The Augustine Murders - Season 1, Episode 2

I.2

                    “I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”

    

 T.S. ELIOT

The waste Land – “The Burial of the Dead”

January 23^rd, 1990 – Tuesday

  Scott left on a local train from the station and found himself standing alone in the middle of Town Square. Biberton was definitely a small town, with a historical center and everything. In the morning mist, Scott could discern a few important buildings. The mayor’s office sported one of those front porches inspired by classical Greek temples – for lack of any real inspiration – with tall columns painted in an immaculate white, supporting a triangular roof. The church tower was like a pendant to it, over a small park with tall trees and bushes, and dead leaves dancing in rounds under a chilly wind. The lamp posts in the streets were shaped like long puffs of smoke, frozen solid and painted in a dark green.

  It was a small, prosperous town, whose inhabitants lived quiet, sheltered lives in comfortable homes, mowing the lawn in their gardens, organizing block parties, keeping family matters in the privacy of their own backyard and looking over the fence to eavesdrop on their neighbors. It felt like a set for old-fashioned, black-and-white movies or an advertising campaign to promote the “American Dream” in its most conservative form...

  Scott took a taxi to get to his hotel, but he regretted it immediately. It was only a few blocks away. Scott was short on cash. He had been short on cash for years, and this new work assignment had not yet flushed his wallet with money. That was a totally unnecessary expense, in his opinion.

  The hotel was bigger than his newspaper’s building, and Scott’s bedroom was twice the size of his apartment. It was no “four stars” place, but an old-fashioned Grand Hotel, renewed with modern furniture. For a moment, Scott considered asking for a smaller, possibly cheaper room. Then he remembered that all his expenses were paid, and he considered that he deserved that much – and he would take advantage of every opportunity! Scott had already asked the taxi driver for a receipt. He attached it in a file with the Hotel’s stationary paper. This would be the first of many little bills for his boss...

– “Empty space is definitely a sign of luxury. I had almost forgotten about it. Now I only need to fill that empty space in here...” Scott thought, rubbing his rumbling stomach.

  He had skipped breakfast, so he was really hungry. Ever since he had left his football team, following his accident and recovery, Scott had experienced hunger on a daily basis... If his father had not turned his back on him, he would still be living on easy street. In retrospect, it felt strange to consider that coming out to his parents had made him go without all those perks, like good food and sex, which had been daily treats for him for so long. Being honest had come with quite a price, and he regretted his decision sometimes.

  As a result, the young journalist had settled into a less wealthy routine. He didn’t attend parties anymore, and he wouldn’t drink half as much as the Football star he had been. And he wouldn’t buy so many designer clothes as he used to. And he wouldn’t drive an expensive car with all the options...

  And sadly, naturally, he wouldn’t eat so well – or so much – as he had grown to enjoy it...

  With his mother’s help, he was never afraid to pay his rent, but he had slimmed down, and further down, over the last four or five years. Once a solid athlete with bulging pecs and thick biceps, weighing up to 190 healthy pounds with a discrete beer gut bulging over his tight jocks, Scott had ballooned to an appealing 250lbs with a sexy bounce to his hips and belly – and he was now only a bit over 170lbs. Tall and lanky, with a trim waist and no need for a belt on his size 28 low-cut pair of jeans, Scott still had enough arms and pecs to show for, but he was desperately thin. And he suffered from hunger pangs on occasion...

  Needless to say, he hated that.

  Scott’s first visit would have to be to that preparatory school. He called them on the phone, but the person at the gate had not yet received the personal file from his newspaper company... Scott was told, rather informally, that the school board was holding a meeting during the morning, so he could only meet the headmaster after lunch anyway. The voice on the phone was cold and impatient. His call was interrupted before he could say his piece. Scott had a bad feeling about it...

■ ■ ■

  Considering that he would have to wait before being admitted into that secured building, Scott went out and wandered down town for an hour. He stopped at the bank to get some cash. Then he turned to the city morgue, where the boy’s body had been transferred. It was part of the general hospital in town. Scott had called earlier to get an appointment with the head of their medical staff, Dr. Lipton.

