted Sam.

"You just bring him over to our house. Abbey and the girls will spoil him rotten. I guess I have a couple of questions for you, though, Sam," began James. "Did Mary have any medical problems she didn't tell us about?"

Sam thought for a moment. "No. She didn't have no medical problems. Why did they have to put her death like that in the newspaper. The paper has me real upset! Some of the people here in the hospital even say she used drugs. She used some stuff back in high school but that was over 10 years ago. And I don't think she ever used any hard drugs at all. Mostly she just smoked some marijuana a long time ago. Why did they say those things?"

Sam's mind seethed with anger at the people who clucked their sanctimonious tongues over Mary and their family. The grief he bore took a secondary place to his indignation over the besmirching of his dead wife's reputation. Besides, he didn't want his girls to think their mother was some sort of drug abuser. But, then, there was the baby to raise as well. Things remained so muddled in his mind that he mostly just felt numb.

James did not know how to answer the question. He had talked that morning to Dawn Watson, the nurse who took care of Mary O'Brien the night she died. Dawn told James they had found possible traces of drugs. Seemed like other people in the hospital already knew about the possible drug connection with Mary's death. What should he say? James took a deep breath and began, "The nurses say they found traces of white powder near Mary's bed. I think a formal autopsy would be good to help us find out how she died. What do you say?"

"Do you think Mary was doin' drugs, Doc? I just don't believe it! I also need to know; will they cut her up bad for the autopsy, doc? I couldn't bear that. And the kids, they wanted to see her one last time too," pleaded Sam.

"I don't know about the drugs Sam. The powder by her bedside is suspicious but it could just be talcum powder or coffee creamer. And no, they will be very careful at the autopsy. You can still have an open casket type funeral if you like. I'll get the autopsy forms and we'll sign them. Don't forget that the girls can come over to our house and bring the little guy too. What is his name?"

With supreme mental effort, Sam pulled himself together and answered, "We were gonna call him 'Samuel James' after me and you. My wife really liked you and was disappointed you didn't get to deliver her. I guess we better get this little one out of the hospital. You bring the forms and I'll sign'em."

"OK Sam. I am very flattered you'd name your little guy after me," responded James solemnly.

James walked over to the nurses' station and rummaged through the drawers to find an autopsy consent. Since they rarely did autopsies at St Francis from the obstetrical floor, he spent several minutes looking. He thought about Mary and Sam as he bent over the files. He had not told Sam everything. The powder found by her nurse on the side table was thought to be cocaine. It looked as though Mary had ingested the drugs and died from the over dose. But, according to the nurse, there were no traces of the substance near her nose or mouth. The nurses said Mary had used talcum powder on body after her shower that night. There were traces of talcum powder all over her body. Also, the sheriff's department found no syringe for intravenous use or "skin popping". If Mary used IV cocaine, there ought to be a syringe. If she inhaled cocaine, she ought to have traces near her nose. If she ingested or smoked cocaine, there ought to be traces on her lips in her mouth. Maybe not. Maybe she ingested the drugs and had enough time to lick her lips clean and empty her mouth. In that case, an autopsy ought to find traces of the drugs in her stomach and blood.

James returned to have Sam sign the autopsy consent and helped him bundle up Sam junior. James did his final rounds on the postoperative patients who were all doing well. Mrs. Steuben reclined a virtual flower shop of floral arrangements, receiving visitors like a queen in court. She waved James away and told him "I feel marvelous. When do I leave this place?" James informed her she would be there several more days to "train her bladder" before going home.

James next headed to meet Sam in the nursery to pick up "little Sam". Mary had bought an outfit to take the baby home and brought it with her to the delivery. Nancy, the nurse, already had the infant dressed in the light-blue sleeper outfit with white trim. There was even a small cloth hat to place over the baby's head. The hospital supplied a free "loaner" car seat to all parents so they put the baby on the bench seat of James' truck and strapped him in with the seat belts to the truck. Part of James' remodeling of the truck was the addition of seat belts to the truck. After signing out the baby and giving him to James, Sam went home to get his other girls and bring them out to the Phelan house. James revved up the Chevy truck and headed home. He picked up his car (truck) cellular phone (his one luxury he found a necessity for his truck) and called Abbey. He had already called her earlier at the hospital to arrange for the O'Brien girls to stay over for awhile.

"Hey, honey, I am on my way home with the little surprise. Did you tell Sara yet?"

"No, I thought we'd surprise her with the new baby when you arrive home. She does know that Elizabeth and Martha are coming over though. She is so excited. You know how she wants a little brother or sister. I told her she needed to talk to her father about that," replied Abbey mischievously.

"Oh great! So, now I have to reason with a five year old about how come she doesn't have any siblings," returned James. "Thanks a lot!"

"Anytime honey. You're on the cell phone aren't you? Where are you now? Are the O'Brien's heading over now as well?"

"I am just leaving town so I am about 10 minutes away. Sam said he is going straight home to get the girls. I'll see you then. Love you."

"Love you too. Bye," answered Abbey ending the call.

James sighed. He wanted other children too but he wasn't sure he could go through another pregnancy like the last one. Abbey had placenta covering her cervical opening the whole pregnancy. She had bled with spotting almost the whole time and had finally delivered at 34 ½ weeks by emergency c-section. James could never forget being awakened in a warm flood of blood with Abbey shaking him desperately. The nightmarish ride through the darkened streets to the hospital in their car while Abbey bled appeared in his dreams for almost a year after the fact. He had almost lost both Abbey and Sara.

Due to her bleeding, Abbey needed 6 units of packed red blood cells transfused along with clotting factors and platelets, was infected after the emergency delivery, treated with intravenous antibiotics for a week, and took almost four weeks to recover some semblance of normalcy. In fact, she'd been so ill initially that she did not see Sara for her first three days of life. The six weeks Sara spent in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) after the delivery didn't excite him either. His "little sweet pea" was intubated for over a week and quite ill in the NICU for over 2 weeks. It had been touch and go for awhile. The thought of another baby possibly in the NICU on a ventilator with a central venous line and extremely ill, did not appeal to him much. He wasn't sure he was ready yet. In spite of all the previous pregnancy's complications, Abbey desperately wanted another baby. No, several other babies, and, Sara was crazy about little ones. James sighed again. He felt guilty about all this but he just had trouble turning it over to the Lord. He shook his head as he turned down the road to home. "Guess I just need to trust you more God," said James with a shrug. He swung into the driveway. Zeke bounded out to meet him with a frenzy of barking, licking, and general enthusiasm. Sara flew out the door and flung herself into his arms.

"Daddy, you're home! Elizabeth and Martha are coming to visit us! Are they going to stay for awhile?" asked Sara breathlessly.

"I heard they are coming to visit. We think they are going to stay with us for a little bit since their mother died. Did you have fun today?" responded James tactfully switching subjects.

"We had a lot of fun. Mommy and I planted some lettuce and radishes. And she said tomorrow I can help put some potatoes and onions in the garden!" said Sara enthusiastically. "What did you do today, Daddy?"

"Let's see. I did a hysterectomy, a laparoscopy, and a bladder surgery."

"Did you have fun? Was there lots of blood today?" inquired Sara with typical serious interest.

"No. There was not much blood sweet pea," laughed James. "I sometimes think you'd be a better doctor than me. I've got a surprise for you in the truck. Why don't you take a look inside?"

Sara jumped out of his arms and ran up to the passenger side of the truck, grabbed the side view mirror arm, climbed up on the running board, and looked through the side window inside.

"It's a baby!" squealed Sara. "Is it ours to keep Daddy? I want one you know!"

"I know, I know! I hear it at least ten times a week how you want a brother or sister. This is Elizabeth's and Martha's little brother, Sam. He may be staying with us for awhile. What do you think of him?" asked James.

"He's really cute! It'd be great to have him around! My very own little brother to play with for awhile! Let's go show Mommy!" exclaimed Sara.

"Okay. Let's go inside and see your mother. You can make sure everything is ready for dinner with the O'Brien's."

James carried little Sam inside in his car seat/carrier. Zeke came over to investigate. James held the sleeping baby down for Zeke to see and smell. The big lab gently put his nose into the carrier and sniffed at Sam. He thoroughly investigated Sam with his nose and gave a low "woof" of acceptance. From now on, little Sam was one of Zeke's family too. James walked to the porch and Sara opened up the back door. James walked over to Abbey. Abbey turned and smiled at him.

"Oh look at this little person! He is so cute and sweet! James, you didn't tell me he was so beautiful! Isn't he a doll Sara?" cooed Abbey. She took the infant car seat and set in on the counter. Abbey gently took little Sam out and held him for Sara to admire. Little Sam slept blithely through all the fuss.

James leaned over and kissed Abbey's neck.

"Missed you a lot today. What have you got cooking there? Anything I can help you do for dinner," asked James. He loved to cook too, especially the "taste testing" parts!

"I thought we'd keep it simple and have spaghetti, garlic bread, green salad, and peas. I baked a chocolate cake for dessert too," replied Abbey.

"I frosted it!" chimed in Sara.

"You sure did, sweetie. Is the table set yet?" asked Abbey.

"Almost done Mommy. I just need to finish with the napkins," said Sara.

"I'll go change and come out to help finish up with dinner while you ooh an ahh over little Samuel. The O'Brien's ought to be here any time," added James.

"That'd be great honey. I just have to pop the peas into the microwave, the garlic bread in the oven to warm, and finish up tossing the salad," responded Abbey.

James wandered back to their bedroom and changed into some casual slacks and a flannel long sleeve shirt. He rolled up the sleeves on his shirt and threw on his deck shoes. He next washed his hands thoroughly since he had been at the hospital all day and wanted to make sure he got off all the hospital grime. He made his way back to the kitchen. Abbey had already had all the salad makings on the counter for him. James grabbed the lettuce, washed it off, and began tearing the leaves to put into the big wooden walnut salad bowl. The walnut bowl had been a wedding present from their folks. He tore the lettuce and placed it into the bowl. He took the knife and chopped up the mushrooms, carrots, red bell peppers, radishes, and celery. He then garnished it on top with freshly grown alfalfa sprouts and sliced tomatoes.

As he finished, he hear Zeke barking and a car drive up to the house. The O'Brien's had arrived in a cloud of dust and blue smoke. The old Oldsmobile Sam drove belched vast clouds of oily smelling, blue smoke due to the engine's rings needing attention. They couldn't afford the repair bills, so the old car just continued to run with more and thicker blue smoke. Sam said after over 400,000 miles that it ran on "quarts of oil per mile". As the care lurched to a stop, it released a thunderous backfire that rattled the windows. The baby startled and began to cry. Sara flew from the kitchen racing out the back door and letting shut with a loud bang.

"Looks like they are here. I'll put this salad on the table, pop the garlic bread in the oven, and the peas into the microwave," said James over the wailing Sam.

"Thanks. I'll calm this little guy down, check his diaper, and warm up some of the formula from the bottle in the diaper bag," returned Abbey over the crying baby.

Sara rushed into the kitchen with Elizabeth tightly in tow. Elizabeth looked like a china doll with fine features and a sprinkle of freckles over her nose. Her long red hair was carefully brushed and tied back in a French braid with a green bow. She was five years old like Sara. Behind her came her older sister Martha. Martha was sandwiched in that awkward stage of preadolescence and looked mostly thin arms and legs. She had her mother Mary's delicate features as well but had hair of shiny raven black. Her hair sat piled on top of her head in a coiled bun with a red bow placed on the top. Her face looked pinched and her eyes red from crying.

Abbey saw them and handed James little Sam. She swept both Martha and Elizabeth up into her arms fussing over them like a mother hen with her little chicks. James had to admit that Abbey had the gift with children. She soon had them both smiling as she helped them change the diaper and warm up Sam's bottle. Sara could hardly stand still she was so excited to have them at her house. She literally danced around with the anticipation of the moment.

Sam senior came in the door with a large burlap sack in his hands.

"Knew you had a fire place so I brought ya some fat wood for startin' fires. We got a lot up at our place and figured you could use some," shared Sam gruffly.

"Man are you right! Sara told me all I know how is to burn up newspaper and make smoke! Why don't you put that here in the family room in the wood box for me? We can use it later to start a fire after dinner," responded James.

Sam went to put the wood in the family room and James turned to the garlic bread and peas. They were almost done. He decided the time had come for everyone to wash up their hands.

"Sara why don't you take Martha and Elizabeth down the hall to the guest room bath to wash up so we can have dinner?" requested James.

"Okay Daddy. Let's go and wash up. We can play with my dolls later," said Sara.
Chapter 3

They all sat down around the table and put Sam at the head in the place of honor. The girls were arranged around the sides of the old, long, cherry farm kitchen table. The Phelan's had bought it years ago in the Amish country of Pennsylvania on a vacation trip in anticipation of a large family. Abbey loved its worn, smooth surface with the rich, mellow cherry glow. The six, antique, matching, high-back ladder chairs had all been lovingly taken apart, refinished, reglued, and the seats re-caned by Abbey. Big Sam sat in the captain's chair, so-called because it had arms along the sides like the chair of a sea captain.

"Shall we return thanks for this meal?" asked James as they joined hands. "I'll go ahead and pray. Oh, Father-God, please bless this food to our nourishment. Give your blessings of comfort to this family as they deal with the death of their mother and wife. Hold them in Your loving arms as a Father would His child. Calm their hearts and minds. In Jesus name we pray, amen."

Martha looked ready to cry again. "Why don't we pass the food to our guests first Sara," began James gently.

The steaming bowls of spaghetti and home-made sauce started around the table. The O'Brien girls ate ravenously. They even had seconds on the spaghetti and garlic bread. Abbey even made home-made bread for dinners like this. James could never cease to be amazed at how very capable and organized his wife was. He smiled at her. She caught his eye and smiled back. Abbey sat feeding little Sam his bottle and it looked so natural. Maybe another baby wouldn't be so bad after all?

After dinner the girls were dismissed upstairs with their bags to get settled in and take their baths for bed. James helped Abbey clear the table while Sam started a fire in the family room. Abbey made some decaf coffee for them. Little Sam slept peacefully in his carrier. The adults retired to the family room; each with a steaming mug of coffee.

"I want to thank you again for helpin' with the kids. It takes a burden off my mind. Now, if I can just get enough money together for the funeral for Mary. I have some saved up and I can do some work to make the rest I think," said Sam

"Don't worry too much about that Sam. We'll be glad to help out," started Abbey.

"I don't need no more charity! I want to take care of my own," replied Sam tersely.

"We don't mean charity Sam. I've got a lot that needs fixing on the place right now. I've got fences that need mending, a shed to re-roof, ground to till, trees to fell and clean up, and a lot of general tidying up to do after winter. What do you say we sit down later and figure out how much you need for the funeral and I hire you on for spell to make money? I need the help. You need the money. The job will give you time to get settled and look for another job as well, " answered James.

"And I have some odd jobs in the house I need done too since James is always so busy at work he never gets them done! He is constantly 'getting around to it'", laughed Abbey.

"Well, I suppose since you both put it that way. You're sure you need the help?" asked Sam suspiciously.

"On my honor. It is hard to keep up with 100 acres and a full time practice," James responded soberly.

"Okay. It's a deal. That'll make it really easy to see the girls too," finished Sam.

"It's settled then. As soon as you get the funeral arrangements made and things organized, we'll draw up a list of things to get done and figure out a reimbursement plan. More coffee, Sam?" asked James.

