by Barbara Ebel
“Sounds reasonable to me,” he quipped.
CHAPTER 18
Viktoria stood in line at the coffee shop. Since it was her first Saturday in Masonville, now she knew what to expect. Locals, serious about the start to their weekend, treated themselves to robust morning coffee. Conversation buzzed around her and the baristas tended to the drive-through line as well as the customers inside.
Linda waved a hello from her post where she conjured up orders and delivered them to the pick-up counter.
“What’ll you have?” asked a young man wearing a baseball cap featuring the store’s logo.
“Hot and frothy, I’ll take a grande vanilla cappuccino.”
“Coming right up,” he said pleasantly. He wrote her name on the cup as she handed him a fifty-dollar bill.
“You don’t work in a coffee shop, I can tell. I’ll have to rob a bank to give you change.” He smiled as he counted out her change.
“Thanks for the change and your happy attitude.” For sure, she appreciated his good-nature. After all, twelve hours ago she had held up a dead doctor.
Linda peered over as she measured out a capful of vanilla syrup. “Is Buddy outside?”
Viktoria pointed out the window. “He sure is, and he’s on very good behavior today.”
“Strays saved from the street are the best. Are his stitches out yet?”
“No. Sometime this next week.” She reached for the cup Linda handed over and added, “Your double braids are exquisite today.”
“They last a few days, you know, but like a fresh loaf of bread, I whipped them up this morning. You should try it sometime.”
“I’m overdue. Thanks. Today may be the perfect opportunity.” She followed a couple out the door and slid in the chair beside Buddy. With his leash tied to the black fence and his eyes focused on Viktoria, heads turned to acknowledge him.
Viktoria first enjoyed the cappuccino, the beautiful weather, and the smiles which appeared on peoples’ faces as they peered at Buddy. When she finished, she opened up messages on her iPhone. Nothing from her husband.
“What’s the weather like on Long Island today?” she texted. Mid-morning on a Saturday, she figured, she stood a fifty-fifty chance of hearing back from him by noon.
She threw her cup away and untied Buddy. The dog’s eyes beamed at her, and she snapped a picture. He gave her a nudge, and they walked briskly back to her unit. But before she figured out what to wear for the wedding, she played an exhausting game of ball with her border collie. She finally needed to stop because his energy was inexhaustible.
-----
Viktoria settled on a quick nap and woke up wondering about what to wear. She hoped she wasn’t going to make a mistake by going because during the whole last week, not many people had made her feel welcome. However, Dr. Benson did seem adamant that her presence would be absolutely fine. Plus, if there was a big crowd, her presence would not make a dent.
She poked her head in the closet at the smooth, wrinkle free, and nice clothes she’d hung up, much better than anything she’d thrown in the drawers. Seldom did she wear dresses because the opportunity rarely existed, but she took one out and held it to her chest. The short sleeved blue dress, with a zipper in the back, came with a cropped darker jacket which put a dressy spin on it. The perfect choice, she decided.
For a full half hour before feeding Buddy an early dinner, Viktoria showered, applied light make up, and fixed her hair. It had been some time since she attempted one, but her fingers nailed the task and soon a beautiful single braid graced the back of her head. She threw on casual clothes, gave Buddy his Purina, and walked him. Inside again, she slipped on her outfit and a pair of low heels. She said good bye to her dog, grabbed a leather fancy bag, and typed the couple’s address in her GPS.
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Viktoria’s GPS steered her west and then a tad north, which brought her closer to Lake Erie. She drove on a well-maintained, less-travelled road, but heading further away from the hospital surprised her. Instead of living in the immediate urban area of Masonville and closer to the hospital, the two CRNAs had chosen a longer commute.
A few more miles out, the greenery became denser, and a few gated communities showed up, barely set back from the road. Then the generic, yet handsome, subdivisions disappeared, replaced by single estates where homes were barely visible from the road.
Viktoria had no idea that a mecca of wealth was embedded in the region, but it made sense. From Masonville to the lake, there were at least two hospitals, tourism remained significant during the summer, and there had to be other industries she was not aware of. Besides that, she’d heard gossip of political and Hollywood types owning second homes in the region. And as far as she could tell from her vantage point, some upscale builders and architects had made their mark with custom built estate mansions.
For sure, she was leaving the neighborhood of the Stay Long Hotel, the coffee shop, and the hospital in the dust. The hype she heard all week about the two CRNAs throwing a huge wedding party began to more and more pique her curiosity. Was this going to resemble a Long Island Estate party given by the super-rich and famous?
After a right hand turn off the main road, she faced a road with a sign that stated “No Outlet.” Her GPS warned her that her destination was imminent. The grass on either side was manicured perfectly and pruned trees dotted the landscape. Another quarter of a mile, the road became cluttered with parked cars on either side.
“Destination is ahead on the right,” her car’s voice blurted out.
Viktoria swung behind a car on the right and shut off her engine. It was no bother to walk the distance to the house. The change of pace from the small area she’d been trolling in for a week would prove to be refreshing.
Her senses heightened as she breathed deeply and took in the increased breeze which wafted down from Lake Erie. She loved the effect that bodies of water had on her mood—most likely because she grew up on an island continent.
