The Sisterhood - Michael Palmer [65]
The nurses sat in stunned silence as Peggy outlined the investigation that followed and John Dockerty’s session in the Tweedy Amphitheater. She paced as she talked, absently using the flower as a prop. Her tone was even and calm, her presentation purest fact. Only when she discussed David Shelton did emotion appear in her words. She described his background in great detail, stressing the difficulties he had encountered through his use of alcohol and drugs. There was disgust in her face and her voice. “A disturbed young man,” she said categorically. “One who would be doing the medical profession a great service by leaving it. ”
Peggy’s pacing became more rapid as she searched for words. “My sisters,” she said gravely, “it has been over twenty years since our system of Regional Screening Committees was established. Over those years more than thirty-five hundred cases have been handled without the slightest hint of our—or anyone’s—involvement. There is every reason to believe that the situation that has developed in Boston will never occur again. Unfortunately, it has this once. I have been close to Lieutenant Dockerty since the very beginning of his investigation. Although he suspects this Shelton is guilty of Charlotte’s death, he is not convinced. More and more, he is learning of a special relationship that existed between Christine Beall and Charlotte: He has even mentioned the possibility of requesting her to submit to a polygraph test. I will not allow that to happen!”
For the first time several at the table exchanged concerned glances. None had ever seen her so close to losing control. The atmosphere in the room became increasingly uncomfortable.
Peggy continued. “We are a Sisterhood. Our bond is as sacred and immutable as if it were blood. When one of us suffers, we must all share her pain. When one of us is threatened with exposure, as Christine is now, we must all fly to her aid. I, and each of you, should expect as much from our sisters. We must protect her!” The woman’s voice had risen to a strangled, desperate stridency. For a time there was silence, save for pulses of leaden rain clattering across the window behind her. Around the room uneasiness gave way to strain and, for some, an icy foreboding. Petals dropped from the flower, mangled in Peggy’s hands.
Barbara Littlejohn moved to reestablish control. “Peggy, thank you,” she said, struggling to blunt the tension in her voice. “You know that we all feel as you do about the movement. We are certainly committed to giving Christine Beall all the support we can.” She hoped against hope that her reassurance would have some impact on what she knew Peggy was about to demand. The woman’s vacant stare told her otherwise.
“I want that man found guilty.” Peggy’s words, barely audible, were spoken through clenched teeth.
The women gaped at her in disbelief. Dotty Dalrymple buried her face in her hands.
“What are you talking about?” Susan Berger was the first to react. There was incredulity and some anger in her voice.
Peggy glared at her, but Susan did not look away. “Susan, I want the pressure off Christine Beall. There is no telling what might happen to her or to our Sisterhood if the police try to break her down. I’ve worked too hard to allow anything like that to happen. Our work is too important. I want the Board’s approval to take whatever steps are necessary to protect Christine and our interests. With a little ingenuity, I’m sure we can convince the police of Dr. Shelton’s guilt. Considering his background, the most that would happen to him is a few months in some hospital and a year or two away from medicine. That seems a small price to pay for—”
“Peggy, I can