Nothing Lasts Forever

“Yes, your honor.”

“Yes, your honor.”

Gus Venable was finishing his opening statement. “And so, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the State will prove—yes, prove beyond a reasonable doubt—that Dr. Paige Taylor killed her patient, John Cronin. And not only did she commit murder, she did it for money … a lot of money. She killed John Cronin for one million dollars.

“Believe me, after you’ve heard all the evidence, you will have no trouble in finding Dr. Paige Taylor guilty of murder in the first degree. Thank you.”

The jury sat in silence, unmoved but expectant.

Gus Venable turned to the judge. “If it please your honor, I would like to call Gary Williams as the State’s first witness.”

When the witness was sworn in, Gus Venable said, “You’re an orderly at Embarcadero County Hospital?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Were you working in Ward Three when John Cronin was brought in last year?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us who the doctor in charge of his case was?”

“Dr. Taylor.”

“How would you characterize the relationship between Dr. Taylor and John Cronin?”

“Objection!” Alan Penn was on his feet. “He’s calling for a conclusion from the witness.”

“Sustained.”

“Let me phrase it another way. Did you ever hear any conversations between Dr. Taylor and John Cronin?”

“Oh, sure. I couldn’t help it. I worked that ward all the time.”

“Would you describe those conversations as friendly?”

“No, sir.”

“Really? Why do you say that?”

“Well, I remember the first day Mr. Cronin was brought in, and Dr. Taylor started to examine him, he said to keep her …” He hesitated. “I don’t know if I can repeat his language.”

“Go ahead, Mr. Williams. I don’t think there are any children in this courtroom.”

“Well, he told her to keep her fucking hands off him.”

“He said that to Dr. Taylor?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please tell the court what else you may have seen or heard.”

“Well, he always called her ‘that bitch.’ He didn’t want her to go near him. Whenever she came into his room, he would say things like ‘Here comes that bitch again!’ and ‘Tell that bitch to leave me alone’ and ‘Why don’t they get me a real doctor?’”

Gus Venable paused to look over to where Dr. Taylor was seated. The jurors’ eyes followed him. Venable shook his head, as though saddened, then turned back to the witness. “Did Mr. Cronin seem to you to be a man who wanted to give a million dollars to Dr. Taylor?”

Alan Penn was on his feet again. “Objection! He’s calling for an opinion again.”

Judge Young said, “Overruled. The witness may answer the question.”

Alan Penn looked at Paige Taylor and sank back in his seat.

“Hell, no. He hated her guts.”

Dr. Arthur Kane was in the witness box.

Gus Venable said, “Dr. Kane, you were the staff doctor in charge when it was discovered that John Cronin was mur—” He looked at Judge Young. “… killed by insulin being introduced into his IV. Is that correct?”

“It is.”

“And you subsequently discovered that Dr. Taylor was responsible.”

“That’s correct.”

“Dr. Kane, I’m going to show you the official hospital death form signed by Dr. Taylor.” He picked up a paper and handed it to Kane. “Would you read it aloud, please?”

Kane began to read. “ ‘John Cronin. Cause of Death: Respiratory arrest occurred as a complication of myocardial infarction occurring as a complication of pulmonary embolus.’ ”

“And in layman’s language?”

“The report says that the patient died of a heart attack.”

“And that paper is signed by Dr. Taylor?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Kane, was that the true cause of John Cronin’s death?”

“No. The insulin injection caused his death.”

“So, Dr. Taylor administered a fatal dose of insulin and then falsified the report?”

“Yes.”

“And you reported it to Dr. Wallace, the hospital administrator, who then reported it to the authorities?”

“Yes. I felt it was my duty.” His voice rang with righteous indignation. “I’m a doctor. I don’t believe in taking the life of another human being under any circumstances.”

The next witness called was John Cronin’s widow. Hazel Cronin was in her late thirties, with flaming red hair, and a voluptuous figure that her plain black dress failed to conceal.