  When he found the place, Scott expressed his disappointment with a sigh. For a “general” hospital, it looked relatively small. The lobby was empty, and there was no secretary at the desk to welcome him or give directions. All the departments were indicated on a paper map on the wall, next to a board with a list of names:

– Doctor Francis O. Lipton, MD

– Doctor Phillip H. Hewdge, MD, MC

– Nurse Beatrice Rockwell

– Nurse Rose Brinell

– Nurse Joan Vickers

  It didn’t feel like there was anyone in the building – at least on ground floor.

– “Hello?...”

  Scott’s call echoed in the empty waiting room. He rang the bell on the desk, then a young man in a white medical T-shirt and paper shoes entered at once, coming from the alleyway behind Scott.

– “Sorry you had to wait...”

  He welcomed him with a smile and a handshake – quite a strong one, too. Both hands felt cold: that guy must have been washing a moment before, and Scott had walked all the way from his hotel in those windy, damp streets.

  The journalist thought that this guy had to be an intern in the hospital. He was less tall than Scott, blonde and pretty well-built, with a thin mustache and trimmed goatee, looking more innocent than any corn-fed farm boy. For what it was worth, he looked actually sorry for not being at his desk when Scott had called...

– “How may I help you?”

– “I have an appointment with... doctor Lipton?”

– “Doctor Lipton has been called out of town, I’m afraid... Did you want to see him specifically, or is it not too urgent?”

– “It is!” Scott insisted, forcing his tone a little. “Very urgent!”

  He wouldn’t let a goofy-looking, temporary member of the staff stand in his way. One security guard in that prep school was enough. At least, this guy couldn’t hang up on him now.

– “Oh... All right. What is the emergency?”

– “I’m Press.” Scott showed the guy his official card. “Working on the Astern case.”

– “I see...”

  That didn’t seem to make much of an impression on him, but Scott knew how to handle these situations. A 50$ bill should be enough to get what he wanted. Maybe a twenty would do, but why should he go for less when it wasn’t his money?

– “Then... Can you show me the way?...”

– “The coffee machine works with coins.” Piercing, dark, sparkling blue eyes looked straight into his. “And it’s only twenty cents.”

  So that didn’t work... Scott was a bit surprised that an intern wearing a stained shirt over a well-worn pair of jeans should be so picky about an innocent tip. The guy didn’t look offended, but there was no doubt that he was serious. His voice was also firm enough for Scott to put those 50 bucks back into his wallet.

– “No need to be snappy. I didn’t mean to...”

– “It’s okay.” The guy shrugged innocently. “As for young mister Astern’s body, I’m afraid that you will need clearance to get to see him. Now, in the absence of Dr. Lipton...”

– “Come on. Can you call that other guy? What is it? Doctor... Hewdge?”

– “No need for that...”

– “Give him a call. Page him.”

– “It wouldn’t make any difference.”

– “How would you know that?”

– “Because. I am that other guy.”

  Scott had been growing progressively nervous during their conversation – he had not expected such resistance on everyone’s part: “access denied” here and there... But he was startled now.

– “You... You’re a doctor?”

– “At your service... But the song remains the same.”

  It took a moment for Scott to organize his thoughts. Obviously, they were off to a bad start... Then the journalist found the magic words that would open such heavily guarded doors.

– “Come on... You have to understand that I represent the boy’s parents in this instance. His mother has specifically asked me to...”

– “I understand.”

  Scott didn’t feel interrupted so much as he was relieved. He had been convincing enough to get to the next level. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard to find out that the victim’s parents had not delegated any authority to him – then Scott would really be standing on thin ice!  

  But the young doctor didn’t ask. He invited him politely into the staff’s private room, although he still looked a bit hesitant.

– “I will be with you in a moment.”