"Naw, I'm going to tell the girls good night and be goin' home. I need to get things cleaned up around there and do some thinkin' about the future. Thanks for everything," said Sam.

Sam went upstairs, his slow, ponderous footsteps betraying his heaviness of heart to bid his girls goodnight and to pray with each one before they went to sleep. The O'Brien's went sporadically to church while Mary was alive but there did not seem to be much real faith there. Yet, even thought Mary was dead and Sam should be bitter against God, he still prayed with his daughters. As long as Sam kept talking to God, there would be hope for the family. James went along after Sam to make sure that Sara would be alright upstairs and pray with her. They had moved Sara upstairs with Elizabeth in the same room containing twin beds. Martha had her own room that overlooked the pasture at the foot of the mountain. Sara's old room had been turned into a temporary nursery for the baby.

Sam came back downstairs and left. Abbey and James finished up the kitchen. Both loved the satisfaction of leisurely cleaning up after dinner. It gave them both a chance to unwind and talk before settling in for the evening. In fact, over rinsing dishes and wiping the table, many a spiritual conversation took place. James remembered one memorable night when Abbey single-handedly demolished his liberal presuppositions regarding the Genesis flood. Quite a wife he'd married.

Abbey change little Sam one more time and tucked him in for the first part of the night. They hoped he would sleep for three or four hours before the next feeding. James was not good at the "midnight feedings". He seemed to possess a male, selective hearing loss gene that did not respond well to children's crying. A beeper going off awakened him from the deepest slumber to alert wakefulness but a baby crying did not so much as make him stir. At first, Abbey was irritated by this, but then realized James spent so many sleepless nights on-call that she didn't really mind his not waking up at night. Besides, the few times James did get up to help were so rare, it made it a real treat when it happened!

The girls were busy being noisy and giggling a lot. James went upstairs and calmed them down. Sara and Elizabeth snuggled under the covers and promised to try and go to sleep. James smiled as he closed the door. He'd just settle for quiet. He knew it would take a few days for Sara to get used to having other children in the house. Talking quietly would be acceptable as long as things didn't out of hand and noisy.

Abbey sat curled up on the couch staring absently into the fire with her coffee mug in hand. She had a wisp of blonde hair hanging just along the side of her face. James never loved her more than at times like this. She heard his tread and turned to smile at him. She patted the couch.

"There's a spot for my favorite man. I just need some cuddle time after all the activity with the kids. I'd forgotten how noisy it is with several children in the house," mused Abbey.

James plopped down beside Abbey.

"Do you think you knew Mary pretty well?" asked James.

"Yes. I actually knew her quite well. Our church circle used to take food over to her house about once a month. I used to sit and chat with her and help put the groceries away. She also used to come to the 'all church circle' sometimes. I really liked her a lot. She had a sweet spirit although it was hard to find out where she stood with regard to the Lord. I can hardly believe she's gone," said Abbey.

"I need to ask you something and it must be in confidence. We are getting an autopsy on Mary. There is some question of drug abuse as a cause of her death. The nurses told me privately that they found white powder that looked like cocaine on her night stand. Do you think Mary was an abuser?" asked James seriously.

"Why no. She never impressed me at all as that sort of person. Her little home was immaculate and those girls had excellent care with lots of love. She and Sam were poor but very happy. That doesn't seem to make sense to me," said Abbey. "Do you think she was using drugs?"

"I'm not sure. Something doesn't quite fit in her death. She didn't have any heart or medical problems. I hope the autopsy answers some of those questions. The nurses say there was no sign of powder in Mary's nose or mouth to indicate recent drug use. Mary did have talcum on her body. Maybe that was the powder by the bedside. And there was no syringe for intravenous injection. Mary had no characteristic track marks anywhere on her arms, legs, or body consistent with IV drug abuse. I am frankly puzzled. Right now I'd like to just forget about her death and snuggle by the fire with you."

James rose and put Bach's Brandenburg concerti, refilled the coffee cups, stoked the fire, and settled in to just hold his wife. Neither spoke for a long time. Finally, James stretched, yawned and looked at his watch.

"Oh my! It's almost 9:30! Time for bed for me. We'd better scoot. Little Sam might wake up at any time and I have full clinics tomorrow," exclaimed James.

"Any excuse to stop cuddling," teased Abbey.

"I'll put Zeke out, lock the doors, and set the alarm," returned James.

Zeke had the run of the place, including the house during the day, but slept outside at night. Zeke liked his heated kennel a lot. James specially built the elevated dog house with heating and cooling. There was a plastic doggy door to keep the kennel reasonably heated or cooled. The heated, automatic water bowl sat directly outside the doghouse under a small awning so Zeke could get a drink without getting wet. The dog run actually followed along next to the garage. James put a covered breeze-way from the house to the garage so in bad weather you could put Zeke in the dog house without getting wet or snowed upon. The insulated heating and cooling vents ran in the breeze-way ceiling to the dog house. The inside door of the dog house opened directly into the garage itself. The run consisted of a concrete floor on one side and sand on the other side. The concrete provided a nice area that was easily washed and cleaned. James fashioned the floor with enough slope to shed water when it rained or was washed. It was even heated so the snow would melt on it in the winter. A special gutter ran along the concrete carrying water and feces into a large removal drain designed for such purposes. The sand provided a softer area for the dog to lie outside in the sun. Abbey sometimes told James that Zeke lived better than some people she knew. The dog house even had a hinged roof so they could take Zeke's cedar bed out to wash it every week. James made a point to refill the bed with fresh cedar at least 3-4 times a year. The cedar allegedly kept the fleas out.

Zeke trotted out into his bed and James turned on the yard lights. He went back inside, armed the alarm, and headed upstairs for one last check on the girls. They all snored away peacefully. James descended the steps and made his way to their room. Abbey sat combing her long, blonde tresses. James walked up behind her and hugged her neck. He took the brush and silently finished her toilet. Abbey stood up and gave him a big bear hug. She padded off to bed. James quickly brushed his teeth, put on his pajamas and climbed into bed.

"James, may we have another one?" began Abbey in a small voice.

"Another what?" inquired James.

"You know. Another baby. I want a baby, James. I don't care about the risk or logic. Seeing little Sam reopened my heart. Please, please James," pleaded Abbey.

"We'll see," grunted James.

"You really mean it? You didn't say 'no' this time! Does that mean yes?" said Abbey excitedly as she sat up on one elbow.

"I suppose it does mean yes," commented James drily.

"Oh James! I do love you so!" exclaimed Abbey as she threw herself on James.

James thought maybe having another baby was a good idea after all.
Chapter 4

James spent the next several days thinking about Mary O'Brien as the house settled into a sort of hectic routine. Abbey home schooled Sara so she just included Elizabeth in the classes since she had not attended kindergarten yet. Martha took the bus to her school in town. Sam cleared up the funeral details and agreed with the Phelan's to work off the $600 the simple funeral would cost. The farm provided ample opportunity to pay them back for loaning the funeral money to Sam. They buried Mary the following Monday after the autopsy. It was a cold, bright, blustery March day. Their hearts seemed as raw as the weather. Martha and Elizabeth both cried as though their little hearts would break. Sara stood sobbing and hugged Elizabeth tightly. The girls saw their mother for the last time on the Sunday evening prior to the funeral service at the visitation at the mortuary. It seemed to James that half the town turned out to honor Mary's memory. He had no idea that Mary made such an impact in New Bedford.

It had been three weeks since Mary's death and over two weeks since the autopsy. James became impatient for the results. James finished clinics early and decided to go talk with Dr Josiah Skinner, the county coroner. James knew Dr Skinner well and thought very highly of him. Dr Skinner trained over forty years ago when doctors took rotating internships and participated personally in autopsies of their patients. He had practiced general medicine for over 40 plus years in New Bedford and been county coroner for over 30 years. Dr Josiah Skinner may have been a small town doctor but he loved forensic medicine and did superb autopsies. James could never figure out how he had time to practice and do the coroner's work too.

James jumped in "Barney" and headed over to Dr Skinner's office. He parked out front and walked into the Spartan waiting room. Dr Skinner ran his practice out of an old fashioned, store front, cramped, street side building. He started in that same building some 40 years earlier and never saw a need to move. His father practiced out of the same building over 80 years earlier and Josiah followed in his footsteps by taking over the practice and office. The patients had to park curb side in the street but they never seemed to mind. The office always had that faint sort of odor of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant. James loved that smell as it reminded him of going to the doctor as a boy. Louise, Dr Skinner's nurse/office manager greeted him.

"Hello, Dr Phelan. May I help you with something? Does Dr Skinner know you're coming over?" she asked.

"No, I'm dropping by to bend his ear for a minute. Is he just about done with clinics? If not, I'll just have a seat and wait here."

"He's just about done. I think he's seeing Mrs. Bottni about her bunions and then has Mr. Johnson for his asthma and is done. Would like some tea or coffee?" Louise asked.

"I'd love a cup of decaf coffee if you'll point me in the right direction," said James.

"Now don't you trouble yourself. I'll have a fresh cup out in a jiffy. Why don't you grab a magazine there. The doctor just received a new rose growing magazine you might be interested in reading," returned Louise as she bustled off to get the coffee.

James found the magazine and settled in to read about black leaf spot and the systemic fungicide to treat it. James' passion for roses seemed almost legendary in the town. He often won local prizes for his roses. He babied the bushes like his children. James tended yellow, bold reds, soft pinks, lovely blues, and pure whites. He loved his plants and absorbed everything he possibly could about rose care. With the harsh New England winters it often posed a challenge to just keep his bushes alive. He sat for about 20 minutes absorbed in the article. James felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up, and there, stood Dr Josiah Skinner, MD.

Josiah Skinner came from that breed of old MD who truly believed he was called out to minister to people with his hands in medicine. His enthusiasm and love for his patients shown through everything he did. Many people in town owed their lives to him.

Dr Skinner stood ram-rod straight even at 69 years of age, with a snowy white mane of hair that resembled a lion's mane on the top of his head (except it was white). His bright blue eyes often twinkled with infectious good humor and is whole person resonated good will and interest in you.

James stood up and shook hands with Josiah Skinner.

"What can I do for you today, James?" boomed out Dr Skinner. "I'll bet it is about that autopsy on Mary O'Brien isn't it? I just received the final slides yesterday and looked at them last night. They're in the back. Would you like to look at them with me?" Skinner performed autopsies at St Francis Hospital instead of Hasting's Mortuary now that there was a new, fully equipped morgue in the hospital. The slides he still read in the small laboratory area in his office because he loved his old Olympus microscope so much. Many places frowned on taking medical slides out of the hospital due to legal implications, but since there never had been a lost slide or a question of Skinner's integrity, autopsy slides still went to his office.

"I'd love to see what you found," responded James.

"Of course we have to wait for the official inquest to make the results public. Since you were one of her physicians, I feel it's alright to let you see what we found," began Skinner. "Sit down over there at the other head of the teaching microscope. I'll just sort through these slides and we'll go through the most interesting ones," shared Dr Skinner.

Skinner shuffled through the glass pathology specimens and found the tray he was looking for under a report.

"Ahh, here they are. I am going to show you representative slides of Mary's heart, stomach, mouth, nasal mucosa, liver, and esophagus. We'll look first at the heart. The myocardium shows acute ischemic changes consistent with a myocardial infarction. There does not appear to be any enlargement of the ventricles or chronic changes. The heart, aorta, pulmonary arteries, and veins are all normal except for the acute hypoxic changes. I'd say our young lady died from an acute MI from cocaine use. The interesting question to answer is how she ingested the drug. Her stomach showed no traces of cocaine, nor did her nasal or oral mucosa. That leaves only intravenous administration. The intravenous lines showed cocaine residue as well as traces in the injection port so that is your point of entry," said Dr Skinner pushing back from the microscope.

"But, when I talked with Dawn Johnson, her nurse, she said they didn't find a syringe or a stash of drugs," responded James thoughtfully.

"I didn't say that Mary O'Brien injected the drugs herself. I just said that is where the drugs came from and how she probably died. There were no other marks on her body. Her body exhibited no bruising or abrasions. I suspect poor Mary never knew what happened and died in her sleep from the massive cocaine overdose. The powder by her bed definitely turned out to be cocaine. Pretty pure stuff too. Estimated street value would be a couple of hundred bucks," said Dr Skinner.

"Mary and Sam didn't have that kind of money to start with and Mary never was known to use drugs," replied James confidently.

"Of course the State crime boys will want to confirm my autopsy but I doubt there is much question about the cause of death," said Dr Skinner confidently.

"Have you told all this to Sheriff John Edwards? What does he think about the fact that we don't have a syringe and yet all this pure cocaine in Mary's veins?" asked James.

"That self-aggrandizing dolt?" snorted the old doctor. "He pays no attention to me even though I delivered him. He seems to think since I am semi-retired, and over 60 years old, that my brain doesn't function anymore. If that is the case, why doesn't he find another coroner? Probably because the county doesn't pay anything for the job, that's why. He can't afford anyone else," Dr Skinner answered scornfully.

"Even so, I am going to stop by the sheriff's office and talk to him about the autopsy and what Dawn told me. Maybe he can help shed some light on Mary's death. I'll talk to you later Josiah. And thanks for the information. I'll keep you posted on anything I find out," responded James.

"Just let me turn things off, grab my coat, lock up, and I'll walk out with you," said Dr Skinner.
Chapter 5

Since Louise had gone for the day, Dr Skinner padded around his office shutting off lights, securing doors, and grabbed his coat. James and he departed out the office door. James and Skinner jumped into "Barney". James started the engine. The truck jumped to life and James turned on his defroster full blast to clear the foggy windshield. He sure was glad he had changed the heater core in the defroster so it would clear the windshield. Last year he often had to resort to using an ice scraper on the inside of the window as well as the outside of the windows. James and Skinner drove silently down Steuben Avenue which bore the name of the founding Steuben brothers of New Bedford. James made the right onto Winfield Scott Street and pulled up to the sheriff's department. They saw John Edward's new, blue cruiser sitting outside the office. Edwards rightfully felt proud of the new car. The county voted recently to help update the law enforcement equipment under Edward's watchful tutelage. James emitted a huge sigh. James found talking to John Edwards a bit taxing at times. It wasn't that Edwards was difficult or anything. He just left you with the impression that he only barely tolerated "civilians" interfering with police work. James wasn't sure how Skinner felt about Edwards.

James and Dr Skinner carefully climbed the remaining icy steps left over from last week's late spring snow storm and walked in the door. They found Deputy Frank Thompson sat at the desk reading the evening paper.

Thompson looked up, "Evening Docs. What can we do for you tonight?"

Deputy Frank Thompson tempered Edwards somewhat irascible personality with a truly good-natured disposition and genuine love for people. The Deputy stood just shy of 6 feet 5 inches tall without an ounce of fat. All the little, older ladies in town considered him their favorite deputy. It was Frank who climbed up trees to retrieve cats, fixed broken locks, and drove around to visit people. He often just dropped by on his daily rounds to chat with and make the older people in town feel secure. Due to his impressive size, he never even had to draw his gun in defense or anger. The local toughs respected him and never gave him any trouble. The children loved him too. He always had time to talk to them and distributed his endless supply of peppermints with great relish. No problem was too big not to be solved by a peppermint and a talk with Frank.

James took a deep breath and asked, "Is John in now?"

"Yup. He's in the office in the back. Can I get you and Dr Skinner a cup of coffee or something? How about a peppermint? You look like you could use one Dr Phelan," smiled Frank with a wink.

