The Good Nurse: A True Story of Medicine, Madness, and Murder by Charles Graeber

Danny had exchanged cards; from here on, she was assigned as Danny’s liaison at the hospital, the friendly face for whatever the lead detective on this case might need to do his job. Tim remembered her as a middle-aged corporate-type lady with the unforgettable job title ofSomerset Medical Center’s “risk manager.” Apparently, the risk manager had been Ray Fleming’s point of contact, too.
Dear Ms. Lund;
Enclosed herewith is a copy of my file memorandum which I prepared after our meeting with Charles Cullen.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Very Truly Yours,
Raymond J. Fleming
    “Charles Cullen?” Tim said. “They mention him?”
    “Next page,” Danny said. “Memo says he’s a nurse. He worked the Critical Care ward with one of the vics. The Reverend.”
    “So he a suspect or what?”
    “Doesn’t say so—in fact, it says the opposite.” Danny flipped to the last page. “Says, ‘We agreed that there was nothing so overtly suspicious at this point in time either from the records or Mr. Cullen’s demeanor itself that would necessitate a call to the authorities.’ ”
    “Who’s ‘we’?”
    “Mary Lund and the lawyer,” Danny explained. “Fleming. Apparently they interviewed this Cullen together.”
    “July 14,” Tim said. “Ten days later they write a memo about it.”
    “Maybe it took ’em ten days to finish,” Danny said. “Bill by the hour, shit happens.”
    “Then two months later, they send it to us,” Tim said. He flicked the paper. “So, where’s the rest? The other memos about the rest of the nurses?”
    Danny didn’t know. But he had a meeting that afternoon with someone who should.

    I n theory, Mary Lund could be the key to this investigation. Lund was a former nurse who had worked her way up the corporate ladder to become the gatekeeper to the hospital world, a woman who could help translate the medical mysteries of the hospital into something the detectives could understand. The only question was whether she’d cooperate. Danny needed more than her polite professional assistance; he needed Mary Lund to actually like him.
    Danny parked out front of the hospital, smoothed his tie against the wind and nodded respectfully at the rent-a-cop by the elevator. Down the hallway of Marriot carpet and bad art he found a secretary with color photos of a panting shih tzu plastered to her computer monitor. Danny read “Trudy” off the name plate, introduced himself, going for serious but not scary, and not quite pulling it off.
    As Danny would later remember it, 2 Mary Lund was heavyset, middle-aged, white, no frills—perfectly suited to the title of risk manager. Her suit skirt was corporate sensible, neutral toned and neutered cut. She didn’t seem like the type for chitchat, so Danny started right in with the investigative memo the Somerset Medical Center lawyer had sent over. He pulled the fax from his breast pocket, skipping to the parts he’d highlighted.
    “So, following the, uh, passing of the Reverend Gall, you and this attorney Fleming conducted an interview with a nurse named Charles Cullen?”
    “Yes,” Mary said. “We interviewed all the nurses who worked on the unit.”
    “Okay, okay,” Danny said. “And what did you—”
    “None of these interviews turned up anything unusual or incriminating,” Mary said.
    “I see that,” Danny said. “So, with this nurse, Cullen—was there anything which made you interview him, anything suspicious or—”
    “No no,” Mary said. “We interviewed all the nurses on the unit.”
    “And are there any other memos we might have—anything which might be useful?”
    “I wouldn’t know about that,” Mary said. “That would be a question for our house legal counsel, Paul Nittoly.”
    “All right, all right,” Danny said. “We’ll talk to him as well, I’m sure. And this nurse, um, Cullen—”
    “Yes.”
    “You spoke to him.”
    “Well, as I said—we went through, conducted an interview with Mr. Cullen, like all