by Barbara Ebel
“What was that all about?” Jordan asked.
“She’s got a date,” Nancy said and then realized she shouldn’t have said it. “Please don’t tell her I told you.” She frowned and tapped a clean knife on the tablecloth.
“We’ll keep quiet, won’t we?” Stuart said.
“I’ll try,” Bob said with disappointment hanging on his words. “Did she give you any details?”
“No,” Nancy said. “She didn’t divulge any information to me, but it did sound like she was meeting some guy for the first time.”
“So it wasn’t her surgery chief resident?”
“She’s talked about Robby Burk, but she would have been jumping all over if she was seeing him.”
Bob’s face sulked more and Nancy regretted the whole conversation came up.
-----
On the west side of I-75, in a row of two-story apartments, Dustin and Edgar rang Ben Rogers’ doorbell to no avail. Dustin peeked at the address again to confirm their location and began rapping at the door. The sun had gone down; he figured most people were home from work and he was bound to disturb someone. Edgar butted in and gave two louder bangs on the gray door.
A door cracked open from the adjacent apartment. A skinny young male in sweat clothes wore a surprised face upon seeing the two men in blue.
“Wait,” Edgar said. “Know the whereabouts of your neighbor?”
“Is he in trouble?”
“He’ll be in more trouble if we don’t find him.”
“It’s Saturday night, when he meets new women at Stones a few blocks away. Friday nights he goes to the one east of the highway.”
“Why Stones?” Dustin asked.
“Lots of chick food; their menu is jammed with salads. Plus, good wine and intimate, dimly lit booths.”
“He’s got his social life down to a science,” Edgar commented.
“Hey, don’t tell him I told you where to find him.”
Edgar nodded and the man withdrew back into his apartment.
“Let’s go pick up the sleaze-bag womanizer,” Dustin said.
They hopped back into the patrol car and rode over in silence until Edgar said, “We’ll probably find this Rogers guy with some gorgeous woman who you or I could never attract.”
“Don’t forget brains. She’ll also be the CEO of a major company or a college professor who thinks she’s hooking up with a Secret Service Agent.”
-----
Restaurants lined the city street with every ethnic choice Annabel could think of as she pulled into the back of Stones and found a parking spot. She freshened her lip gloss in the rearview mirror, left her purse on the floor in the back seat, and only put a card holder with a credit card into her pocket. She weaved her way through the lot and entered the front entrance.
A mixed assortment of art dotted the walls, from wood sculpted animals to photographs of major cities. She smiled at the Nashville print over the cash register as the maître d asked her if anyone was joining her.
Her fingers smoothed her hair along the side of her face as she looked deeper into the restaurant. “I’m meeting someone. Ben Rogers.”
“Take her back to Ben,” the man said to the waitress grabbing a menu. “Enjoy your meal.”
Annabel wondered about the maître d’s comment as she passed the busy bar. Sounded like Ben was a regular commodity at Stones. She spotted him before the waitress put her menu down.
Ben slinked out of the booth, put his hand on Annabel’s upper arm, and gave her a warm smile. “Your picture is only half as flattering as you are.”
“Thank you, I think,” Annabel said.
They both slid in from either side and the waitress asked Annabel for her drink order. “A glass of water as well as a chardonnay.”
Annabel stole a glance at Ben. His deep set eyes were blue as an ocean on a sunny day. As he smiled, his right cheek flashed a dimple, which made him look like a school boy. He was trim like a runner and didn’t look like the type investing in rigorous gym time and protein powder drinks.
“Have you been here before?” Ben asked.
“No. When I get out, I mostly stick around a few favorite spots.”
“Check out the menu. I’m going to try what’s on today’s blackboard.”
Annabel looked it over. “I had a small bite with my sister, who’s visiting, so I’m glad there are some salad choices.”
“Is she older or younger?”
“She’s almost three years younger. So tell me, because of your job, do you travel a lot?”