"No thanks. We'll just go back and bother John," answered James.

Dr Skinner remained strangely quiet and followed James back to the office. James and Dr Skinner strode back to the office and knocked on the door. He took another deep breath and asked quietly, "Lord, help me to be gracious here and do something to help the O'Brien's.

'Come in," boomed the voice of John Edwards.

James and Josiah Skinner entered and sat in the leather, padded arm chairs in front of the massive oak desk. As James sat, it made him feel like the chair enveloped him and swallowed him up. Probably a calculated effect by Edwards thought James somewhat cynically. Dr Skinner looked expectantly at James.

"Well, well Drs Phelan and Skinner. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Edwards sat behind his desk shielded from the world with his feet up on the edge of the desk reading a report. Edwards provided a distinct contrast to Frank Thompson. John Edwards came from a desperately poor family in town. He went off to the army and served in the security police in the first Desert Storm campaign. From there, he returned to the deputy sheriff job, took evening criminal law courses, received an associate's degree, and finally had been elected Sheriff about three years ago. He possessed thin, sandy hair, a slight build, yet, muscular frame, and the most unnerving green eyes James had ever seen. Some people called them "cat-eyes". With that cold, unflinching stare, the Sheriff used to intimidate suspects with his gaze seeming to pierce right through the individuals. The Sheriff stood only five foot-eight inches tall but stayed deceptively strong. John lifted weights frequently for strength with endurance training. He also held a black belt in the martial arts. His insecurity due to his social background and upbringing made him sometimes difficult to deal with on certain, sensitive police issues.

"What may I do for you two eminent physicians?" asked Edwards.

"We just came from reviewing some autopsy slides at Dr Skinner's office regarding the O'Brien case. We wanted to chat with you and see if there were any suspects or motives involved in the case," began James. Skinner nodded in agreement.

"Whoa there, Doc! What makes you two think this is anything but a plain old drug OD? I mean, we found the drugs by the bedside and in her body. Seems pretty straight forward she died from an OD. Besides, what are you doing poking into an autopsy anyway?" asked Edwards somewhat querulously

"Mary O'Brien was a patient of mine. I just want to make sure that all avenues are explored. As you are aware in police work, things are not always what they seem. If there was a murder, I think we'd all desire justice served and nothing overlooked. I'm not meddling," replied James patiently.

"Yes, John. We'd just like to make sure you understand this is still a suspicious death," said Dr Skinner pointedly.

"Darn straight, Doc Skinner! You probably shouldn't even be talking to Dr Phelan about the case since he is really not involved. But since Dr Phelan was her doctor, I suppose it is alright to give out limited information. I have all the statements from everybody involved, the preliminary autopsy findings, and the crime scene report. I still see an OD. However, the final report might help out," said Edwards looking at Dr Skinner.

"Hrrumph," snorted Skinner.

James chimed in, "It doesn't bother you that there wasn't a syringe by the bedside or in the room to the drugs into her veins? It doesn't bother you that Mary didn't have a drug history? What about the cost of the cocaine? She didn't have that kind of money," James finished.

"Now hold on Doc. I don't tell you how to deliver babies. No need for you to tell me know to do my job or what to look for at a crime scene. We did find a syringe in the room" said Edwards smugly.

"What? Now come no one else knows about this?" puzzled James.

"Because we found it in her overnight bag that we searched through after we collected all her belongings as evidence," replied Edwards pompously.

"Was there evidence of cocaine in the bag?" inquired James earnestly.

"Yup, and a spoon, matches, and needles too. State police crime boys said pretty pure stuff on the spoon too. So, you see your Mary O'Brien heated the drugs up in her spoon, drew up the dope, pushed the coke into her vein, cleaned up most of her mess, fell asleep, and OD in her sleep. By the way, all this is privileged police information and not open for public consumption; if you get my drift Docs," answered Edwards self-importantly.

"Yeah, sure, police business. But why didn't she clean up the rest of the cocaine if she was so careful to clean up the syringe, spoon, and matches? Was the spoon new?" asked James anxiously.

"How should I know. A spoon is a spoon when's its used for drugs," said Edwards slightly exasperated.

"Actually, it is important," interrupted Dr Skinner. "Usually addicts keep the same spoon. It would have a lot of cocaine residue in the spoon itself and significant carbon remnants on the bottom where she heated up the drugs to inject. Also, when did you take all her effects and look at them?" inquired Skinner.

"We took all her belongings the day after the death But we sealed off the room that night so nothing was disturbed," replied Edwards getting more agitated and not liking the line of questions. "We're not exactly idiots you know. We do know standard police procedures in this department," returned Edwards sarcastically.

"Did you post a guard outside the room overnight?" asked James.

"What for? This isn't LA you know. We just locked the door and put up a piece of crime scene tape so no one would bother things or tamper with the evidence. I think I've had enough from you two. I suggest you keep out of this from now on, okay? You do medicine and I'll do police work. We're going to treat this case like a simple drug OD. There is no murder motive and Mary O'Brien was exactly a model citizen; if you get my drift. Right now my feet hurt; I'm tired, and it's time for us all to go home," finished Edwards pointedly.

James opened his mouth to speak, glanced at Skinner who just nodded slightly, and then, instead James shut his mouth. No sense in "casting pearls before swine". They had more information from the autopsy but nothing that would concretely lead to a murder. James thanked Edwards for his time and walked out the door with Josiah Skinner.

"The man's an ass," said Skinner flatly.

James opened the outside door. He and Skinner stepped out and took long breaths of the sharp, cool air. The sun's last wan attempts to illuminate the day were fading. They looked at the deepening twilight. James looked at Skinner and felt his spirits sag.

"I'll talk to you later Josiah," said James.

"We'll keep in touch," said Skinner thoughtfully. "I'll walk home. I need the exercise and some time to think. Goodnight James."

James climbed into his truck, started the engine, and drove somberly away from the sheriff's office. What could he do now? The autopsy showed drugs but no pathologic changes consistent with long term use. A syringe had been found in Mary's things but no one else seemed to know that except Edwards. Edwards seemed convinced that, as an addict, Mary would be so meticulous as to clean up everything but the most incriminating evidence: the cocaine on the bedside table. Something did not fit. But what was the motive to murder Mary? Why the nagging doubt in the back of his head? That inner voice was ringing the alarm bell. As a recovering addict himself, James was not convinced of Mary's OD. Not exactly easy to explain a gut feeling to someone. Yet, James learned that his mind picked up clues, chewed them over, and came up with conclusions in the back of his mind that were most often correct. Clinical acumen, James thought wryly. Still, hard to believe a murder without a motive. James turned down the road to home. Maybe he could bounce some ideas off Abbey.
Chapter 6

A lot had transpired in the last six months since Mary's death. Most of the furor over her death subsided and life took on a new routine. James leaned over and turned off the alarm early: 4:30 AM. He yawned and dangled his legs on the side of the bed. Abbey slept peacefully on her side snuggled up to where James had been lying. Her round, full abdomen filled him with sonder again. He smiled at the thought of a new arrival in about four months. And a boy this time. He knew it was sort of cheating to do the ultrasound and look for the baby's sex; but he could not help himself. Besides, James reasoned, they needed to make sure Abbey didn't have another placenta previa. God was so good. The placenta sat up at the fundus or top of Abbey's uterus. So, no danger of bleeding this time and Abbey could even have a vaginal delivery if all went well. Still, James often chided her for doing too much. Abbey would have none of it. The joy of a normal pregnancy made her exuberant. She told James she "was pregnant, not an invalid". And as usual, she made sense.

The house stayed fuller now. The O'Brien girls and little Sam now permanently lived in the main house with them. They had moved out of the ramshackle rental they'd lived in for several years. Sam lived in a new apartment built over the garage. The dilapidated rental the O'Brien's lived in previously went back to the landlord to foist on some other poor tenant. The arrangement of him working for the Phelan's worked so well they wanted him full time. The pastures, fences, livestock, and buildings now showed a special, loving care. Sam turned out to be a wizard with animals and the land. He grew up on a farm but left it early in life to pursue other jobs that paid better. Now, Sam fit back into his rural element and thrived. The usual break out of animals through un-mended farm fences never occurred thanks to Sam. He kept the fences in shape, the outbuildings and barn sparkling clean, and in top notch repair. The new roof on the barn looked especially good on the old building. Sam even persuaded James to add some pure bred Angus cattle to the farm to raise for meat and feeder cattle. The pasture now held fifteen contented cows with their little ones.

Sam had been sober too, now, since Mary's death six months earlier. The shock of her death due to possible drugs and the weight of being a single parent, pushed him into sobriety. Sam loved his room out in the garage since it gave him privacy but kept him right next to his girls and little Sam.

Martha now stayed at home and was being schooled by Abbey. Abbey had never taken any teaching courses but was a natural instructor. Martha often finished her classes in 3-4 hours and spent the rest of the day with her father or Abbey. Martha could read at almost a college level and tested in the top one per cent of her age group on the national tests. The two little girls started in home school that fall as well. They loved being home and learning to read and write. Soon, they would be beginning to read books on their own.

James went into the den/library and sat in his favorite recliner. He took out his Bible and began reading from the Psalms. They fed his soul like no other part of the scriptures. The depth of feeling coupled with the poetic language soothed his troubled heart. David's supplication to the Lord in Psalm 51 particularly spoke to his sense of unworthiness he felt at times. Yet, even reading Psalm 23 did not calm his spirit this morning. He still did not quite have peace Mary's death. He struggled to let go of the case but could not. He always, eventually, found rest for his soul in God's word. He spent 20 minutes in prayer on his knees for his family, his day, and his ministry at the office.  
He stood up and stretched. James hurried outside in the crisp, fall air to complete his morning run with Zeke, got dressed, grabbed some breakfast, and started into the hospital in "Barney". He remembered on the way that Mrs. Steuben was having her gallbladder removed today. She suffered for years with it but stubbornly refused to have it taken out. She finally consented when the surgeons agreed to try to remove it laparoscopically with several small abdominal incisions. A few years earlier she would have required a large scar on her right upper abdomen. Now, there would probably be three, small inch long scars on the middle and upper right abdomen. No muscles would be cut so the recovery time would be faster with less time in the hospital. James made a mental note to visit her today to see how she was doing.

The drive this October morning sent James down a road ablaze with the first tinge of dawn. The orange-red of the maples ran into the undulant blood red of the oaks which melded into the yellow the birches running over the ridge. Partridge season would start soon. The there would be long treks over the hills on the hunt with Zeke in the fresh, clean fall air. The crisp, cool air flowed in through his truck window bringing the faint smell of wood smoke mixed with the damp smell of new fallen leaves. Pumpkins dotted the distant hillside and picked fields of corn lay by the road side. A buck deer bounded away across the road up ahead disappearing into the morning mist that clung along the creek bank. He sighed. Ironic sun an idyllic setting gave him no real peace this morning.

James swung into the parking lot outside of St Francis and strode into the hospital. He had two postpartum patients to visit and three postoperative patients to check over. One of the gynecologic patients was going home today. As he entered the floor, Sue Wilson, the charge nurse came up to him crying.

"What's wrong, Sue?" inquired James concerned.

"It's Mrs. Flint. We found her dead in her bed this morning," answered Sue who was just going back to days that morning after her four week stint of the evening 3-11 PM shift. "She was fine last night when I took her vital signs at 10:30 PM and she was looking forward to getting home in a day or two."

"I know it's hard to take but she was a severe diabetic with heart disease. It is not surprising that she died suddenly," comforted James

"That's the strange thing about it. Her sugars were good and she wasn't having any cardiac problems. She always had chest pain with her cardiac problems," sniffed Sue.

"Well, you know that diabetics may have silent heart attacks without chest pain. That's part of the unpredictability of the disease. Are you going to be alright to work today or do we need to have someone come in and let you go home today?" asked James gently. "I'm sure Sister Mary Rosarita would understand.

"No. And thanks for understanding. I'll be okay. It is just that everyone liked Auntie Bessie (as Mrs. Flint was affectionately known) so much. She made us all laugh and feel good. She never complained at all. She was a model patient," replied Sue with a sniffle.

"I know. We'll all miss her a lot. Does her daughter know yet? Has Dr McAllister had a chance to talk to her yet?"

"He called Bessie's daughter this morning and we're waiting for her arrival."

"Okay then. Let me know if you need my help. I'm going to see Mrs. Steuben before her surgery and then see my patients," said James.

James walked briskly down the hall to room 102 where Mrs. John Winthrop Prescott-Steruben was staying. He entered the room. It looked as he expected: filled with flowers, and, her son John dutifully at the bedside. Mrs. Steuben languidly extended an elegant, jeweled hand toward him.

"How good of you to come and see me Dr Phelan. I know you must be terribly busy. Taking a few minutes out of your hectic day means a lot to an old, uninteresting woman like me," finished Mrs. Prescott dramatically.

"Nonsense, Mrs. Steuben. It is I who should be flattered that you have the time to visit with one such as I. I know you are extremely preoccupied with getting ready for this surgery," delivered James with a slight bow.

"Yes, yes, I have had a trying time here. I do so hate hospitals. They give me such ennui. This son of mine thinks I am totally incapable of being by myself for any length of time," intoned Mrs. Steuben drily.

"Now mother that is not true! I worry about you being all alone up here and just wanted to see you before the surgery. . .," began John.

"In case I don't wake up from the anesthetic or that quack Dr Baker kills me on the table," interrupted Mrs. Steuben with a wicked grin. Dr William (Bill) baker was one of the general surgeons at St Francis.

"Mother!! Please don't talk like that.! It bothers me!!" replied John

"Of course it does. You are afraid I might have changed my will and left you nothing," said Mrs. Steuben with relish.

"Hrrumph, I need to get to the office. I don't know why you vex me so, mother. I 'll drop by later to see how you are doing," said John as he kissed his mother lightly on the forehead. "Please behave yourself."

"Always my dear!" said Mrs. Steuben gaily.

John departed the room and she turned to James.

"Dr Phelan, John can be such a silly boy at times. I suppose I should not goad him but he frustrates me so with his over protection. Do you think I need protecting Dr Phelan?" inquired Mrs. Steuben with one eye-brow raised quizzically.

"Hardly, madam. You have the constitution of a wild moose and all the tact of a charging rhino!" James rejoined with a twinkle in his eye.

"Ahh, at last a true soul-mate! You understand my subtleties and my desire to be treated like an adult even as my years advance. You really must bring yourself and that lovely wife of yours over for tea next week after all this unpleasantness is over."

Further conversation ended as the operating room transport team arrived. The jewelry needed to be removed and the matriarch wanted it secured in the hospital safe. After much discussion, the nurse took the jewelry, vowing to personally escort the Prescott-Steuben family heirlooms to the hospital safe. They placed Mrs. Steuben on the gurney and wheeled her to the holding area outside the operating rooms. She waved goodbye gaily. I heard her regaling her transport aids with tales from her youth with Mr. John Winthrop-Steuben III.

James shook his head grinning and went out onto the ward. St Francis had a combined surgical floor so his postoperative patients lived just down the hall. He saw them in quick order and sent his one patient home with instructions to return in two weeks for a postoperative check. Next, James visited his postpartum patients and checked on their babies. It seemed a good habit to follow the babies he delivered. Many times just being aware of an infant's status defused a tense situation and helped a patient to see his sincere interest. He performed one circumcision and went to look for Wil McAllister. Wil, short for Wilbur, McAllister covered a large, thriving internal medicine practice. Wil seemed to have that special way of dealing with people that made them feel comfortable with him. His patients loved him and his staff adored him as well. He married his wife , Sally, in medical school. They had three very active children, an older eight year old girl and twin five year old boys.

