again.
“Dr. Taylor, you testified earlier that you had no idea that John Cronin was going to leave you any money, or that he was going to cut his family out of his will.”
“That’s correct.”
“How much does a resident doctor make at Embarcadero County Hospital?”
Alan Penn was on his feet. “Objection! I don’t see—”
“It’s a proper question. The witness may answer.”
“Thirty-eight thousand dollars a year.”
Venable said sympathetically, “That’s not very much these days, is it? And out of that, there are deductions and taxes and living expenses. That wouldn’t leave enough to take a luxury vacation trip, say, to London or Paris or Venice, would it?”
“I suppose not.”
“No. So you didn’t plan to take a vacation like that, because you knew you couldn’t afford it.”
“That’s correct.”
Alan Penn was on his feet again. “Your honor …”
Judge Young turned to the prosecutor. “Where is this leading, Mr. Venable?”
“I just want to establish that the defendant could not plan a luxury trip without getting the money from someone.”
“She’s already answered the question.”
Alan Penn knew he had to do something. His heart wasn’t in it, but he approached the witness box with all the good cheer of a man who had just won the lottery.
“Dr. Taylor, do you remember picking up these travel brochures?”
“Yes.”
“Were you planning to go to Europe or to charter a yacht?”
“Of course not. It was all sort of a joke, an impossible dream. My friends and I thought it would lift our spirits. We were very tired, and … it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Her voice trailed off.
Alan Penn glanced covertly at the jury. Their faces registered pure disbelief.
Gus Venable was questioning the defendant on reexamination. “Dr. Taylor, are you acquainted with Dr. Lawrence Barker?”
She had a sudden memory flash. I’m going to kill Lawrence Barker. I’ll do it slowly. I’ll let him suffer first … then I’ll kill him. “Yes. I know Dr. Barker.”
“In what connection?”
“Dr. Barker and I have often worked together during the past two years.”
“Would you say that he’s a competent doctor?”
Alan Penn jumped up from his chair. “I object, your honor. The witness …”
But before he could finish or Judge Young could rule, Paige answered, “He’s more than competent. He’s brilliant.”
Penn sank back in his chair, too stunned to speak.
“Would you care to elaborate on that?”
“Dr. Barker is one of the most renowned cardiovascular surgeons in the world. He has a large private practice, but he donates three days a week to Embarcadero County Hospital.”
“So you have a high regard for his judgment in medical matters?”
“Yes.”
“And do you feel he would be capable of judging another doctor’s competence?”
Penn willed Paige to say I don’t know.
She hesitated. “Yes.”
Gus Venable turned to the jury, “You’ve heard the defendant testify that she had a high regard for Dr. Barker’s medical judgment. I hope she listened carefully to Dr. Barker’s judgment about her competence … or the lack of it.”
Alan Penn was on his feet, furious. “Objection!”
“Sustained.”
But it was too late. The damage had been done.
During the next recess, Alan Penn pulled Jason into the men’s room.
“What the hell have you gotten me into?” Penn demanded angrily. “John Cronin hated her, Barker hated her. I insist on my clients telling me the truth, and the whole truth. That’s the only way I can help them. Well, I can’t help her. Your lady friend has given me a snow job so deep I need skis. Every time she opens her mouth she puts a nail in her coffin. The fucking case is in free fall!”
That afternoon, Jason Curtis went to see Paige.
“You have a visitor, Dr. Taylor.”
Jason walked into Paige’s cell.
“Paige …”
She turned to him, and she was fighting back tears. “It looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?”
Jason forced a smile. “You know what the man said— ‘It’s not over till it’s over.’ ”
“Jason, you don’t believe that I killed John Cronin for his money, do you? What I did, I did only to help him.”
“I believe you,” Jason said quietly. “I love you.”
He took her into his arms. I don’t want to lose her, Jason thought. I can’t. She’s the best thing in my life. “Everything is going to be all right. I promised you we would be together forever.”
Paige held him close and thought, Nothing lasts forever. Nothing. How could everything have gone so wrong … so wrong … so wrong …
San Francisco July 1990
“Hunter, Kate.”
“Here.”
“Taft, Betty Lou.”
“I’m here.”
“Taylor, Paige.”
“Here.”
They were the only women among the large group of incoming first-year residents gathered in the large, drab auditorium at Embarcadero County Hospital.
Embarcadero County was the oldest hospital in San Francisco, and one of the oldest in the country. During the earthquake of 1989, God had played a joke on the residents of San Francisco and left the hospital standing. It was an ugly complex, occupying more than three square blocks, with buildings of brick and stone, gray with years of accumulated grime.
Inside the front entrance of the main building was a large waiting room, with hard wooden benches for patients and visitors. The walls were flaking from too many decades of coats of paint, and the corridors were worn and uneven from too many thousands of patients in wheelchairs and on crutches and walkers. The entire complex was coated with the stale patina of time.
Embarcadero County Hospital was a city within a city. There were over nine thousand people employed at the hospital, including four hundred staff physicians, one hundred and fifty part-time voluntary physicians, eight hundred residents, and three thousand nurses, plus the technicians, unit aides, and other technical personnel. The upper floors contained a complex of twelve operating rooms, central supply, a bone bank, central scheduling, three emergency wards, an AIDS ward, and over two thousand beds.
Now, on the first day of the arrival of the new residents in July, Dr. Benjamin Wallace, the hospital administrator, rose