  Scott finally sat down. There was a box of chocolate frosted doughnuts on a small table, next to the coffee machine. Scott was quite tempted to help himself with one of them – nice, big and round, really appetizing stuff, although he couldn’t guess which brand they were. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Scott went for them at once, but he was drooling... He didn’t have to wait for the doctor to be back, anyway. He might not have resisted much longer.

– “I’m sorry about all this confusion... We are sadly understaffed, and our secretary quit only a week ago. Now, with your permission, can we get back to business from the start?”

– “By all means...” Scott nodded, and he was truly pleased about it.

– “So... I’m doctor Hewdge.”

– “Pleased to meet you... Name’s Scott Girder.”

  They shook hands again. It felt genuine, warm and manly, this time – Scott was feeling a bit more confident by now.

– “You look pretty healthy...” The doctor joked, knowing all too well that they would have a sad subject to discuss, soon. “So this shouldn’t concern you, but I need you to read and sign these forms.”

– “What are they?”

– “This is a variation on the standard forms releasing the hospital of all liabilities regarding what mishap could happen to our patients, and the eventual lawsuit that would follow. In your case, it contains a clause of discretion regarding what you will be presented by our staff...”

– “I’m a journalist. It’s my job to be... indiscrete.”

– “That is exactly why we have to establish some sort of rules early on.”

  It didn’t sound like anything unreasonable, but Scott had no intention of playing by the rules in there. He had already gone far enough on a dare – he would only consider that he may have gone “too far” after he had reached his goal.

– “What if I don’t sign these?”

– “Then I can offer you a cup of coffee, and that will be it. No hard feelings.”

  Scott was actually impressed by this guy’s attitude. He looked determined about doing his duty, but he kept it on polite, even friendly terms. It sounded like he was actually willing to help him, in spite of all that annoying paperwork...

  Maybe his low baritone, soft voice helped seal the deal – Scott discerned a bit of a Southern lilt to it as well. This young doctor was definitely not a local guy. In a way, it was good. Maybe they could relate on certain subjects, such as this murder case – what Scott hoped, deep down, to be a murder case. He took the forms and started reading.

– “Of course, this doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t get coffee...”

  Now, that sounded like a true and generous offer to Scott – finally something that didn’t require fingerprints or a Government official’s signature.

– “...Sugar?”

– “Yes please.”

– “Milk?”

– “Sure...”

– “Okay. Well... How about a doughnut?”

– “Now you’re talking! Thanks...”

  Scott accepted that doughnut with childlike excitement, signed the papers – and devoured the pastry rather than he ate it. And it tasted even better than it looked. Scott always considered that the only good place to keep doughnuts was inside his mouth, not going dry in a box...

  They spent a moment in silence, over their styrofoam cups. Dr. Hewdge kept his coffee black with only one sugar. Scott noticed how concerned he was, trying not to look away, keeping a firm grip on his hot coffee. He probably didn’t want to talk about the boy’s death in the first place. Then it was probably a journalist’s duty to give him a head start, and help with a few easy questions.

– “The victim was found yesterday morning... Right?”

– “Day before yesterday. Only it was a Sunday, and the body was transferred here by noon...”

– “What do you think was the actual time of death?”

– “I would say sometime during the night, between midnight and 1AM.”

– “How did he die?...”

  Dr. Hewdge threw a sideway glance around him, half nervous, half sad. He drank another sip of coffee, while Scott was helping himself with another cup, with more sugar and milk – and doughnut.

– “My report will say natural cause.”

– “That’s a bit vague...”

– “I know. It is... pretty much the best I can do before the autopsy.”

  Now that he was truly paying attention to what this blonde doctor told him, Scott noticed that anger and sadness were coming in waves within him, which the conflicted young man tried to keep under control. It affected his tone, if not his words, always carefully chosen and articulated.

  He looked a bit tired. This had certainly been going on for hours by now. Maybe that would explain why Scott met relatively little resistance right now? Then it was just his luck, and the journalist was determined to take advantage of this situation.