James headed over to the medical ward to find Wil. He found him at the nurses' station talking to Sue Wilson. Sue still sniffled but wasn't crying anymore. James wandered over to the desk.

"Sorry to hear about Mrs. Flint, Wil. She was a really nice lady," shared James.

"Auntie Bessie was the best. I am still a bit puzzled though. She did not truly have cardiac disease. She had a little angina now and then but never had an infarct. Her cardiac complaints always included chest pain. Guess it shows how unpredictable diabetes is in its cardiac effects," said Wil thoughtfully.

"Have you had any other patients die unexpectedly recently Wil?" ventured James.

"What do you mean unexpectedly?" queried Wil.

"Why don't we take a short walk, Wil?" said James. They wandered down the hall away from the desk. "I mean have any other of your practice or other people's patients died unexpectedly?" stated James.

"That's a strange question James. I'm not sure. Let me think a minute," replied Wil pensively. "There actually was another patient of mine, Dan Fields, I admitted with COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease or emphysema) with pneumonia who actually was improving. We found him dead in his bed of an apparent heart attack the day before he was suppose to go home."

"Did he still have an IV in by chance?" asked James.

"Yes he did. We were going to complete his IV antibiotic course that night and send him out in the next afternoon on oral antibiotics. What is this all about anyway?" said Wil placing his hand on James' arm. "This isn't still about Mary O'Brien is it James? You need to give it a rest."

"No. Listen to me. We now have at least three deaths that are unaccounted for here at St Francis. What do you think we should do?" began James.

"I'm not sure you do anything. These patients of mine were old and sick. They most likely died from their diseases. That does happen," answered Wil.

"I've been doing some research of my own and realized both of the patients you lost were indigents. Isn't it strange they were both old, sick, and had no insurance? Mary's death is similar except she was young and supposedly a drug abuser. But, she lived off the state dole too," said James.

"What are you getting at? You think we have a 'welfare-killer' on the loose? Come on James. You've read too many detective stories. This kind of talk is dangerous. We don't need St Francis to become the hospital you go to so you can be murdered. I think you need a serious vacation. Maybe you are working too hard," returned Wil as he turned away shaking his head.

James stomach churned. Now there were possibly three deaths that may be linked. But how? He sensed a connection to Mrs. "Aunt Bessie" Flint and Dan Fields. But how could he put Mary O'Brien into all of this? James wondered if he should talk to Josiah Skinner again. What about calling his father? James shuddered at the thought of contacting the elder Phelan about all this. His father, James Gerrard Phelan senior, practiced patrician, corporate law in Boston. The senior Phelan already thought that James had married beneath them and was a bit kooky. His father never could understand all this religious "rubbish" as he called it. It's not that his father did not believe in religion mind you, but, that "fanaticism" was abhorrent in a well-educated man. The elder Phelan found James unnecessarily rigid, non-pragmatic, bewildering and stubborn. But, James knew that even though his father never practiced criminal law, his sharp mind would discover possible connections in this case.

James left the hospital and glanced at his watch. Still only 7:45 AM. If he hurried he could catch his father at home before the day's work began. James scurried to his office, threw his coat on the chair, and dialed his parent's home. It rang exactly three times before his mother picked up the line.

"Hello, this is the Phelan residence. May I help you?" chirped his mother's clipped voice over the phone.

"Hello mother. This is James. Could I speak with father please?"

"James, how nice to hear from you! Yes, He's right here," his mother responded.

"Hello son. To what do I owe this bright, early morning call from you?" began the elder Phelan.

James took a deep breath and plunged into the story. He explained Mary O'Brien's death, the suspicious circumstances around her whole story, the possibility of tampering with evidence, the other two unrelated deaths, and his own concerns about possible murder.

"So, really son you have no truly concreted evidence about whether or not this Ms O'Brien died from any other than a cocaine overdose or that either of the other two people died of unnatural causes," summarized James Phelan senior.

"No, Dad. I don't have much else. It just doesn't seem to fit right to me. You remember how you said during that notorious case against that lawyer you knew 20 years ago that something wasn't right. You were right in going with your gut feelings," said James.

"Yes, I do remember that ghastly business. But I was an old friend of the defendant and had some evidence that he really was innocent. What do you have to point to murder?" inquired Phelan senior.

"I suppose you're right but I hoped maybe after hearing the story you would see something that I didn't," sighed James.

"Son, let me ruminate on it a bit and think over the case. Perhaps something will come into my head from the archives. Enough of that. How is may favorite granddaughter doing? Doing well in school I trust?"

James gripped the phone tighter. Should he tell his father they were going to home school their only granddaughter? He felt this was not the time to go through that conflict.

"Sara is doing marvelously. She will soon be able to start reading things and then watch out," replied James. "Dad, I really need to get started on my clinics. Keep me in mind if you think of anything and give my love to mom. Bye," finished James.

"Goodbye son, don't be a stranger, and I'll be in touch if I think of anything to help," said Phelan senior

James hung up the phone and felt as if he accomplished nothing by the call. Yet, sometimes just talking about a problem like this would crystallize his thinking. Nothing seemed to come to his mind. He shook his head and muttered, "Maybe I am making too much out of this right now. Mary's death just haunts me."

What other connections could fit the three deaths together? Not exactly the cheeriest way to start his clinics for the day; deep in distress over possible murders at his hospital. James bent his mind to prayer. He slowly emptied his distracted mind of the thoughts about the cases. Adoration of God came easily to him as he acknowledged God's mercy, grace, creative genius, power, glory, gentleness, and patience. Yaweh was the God of the living and not the dead. All the blessings of his life flowed into his consciousness in a rhapsody of praise. The utter unworthiness of his life moved him next to repentance for sins of commission and omission. The secret sins of pride, envy, and bitterness rolled out of his soul. Thanks came easily as he considered the Lord's gift in his new baby being formed, his lovely wife, sweet daughter, and supportive practice. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he completed his intercession for his family, his mother and father, his partners, and for wisdom in the O'Brien and other cases. By the time James finished, his heart sat content in the love of God.
Chapter 7

Clinics went slowly that day for James. He even felt somewhat depressed in contrast to the start of his day when he felt everything began well. At 4 o'clock, he felt the gnaw in his stomach. He tried to chase it away. How long had it been since he'd had to deal to deal with the demons? A year or more. Since that last bad scare in the delivery room with the bad shoulder dystocia.

His office phone rang. "James, this is Josiah Skinner here. Just giving you some long lost follow-up on that O'Brien case. The boys at the state lab forgot to send me the final report on the cocaine testing."

"What testing is that," asked James.

"The hair testing I ordered on Mary O'Brien. You know that you can date the use of cocaine by testing hair samples?" replied Josiah Skinner.

"I don't think I follow you, Josiah." James was having trouble focusing on the conversation.

"You can test the hair at various points along the hair shaft and tell if the patient used cocaine at a specific time. We know that hair grows at a specific rate in various parts of the body. Short hair on the eyebrows, eyelashes, or arms and legs grow at a constant rate in what is called the anagen phase over two to four months. The longer hairs of the head grow over one to six years in time. Each type of hair has a resting phase called the telogen which corresponds to its respective growth pattern. It is sort of like using the rings of a tree to date the age of the tree itself. If Mary used cocaine chronically, we ought to find a consistent pattern of cocaine levels in her various hair shafts. If she used cocaine in the last two to four months, we ought to find it in all her hair samples including her eyebrows and the hair from her head. If she used it greater than four to six months ago, we ought to find cocaine only in the long hairs from her head. The short hairs shouldn't have any evidence of cocaine in them since they turn over so rapidly. Acute, recent use would show up as a negative result in all the hairs involved since there would not be sufficient time to absorb the cocaine and deposit it in the hair shaft," Skinner finished.

"And what did you find? The forensic pathology lesson is good but I'm dying to know the lab results!" exclaimed James eagerly.

"The crime lab at the state found no evidence of cocaine in her hair shaft," began Skinner. "That means. . ."

"No chronic cocaine use," answered James triumphantly pumping the air with a fist.

"Bingo, James! I don't know quite what we'll do with the information but perhaps we'll get that pompous buffoon of an Edwards to at least reevaluate the case? At any rate, this certainly clinches our suspicions that Mary was not a long time drug abuser," finished Skinner.

"You'll call Edwards then?" said James

"Of course I'll do it! Unfortunately, I still take some gleeful satisfaction in getting 'one up' on Sheriff Edwards. A bit childish I know, but he really aggravates me and tries my patience at times." There was a long pregnant pause in the conversation. "Are you feeling alright, James? You sounded a bit strange," shared Skinner.

"I'm fine, just a little tired and confused right now. This new development in the O'Brien case has shaken me. I'll talk to you later. I have to get back to my clinic," responded James.

"I'll call you later in the week to let you know what is going on with Edwards," finished Skinner.

"Sure, thanks. Talk to later," said James hanging up the phone.

The sweat began to form on James' brow even though his hands were icy. He strode to the rest room and looked in the mirror. His face looked pasty so he splashed some water on it and wiped his cheeks dry. His skin seemed determined to detach from his body. All this new information sent his mind whirling. The nausea came in waves and he knew he needed to call Jonesy. Jonesy would know what to do. He rushed to his own, private office, and, with trembling hands dialed the number in Watsonville ten miles away.

"Hello, is Jonesy there, " James said tightly into the phone.

"Sure. Who is it?" came the female voice.

"Tell him it's James over in New Bedford," Phelan stumbled out as he wiped his forehead. His hair was damp with sweat.

"Jonesy here. What can I do for ya buddy?" said Jonesy.

"I'm bad right now Jonesy. I need to talk to someone. I'll get my partners to cover the rest of the clinic."

"I'll meet ya at the Cozy Corner in 15 minutes," replied Jonesy.

"Thank God," breathed James. "Laura, I'm going to meet a friend. Please have Don cover the last two patients would you. Thanks."

"Sure Dr P," replied Laura. "Are you alright? You look a little pale Dr P," observed Laura.

"I'm alright. I just need some air and to talk with a friend. See you in the morning."

James took his lab coat off, donned his light jacket, and raced out the back door. He'd walk to the Cozy Corner. It was only about six blocks away. James kept putting one foot in front of the other. His goal was to reach the restaurant, get a cup of decaf coffee, and wait for Jonesy.

The Cozy Corner sat on the corner of Steuben Avenue and Ash Street. The brightly lit sign welcomed the hungry, weary, and social to its rich smells. Tom and Julie Swanson ran the place but they were mostly just called "Mom and Pop" by all the younger customers. They dispensed great food at reasonable prices as well as priceless wisdom. And on one ever went hungry at the Cozy Corner if they couldn't pay. They always had dishes to wash and tables to push for a meal.

The décor looked liked an art deco American diner from the 1920's or 1930's with the bright chrome stools with red vinyl at the formica counters, the tables with bright red, plastic table clothes, and the black and white patterened, linoleum floor. It made a homey place to eat, drink coffee, or just talk.

James stirred his coffee absent mindedly and hoped Jonesy would hurry. Jonesy, really Robert Jones, ran the local filling station and garage in Watsonville. Jonesy's place reminded James of the old gas stations he knew as a boy. They still pumped your gas, checked your oil, and washed the windows. It remained truly a "service station". There were always a gaggle of preteen and teenage boys rummaging around under the car with Jonesy. He taught auto mechanics and hard work springled with the gospel. Many a local hoodlum owed his salvation to Joensy. They came to work on cars and left with their cars and lives back in running order. If you couldn't pay him, you didn't worry Jonesy. God had it worked out, and, his family always ate well with a tight roof over their heads. In fact, Jonesy lived with family over the garage in a spacious condominium style abode.

They became friends at local AA meetings and chose each other as partners. Every AA requires two people to team up to help each other out in just such situations. James fidgeted and felt the old longings coming back. He did not want to descend into the hell of alcohol again.

Jonesy strode through the door and Julie Swanson waved a cheery hello, "A cup of my best java for you, Jonesy? How about a piece of pie?"

"Sure, bring me a hot cup of coffee and let me have a piece of that blueberry pie you make. Now, my good friend what is going on with you?" Robert Jones only stood five foot-seven but could lift an engine out a car without any help. His muscles rippled under his work shirts as he walked. He had intense, brilliant grey eyes that seemed to look into your heart and a mop of black hair he kept covered with a hat. Jonesy always wore an old baseball hat with the words "I work for Jewish carpenter" on the front. Most of all he had a wry wit and never was without a ready word to cheer you up.

"It's Mary O'Brien's death and the other deaths we've had at the hospital lately. We've had several people die recently, sort of unexpectedly. I called my Dad about it today. I was fine until this afternoon with I began to crave the booze again. I'm a mess right now.

"I can see that," said Jonesy. "I think we need to get right to it James. This sort of temptation needs prayer and lots of it. I'll start us off and you chime in as you feel the Lord leading you. Father-God we come to you in humble request for my brother, James. Satan is buffeting him now and he is feeling weak and confused. Lord, you just confuse those emissaries of the evil one and restore my friend's confidence in Your loving power. Take this desire for drink away and let him get on with things. In Jesus name we pray," shared Jonesy

"Lord, I have been too much depending on my own power. I need to have my brother's help me in this case with Mary O'Brien. I am confused by it and disheartened by all of this. Take away this desire for the bottle oh Lord! Keep me as your man and let me be able to do Your will. Forgive me my pride and selfishness. In Jesus name," finished James.

James felt the oppression of his spirit lift. He closed them with a heart felt 'Amen'.

"Now let's talk a bit about this whole affair with Mary O'Brien," began Jonesy. "What do you think happened? The papers said she died of a heart attack but you don't seem convinced. And what about these deaths you mentioned?" asked Jonesy.

"There are just some things that don't fit. Mary did not have a medical condition. She was not a know drug abuser but her autopsy supports a drug overdose with cocaine as the cause of her cardiac arrest. The police found traces of cocaine on her night stand. Although there was no syringe by her bedside at the hospital to inject the drugs, a syringe with a needle with traces of cocaine did appear in her personal belongings at the hospital. She did not appear to have any track marks on her arms from IV drug use. Seems strange to put the needles and syringe neatly in an overnight bad and leave traces of cocaine by the bedside. Skinner just talked to me today about her final crime lab report which shows no evidence for long term ore recent cocaine use. The evidence is not fitting together very well."

"But we all know how good abusers are at deception, don't we James? But you are right. I never pictured Mary as an abuser. That crime lab report is hard to square away with the death isn't it? What about the other deaths? How do they fit in with this?" asked Jonesy.

"I'm not sure they do but Elizabeth Flint and Dan Fields both died unexpectedly of heart attacks. Aunt Bessie died last night and Dan Fields a couple of months ago. Both were older, had medical problems, and were on state assistance. I don't see how they fit with Mary yet, though. What do you think, Jonesy?"

"I'm not sure. I'm not a doctor and older people do die suddenly sometimes. Do you know of any enemies that Mary had or anyone who would want her dead?" asked Jonesy.

"There aren't really any suspects right now or motive for the deaths," said James running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Don't you think are overreacting a bit? I mean this phone call to me today shows that you are under some real stress over the death of Mary O'Brien. Maybe you are making too much of it. Perhaps Mary did jus start to use drugs for some reason and she went too far and overdosed herself. Happens all the time," shared Jonesy.