“I go back and forth to Washington at least once a month. I’m primarily on the criminal investigation side of the Agency, so that does involve being out of town quite often. But enough of that, I shouldn’t be talking about this subject anyway.”
The waitress put down Annabel’s drinks. “You two ready to order? You ordering the special, Ben?”
“Sure,” he said.
“And I’ll have a small house salad with grilled chicken,” Annabel said.
“Coming right up.”
“However,” Annabel said when the waitress stepped away, “I’m dying to hear. Have you ever been assigned to presidential security?”
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out. Later tonight, maybe?”
“Maybe so.” She smiled and raised her glass.
Ben tapped his beer bottle against her wine glass and they both took a swig. Annabel’s cheeks warmed; tonight might turn juicy by the time they finished their date.
-----
Dustin and Edgar parked in the back lot of Stones and hopped out of their patrol car.
“Let’s keep it low key,” Edgar said as they sauntered to the entrance. They opened the door and the maître d raised his eyebrows.
“Just routine,” Dustin said. “We’re looking for someone.”
The two officers peered inside from both sides of the helpdesk. The lighting was dim and they didn’t spot their mark, so they both walked down the aisles.
Dustin looked over at Edgar and nodded his head towards the back right wall. Ben was facing their way and, as both officers gathered attention from other diners, they approached him and stopped at the end of the table.
Both officers failed to spot her beforehand, so they both took a double take when they saw Ben’s date. The officers and Annabel knew each other from when Annabel rotated on psychiatry. Their interactions had stemmed from both a police matter with a patient and a robbery, as well as a personal situation when Edgar dated Annabel’s attending doctor and Dustin dated Annabel.
“Annabel Tilson,” Dustin said. “We meet again.”
Annabel smiled. “What a coincidence. How are you?”
“Can’t complain.”
Edgar leaned his knees against the seat cushion on Ben’s side. “Are you Ben Rogers?”
Ben’s hand nervously tapped the table. “What’s it to you?” he groaned.
“I understand you bought a fake ID. Come on down to the station and we can talk about it.”
Ben froze. A saying his mother used to say to him popped into his head. Caught in the act. He finally took a breath, didn’t know what rights he had since he knew he was guilty as hell, and slithered to the end of the bench. Edgar stepped back and Ben rose.
“I’ll take him to the car,” Edgar said. He nodded at Annabel and Ben didn’t look at her.
“I’ll fill her in,” Dustin said. “I’ll be a few minutes.”
Ben and Edgar walked out of the restaurant to many arched eyebrows and Edgar put him in the back seat.
Annabel cringed. She couldn’t believe what Edgar said about a fake ID. He must be referring to Ben’s Secret Service Agent identity card. Now her heart palpated as Dustin sat down across from her and frowned. He pushed Ben’s beer to the side and leaned forward.
“Didn’t you learn your lesson yet about meeting strange men from social apps? That guy possesses a fake government ID, which he uses to lure women via dat
ing apps.”
Annabel put her hand over her eyes and her forehead. Of all people to show up, it had to be Dustin Lowe. She was a freaking magnet for dreadful situations.
“I guess I should thank you, but I only met him for dinner. I had no plans to marry him.”
Dustin raised his eyebrows. “You’re smarter than most women and you’re cut out to be among the next generation of doctors, however, you need to practice more discretion. You’re getting mixed up with shady characters.”
“However, I did date you,” she said with a soft voice.
“All right. I give up. It’s none of my business. But did he show you his ID?”
“Yes, he posted it online. Goes to show, you can’t trust anyone.”
“Bingo!” Dustin cackled. “And dare I tell you what he really does for a living?”
Annabel shook her head but then nodded.
“He owns a small business that takes care of scooping up pet poop in shopping mall lots and business areas.”
Annabel coughed and then took a gulp of wine. To heck with sipping on it.
“Anyway,” Dustin said after letting that news sink in, “how’s your training coming along?”