– “You mean you haven’t performed the autopsy yet?”

– “No...”

– “Isn’t that standard procedure?”

– “It is also standard procedure to wait for the family’s approval. Michael comes from a very religious Jewish family, on his mother’s side at least. I haven’t received any confirmation from her yet. As you know, the boy’s parents are still...”

– “...in D.C. Yes.”

  So they understood each other. There was another uncomfortable silence.

– “Would you like another doughnut with your coffee?”

– “Sure! Thank you...”

  Scott’s heart had almost skipped a beat. He was still hungry, but these pastries were also the best he had ever tasted. They went back to the subject at hand, as he munched on his third cream-filled, chocolate frosted doughnut.

– “His parents will certainly want to know!”

– “Their son is dead... They are in mourning, and they will have to cope with their loss, in one way or another.” The doctor sounded just so sad as if he had been talking about his own son. “The school board in Saint Augustine Bells has already suggested that my official conclusion should be death by natural cause.”

– “Like what?”

– “Like... Well, they had their mind set on “heart failure”, or whatever would sound appropriate. That was their expression, as far as I can remember. That is what you get from watching too many crime shows on TV.”

  The doctor shrugged. Scott felt like he was under some kind of pressure from his boss, something he had not yet considered. But these guys worked in a school. It didn’t make sense – unless they were good friends with the people running this hospital. It wouldn’t be the first time that the local movers and shakers took care of everything with only a few phone calls...

  Scott didn’t get carried away. It felt like his thoughts were already swimming in muddy water. One easy way out of it was to try laughing about the whole thing.

– “Heart failure? We’re talking about a kid not even twenty years old!”

– “I know...”

  For some reason, Dr. Hewdge looked more and more sympathetic to Scott as he talked and observed him. He had a keen eye to determine whom he could trust, avoid or ignore. Being offered more coffee and yet another delicious doughnut helped – of course – but the journalist felt like they could share some real, valuable information, off the record.

– “Obviously, you know better than this... I have received similar instructions from my boss. My article in next Sunday’s paper will also have to be a smoke screen... More or less.”

                                               

  He was making progress – and he knew it. The blonde guy was listening to him. He could give it a try and push a little for some inside knowledge of the case.

– “Come on, what was it?”

– “In my professional opinion... Michael Astern died from anaphylactic shock.”

– “What’s that?”

– “It works like an allergy... or food poisoning, if you prefer. But it is sudden, and sometimes fatal. In this case, it was a violent reaction to something he ingested.”

  Scott thought about it. This definitely didn’t sound like an accident. Anyone with a sensitive stomach would know how to avoid certain foods, whether it is shellfish, nuts or fruits. He may have been drunk and not aware of what he was snacking on, in the middle of the night – but why would he bring food like that into his room? In a party, with friends and flirts, that sort of thing could happen – not like this. Scott kept working on what pieces of the puzzle he had gathered so far.

  If it wasn’t self-inflicted, was it perhaps... forced on him? What if that boy had been poisoned during the night?

– “Are you suspecting that someone, maybe...”

  But the doctor was startled by Scott’s insinuation.

– “Someone?”

– “I mean... something. Wouldn’t you say that there was something... peculiar about it?”

– “Peculiar...”

– “Yes.”

– “It’s too soon to tell. But surely you have been told by the school’s security...”

– “On the contrary, I thought... I should see the victim first.”

– “Oh? Well, then... I guess you should...” He stood up, looking a bit pale now, but resolute. “Follow me, please.”

  They went downstairs, to the morgue. Scott was munching on his sixth doughnut – or was it his seventh doughnut? He had never enjoyed such tasty pastries – and large ones too... Focusing on cream-filled goodies helped him keep his cool while they were walking down a grey, dreary hallway.

– “Was he beaten or bruised, or something?”

– “No... There are no signs of physical violence except... well, except for what killed him.”

– “That prophylactic shock?”

– “Anaphylactic...”

