David Carnoy - Knife Music: A Novel
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Knife Music: A Novel: summary, description and annotation
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Kristen Kroiter was sixteen, a high-school sophomore, when she was injured in a car accident. Dr. Ted Cogan had saved her life when he treated her in the ER six months ago--but now police detectives were questioning Cogan about her, in intimate detail. What was going on? What had she told them?Thats just it, the cops said. She hadnt told them anything. She had died. Looked like a suicide. And Cogan was in a heap of trouble.Tense and twisting, Knife Music is the story of a doctor struggling to clear his name after being accused of raping and causing the suicide of a young girl. The novel pits Cogan, a forty-three-year- old surgeon and self-described womanizer, against Hank Madden, a handicapped veteran detective. From the outset its not clear who is victim and who is victimizer, as the usually dispassionate. Madden grapples with his long- suppressed prejudices and his obsession with bringing Ted Cogan to justice at any cost. It all leads up to the most stunning surprise ending since Scott Turows Presumed Innocent.
David Carnoy: author's other books
Who wrote Knife Music: A Novel? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.
David Carnoy
Jim Cogan
George Higgins
George Higgins
Jeanine C. Cogan
Kirstyn Cogan
Karen Cogan
Rev. Fr. William J. Cogan
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Table of Contents
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available from the Library of Congress
eISBN : 978-1-590-20582-2
http://us.penguingroup.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A big debt of gratitude goes to Dr. Rick Bloom, who let me trail him through his hospitals corridors and operating rooms and gave me a glimpse into the life of a surgeon. Thanks to Commander Terri Molakides (Ret.) of the Menlo Park Police Department for taking the time to answer my questions, particularly as they pertain to a homicide investigation of this peculiar nature. Book Doctor Jerry Gross critiqued and edited the manuscript and continually offered sage advice and encouragement. Agent John Silbersack made a couple of key suggestions that required me to perform additional surgery but made the book much better in the end. And finally, Id like to thank my family and especially my wife Lisa, who somewhat patiently tolerated me holed up in a home office, tapping away on a keyboard late at night and on weekends.
PART 1
GALL AND GLORY
1/ CODE THREE
November 9, 200611:16 p.m.
T HE TRAUMA ALERT WENT OFF IN PARKVIEW MEDICAL CENTERS emergency department. Four miles from the hospital there had been an accident.
I have a sixteen-year-old female involved in an MVA, a paramedic informed the triage nurse at Parkview by CB radio. She is awake at the scene, arousable. But she appears to have some head and neck injuries as well as chest and abdominal injuries involving the steering column.
The girls Volkswagen Jetta had jumped the curb and hit a telephone pole at high speed. Although she was wearing a seat belt, the front end of the car was crushed and the steering wheel driven back into her, pinning her to her seat. Rescue personnel had tried to move the seat back, but the tracks were jammed and they were forced to squeeze her out the best they could. Using all his strength, a fireman pulled the wheel a few inches away from the girl while paramedics carefully tugged on her until she was freed.
Were arriving code three in four minutes, the paramedic said.
Ted Cogan, the senior trauma surgeon in the hospital that evening, came down to the emergency department from his on-call room on the second floor just as the paramedics were wheeling the victim into the hospital. Cogan was a tall man of medium build made to look even taller by the clogs he was wearing, which, when he walked on the hard, bare floors of the hospital, came out sounding like the slow clip-clop of a horse pulling a tourist carriage.
Only a few minutes earlier, hed been resting comfortably in bed, dozing. One side of his hair, graying at the temples, was standing on end and his green scrub shirt was not tucked into his pants in the front. Rumpled as he was, though, the look didnt add years to him. Instead, it gave him a boyish charm, as if he were late for school, rather than on time for work.
The paramedics steered the victim into the trauma room. White and young with blond hair, she was looking up at the ceiling, her mouth covered by an oxygen mask. In the room, the head trauma nurse, Pam Wexford, started barking orders at an intern: We need you on that side. No, there. OK, on three, we lift.
They transferred the girl, who was strapped to a hardboard stretcher, her neck stabilized by a cervical collar, from the paramedics gurney to the trauma-room gurney. Cogan moved into the room, but stood off to the side, trying to stay out of the way of the emergency workers. Although he was at the top of the pyramid and technically in charge, there were few, if any, instructions he had to give in these early moments because standard procedure was in effect. The team would make sure the victim had an airway, theyd take her vital signs, start an IV, draw a blood sample, and strip off her clothes. Then theyd take preliminary X-rays of her neck, chest, and pelvis.
Dr. Cogan, so nice of you to join us.
This was John Kim, the chief surgical resident, talking and working on the girl at the same time. Kim was thirty but he looked twenty. A baby-faced Korean-American. Cogan liked him, if only because he possessed the two qualities that made just about anybody tolerable: he was competent and had a good sense of humor.
Wouldnt miss it for the world, Cogan said. What happened?
She hit a telephone pole doing about fifty.
Ouch.
90 over 60, Doctor, Pam Wexford said. Pulse 120. Hemoglobin 15.
The girls blood count was normal. But her blood pressure was lower than normal and her heart was running fast, which probably meant she was losing bloodthe question was from where. She didnt appear to have any major external lacerations, so they were probably looking at a fracture, some sort of chest trauma, or the laceration or rupture of an organ, Cogan thought.
Were going to have to cut your clothes off, Wexford said to the girl. So please try to remain still.
The girl responded by opening and shutting her eyes and groaning. She was wearing jeans, which made the cutting more difficult, but Wexford, a real-life version of Edward Scissorhands, still managed to shred her pants, mock-turtleneck shirt, bra, and underwear in under a minute. When she was finished, Cogan went over to a counter where there was a latex-glove dispenser, and pulled out a couple of gloves. He stretched a glove over each hand, then turned his attention to the victim, who was lying naked on the gurney, her legs spread slightly apart. He noted that she was a thin, well-proportioned girl with muscular legs and a flat stomach. She had four or five superficial woundscuts and scratcheson her arms and face, then a deeper cut and bruise on her right shin that an intern was attending to.
Howre we doing, Cynthia? Cogan said to the X-ray technician.
Ready when you are, Doctor.
Pam?
BP 90 over 60. Pulse 130.
OK, Cynthia. Gimme a Kodak moment.
The X-ray technician moved the portable X-ray machine over to the victim. When it was in place, she told everybody to clear the room except for one intern, who was putting on a lead apron, preparing himself for the unenviable task of pulling the patient taut (by the feet) during the cervical shot. Cynthia took several X-rays, repositioning the machine for each new shot, always making sure to remind everybody to clear before she pressed the remote switch from where she stood behind the lead screen that prevented her from being exposed to the radiation.
As soon as she was done, the rest of the trauma team came back into the room and resumed their duties. A couple of zealous interns whose names Cogan always got mixed up started firing questions at the girl, who mainly responded with groans and grimaces.
Intern #1: Do you know where you are? Do you know how you got here?
Intern #2: Miss, are you allergic to any medication?
Intern #1: Are you allergic to antibiotics? Penicillin?
Intern #2 (touching her leg with the needle): Can you feel that?
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