Free Resuscitation by D. M. Annechino Page A

Smith,’ and the address he gave us is a post office box.”
    “John Smith? That doesn’t give me a cozy feeling.”
    “Then this should ruin your day,” Levy said. “The address he gave us is PO Box 1234, Vancouver, Canada. No zip code.”
    No need to check out the name or address, Al thought. Obviously, both were bogus. Then again, he couldn’t take anything for granted. “Can I speak to the salesperson who sold him the dress?”
    “I figured you might want to speak to her, but her shift doesn’t start for another two hours. So, I called her and asked if she could come in immediately.”
    “And?”
    Levy glanced at her watch. “She’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
    “Terrific. Mind if I hang around until she shows up?”
    “Not at all. In fact, our lounge is on the second floor. Grab a coffee or muffin—whatever you like—and I’ll come get you when she arrives.”
    “I really appreciate your cooperation.”
    “No problem.”

     
    “Do you want to come with me when I speak to your mom?” Doctor Templeton asked. “Or would you prefer that I go solo?”
    “I think you might have more impact one-on-one,” Sami said.
    “Make yourself comfortable in the visitor’s lounge while I speak to your mom.”
    She was no stranger to this lounge. “Thank you, Doctor. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’re doing.”
    “It’s part of what I do, Ms. Rizzo. You’d be surprised at the number of people who have to be pressured into consenting to surgery.”
    “If you don’t mind me asking, have you been successful in convincing reluctant patients?”
    “At the risk of sounding pompous, I have a pretty impressive track record. I can only think of two holdouts that stood firm and refused.” The doctor’s lips tightened. “Their outcomes were not pleasant. They both died within weeks of being discharged.”
    “Do you have a special dialogue that you use to persuade them?’
    “Yes, I do.” Doctor Templeton adjusted the stethoscope hanging around his neck. “I simply tell them in no uncertain terms that by not signing the consent form, they just signed their death certificate. It’s harsh, and might even violate my Hippocratic Oath, but if it saves even one life, I’m willing to push the envelope.”
    Sami thought about that for a moment, rather stunned at Doctor Templeton’s candor. “And if my mother refuses, what is her prognosis?”
    “It’s not good, Ms. Rizzo.” The doctor shook his head. “I give her six months.”
    “Well then, you have my permission to hit my mother with a two-by-four if necessary. Whatever works.”
    “So you don’t mind if I rough her up a bit?”
    “I’m more concerned about her roughing you up.”
    “I love a challenge.” Doctor Templeton looked at his watch. “I’ll be back in less than thirty minutes with a signed consent form.”
    “That sounds like a promise.”
    “It is.”
    As she watched him walk away, she found herself surprised by his casual, easy-going demeanor. Her experiences with doctors in the past, particularly while her father lay in a hospital bed dying of cancer, had been unsavory to say the least. Most of the doctors she’d encountered had been arrogant and cold. Dr. Templeton was anything but self-centered. She hoped that he remained this cooperative and pleasant.
     
     
    “Detective Diaz,” Katherine Levy, Saks manager, said. “This is Robin Westcott, one of our sales associates.”
    “It was kind of you to come in early,” Al said.
    “I just hope I can be of assistance to you.”
    Katherine’s cell phone rang. “I have to take this call. I’ll be right outside my office if you need me.”
    “No problem,” Al said. He reached in his pocket and removed a photo of the designer dress and showed it to Robin. “Do you recall selling that dress?”
    Robin pinched her chin between thumb and index finger. “I distinctly remember the dress—and the guy who bought it.”
    “What did he look like?” Al asked.
    “He