  Dr. Hewdge laughed out loud – a single “Aha !” – sounding both nervous and trying to shake it off. He wasn’t in such high spirits as Scott, who was almost on a sugar high as he felt his stomach nicely full with chocolate cream and frosting... Once they were at the corner, the doctor turned and held the door before him.

  They were entering another part of the basements.

– “I won’t lie to you. I hope you are ready for something a bit... unusual.”

– “How unusual can it... Wait! Wasn’t that the way to the mortuary?”

– “The boy’s body isn’t in there.”

– “Why?...”

– “He wouldn’t fit in any of the drawers.”

■ ■ ■

  Scott stopped for a moment. He had never heard of such a thing – how big and tall could that boy be, not to fit in those standard, stainless steel boxes?...

– “But... How tall was he?”

– “A bit shy of 5’5”. That’s not the point...”

  They were at the end of a narrow alleyway. Dr. Hewdge opened a special cold room, and switched on the light. It wasn’t the harsh, white neon lamps Scott had expected would blind him from the ceiling, but he could see the body, face and legs covered with white sheets, lying on a table: short, thin, lithe – but with a belly so round and so huge that it looked like an over-inflated beach ball resting on top of him, like a giant paperweight threatening to crush the boy’s spine and force the table to collapse...

  Scott was startled. For a long minute, he couldn’t find his words.

– “That’s... That’s Michael...”

– “I’m afraid so. This is how he was found lying on his bedroom floor, yesterday...” Dr. Hewdge completed.

  Scott was fascinated. He had never seen a dead body before, but he had certainly never seen such a monstrously bloated one – dead or alive!

– “What on Earth happened to this boy, during that night?”

– “According to his teachers, he had a regular day, went to his bedroom around 9PM, kept to himself and did his homework. Then... we don't know.”

  The doctor was obviously more accustomed to being in the presence of a dead body, but he looked just so uneasy as Scott was amazed.

– “I should ask you not to touch his belly... please.”

– “He looks like he’s going to EXPLODE!”

– “It’s probably better for you not to dwell on such thoughts.”

– “But... But... How... Huh! How much can he weigh?”

  Scott was going around the half-draped body in circles, unable to stop, not even trying to look half-serious. He couldn’t help it. His childish enthusiasm over such an extraordinary way to die brought Dr. Hewdge to smile, against his better judgment.

  The boy’s file was attached to the table.

 – “Victim is male”, the doctor read. “Age 18, 5’5” tall, blood type A+. He should be somewhere around 140lbs, according to his metabolism, but I happen to know that he weighed 240lbs a few weeks ago. Right now, his body weighs about 270lbs.”

– “Amazing...”

– “His pair of jeans were size 40. Now, as you can see, the boy’s fully stuffed belly is around 96 inches in girth, at its largest...”

– “Damn! What did he eat to grow... this BIG! How is that even possible?”

  Scott couldn’t take his eyes off the boy’s enormous gut. He was almost giggling... Dr. Hewdge coughed and tried to bring him back to his senses.

– “Anaphylactic shock often causes the victim’s tongue to swell so badly that he will choke and suffocate to his death... It should also explain the rather unusual bloat in his belly. Had he not been alone, all this could have been avoided without too much difficulty. What happened was... quite unfortunate.”

– “So he ate something his body couldn’t stand?”

– “That is my personal conclusion. And considering the absence of trauma or visible injuries to his body, I don’t feel like tormenting his mother any further with a more thorough, damaging autopsy.

– “I see.”

  The doctor came closer to Scott, keeping his voice down, warm and reassuring in spite of the sadness that was hanging over him like a dark cloud.

– “Of course, you can’t write a word about any of this.”

– “I know... I, huh... I understand. May I... Maybe, take a picture?”

– “I would appreciate it if you didn’t. And the people in charge of security in Saint Augustine Bells would strongly disapprove...”

– “You keep mentioning them and their administration board... Why do you even care? It’s not like they’re your boss!”