"I suppose you are right. I just don't think Mary died from an overdose. I guess I am looking for a reason to reopen her case even though the sheriff's office has officially closed it," sighed James. He looked much better now talking with Jonesy. The pallor was gone and the sheen of sweat no longer sat on his brow. James knew the crisis had passed. He would be safe to go home now.

"I'll tell you what though, James. I'll do some asking around in my unofficial channels and see if anyone knows anything about Mary or the others. Maybe there is a money motive or something we missed. You gonna be okay now? If so, I need to get back. I pulled the engine from Bill Smith's truck and I need to get back to the overhaul if I'm going to get it done by Friday. I'll keep in touch," finished Jonesy getting up from the table.

"Thanks pal. I needed the prayer time and the advice. I'll be okay now. Keep the faith," said James.

"Certainly, old buddy," said Jonesy with a slap on James' shoulder. "See you in church on Sunday."
Chapter 8

James finished his cup of coffee in silence and noted the time. He gave a start. His watch read 5:30 PM. He noted he'd spent over an hour with Jonesy. He needed to get home and talk to Abbey. He paid the bill, bid Julie good-bye, and hurried back to his office to get his truck. Jamse hopped in "Barney". The old truck roared to life as James dialed home on cell phone. Abbey picked up on the second ring. Her voice mirrored her concern.

"James is that you? I was worried about you honey. I called the office after you didn't come home at your usual time. The said you went to the Cozy Corner. Is everything alright?" asked Abbey.

"I'm fine now, honey. I needed to talk to Jonesy awhile. My brain malfunctioned over this Mary O'Brien case. I'm fine now. I need to bounce some things off you after dinner tonight," replied James.

"I'm glad you are doing okay. We'll see you soon. I'm having one of your favorites tonight, garbanzo bean patties," said Abbey with a chuckle.

"Yum, yum! Great! I'll be home in about ten minutes. Love you," finished James.

"Love you too," said Abbey.

James arrived home to find Sara, Elizabeth, and Martha preoccupied with little Sam. They took turns rolling a ball to him and he squealed with delight. At six months he could sit up and tried to roll the ball. Often he just fell over side-ways as he tried to reach for the ball. The girls giggled with delight as the baby clowned for them. Little Sam looked like a miniature version of big Sam. Little Sam had grey eyes, brown hair, a broad open little face, and already he was a character using his baby charm to thoroughly manipulate his "four mothers". James grinned at them all having such a good time and noted the contrast from a few months earlier. The only thing he did miss was the big commotion his home coming used to bring. Hard to compete with a fellah as entertaining as little Sam.

James greeted the girls, "Hey you three. Are you spoiling that little munchkin?" He bent over and gave each girl a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Isn't he funny Uncle James?" said Elizabeth.

"He certainly is entertaining I admit," grinned James. "Is the table ready for dinner? Are your hands all washed up?"

James made his way to his closet, shed his work clothes, and carefully placed them in the hamper. He put on a comfortable pair of slacks, a warm flannel shirt, and slipped on his old slippers. Next he searched for Abbey. She wasn't in the kitchen when he passed through. James sauntered into the eat-in area off the kitchen and found Abbey placing some fresh mums as a center piece on the table.

"There you are. I looked for you but were not around. I am feeling 'hugo-'penic' and need a big hug from my wife. Do you know if she'll give me one?" asked James with a grin.

"I suppose she will," answered Abbey with a mischievous grin as she hugged her husband tightly. She held James a little tighter and longer than usual. "I was concerned about you today. Are you sure you are alirght?" she inquired looking intently into James' eyes.

"I'm doing well thanks to my good friend Jonesy and the Lord. Jonesy really knows how to pray and you back on track. Mmm, that smells good Abbey. Did you make bread too?" asked James.

"The girls actually did most of it. I just supervised. That Martha is truly a blessing. She is going to be a wonderful mother and home builder. She loves to work and likes to do domestic chores. I gave her the recipe for the whole wheat bread, showed her where things were, and she just took off. She had those little ones helping right along. Be sure you mention the bread at dinner for her sake," urged Abbey to James.

"If it smells as good as it tastes that should be no problem. Anytime you're ready we can eat. Do I need to go get Sam?" asked James helpfully.

"If you don't mind. He's out at the barn finishing up fixing that broken gate on the cattle pen near the barn," replied Abbey.

"I'll go get him after I tell the girls to wash up. I'll put little Sam in his seat first," said James.

James placed little Sam in his high chair, gave him a toy ball to play with until dinner, and told the girls to go upstairs to wash up for dinner. He walked outside to find Sam and Zeke. James whistled for Zeke. The big dog bounded around the corner of the barn with a bark and raced up to meet James. The big, brown lab nearly bowled James over in his enthusiastic greeting.

"Oh, now you want to say 'hi' to me? You ignore my truck and decide you can break away from Sam to come and see me. You old rascal," accused James as he rumpled the big dog's ears playfully. Zeke gave Sam a lot of company around the farm. The big dog seemed to sense the loneliness in Sam after Mary's death. Zeke never went very far away from Sam and kept him company on most of the chores while James was away. Sam even had the habit of sneaking Zeke into his garage apartment to sleep at night. James sort of chuckled at that. Old Zeke had way of getting into your heart. He strode out to the barn with Zeke trotting happily at his heels.

"Hey, Sam. It's time for dinner. You need to come in and have some of your daughter's fabulous home-made bread," said James.

Sam poked his head around the corner and waved, "Hi Doc. I'm just about done. I need to pop back in this last pin into the hinges. Can you line it up for me so I can knock the pin back into the hole?" asked Sam.

"Sure," said James as he grasped the hinge pin and held it in place. Sam carefully swung the hammer and effortlessly popped the pin into place in the gate hinge with one swing. James never ceased to admire the ease with which Sam performed repairs.

"That'll do it Doc. We can go and some grub. Have a good day at work?" inquired Sam.

"So, so. I still wondering about Mary's death. I just can't seem to let it go Sam," answered James with a sigh.

"I know Doc. It weighs on me a lot too. There's just the two just girls and Sam to raise as well as all the talk about Mary. It really bothers me that people don't believe what a good woman she was. Martha understands what all the talk is about but Elizabeth still misses her mother and doesn't know quite how to handle all of this. Me, I mostly get lonely and tired of all the gossip. Sometimes, I'd just like to move away from here, but this is my home and the girls love it here at the farm. Don't mean to burden you, Doc, I need to talk about Mary sometimes. Well, we just all have to go on I guess," said Sam with a heavy sigh.

"You're right Sam. I understand what you mean. You put one foot in front of the other and move on down the road. Well, let's go get some of that good food," finished James thoughtfully.

The two men, with Zeke in tow, entered the house to clean up before dinner. Everyone sat down. Sara said grace thanking the Lord for their food and for fun things like bread making. Abbey served up her famous garbanzo bean patties. They consisted of ground up garbanzos beans fashioned into patties with onions, garlic, and a dash of Jamaican jerk sauce. The patties then simmered a tomato sauce with a touch of basil, oregano, and paprika. Everyone loved them. Along with the garbanzo beans they served Martha's fresh bread and a bowl of home grown green beans.

Talked around the table ebbed and flowed. Sam and James discussed when to sell the calves and which bull to breed the cows to this fall. The girls giggled at little Sam and bragged on their bread. Martha's little face glowed when big Sam told her it was the best bread he' ever eaten. Everyone else readily agreed. James looked around the table and realized how full his heart was right now. God truly blessed them.

Following the meal clean-up, the girls read the Bible at the dinner table with James while Abbey finished washing up baby Sam. Sam O'Brien listened to the children's Bible reading while he finished his coffee. After the Bible reading, the girls bounced upstairs to finish getting ready for bed. Sara's giggling and Elizabeth's laughter filtered downstairs along with muffled shouts by Martha to "get ready for bed"! Finally, James trotted up the stairs to move things along to bed. Bed time usually started at 8 PM and the clock already read 8:30. The girls heard him clumping up the stairs and bustled into their rooms. Sara and Elizabeth jumped into bed and said their prayers. Big Sam prayed with Martha and excused himself to his room over the garage. He was starting to work on his Christmas gifts early this year and wanted to spend some time in his room working on gifts. Sam carved extremely well, and, wanted to make a manger scene for the Phelan's to have on the fireplace.

James and Abbey sat on the couch. He lit the fire after dinner and the blaze crackled merrily. Abbey snuggled up to James' shoulder and sighed, "This is my favorite time of the day James. The kids in bed. Little Sam down for the night. You and I cuddling by the fire."

"Yes, and look where it got us," teased James rubbing Abbey's pregnant stomach.

"Oh, you!" exclaimed Abbey as she snuggle closer.

"I do need to talk to you, Abbey. Holmes had his Watson. I have you. Do you have any new thoughts about Mary O'Brien? I talked with Wil McAllister today. He's had two patients die of apparent heart attacks in the last few months. Dan Fields died several months ago the night before his discharge from the hospital and Aunt Bessie last night. I'm not sure they fit with Mary's death but they still bother me."

"I heard about Aunt Bessie's death. It's sad. She provided such a good witness to others about suffering in Christ. In what way do the cases bother you? What are the similarities? They sound like different cases. Weren't both of them old and sick?" asked Abbey.

"Yes, both were ill, but not expected to die anytime soon. They died rather unexpectedly,' replied James.

"Are there any other connecting facts? Were they in the same room as Mary? Did they share the same nurse?" asked Abbey.

"They were in different rooms I think. None of them had room mates. They all had semi-private rooms without another patient in the room with them at the time. I don't know about the nurses. I'll have to check that. Both Dan Fields and Bessie Flint were Wil's patients. You don't think that Wil was involved do you?" inquired James.

"I don't know James. I suppose I'm looking for a unifying factor. I'd check the nursing shifts and ask around about Wil's patients. Mr Fields's and Aunt Bessie didn't have the same medical problems did they?" wondered Abbey.

"No, Mr Fields had COPD and Aunt Bessie was a diabetic. Thanks for the thoughts about the nursing shifts about Wil. I'll need to do so more digging I guess. I know I seem obsessed about this but I just can't shake off Mary's death," murmured James with resignation.

"I know honey. You instincts are usually good. I think it is one of God's gifts to you. Although, I hate it when you are always right," sighed Abbey.

"Very funny, you. Give me another hug and let's just sit here for awhile and snuggle. It's been a long day for me," finished James pulling Abbey closer.
Chapter 9

James rose the next morning after a non-restful night. The three cases kept running through his mind. He even dreamt that a large syringe chased him down the hallways of the hospital trying to inject him. James rose at 4:30 AM and spent an hour in fervent prayer and meditation. He felt most comforted as he read James 1:5 "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him." James stayed on his knees listening to the Lord and finally broke through the barrier. God gave him the wisdom to investigate these deaths. It seemed so simple now that the plan lay revealed. Why had he not prayed earlier? Just plain pride he thought. But now he would open the offensive to find this murderer in their midst. He no longer doubted he must find the person who perpetrated these crimes.

James took his exercise, ran a quick shower, shaved, and practically bolted into town to St Francis. He reached Sister Mary Rosarita's office at 6:30 AM and knocked. He knew she always had prayer time early in the day.

"Come in," came the muffled reply. Sister Mary Rosarita arose from her knees on the prayer bench and made the sign of the Cross. "What brings you to my office at such an early hour Dr Phelan?"

A glance at his face told her this was a serious visit.

"Won't you sit down, Doctor," motioned Sister.

"Thanks Sister. I've come to ask your advice and help with a very difficult problem. I believe that there is a murderer loose at St Francis. Dan Fields and Bessie Flint both died under mysterious circumstances recently. Also, you know I never believed that story about Mary O'Brien," related James.

"Yes, I know. What proof do you have right now that makes you suspicious of someone at St Francis?" asked Sister.

"Nothing solid yet. I need your permission to pore over the nursing schedules to see if there is a pattern of nurses working the nights of the deaths. I also need a listing of the rooms they stayed in to make sure there is not a specific room we have a problem with in the hospital," began James.

"Does anyone else know about this" inquired Sister.

"No one knows about these requests. I did mention to Wil McAllister about the mysterious nature of the apparent heart attacks in both of his patients. He was not amused and told me I was overreacting. He thinks I am still brooding about Mary's death. And he's right. But that is not why I want to pursue this. I think someone is killing medical assistance patients. Why, I'm not sure," said James thoughtfully.

"Very well. I have always trusted your judgment in the past. I believe as you do that the Lord has laid this on your heart. In my time with the Lord this morning He told me to expect a strange request from someone. I suppose this is it. Well, let's get going on this doctor. I'll pull the nursing schedules if you get medical records to pull the charts so we can review them here. They must not leave the hospital and no one else ought to be involved at this point. We may need Sheriff Edwards' help if we get enough evidence to reopen Mary's file and pursue the others," replied Sister.

"Alright. I'll be here about 5:00 PM to look over the schedules and I'll get the charts pulled to review as well. See you at five o'clock," said James rising from his chair.

James went upstairs to check his two postoperative patients and one postpartum patient. He made sure there were no other deaths as well. Nothing new had happened on the floor at all that night. He breathed a sigh of relief. But, then he never expected the murderer to be that ignorant. It did not fit the pattern. The murderer seemed to allow months to elapse between attacks. James could hardly wait to see those schedules. Oh well, first a busy day in the clinic.

James flew through his clinics at break neck speed and finished at 4:30 PM. He already called Abbey and told her he'd be late for dinner and not to expect him until about 7:30. Abbey would feed the children and they could eat later. James promised to pick up her favorite Chinese food on the way home at the "Yellow Dragon". James hurried over to St Francis and Sister's office. Sister Mary Rosarita had already organized the schedules by shifts and names alphabetically.

"I took the liberty of reviewing these nursing schedules and found an interesting overlap. Sue Wilson was the RN on the night of all the deaths," said Sister thoughtfully.

"But, I thought Dawn Watson was the nurse on the night of Mary O'Brien's death?" questioned James in confusion.

"Dawn was on the floor too, but Sue Watson was taking care of Mary O'Brient the night she died. I confirmed with Dawn. She said the last time they saw Mary alive was at the nursing station at about 10:30 PM for her evening vital signs. Sue did the vital signs and gave her some pain medication for uterine cramping. That's the last time anyone saw her alive," finished Sister.

"How come that is just coming out now?" asked James.

"No one really thought to ask who really was on that night because it was supposedly an overdose; not a homicide investigation," said Sister grimly.

"Hmm, that really looks suspicious. But Sue really acted very disturbed about Bessie's death when I saw her yesterday. You think it was all an act?" asked James doubtfully.

"I am not sure. Sue has had a rough time of it recently. Her mother died last year from metastatic breast cancer. Her mother suffered a long hard battle with cancer, but very bravely. Perhaps that affected her more than we know. Also, Dawn informed me that Sue talked to her about the Euthanasia Society and euthanasia recently," shared Sister.

"Euthanasia Society and euthanasia? Maybe we have a killer in our midst after all," mused James. "Is there any way to watch her and make sure she doesn't work alone for awhile?"

"That would be difficult to do without raising suspicions but I'll do my best with the schedules. Were all the patients in the same room Dr Phelan?" inquired Sister.