She sighed. He was a gentleman for changing the subject. “As you know, I finished psychiatry. Now I’m almost in the middle of internal medicine. My team and I manage vets and service people in Cincinnati’s military hospital.”
Dustin sat tall. “We’re involved with a case right now … a patient who was recently hospitalized there and seen in their clinic. A Parkinson’s patient. Turns out she was murdered by poisoning.”
“How awful,” she said and wrung her hands. “I took care of a Parkinson’s patient, but she’s alive. What kind of poison?”
“Ethylene glycol. Anti-freeze.”
Annabel turned her hand over like she didn’t understand. “How does that work?”
“Dangerous stuff. People and pets are poisoned every year because it is odorless and colorless and it can be easily mixed into food or drinks. The major danger is because of its sweet taste, so kids and animals are attracted to it.”
Annabel stayed glued on his explanation.
“I’m no medical examiner, but I’ve been told that once it’s ingested, it degrades to a toxic product which affects the central nervous system, the heart, and then it accumulates in the kidneys. The only way the degraded compound, ethylene glycol, can be discovered is on autopsy. It’s almost a fool-proof method to kill somebody!”
“People are so horrid.”
If anti-freeze is toxic to the kidneys, Annabel thought, then renal failure would be one of the pathways to death. Based on what Dustin just said, Darlene Pratt’s circumstance nagged at her. They’d seen her in clinic after her hospitalization; Dr. Watts had mentioned they should see her again soon because her renal function lab work had crept up; they needed to monitor that more closely. Annabel stroked the waves of her hair. She believed Mrs. Pratt would be back in clinic in another week or less. Luckily, her daughter took excellent care of her and accommodated all her appointments.
Annabel rubbed her hair again. “I’m getting an uneasy feeling about this. I can’t mention patients’ names or conditions because of privacy laws, but you can tell me. What’s the woman’s name?”
“Darlene Pratt.”
Annabel gasped. “My patient,” she stammered.
“Really?! Anything you can think of that would be important to us?”
“Her renal function showed signs of beginning deterioration when she showed up in clinic.”
Dustin shook his head. “The Bureau of Criminal Investigation is talking to suspects. High on the list at the moment is the daughter.”
“The daughter? She’s exceptional. I’d want her or someone like her caring for me if the need arose.”
“Sometimes it’s the ones you don’t suspect.”
“I wonder,” she thought aloud. “Her mother was living a pitiful existence …”
Dustin squinted his eyes. “Hmm. I see your point.”
Annabel took another sip and then moved the wine to the side. “So much for dinner,” she said. “I better go home. I have a houseguest.”
“Edgar’s waiting too. I’ll leave you to tend to your bill. Call us if you think of anything else.”
“I will. I still have both your numbers in my cell phone.”
CHAPTER 30
Light spilled from the upstairs window of her apartment as Annabel loped up the hill from her car. She felt like she dragged a dead weight from the evening’s turn of events. Darlene Pratt was dead … murdered! Gloria Pratt was under scrutiny. The Secret Service Agent, Ben Rogers, nothing more than a pooper-scooper picker-upper who had been hauled away. That would go down as a date story difficult to beat.
As if these developments weren’t enough, the two officers from her past came screeching back into her life like runaway Spanish bulls. Dustin Lowe was an excellent officer and a praiseworthy man who was privy to her stupidest indiscretions. How embarrassing, and there was nothing she could do to change it.
Annabel tapped on her apartment door, turned her key, and went in.
Nancy sat on one of the stools, her hands wrapped around a mug. A warm, full length nightgown graced her body and her clip no longer clasped her hair. “How was your date? I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
Annabel dropped her bag and jacket by the windowsill. She pulled the second stool to the other side of the counter. After frowning, she stifled a sigh. “The guy I met? Our date ended prematurely. No loss for me.
“However, I ran into someone at the restaurant who told me something about one of my recent patients. The best part of my evening was our get-together up the block. Did you have fun?”