– “As a matter of fact, in a way... they are. Naturally, I am an independent doctor in this hospital. But I also happen to be the school’s only doctor and responsible for their infirmary.”

– “No way. Really?... How?”

  Dr. Hewdge shrugged again, looking a bit distressed as he put the boy’s file back in its place. Scott noticed that he was standing like a bear doing that familiar dance of house-trained discomfort.

– “I have a few qualifications. Saint Augustine Bells requested my services from the first year I started working here... They approached me, and I accepted their offer. It is a small town, as you must have noticed. Doctor Lipton is only one year away from his retirement, and I thought that I could learn and extend my practice with younger patients.”

– “I guess there’s nothing wrong with that...” Scott nodded, looking quite smug as he considered the doctor’s embarrassment. “And now the school board should think that you are worth every dollar they pay you, if they can get you to put all this to rest, and rest in peace.”

  For the second time, the young doctor looked straight into Scott’s eyes – such stunningly deep blue eyes, looking even brighter from the shadows around them – and Scott immediately felt bad... It must have been a rough night for him as well.

– “I know what you are thinking”, he answered. “Work ethics, conflict of interests... Oh well... You shouldn’t be too quick to judge. Or, if you have to pass judgment, I would suggest that you look further into this case, dig deeper, and not expect much cooperation or support from the people you meet. It has not been easy for anyone around here... You should have been there when Sheriff Maxwell announced the boy’s accident.”

  His tone of voice was so expressive that Scott actually started feeling sorry for the guy. On the other hand, Dr. Hewdge had just given him a fair warning: he had not yet been admitted on school grounds...

  But after what he had just seen, he was more determined to force his way into any room, classroom, dorm and office!

– “So, you knew the victim... I mean Michael, before...”

– “Yes, I did. I know all the students in Saint Augustine Bells. There aren’t too many, anyway... Rich kids, really rich kids sometimes, more than well provided for. Poor little rich boys...”

– “He was one of the top students there, wasn’t he?”

– “I don’t know. He was very bright, but his health was never too good. He worked hard, didn’t get enough sleep. His classmates called him Mickey Mouse, because he was rather small... Yet, in his own way, he stood above the crowd.”

  Dr. Hewdge shook the gloom away from his shoulders, and invited Scott for a last cup of coffee, if he still felt like one. On their way back, Scott checked him out a bit. They had to be about the same age. Maybe that guy was a bit older, but he looked healthy like an ox. Scott was quite amused with the way he talked – using only a few words, straight to the point, but with a certain gentle quality and warmth to his voice. His sandy blonde hair, bright baby blue eyes and trim goatee were quite appealing too, once Scott took a moment to consider his features.

  As they were about to face the harsh light of day again, the young journalist tried to look professional and serious – feeling that he had made a fool of himself at the most inopportune moment... Surely he would find something around campus. Something important. Something he could write about – or discuss – or even tell the Sheriff to start a real investigation, based on new evidence he would find... He was more confident than ever about all this.

  Then Dr. Hewdge looked at the clock and excused himself.

– “I’m sorry, but I have other appointments...”

– “I understand. Thank you for everything.”

– “Will you be staying with us for a few days?”

– “I’m staying at the Paddington Hotel for the whole week.”

– “... Until Michael’s funeral?”

– “That’s it.”

– “I see... Well, if you have any further question...”

  Scott stopped while they were shaking hands again. Was the doctor thinking what he had been thinking just now? What if he wasn’t the only person in town who had doubts about the boy’s accident?

– “Sure! Let’s discuss this again sometimes.”

– “I never leave before nightfall, so...”

  And then, Dr. Hewdge said something that put his name way up there in Scott’s “friends list”.

– “How about dinner in a day or two, when you have a moment? My treat.”

  Scott left the building beaming with pride, as a man who had just won the first victory in his professional career. He had not felt this good since his football athlete days. And he would celebrate with a nice lunch at his hotel’s restaurant!

(To be continued...)