She zig zagged between parked cars as the house came into view. It stood not quite at the end of the road, but then she realized that the whole road must be privately owned by the couple, or at least one of them, since up until now they were not even married.
The house dazzled with stonework all around the lower half. The windows were larger than most homes, or at least the ones she was accustomed to, and the dark green roof had multiple pitch lines. The landscaping out front was simple yet elegant but, most certainly, Jennie Shaw and Casey Johnston did not do the weeding, pruning, and mowing of their own property.
One of them must have inherited family money, or won a lottery, she thought. CRNAs do make a healthy living, but not enough for this. She gave them credit for working at their profession full time because maybe they really didn’t need to.
Viktoria checked her wrist watch. She had been in no hurry and it was already after four-thirty. The wedding ceremony could be well over. By the looks of it, a glut of people covered the grounds, and her presence would not mean a thing.
She walked up the drive and, on the front porch, three people held drinks while they talked. Noticing Viktoria’s hesitancy, one of the men nodded toward the entryway. “You can go straight through or around the back. The newlyweds are having pictures taken somewhere around here.”
“Thanks,” she said and set foot in the foyer. To the right, a wooden carved statue of a horse and a rider stood as high as her waistline and to the left, a mahogany table held a marble statue of three breaching dolphins. She peeled her eyes away and scanned the rest of the area. Although she couldn’t afford a fraction of what she saw, much of it seemed too lavish for her liking.
A woman wearing a tight bun nodded. She wore a black skirt and blouse with a crisp white apron. “Welcome to the Johnston’s wedding,” she said, holding a tray of champagne. “Are you a friend of the bride or groom or both?”
“I am a temporary doctor with the anesthesia group, so I’m working with them both.”
“Welcome. The ch
ampagne is my useful prop. They assigned me to be the easy-going front door monitor.” She nodded to the tray. “Help yourself.”
“No thanks. I’m not a fan of sparkling wine.”
“There are hors d'oeuvres in the kitchen and dining room, so help yourself. Just be sure to leave room for a fantastic meal starting in about an hour.”
“Thanks, I’ll heed your advice.” She ignored the two rooms off to the side and went straight back to the elongated kitchen. With two granite counter tops, there was too much hot and cold finger food to sample. Familiar faces dotted the room with couples wearing fancy clothing. Straight out through the large windows, a deep and wide wood deck also housed groups of people, from teenagers to the elderly.
Viktoria sidled along the counter top near the sink and found glasses filled with iced tea or lemonade. She grabbed an iced tea, slinked between two couples, and speared a stuffed mushroom.
“Dr. Thorsdottir. Nice to see you, especially out of OR clothes.” From her side, Jeffrey Appleton put his hand on her sleeve. “Sometimes it’s difficult to recognize someone out of scrubs, but you do justice to both. It is much better, however, seeing you without a shower cap.”
“A shower cap?”
“Outside the realm of the hospital, that’s what I call OR bonnets.” He was all smiles.
“I like that. I won’t tell anybody … you being the Director of Surgical Services and all.”
“Appreciate that.” His charismatic brown eyes locked onto her, but his smile faded. “It’s been a terrible morning. The phone calls were endless.”
“Dr. Winter?”
“Exactly.” His voice lowered. “I heard. You were covering anesthesia services.” He tilted his head away from the counter. “Mind if we talk?”
“Let’s.” She took a napkin and a bacon wrapped meatball and followed him to the window where now she could see the expansive area out back. Overhead canopies were set up, as well as tables with covered food, and tables and chairs. All the tabletops were covered with white linen and flower vases with fluffy red bows.
Jeffrey leaned forward, “We both ended up directly or indirectly involved with Jessy Winter’s death. How are you feeling today?”
“After finding him hanging last night, my emotional stability is not out of the woods yet. Especially because he confided in me two days ago.”
Jeffrey let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Someone needed to find him.” She grimaced and finally put the hors d'oeuvre in her mouth. They stood in silence while she swallowed. “What about you?”
“I was the one who broke the news to him that his hospital privileges were revoked. I feel greatly responsible. We should have talked to him about the problem of his squatting in a call room instead of just giving him an ultimatum. They appointed me to be the bearer of bad news, straight from the CEO, Cathy Banker, and the board.” He smoothed his fingers over his eyebrows. “But, of course, the politics and blame game has started. She made me the middle man, but now she’s asking me how sensitive I was when I told him to be gone by this morning.”
“Hmm. A physician committing suicide in the hospital where he worked doesn’t look good for the hospital.”
“You bet. Can you imagine the front page of tomorrow’s regional newspaper? I’m afraid to find out. The story probably made headlines today: ‘Longtime regional obstetrician, Dr. Jessy Winter, commits suicide by hanging at Masonville General Hospital, the very place where he brought life into this world.’”
“I won’t look if you don’t,” she said, offering a slight smile and a bit of relief.
Jeffrey nodded. “I’m glad you were invited to the wedding.”
“Ha. I was kind-of invited.”
“That counts. Plus, after last night, this party will be a relief for you.” Briefly, he glanced down at the rest of her. “You do your outfit justice.”