"Oh, I almost forgot! Let's take a look. Dan Fields was in 104, Bessie Flint was in 105 and Mary O'Brien was in 212. So, no connection there. I wonder if they had roommates. All those are semi-private rooms. Let's see what the admission's sheets say," pondered James. He ran his finger down the admissions logs and looked at the room numbers and matched the dates of the admissions. "No roommates for any of the three. That makes sense since you would want to be able to inject medicines without questions," muttered James. "I wonder if there is someone in admissions involved in some way? What would be the drug to use that you could not trace? You'd need some cash to get the high grade cocaine for Mary's injection," finished James.

Both Sister and James sat in thought for a moment. Sister broke the silence. "Let us pray to the Lord for wisdom. We are obviously without an answer at this point. Lord our Father God guide us in wisdom to know that to do next and what to look for as a way to destroy these lives, Amen," Sister finished.

Neither one could immediately come up with an answer so they collected their new information and agreed to meet the following week after more prayer and meditation. James left the office deep in thought. He needed to learn to think more like a criminal. Evil thinking came with difficulty to James. He never thought he'd have to help in a murder investigation. Especially an investigation that no one believed in at all. "Such is life," muttered James. He tried to think about what could be the motive for Sue to murder anyone. Was the Hemlock Society part of the answer? Was Sue trying to get rid of sick, elderly people out of some misplaced concern for quality of life? Or was it simply a utilitarian attempt to eliminate nonproductive members of society.

James let his mind wander to consider other possibilities. Were the nursing schedules simply a misleading clue? Maybe Wil McAllister was involved? But why would he be involved in a murder? Both Fields and Bessie were his patients. James needed more information about Wil's personal beliefs and some back round. Wil arrived only 2 years earlier to take over the practice of old Dr Benson who retired from his internal medicine practice after 40 years. Wil hailed from Boston, graduated from Harvard medical school, and did his internal medicine residency at Massachusetts General Hospital. Wil seemed normal enough; but he had been defensive about the deaths of his patients. James would do some calling in the morning.
Chapter 10

James traveled home in "Barney" lost in his thoughts. He swung into the drive using his automatic control to open the garage door. Zeke greeted him enthusiastically at the door of the garage. James absent mindedly rubbed Zeke's ears. He entered the house and walked over to kiss Abbey. She moved a stray, blonde hair from the side of her face and straightened up from bending over in the cupboard. She kissed James on the cheek.

"Hi honey. How was your day? You made it home for dinner with family after all," observed Abbey.

"Busy and interesting. I met with Sister Mary Rosarita today and we went over all the nursing schedules. Sue Wilson seems to have been on all three nights the patients died. We are considering the possibility she may be linked to the deaths. Is that beef stew I smell? Did you make plenty of stew? I forgot the Chinese on my way home. I guess I got distracted with all the stuff involving Mary's death," said James apologectically.

"Are you serious about Sue Wilson? Sue doesn't seem like that kind of person at all. At any rate, we ought to discuss this later when the children are in bed. You're right, we're having beef stew tonight from the crock pot. And yes, I made enough for us all," smiled Abbey.

"Smells really great. I'll go and find the girls and get them ready for dinner," said James.

James found the girls upstairs playing with their dolls. James built one large doll house for them to share that summer. They seemed to love playing with the house and dolls all the time.

"It's time for dinner ladies. We need to go down and get the table ready for dinner," said James to all three girls.

"Daddy! You're home for dinner! Look at our doll house. Doesn't it look great, Daddy? We fixed it up for our dolls. I put my doll Lisa in the living room. She's working on her cross stitch for a pillow," explained Sara enthusiastically.

"That's great sweetie! Let's get downstairs and have some dinner," suggested James.

"Okay, Daddy. Let's all go wash up," bossed Sara.

"Okay," chorused Martha and Elizabeth together.

James grinned. His daughter sure could be bossy. He figured she got that from her mother! The two O'Brien girls good-naturedly accepted the bossing most of the time. Once in awhile Martha or Elizabeth would disagree with Sara. Then, the sparks would fly. James knew they needed to work on Sara's bossiness.

"I'll see you ladies downstairs then," said James.

Dinner seemed so pleasant after the stressful day. James completely forgot about the patient deaths and Mary O'Brien. He relaxed and spent the time learning about what Sara, the O'Brien girls, Abbey, and Sam did that day. The girls learned about how the solar system worked that day. They shared all the information how the earth revolves around the sun and spins on its axis. Sam reported he'd secured a good bull for the cows and knew a buyer for the calves. He was excited because James told him they were going to start going into shares with the livestock. Part of Sam's bonus would be a cow a year to breed. He'd just received the first heifer and couldn't wait to breed her and get the calf to sell. Sam certainly had changed. He'd come out of his shell, given up drinking, and found his niche. Sam truly possessed a gift for farming. Everything thrived under his careful management. James remained thrilled with the progress on the farm. The calves flourished, the corn crop had been magnificent, the chickens grew ready for market, and the garden produced bushels of produce. James even thought he might try and see if Sam was interested in buying part of the farm next door and starting his own place. The next door neighbor had just put 50 acres for sale.

Abbey looked so lovely this evening. Her skin shown with that healthy, pregnant glow. Pregnancy this time really agree with her. James realized how much he had to be thankful for yet again. Abbey smile across the table and James had to take her hand. She looked at him quizzically. He mouthed "I love you" to her. Sara looked and caught him in the act.

"Daddy, are you being mushy again with Mommy? Yuk!" she teased.

"Careful little one or I'll plant a big kiss on you in front of everybody!" returned James.

"Daddy!" exclaimed Sara.

"Yukky!" added Elizabeth.

"I think you two are so romantic,' sighed Martha shyly.

Abbey squeezed James hand. He caressed her fingertips and grinned at her. Dinner finished without further interruptions. The girls headed up to take baths, brush teeth, and get ready for bed. Prayer time was long and full of giggles. The girls loved to their Dads and mostly stall going to sleep. Many times, though, Sara and James had a chance to discuss important father-daughter things. Sara would share her fears and hopes while James rubbed her back. James would listen, adding wise counsel from God's immovable word. It was a special time for both.

James returned downstairs and found Abbey sitting on the sofa and reading a country living type of magazine. She loved to look in them to get ideas for furniture, remodeling (ugh), and gardening. She looked up and patted the seat next to her.

"I saved this spot for special man," she said coyly.

"Good luck finding one," replied James as he flopped down beside her.

"I think he's the father of my baby," responded Abbey smiling.

"Sure hope so. I need to bounce some more of my ideas about Mary and the others off you. You seem to think Sue is not a good suspect. What do you think about Wil McAllister? He's new here and seemed very defensive about Bessie and Mr. Field's deaths," said James.

"I don't blame him. How would you feel if someone questioned you about your pateints' deaths? You'd think a little defensively as well. Does he have anything in his past to make you suspicious?" inquired Abbey.

"I'm not sure. I am going call my old buddy Bill Adams at Mass General and see if he remembers anything unusual about Wil. I just feel like I am not getting any closer to the answers here at all. Nothing seems to really fit well. I suppose Sue is the primary suspect since she was on duty when all three deaths occurred. Two patients were Wil's. They all stayed in different semi-private rooms without roommates. Other than that, I am running up against a brick wall," declared James in frustration

"Why don't you spend some time praying on it tonight. Things may be clearer in the morning. You can call Bill tomorrow and talk to him about Wil. Are you to do anything about Sue," asked Abbey.

"Sister and I think we ought to have someone else work with her each shift so we can watch her a bit. But we are not going to formally investigate the cases. We don't have enough information yet. Sure wish we had autopsies on Bessie and Mr. Fields. Maybe then we'd have a connection," finished James.

"Could you request autopsies? Do you think the families would agree?" asked Abbey pensively.

"Probably not. And that would stir up a lot of questions we can't answer right now. Say, wait a minute. Both Mr. Fields and Aunt Bessie had lab tests done. That means the hospital may have clots of blood saved that can have toxicology run on them. My good friend Dr Skinner could have that done quietly at the State lab. It's worth a try. Abbey you are a genius!" exclaimed James excitedly.

"So you say right now. If that is so, how about looking in this magazine at this cute set of kitchen cabinets I saw? They would be perfect in the kitchen when we remodel it," said Abbey with a smile.

The kitchen remodeling was something of a family joke. James promised over two years ago to redo the kitchen. Abbey wanted it done before she delivered their second child, but, James kept putting off the job.

James groaned, "Not another article with pictures of a fabulous and unrealistic kitchen we can't afford or have to do!"

Abbey sniffed dramatically as if suppressing tears, "You did promise me and in my 'delicate condition' I thought you might relent. . . "

James heaved a huge sigh. He knew he was beaten.

"Okay, Okay. I'm whipped. You may have the kitchen. Talk to Stan Collins and tell him to start right away to get this remodeling done. I must have rocks in my head to do this when you are six months pregnant," complained James.

"Oh thank you James! We need to talk now so we can pick out the colors of counter tiles, cabinets, floor tile, paint, and maybe some wall paper. And we may need a new refrigerator, dish washer, trash compactor, and freezer to match," bubbled Abbey as she hugged James' neck

James laughed, "I surrender! Let me look at the article and we'll decide on colors tomorrow if you'll bring them by the office at noon. Bring some lunch for you and me. We'll do the deciding then."

They spent the next hour laughing and talking about the remodeling. James had to admit that Abbey pretty much had things arranged. She obviously organized this a long time ago. James felt grateful to have such a talented wife.

The next morning James spent an extra twenty minutes in prayer with the Lord. When he finished, James knew what questions he needed to ask Bill Williams. He also knew he needed to call Josiah Skinner and discretely get the blood from the hospital.

James arrived thirty minutes early at the office and called Josiah Skinner up on the phone.

"Josiah, this is James Phelan. You remember when we talked about Mary O'Brien's death? I discovered two other suspicious deaths at the hospital. The only link seems to be Sue Wilson and that they were both patients of Wil McAllister. I want to see if we can get a clot of blood from the blood bank or hematology to do a toxicology screen. What do you think?" asked James.

"I think it is a marvelous idea. I never did like leaving Mary O'Brien's death unsolved. Now this is something we can get our teeth into. I'll go right away. I know the hospital lab director and we'll get the blood discretely. The boys at the State crime lab owe me few favors. I'll get them to run the screens for us right away. You may be onto something James boy," said Skinner with obvious relish in his voice.

"I'll check with you next week for the results. I am going to call about Wil McAllister at Mass General. I've got a good friend on the faculty there in the internal medicine department. Hopefully, he can give me some insights into Wil. Talk to you later," said James.

"I'll be in touch," replied Skinner.

James hands trembled as he dialed his old friend Bill Williams. They had met in residency when James consulted the medicine service about the management of a very sick cardiac patient in the intensive care unit. They hit it off right away. Abbey, and Bill's wife Nancy, became fast friends as well. James even delivered Bill's first child: Bill, Jr. Now Bill helped run the general medicine service for the residency. He would know about Wil McAllister. James dialed the phone and let the phone ring.

"Hello, William's residence. How may we help you," came the crisp voice of Bill.

"Bill, it's me James," began James.

"James!! You rascal! What's up? You don't just call me in the early morning for nothing. Are Abbey and Sara alright? You okay? " asked Bill worriedly. He knew of James past problems with alcohol.

"No. Nothing like that. I am fine. So are Abbey and Sara. I am calling about one of your previous residents, Wil McAllister. Can you give me your impression of him?" inquired James.

"You mean professionally? He's very bright. Borders on down right brilliant. The chairman wanted him to stay here but he insisted he wanted to practice in a small town like New Bedford. Why, is having problems with patient care," asked Bill curiously.

"No. He appears very competent clinically. There have just been some deaths with his patients we are concerned about. I can't give all the details yet but there may be assisted death involved," explained James.

A long pregnant pause made James think he'd lost the connection with Bill. Bill began, "Oh, I see. I suppose I ought to tell you some of the other side as well."

"Other side?" asked James quizzically.

"Yes, the other side. Wil is brilliant but was part of three very controversial cases her at Mass General. He took it upon himself to order do-not-resuscitate orders (DNR's) on patients without attending physician input. Wil seemed to see himself as the crusader of patients' right to 'die with dignity'. The first case we merely counseled him. The second case we placed him on academic probation. The last case we nearly booted him out of the residency. In fact, I strongly urged his dismissal because of his inability to be submissive to authority but the department chair overruled me. The cases consisted of the usual patients with severe illnesses on life support or undergoing therapy of questionable clinical survival. The families were uncertain about what to do so we backed off on DNR. Wil hounded the families until he achieved DNR status for the patients. Wil could be a scary guy at times. I don't know his spiritual back round but he did not like 'meddling Christians or religious fanatics' as he called them," finished Bill.

"Do you think he is capable of euthanizing a patient?" asked James.

"I don't know. Were your patients terminally ill or just sick?" questioned Bill.

"They were sick but not terminal. One had bad diabetes with poor control and the other had bad COPD," said James.

"Hard for me to judge. Although we know it is small step to go from 'death with dignity' directly to euthanasia. Not that I am saying because you support non-heroic efforts in terminal patients that you want to kill people," replied Bill thoughtfully.

"I understand. You've given me some good information. I hope and pray that Wil is not in the middle of this. But, I need to consider all possible angles. Thanks for the info. Tell your wife 'hi' and that we plan on being up your way next month to visit Abbey's folks. We'll call and get together brother," said James.

"Good luck. Nice talking with you again, and God bless," finished Bill.
Chapter 11

James mulled over all the information he'd just received from Bill Williams. Just made things more blurry. How was he going to sort this stuff out? James had at least two suspects without solid evidence for either. He'd just have to be patient and wait for the blood tests. If they could find blood on Mr. Dan Fields, they'd have a shot at finding something to link the deaths.

The next week passed quickly. James saw more colors and patterns of tile than he ever knew existed. Abbey remained ecstatic with the remodeling. She reigned supreme in her elements as she directed cabinet makers, floor layers, painters, and others. Her genius a flow of work and organization made the job smoothly. Stan said they ought to be finished with the whole job in about another two weeks.

James waited for the lab results from Skinner. He controlled himself. He knew Josiah would call the minute he heard anything. Fortunately, they'd found a frozen clot of blood at the hospital from Mr. Fields. The clot lay forgotten in the back of the blood bank freezer. Usually, they discarded clots after two weeks. Providentially, the clot lay forgotten.

James just finished his morning clinic when Laura buzzed him that Dr Skinner was on the line for him. James grabbed his phone, hit the hold button, and began, "What have you got, Josiah?"

"Well, we have good news and bad news," began Skinner.

"What's the good news first," asked James.

"Good news is they had enough blood to do a total screen for toxicology. They looked at every known poison we could think about," said Skinner.

"And the bad news?" said James his grip tightening on the phone.

"There is no poison present. Stone cold normal. Negative. Clean as a whistle. Even the insulin levels in Bessie were normal range for her therapy," finished Skinner.

"So, what could it be," inquired James.

"It has to be something that is either so new we can't detect it or part of the normal body chemistry we can't trace very well," replied Skinner.

"What do think it is?" persisted James.

"Not sure yet, James. Could be potassium overdose. It works neatly to cause arrhythmias, heart block, and asystole. Can't trace it. Potassium chloride is readily available in the hospital since it is not a controlled substance. Every medical floor stocks it. Could bolus it into the IV stop cock or just add it to the hanging bag of fluids. Open up the rate of flow, and, bingo. . .cardiac death. Still, could be some new-fangled poison we don't have a handle on yet," said Skinner grimly.