Nancy gave her a sheepish grin. “Considering that I may have a future date with a med student, the night was super.”
Annabel squared her shoulders. Bob didn’t date Karla anymore, but now a relationship could kindle in the future with her own sister. She found it difficult to appear cheery and her heart left out a beat.
“I’m sorry you had a crappy time later,” Nancy said, “but aren’t you going to say something? Jordan is really cool and I want to come back in the next month or two to go out with him.”
Annabel’s apprehension lessened. “Jordan Maldonado? He asked you out?”
“Yes. The date stands for when I come back to Cincinnati.”
“I’m happy for you. My place is yours for whenever you want, as long as I can have needed quiet for studying. After all, Dad is paying my rent.”
Annabel joined her sister in a weak cup of coffee. Later, her eyes closed for the night when an internal medicine book dropped from her hands onto the floor. Nancy looked over from her sleeping bag, put her Kindle down, and went to sleep content about meeting Jordan Maldonado.
-----
Annabel scurried around seeing her patients and gathering lab work for rounds. She grabbed a cup of coffee from the ICU and stepped into the office. The team gathered one-by-one with Bob and Jordan being the last ones to filter in.
“I hate Sundays,” Donn said, standing up and putting on his lab coat. “Old news.” He motioned to his USA Today on the desk. “It’s the weekend edition which comes out on Friday. No use by the time Sunday rolls around.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Bob said, unzipping his backpack. “Knowing that, I bought you a present on the way in.” He pulled out a thick New York Times.
“Donn’s face lightened up in a full smile and he swiped the newspaper from Bob. “These aren’t easy to find in Cincinnati except for a few truck-stop gas stations. You aren’t trying to influence your clinical evaluation, are you?”
Bob shook his head. “Not at all. I thought to buy it for you because you gave us off yesterday morning.”
“Good man. Thank you.” He stuck it behind him on the desk. “Bob knows this already from checking on his patients, but Mr. Hogan died on Friday night. I suppose in the end, his heart failure didn’t cooperate w
ith him.”
“No…” Annabel blurted out. “Really?”
Bob nodded at her. “Yeah. This morning, I missed him sitting by the window telling me his woes or expressing his optimism about springing out of here.”
A silence fell in the room as if they each muttered a prayer for Mr. Hogan’s demise.
A frown etched across Annabel’s forehead and she glanced at Dr. Watts. “I learned more bad news last night. Darlene Pratt died.”
“However sad that may be,” Chineka said after thinking about it, “her death may be a blessing in disguise.”
“Did you read about Mrs. Pratt in the obituary column?” Donn asked.
“No. I bumped into two police officers last night that I know. She was poisoned with anti-freeze and one person of interest is the daughter. The one who sat or slept in her hospital room all the time.”
Chineka’s mouth fell open and someone else gasped.
“Were Darlene’s BUN and creatinine elevated in clinic?” Donn asked.
“Yes,” Chineka said.
“That could be from the anti-freeze,” Donn said. “Annabel, if the cops need any medical records via legal means, we’re here to cooperate.”
“I pretty much told them that.”
Dr. Schott herded them out the door for rounds. Jordan strutted close to Annabel. “I took your sister’s phone number,” he said.
“So I heard.”
“How did the rest of your night go?” Bob asked. “Were the police officers you mentioned the ones that dated you and our psychiatry attending?” He dared not mention that Nancy told them about her date last night. Perplexed, he wondered how the policemen fit in.
“Yes, it was Dustin Lowe and Edgar Banks. I happened to bump into them in the restaurant. We discussed my rotation and the conversation veered off to Darlene Pratt.”
If she did have a date, Bob thought, she wasn’t divulging more information; he was dying to know but decided to stop pressing.
Sunday morning rounds remained uneventful with only rehashed patient updates like the news printed in the Friday weekend paper … except that two of their patients had died and, for the team, that made front page news fit for the cover of the The New York Times.