“Likewise.” Viktoria took a sip and tried not to give him a return glance. Were their comments as boldly flirtatious as she thought they were? His coat and tie fit him like a glove and his damn eyes and light smile were charismatic. She felt an attraction she tried to shake away.
The glass door to the yard opened and two of her anesthesia cohorts came streaming in. “Viktoria, just the person we want to see!” Jay Huff held a glass of wine and wiggled his way next to her. “What the hell happened last night?”
Phillip Nettle squirmed in as well. “This is the worst thing that ever happened since I’ve worked here.”
Jeffrey darted her a glance and stepped back. “Catch you later,” he said softly over Dr. Huff and stole out the door.
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“The bottom line is that he slipped between the cracks,” Viktoria said. “He didn’t receive the help needed from anyone in the health care system to prevent such a tragedy.”
“Viktoria, he mostly kept to himself,” Jay said.
“But, precisely, all the more reason for another doctor to have reached out to him.”
“You do have a point,” Phillip said. “In the last week, I wondered if the other OB/GYNs in his group were paying any attention, or ignoring his circumstances.”
Viktoria swirled the ice around in her glass and frowned. It was exhausting to remember what happened. “Maybe they were weary of the talk about him, like his behavior sleeping in the hospital. Anyway, to change the subject, how was the ceremony?”
“I give them credit,” Jay said. “It was short, sweet, and elegant. You know, they’ve been living together for six months, so this is the icing on the cake, an excuse for a show-off party, and for Jennie to play bride and doll up in a white tulle wedding dress. She looks fabulous.”
Viktoria raised her eyebrows and glanced outside. “They must have help to arrange for all of this. And this place is crazy. I had no idea nurse anesthetists make a fortune up here. The hospital pays their salary as well?”
“Yes, and their salary is competitive. But, like many CRNAs, they make more money than primary care doctors. So, they don’t come cheap.”
“But still …”
“Casey is no sloucher,” Phillip said. “He’s also a slum landlord, mostly for properties southwest of Masonville. Have you seen that area of town?”
“No. I go from the hotel to the hospital and this is my first full weekend here.”
Jay laughed. “Southwest of town is the complete opposite of the streets around here.”
“I imagine no section of Masonville can compare to this. This house is like the multi-million-dollar homes on eastern Long Island that producers put in movies.”
CHAPTER 19
The back yard started to fill up with the people filtering out from the house. The photographers had finished taking pictures of the wedding party and the female announcer readied to have the newlyweds prance in from the back trellised walkway and have the band start up the music for their first dance as Mr. and Mrs.
Viktoria, Jay, and Phillip had skimped on sampling the food, so they decided to graze.
“If I’ve seen one ‘first’ dance, I’ve seen them all,” Dr. Huff said and laughed at his own comment.
“It’s true this house may be a clone of those Long Island mega-houses,” Dr. Nettle said, “and Casey works extra being a low-income housing landlord, but he told me once that Jennie comes from a wealthy family. Maybe that has something to do with it.”
Jay placed mini-spoonfuls of caviar on round crackers until the gold rim around the plate was blotted out. “That’s strange. Jennie told me one day that she helped to pay off her parents tiny home outside of Pittsburgh.”
“You probably got that wrong, like you sometimes screw up the schedule.”
“I beg your pardon. No way. Actually, I recently kidded her about this house and implied that she and Casey were modern Bonnie and Clyde’s. She shrugged off my comment and hinted that money flowed to Casey right through from his grandfather’s estate.”
“Hmm. Neither one of the
m knows which one of them is rich. That’s a new one.”
“I wish I had mysterious income problems in my marriage,” Viktoria said.
“What does your husband do?” Jay asked.
“Hell if I know.” She sighed and shook her head. “Sorry. He puts together an occasional art auction on line, in other words, he links buyers with sellers. On a more regular, yet rare occasion, he sells insurance.”
“Sounds cushy,” Phillip said. “I guess not being married to a woman in the kitchen works out fine for some guys. I’m not being mean; it’s beginning to be a serious problem for some women. Bet some professional women curse the woman’s movement from years back.”
“From a female’s point of view, the income and work disparity can work either way in marriages anymore. It’s tough to find some kind of balance and compromise. And when there are kids involved, it must be that much more difficult.”
The band started and a female singer with a remarkable voice began, “You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains…” Casey and Jennie approached each other and started to slow dance.
“I’m impressed,” Viktoria said, “with this Cinderella wedding.”
-----
Viktoria blended into a line along one long table with hot stainless food units set up one after the other. The choices ran from shrimp scampi to braised beef and seared Brussel sprouts to glazed carrots. Knowing she faced only the hot buffet selections, she kept her portions to a minimum, and wanted to tackle the other tables afterwards.
A few couples who knew what they were doing danced on the portable dance floor and the newlyweds and their wedding party were positioned at a main table. Viktoria felt comfortable because she had fallen into line with mostly anesthesia providers and workers from the hospital. With their plates full, they began grabbing places to sit at two empty tables.
She pulled out the end chair while Susan Rust scooted the seat in next to her.
“May I?” Jeffrey Appleton appeared and pointed to the seat across from her.