"Potassium would make sense, wouldn't it? But do you think that is a good possibility," asked James.

'All the patients had IV's didn't they? They all had the same nurse didn't they? They aall were non-paying patients. I think someone needs to visit John Edwards and talk to him about Sue Wilson," began Skinner.

"Alright. I'll try again. I'll call you back later after I talk with Edwards," said James with doubt in voice.

James felt sickened. He knew in his heart Skinner might be right. The perfect poison to use would be potassium chloride. A quick bolus would stop the heart and no one would be the wiser. Diabolical. But, was Sue or Wil capable of such action? James found himself honestly not knowing. Or could there be some other newer poison?

He picked up his phone. Edwards should still be in his office if he hadn't left for lunch yet. Frank answered the phone.

"Madison County Sheriff's Department, Deputy Thompson. May I help you?" asked Deputy Thompson.

"Yes, Frank you may. I need to talk with John if he's there," asked James briskly.

"Sure. He's right here. I'll patch you right through," said Deputy Thompson.

"Edwards here," crackled over the line from John Edwards. "What can I do for you Doc?"

"I just found out some information I think you need to have about the Mary O'Brien case and a possible link to other deaths," said James forcefully.

James felt the tension vibrate through the line, "Whoa now! You mean you still are pokin' around that O'Brien case and now you've got other deaths? I think you're a little obsessed about all this Doc," rumbled the Sheriff.

"Could you just listen to me for a minute," shot back James trying not to become angry.

"Cool down, Doc. I'm listenin' to ya. Give me the whole story and let me be the judge of criminal activity," said the Sheriff.

'Self serving prig,' thought James. He shared patiently, "Dr Skinner and I took the liberty of investigating the mysterious deaths of a couple of patients at St Francis by doing some blood toxicology. We also matched up the nursing schedules with Mary O'Brien's death and these other deaths. We believe we have enough evidence to at least open an inquiry," finished James.

"What did ya find from the blood tests?" asked the Sheriff.

"Nothing," responded James.

"Nothing? What kind of answer is that? What can we do with nothing? You expect me to reopen a closed case and initiate a murder investigation with nothing?" shouted Edwards. "You're wasting my time again, Phelan. Don't talk to me about this anymore. You understand! You are loony! Leave it be! Goodbye!" Edwards bellowed as he slammed down the receiver down.

"But, I. . .," trailed off James. He should have known that Edwards would not listen. And James never even had a chance to share the nursing schedule information concerning Sue Wilson or the suspicions about Wil McAllister. James buried his head in his hands. Maybe he and Josiah were crazy? Maybe they over read the whole thing? He'd call Skinner after work.

James spent the rest of the afternoon depressed. The staff sensed his gloom but couldn't shake him out of his low mood. Laura, the receptionist, even told him a stale, old joke to try and cajole him. Nothing helped.

James ended the clinic and called Skinner, "Hello, Josiah. Talked with Edwards and he hung up on me."

"Nothing surprised. Guess we ought to look at it from his standpoint. We look crazy telling him about negative lab tests and our suspicions. Not to mention that he'd have to admit to mishandling Mary O'Brien's case. That'd bruise his ego for sure. No, we need something more concrete than what we have," replied Skinner.
Chapter 12

Three and a half months passed without a further incident or progress on the cases. They watched Sue Wilson and Wil McAllister closely to no avail. Then, something happened toopen things wide open again. James spent the Saturday morning working on the corral with Sam.

James could not help but admire Sam O'Brien. He worked hard and seemed motivated to improve his family. Sam even had almost enough money saved to put down on the 50 acres on the Brandon place next door. Abbey broke James train of thought calling him to the house for the phone.

"Be right back Sam," said James wiping his forehead with a shirt sleeve and removing his work gloves.

"Take your time. I can handle this," grinned Sam.

James hurried to the phone. He hoped it wasn't an emergency with one of his partners. This was James' weekend off and he wanted to take Sara and the girls ice skating. Abbey handed him the phone.

"Hello? This is Dr Phelan," James began.

"James, this is John Steuben. Could I meet you for lunch today? It is sort of important," Steuben asked mysteriously.

"Just a minute. Let me check with my boss," replied James as he put his hand over the reeiver. "Would it be okay if I went to town to lunch with John Steuben? I'll be back about 1:30 to take the girls skating."

"Sure. We just planned to eat sandwiches and soup. Go ahead. Sounds like he needs your help," replied the 38 week pregnant Abbey.

"If you start contracting, you beep me," said James seriously.

"Go on. I've got Sam here. Besides, I feel marvelous today. I'm not even contracting. You go and help out John. I'll be fine," said Abbey shooing James out of the kitchen.

"John? Abbey says fine with her. I'll meet you at the Cozy Corner in about 20 minutes," said James.

"That'd be great James. I'll see you there," replied John gratefully.

James quickly washed his hands, threw on a clean shirt and pants, grabbed a light jacket, and ran outside.

"Sam, I'm going to have to go to town to talk with John Steuben. Tell the girls I'll be back after lunch. Hopefully, by 1:30. Thanks," threw James over his shoulder as he strode to his truck.

"I'll tell'em. And don't worry. If you're late, I'll just have to put on my skates and show'em how it done," replied Sam with a droll grin.

"Yeah, right," murmured James rolling his eyes.

James jumped into "Barney" and roared out of the yard scattering squawking chickens everywhere. "What do suppose made John Steuben want to talk to him today? John seemed a funny sort of guy at times. I suppose being John Winthrop Steuben IV had something to do with it," thought James. John had blue eyes and the aquiline nose of his mother. His face looked softer and his chin less firm. John lacked the killer instincts of the previous John Winthrop's but the family businesses grew well under his care. Just have to wait and see what he wanted.

James went down Steuben Avenue to the Cozy Corner. No place to park it appeared. The big winter carnival arrived tomorrow and the small town was packed with visitors. James sighed. Just have to go park at the office and hoof it down the street. He'd be a little late for the meeting.

He parked "Barney" and rushed down the sidewalks. The trip took some time since the way remained crowded with carnival people. He burst into the Cozy Corner. Tom Swanson saw him and motioned with his head to the back room. They kept the back room for local people and private conversations. Many a soul had been saved or healed in the privacy of the back room. Tom pointed to the decaf coffee urn. James shook his head yes. Tom followed him into the back room with a pot of coffee to put on the warmer, two mugs, creamer, and sugar.

"I'll shut the door and put up the 'Do Not Disturb' sign," said Tom shutting the door.

"Thanks for coming James. I am at my wits end right now," shared John anxiously.

"You look awful John. Are you ill?" said James as he observed the deathly pale of John.

"I'm not sleeping well or eating either. Pamela thinks I've got cancer but I know that is not it. I just need to share with someone and I trust you James. You always seem to know what to say or do. I've observed that over the years. But, before I share with you; you must swear to secrecy," earnestly pled John.

"I can't swear not to turn in criminal behavior, but, otherwise your words stay with me," said James confidentially.

"Wonderful! What a relief. What I am going to share is not criminal but shameful for me to tell," began John morosely. "You see all the digging you did for Mary O'Brien's murder reopened an old wound of mine," began John.

"Oh?" responded James curiously.

"Yes. I must tell you that I once loved Mary O'Brien. I must also tell you that Martha O'Brien is my daughter," finished John with a deep breath.

James blinked hard and just sat stunned. "What? Martha is your daughter?"

"Yes. It all began in high school about 11 years ago when Mary was Mary O'Rourke. I remember it very clearly. We were both seniors in high school. Mary was even more beautiful then but a bit wild and from the 'wrong sort of family,'" explained John bitterly. "I thought I loved her but what I really wanted was a wild fling before I went off to college. I took advantage of Mary and she became pregnant," said John miserably.

"Whew!" exclaimed James

"There's more though. I tried to force her to get an abortion. I picked her up one Saturday and we drove to Burlington to get an abortion. She cried the whole way but my heart was stone. Itook her into the clinic, shoved the $300 cash for the abortion into her hands, and told her I would pick her up in an hour. I left and went out just to waste time. I returned to the clinic, but Mary was gone. They said she never had the abortion and just left. I grew enraged. I wrote her a letter threatening to expose her as a tramp. Mary just wrote me a loving, pitiful letter about how she would never name me as the father of her baby. She kept her word and suffered all that indignity for me," said John sadly.

"What then?" inquired James.

"I went off to college and promptly forgot all about it until I returned home and saw Mary's plight. I couldn't do anything. She never said another word to me. But, often I saw her sad eyes looking at me. And Martha is such a lovely child. It pains me so not to acknowledge my own flesh and blood. It would kill my wife Pamela to find this out," said John in a soft voice.

John mused on this information. Yes, he could see how Pamela Steuben would react. Their marriage remained one of congenial comfort. The two oldest families in the town: the Steubens and the Wesleys, had been joined by an arranged marriage. If there was not a passion between John and Pamela, there was at least respect with genuine affection. That respect would probably vanish at the acknowledgement of an illegitimate child. Especially since Martha would then be the oldest grandchild and first in line for inheritance in the Steuben family. John and Pamela's two other children would stand in line next after Martha.

"What am I to do James? I know now that I really loved Mary and did a very great wrong to her," pleaded John.

James sat quietly and let his mind rest a minute. Suddenly, the thought flashed into his mind. Were Mary and John the only ones who knew about Martha? James needed to know.

"John, does anyone else know about Martha being your child? It is critical that we know," said James anxiously.

"No one else could know. Mary never told anyone nor did I. Wait. I did keep the letter Mary wrote to me naming me as the father of her baby. With it, Mary returned my hateful letter to her. But, those letters sit in my desk at work that I is locked at all times," shared John.

"You're certain no one ever read those letters but you, John," said James sharply.,

"I,I,I think so. No one else has a key to my desk. The president of the company has the only key. It was passed to me from my father as it was from his father and his father. Sort of Steuben tradition," responded John.

Just at that moment James' beeper went off. He checked the number. It was his home number.

"Excuse me John, this may be my wife in labor!" said James as he pushed his chari back. "Don't leave yet."

James rushed out of the room and found the phone behind the counter. His cell didn't work well here. He dialed feverishly. The phone rang four times.

"Come on, come on. Answer the phone," muttered James.

"Phelan residence. Sara speaking," came the crisp childish voice.

"Hey, sweet pea. What's going on?" asked James.

"Hi Daddy!" We beeped you 'cause Mommy's water broke and she's contracting," said Sara excitedly.

"Okay, honey. I'll be right home. You tell Mommy I'll be right there," explained James as he hung up the phone.

James practically ran from the restaurant. He skidded to stop as he remembered John Steuben.

"Tom, tell John I'll talk to him later. I'm going to be a Dad again!" grinned James.

"Will do Doc and congratulations," said Tom.  
With the information of a new Phelan on the way, the whole place erupted into cheers and whistles.

James chuckled as he raced out the door to his truck. He practically ran over poor Mrs. Randolph who was walking her small Scottie terrier as he sprinted up the street. He stuttered out an apology about his wife being in labor and launched himself into the truck. James gunned the engine and screamed home at a breakneck pace. He tried to remind himself to drive carefully and get home in one piece but the excitement was too much. He burst into the drive in a cloud of dust and sent chickens squawking all directions with feathers flying. He hurried to the house to find Abbey calmly telling the girls what to have for dinner and where the frozen vegetables were located.

James ran up to Abbey and exclaimed, "Are you alright? Is the baby moving? Do you feel like pushing yet?"

"Calm down James. My contractions are about five minutes apart now. I'm getting the girls ready for me to leave. Sam will watch them while we go. I called Oscar and he'll meet us at the hospital. Ahh," said Abbey as she rubbed her abdomen. Don, their other partner, was out of town on a short meeting-vacation in the Bahamas.

"Are you okay," asked James anxiously.

"It's just a contraction James. We need to get going. If you'll take my overnight bag there and bring the plastic to sit on in the truck. I don't think we want amniotic fluid all over the place," said Abbey matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, right! Uh, you girls be good and listen to Sam. We'll call you when we have the baby. I'll do some videos so you won't miss anything," blurted James.

"Tastefully done videos I might add," said Abbey mischievously.

"Oh, sure," responded James.

James grabbed the overnight bag and carefully assisted Abbey to the truck. He laid down the plastic sheet and helped her into the truck. James ran around to the other side of the truck and revved the engine.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" asked Abbey sweetly and then grimaced as another contraction came.

"What? We've got the sheet, your bag, and you," said James distractedly.

"Maybe you'd like to take the video camera?" asked Abbey as her contraction eased.

"Oh yeah! Don't move! I'll be right back," exclaimed James.

Abbey shook her head and smiled. He was as bad as a first time father. Another contraction came. This one took her breath away. They were starting to get stronger and closer together now. James returned and they started to St Francis. Abbey began getting more uncomfortable as they zoomed toward town. Her breathing became more labored.

Abbey suddenly began to feel intense pressure in her rectum now. A small moan escaped her lips. James glanced over at her in concern. Abbey just looked back and shook her head.

"I'm okay sweetie. Just get us to the hospital safely," she panted.

The intensity of the contractions became almost unbearable. Abbey did not really have anything to compare this labor to since she had the previa with the emergency cesarean section last time. She concentrated on timing the contractions. They had moved to every 2-3 minutes now.

James pulled up into the ER bay with a screeching of tires. He jumped out of the truck and grabbed a wheelchair. He opened the door and gently eased Abbey into the wheelchair. Abbey felt as if her rectum were going to explode. Never had she felt such intense pressure! She panted hoarsely. James, sensing her distress, sprinted by the startled nurses at the ER desk and up to the elevators. He pressed the up button and waited impatiently. The elevator came and they entered. Abbey felt a contraction beginning. She tried to be still but her pelvis moved uncontrollably. The pressure built and she groaned a deep guttural sound. James recognized the sound of a mother involuntarily pushing against the pelvic pressure of a baby's head.

"Faster, faster," he urged the old elevators. The doors finally flew open on the third floor and James rushed Abbey into the first empty birthing room. Oscar saw them fly in and arrived in the room as Abbey helped Abbey onto the bed. James grabbed a gown and deftly undressed Abbey. He removed her pants and underwear only to see her perineum bulging with a baby's head!

"Grab some gloves Oscar! Pant honey! Pant! The baby's head is right there!" shouted James.

Whoo, whoo, hee, hee!" panted Abbey. "He's coming! I can't hold him back moaned," Abbey desparately.

Oscar fumbled with the gloves, dropped the foot of the bed with the nurse's help, just had time to ease the head out.

James stood transfixed. His baby boy came screaming out with one simple push. Then he was helping cut the cord, crying how beautiful the little guy was, and kissing his wife. Abbey hugged James neck and cried tears of pure joy. Oscar received the obligatory urinary shower from little Joshua down the front of his rugby shirt since he had not had time to even put on a gown. Oscar carefully cleaned up Joshua and handed him to Abbey. She placed him at her breast and he latched on to her nipple immediately.

"Careful," she crooned. "That's attached to Mommy. Did I tear much Oscar?" asked Abbey.

"Just some little skid marks that don't need stitches. Talk about fast first labors. You may need to be induced at 38 weeks next time instead of going into labor," laughed Oscar.

"Thanks for being here Oscar," said Abbey gratefully.

"No problem. I wish all my ladies had this rapid type of labor. I could spend all my time at home. I'd never make a delivery," joked Oscar. "We'll get the placenta out and clean you up. I'm going to put in an IV for the pitocin as well."

"Do we have to?" pleaded Abbey. "I hate IV's."

"Abbey, don't give Oscar a hard time. He already ruined his rugby shirt with baby urine and vernix," quipped James.

"I'll send you the cleaning bill. You only need the IV overnight," explained Oscar. "We'll take it out in the morning."

"I need some pictures of the little brother to take home to the ladies," said James pulling out the video camera.

Nurse Connie turned the lights down and they took several minutes of video of little Joshua. James knew the girls would be thrilled with the home video. He kissed Abbey again and stroked his new son's cheek. Life was definitely good. He helped clean up the mess from delivery and ordered pizza for the labor deck. Abbey held out for Chinese food so James went to "The Yellow Dragon" to get take out. Abbey loved egg rolls and hot Kung Pao Chicken at "atomic levels". She wouldn't be happy unless the food brought sweat rolling down her forehead. James picked up some won ton soup and a vegetable dish. Shrimp fried rice completed the menu. James returned with the food to find Abbey contentedly watching little Joshua sleep.

"He's so beautiful," murmured Abbey.

And a little stinker already. You nearly had him in the elevator," laughed James.

"Some auspicious start for a little person. Did you make sure the Kung Pao Chicken is hot?' said Abbey mischievously.

"Mr. Ling said he made it hot enough to 'light a fire with' according to him. He also sent a little gift for Joshua. It is an ivory piece on a necklace that his family has had had for over 100 years. He says the Chinese loosely translated means, 'The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace'. He says his great-grandfather made it to give to the oldest male child in his family when they converted to Christianity in the 1880's. Since he has no sons, Joshua is his 'son' and must wear this when he reaches age 12 years," said James.

"How lovely! And sweet too. We must thank him. Now, can we dig in? I am famished after all that work!" giggled Abbey.

James loved her so much. His heart sat so full he did not think it would hold any more. They ate in a hilarious mood. They remained drunk on the adrenalin high from the delivery. James finally decided to leave at 10:30 PM so he could get a good night's sleep. On the way out the door, he bumped into Mrs. John Winthrop Steuben.

"Why, hello Mrs. Steuben. What brings you to St Francis? No one ill I hope?" asked James solicitously.

"Why, no. I heard that your lovely wife had delivered and I thought I'd pay my respects and bring in some flowers.

"Are you sure you are alright? You seem somewhat distraught Mrs. Steuben. Isn't it a little late for you to be out alone?" asked James with concern.

"No. I am quite alright Dr Phelan. Being out at night always makes me a little nervous. My eyesight is not as good as it once was. I just had to come no matter now late and get these flowers to Abbey and the new child. Goodnight," finished Mrs. Steuben tersely ending the conversation and turning away.

"Goodnight then," said James.

He watched her stride down the hall and somehow could not imagine her being afraid of anything, yet alone, the dark of night. He shook his head and trotted out to his truck. He popped a CD of Mozart's requiem into his stereo and started home. He felt so keyed up he didn't know if he could go home right now. Maybe he should stop for a cup of coffee at the Cozy Corner and share the good news. Yeah, that's what he'd do. They didn't close until midnight during snow carnival time. The girls were in bed anyway and he'd called Sam with the news. If he told Tom and Julie, the rest of the town would know in short order.

James thought, "Let's see: Joshua weighed 6 pounds-seven ounces, measured 22 inches long, and screamed like a banshee." He grinned again to himself, "A boy". He knew he must look happier than a hog in slop. The streets were still full of snow carnival people but there was parking spot on the side street next to the restaurant. James jumped out and bustled into the Cozy Corner. Julie saw him walk in and made a bee line for him.

"Okay, James what are the particulars? And how is Abbey?" inquired Julie.

"Let's see. Abbey is great. Joshua almost delivered in the elevator and how much did he weigh. . .?" teased James.

"Go on you," scolded Julie giving him a small shove.

"He weighed six pounds-seven ounces and is 22 inches long. He definitely has surgeon hands too, with big fingers," said James proudly.

"Oh sure he does," kidded Julie. "And I suppose he had scalpel at delivery? And Abbey is doing well? That is great! Hey everybody," began Julie. "Everyone listen up! The little Phelan weighs in at six pounds-seven ounces and is 22 inches long. He fortunately looks like his lovely mother," finished Julie with a smug smile.

"This calls for a celebration," shouted James. "Drinks on the house. I'm buyin' all the milk and decaf you can drink!"

"Hurray!" shouted everyone laughing. "I'll take a shake. How about a hot chocolate?" everyone talking excitedly at once to place an order.

Tom grinned and started to "set'em up". The whole restaurant filled with good cheer. James laughed and talked for over an hour. His back became sore from all the congratulatory pats.

James had never been happier. Then, why did something nag at him in the back of his mind? The encounter with Mrs. Steuben had left him a little deflated. He hoped Abbey liked the flower. "Wait a minute. . .what flowers? Mrs. Steuben didn't have any flowers with her. James felt ill. Who else could know about John Steuben and Mary O'Brien's little Martha? John's mother!"

James lurched to his feet knocking over his chair.

"Doc, what's the matter?" asked a puzzled Julie.

"I don't have time to explain!" exclaimed James in a strangled voice.

He hoped he was not too late. He hurled himself into the truck, started the engine, slammed into gear, and tore away. James drove like a man possessed. Fear drove him to screech around the corner to St Frances like a maniac. A slippery spot in the curve threw him side ways down the road. He slammed into the opposite curve as snow flew everywhere from the snow bank he hit. Fortunately, no one was driving in the other lane or there would have been a horrendous crash. As James hit the curb his truck stalled. He cranked and cranked. He must have knocked the distributor cap loose. He leapt from the truck. There was not time to tinker with that now. He must get to the hospital. James slipped and fell as he began to sprint. He barked his shin on the curb but jumped up and went onward. The hospital was only three more blocks. The icy air burned his lungs and tore at his face. But, the air had nothing to do with the chill in his heart. He's finally put it all together.

James scrambled over the snow drift in the ER parking lot and hurled himself up the stairs. He burst panting through the third floor stair well banging the door loudly against the wall. He sprinted down the hall to the birthing. Bewildered, he lost his bearings for a moment. They'd transferred Abbey and his son to a private room down the hall. He tore up the hallway to the nurses' station.

"What room are my wife and son in?" screamed James.

"What is it Dr Phelan? Abbey's asleep. She's in room 110 at the end of the hallway. We'd thought it'd be quieter down there," said Sue Wilson with wide-eyed amazement. "Is something wrong?"

James flung himself down the hall like a mad man. The door was shut. He grabbed the handle. It was locked. James never even hesitated. He moved to the opposite wall and launched himself shoulder first against the heavy door. The lock blew apart under the onslaught with a screech and the door twisted on the hinges.

There, frozen in the dim light, stood Mrs. John Winthrop Steuben with a syringe in her hand. The needle was in the IV port and her thumb on the plunger of the 20 cc syringe. Things seemed to move in slow motion. James lunged at Mrs. Steuben screaming, "NO!" as she bent to push the plunger. He grabbed her wrist as he flew against her, knocking the syringe out of the IV port. He slammed against Mrs. Steuben and flattened here against the wall flinging the side table onto the floor. Abbey's bedside table created a horrendous clatter that brought Abbey bold upright in bed with a scream and sent little Joshua into a terrified wail.

James wrestled with Mrs. Steuben as she tried to stick the needle into him. He wrenched the needle away and it clattered under the bed. James deftly pinned Mrs. Steuben to the ground. She snarled at him without a word. Her chest heaving, she glared at him with an absolute malevolence.

"Abbey, are you alright? You feel okay?" panted James.

"Y,y,yes. What are you doing here and why are pinning Mrs. Steuben on the ground?" inquired Abbey in a confused voice.

At that very moment, Sue Wilson flew into the room.

James looked at her and calmly said, "Sue, go call Sheriff Edwards and John Steuben if you would be so kind. Then, bring me some restraints for Mrs. Steuben."

"Uhh, okay Dr Phelan," returned Sue in wide-eyed amazement at the scene before her as she scurried from the room.

"Why are you keeping Mrs. Steuben pinned to the floor?" asked Abbey.

"I'll tell you that in a bit. You better see to little Joshua," who continued to wimper. "I think I scared him half to death," smiled James wanly.
Chapter 13

"Why did you do it Mrs. Steuben?" asked James curiously.

"I did it to save my son from that harlot Mary O'Brien," she hissed. "She was nothing but a cheap, little tramp! Yes, I found the love letters of my foolish son's, and, of that O'Brien woman. I've had a key to that president's desk for years. I've always had a duplicate key to the president's desk so I could make sure nothing happened that I did not know about. I could not have my son black mailed by that trollop! What would the town think? No Prescott-Steuben could possibly have an illegitimate child with that sort of trash! There was also the matter of the inheritance. That little Martha O'Brien would usurp my darling grandchildren's rights of property. I could not stand for it!"

"So you killed an innocent woman for money," said James sadly.

"Innocent?" snorted Mrs. Steuben. "A little schemer from the start! I knew she'd eventually tell someone. I had to kill her don't you see? The cocaine was perfect. I merely read enough about it and secured the powder from one of my late husband's laboratory contacts. I even planted the cocaine by the bedside!" cackled the deranged old woman.

Sue returned at that moment with the leather restraints. James and she carefully fastened Mrs. Steuben into the chair by the bedside. The older woman made no resistance. They took special pains to make sure Mrs. Steuben would not be injured or uncomfortable.

"See to Abbey would you?" asked James to Sue.

"Sure. Will you be okay with Mrs. Steuben?" inquired Sue.

"I'll be just fine. You help Abbey," replied James.

James turned to Mrs. Steuben again, "But, didn't you inject Mary with cocaine?"

"Yes, yes," muttered Mrs. Steuben, her eyes losing focus momentarily. "But it took more cunning. She might have survived the overdose since she was young and healthy. I made sure she never woke up. The night you admitted me for my bladder surgery I crept into her room and gave her potassium chloride intravenously. I learned about potassium chloride from one of my husband's previous medical supply companies he worked with in the business. That fool of a husband of mine thought I never listened to business at his dinner parties. But, I did. Oh yes, I did! I learned how useful potassium chloride could be and never forgot. That trashy woman died in her sleep. Quite peacefully, I assure you," smirked Mrs. Steuben wickedly.

"But how could you know she'd be delivering that day and you'd be in the hospital the same day? You couldn't possibly predict her delivery date," questioned James.

"Merely providential. As a trustee to the hospital, I have a master key that will open every door. I planned to kill Mary O'Brien when she entered the hospital to deliver. Small towns are easy to gather information about such things. I would merely wait until she delivered, visit the hospital on some pretense, find her room number, make sure she was alone, and kill her with potassium chloride. The cocaine was merely a ruse to throw off that clot of a sheriff. And it would have worked except for you meddling Dr Phelan!" exclaimed Mrs. Steuben with eyes glittering with an insane glow.

"How wicked," muttered James. "Premeditated from the start. But, what about the others: Bessie Flint and Mr. Fields?"

"Ah. That was the genius, Doctor. After you stuck your nose into things I just killed them to throw you off the trail. They were just poor, white trash anyway. And sickly on welfare to boot. If you remember, John had his hernia repaired the same time Mr. Fields died. He died so peacefully with the potassium. Bessie merely sighed after the injection and stopped breathing. That was during my gall bladder surgery as you recall," grinned Mrs. Steuben with deranged relish.

All the pieces finally fell into place. The three deaths made sense now. Mary died because of greed. The others died because they were poor and to confuse the case. But, why Abbey?

"I just have to know, Mrs. Steuben. Why were you going to kill Abbey?" asked James afraid of the answer.

"Why, so you could suffer as I have in this whole sordid Mary O'Brien business and for your meddling in my family's affairs," said Mrs. Steuben with a wide-eyed innocence.

Then James knew the whole truth. Mrs. Steuben had to be stark-raving mad. He felt overwhelming pity and loss. As he sat down on Abbey's bed, the tears filled his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. All this pain from one, twisted, sick old woman. "The Lord protect us all from such as these," thought James to himself.

Sheriff Edwards arrived with John Steuben and Deputy Frank Thompson shortly after finish the conversation with Mrs. Steuben. James filled them in with what Mrs. Steuben admitted she had done. Abbey and Sue heard the whole story as well and could corroborate Mrs. Steuben's involvement in the three murders. Edwards looked sheepishly at James.

"I guess you were right after all, Doc. Of course, I'll need a signed statement from all of you when you get up to it. Accept my apologies," said Edwards gruffly extending his hand.

"Apology accepted. It must have all sounded too weird for you. I understand your skepticism. I'll be proud to shake your hand," said James warmly and without rancor.

Abbey hugged James neck and cried softly. Little Joshua still cried softly in his bassinet. James held Abbey very close and pressed her head onto his chest.

Frank Thompson and Sheriff Edwards slowly unfastened Mrs. Steuben's restraints and gently stood her up. Even in her madness, Mrs. Steuben retained that regal, matriarchal bearing. Her son John looked on stunned and sorrowful.

"We knew mother had some small strokes but I never thought it'd come to this. Her behavior at home never changed. I wish now I'd burned all those letters!" John choked out.

As Mrs. Steuben left the room, she turned to look once more at James. For an instant, her eyes cleared. James knew at that moment she saw the old Mrs. Steuben.

"Dr Phelan, I'm so sorry. . .I never meant to hurt anyone. . .oh Lord! Forgive me," she shrieked.

Mrs. Steuben stiffened in the officers' arms, her eyes rolled back into her head. She convulsed twice and collapsed. James rushed to her side as a long sigh escaped from her throat. No breathing. He felt for a pulse at her neck. There was none. He gently slid her to the floor and pushed the code button over Abbey's bed. In moments, the code team arrived.

Abbey and little Joshua were hustled out of the room and moved down the hall. The team lifted Mrs. Steuben onto Abbey's bed and began the resuscitation. James pushed cardiac medications, defibrillated, and anesthesia intubated Mrs. Steuben to oxygenate her. All interventions were to no avail. The code team never elicited a positive response. After twenty minutes of trying to resuscitate, James called the code off. James gently covered Mrs. Steuben's face with a sheet and went out in the hall to talk to John. He had been hustled out of the room the moment the code began.

"I'm so sorry John. She never regained consciousness or a pulse," consoled James.

"You did your best James," answered John through his grief. "It is best she died rather than to have to go through a trial."

"It was the strokes that caused this. You know that John," comforted James.

"Partly yes. But I am to blame as well. If I had acted honorably in the past Mary would still be alive. I need to act honorably now for Mary's sake. I am going to talk to Sam O'Brien about Martha and offer to make good on my paternity. If he thinks I don't deserve to be a part of their lives, then so be it. I don't want to make them miserable. I can, however; at least offer to help make their lives better," said John bitterly. "What a fool I've been! To live in this deception so long. Look what it cost. At to what end?"

"Perhaps to the end to heal the relationship with your daughter. Maybe to bring you to the point of learning you need to rely on the Lord and not your own schemes," counseled James solemnly.

"How can God forgive me all of this? What about Sam and Martha? How can my own wife and family ever get over all this?" questioned John.

"Maybe if I tell you the story of the 'Prodigal Son' from the Bib le and explain how Jesus saved a drunk I know," began James. "Let me check on Abbey and Joshua, and then, let's go get a pot of coffee at the Cozy Corner and talk to the Lord about all this," said James with a smile.

