Treating Murder: Book One of the Veronica Lane, M.D. series (medical thriller)

by Gabrielle Black

  I thought I saw a shift in his eyes like he was hiding something. I wondered what, but I didn’t feel any better. We arrived at the judge’s chambers, and Jamie knocked and went in motioning me to stay outside with Jacqueline. In a very few minutes, Phil Dormand came marching out. Jamie followed slower, his face was flushed and stern.

  “It’s over.” He growled pushing past us. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I looked curiously at him, but Jacqueline brightened and followed him, “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

  Jamie said nothing all the way back through the long corridors of the courthouse.

  “I think that we should celebrate tonight,” said Jacqueline impulsively. “Nic?”

  I shook my head, Jacqueline never wanted to party. “I don’t think so.”

  “C’mon Nic. I told you,” said Jacqueline. “Time for a fresh beginning. Time to look out for your own interests. Besides when was the last time that you did anything fun?”

  “I don’t remember.” I gave her a rueful smile. I glanced over her shoulder toward the end of the hall and made out a burly figure standing there. My stomach flopped over.

  “So you should do this.” Jamie spoke finally. “I could use a bit of celebration.”

  I didn’t answer. I just watched as Detective Chapman approached. I gripped Jacqueline’s arm. She glanced over to see what was wrong, and scowled. Jamie turned his head just as Chapman walked past with his hands in his pockets, studiously ignoring us.

  “Where’d he come from?”

  Jacqueline said nothing, but covered my hand with her own and rapidly moved in the direction opposite Chapman and towards the exit.

  Jamie tried to distract us. “So Nic, it’s your celebration what shall we do?”

  “I don’t feel like partying right now.” I looked past the reporters hovering outside the doors, toward the lot where we had parked.

  “Nic.” Jamie stepped directly in front of me so that I had to stop. I looked up at him, suppressing the urge to lash out. They weren’t listening. I needed a chance to think. Alone.

  “Nic, listen to me. I know how you’re feeling, and believe me we’re all charged up at this point. But it’s still early in the morning. Take the afternoon to relax and blow off steam however you want. By this evening you will be ready to celebrate, take my word for it. If not you can pour a whole bottle of champagne over my head.”

  I studied the sharp lines of his face. He wasn’t smiling. He looked as serious about the champagne as anything he had ever said to me. I chuckled reluctantly. “Champagne, huh?”

  “Yes,” he grinned now at me.

  I blew out a big breath. “Okay then. I’ll hold you to that.” I looked around to Jacqueline and smiled. “Okay, let’s party.”

  “I’ll bring the champagne,” said Jamie.

  “Don’t forget,” I smiled more easily now. “I may need it. Meanwhile, I have to go back to my office and sort things out. I’d like to resume office hours in a day or two.”

  “Okay, I’ll take you back home.” Jacqueline agreed. “Then I guess I should go into the office and catch up myself.”

  We stepped outside in a huddle and tried to shove our way through the reporters to the cars. Jamie told them that he would make a formal statement later in the day, which seemed to mollify them enough that they let us through.

  Chapter 19

  After Jacqueline dropped me off, I drove into the office in the slow mid-morning traffic. The office was desolate, and the air was stale. I poked around some charts, sorted through my desk drawers and tried to enjoy my freedom, but I just couldn't find my groove. Shutting the desk drawer, I drove back home.

  In my garage, I noticed my old, twelve-speed bike that had been on its rack in the garage so long that I usually looked right past it. The last time I had been on that bike I had been in residency. It had been my final year, and I was less busy then than at any other time in my life. Steve and I would ride sometimes in the evenings after work. Those had been some of my favorite times. I caught myself daydreaming again, and laughed at myself. I was going to have to stop dwelling on the past.

  I dusted off the seat, grabbed a pair of shorts and a T-shirt from inside, and rode away from town. The feeling of the wind in my hair was terrific as I coasted down a long hill. I watched the trees flash by. The dogwoods and the fruit trees were still in flower and the curve of the road was a white, pink, and red blur. Glorious. I wondered when the air had seemed so clean, or the view so spectacular.

  I rode for another couple of miles. The neighborhood was spreading. What had been old woods was now cleared and residential, with tract houses of vinyl and concrete. I was surprised at how many changes I had not noticed before. Eventually I made it to pastureland, and stopped by an old, split rail fence to gaze at my favorite old farmhouse, complete with peeling white paint, and a quaint old front porch. It was one of the few remaining in the ever more metropolitan area. The grazing cows took me back to the long summer days I had spent as a child visiting my grandparent’s farm when the evening used to stretch out to eternity, and the cicadas sang in the distance.

  Eventually I roused myself from my reverie feeling contented and whole, and began the trek toward home. The ride back up the long hill leading to my neighborhood was excruciating, and finally I had to give in and walk the bike as I puffed and bitched my way up the last several yards.

  Inside, and home at last, I showered and then collapsed on the couch. Exhilarated by the ride, and exhausted by the day, I could have lain there forever.

  I remembered a picnic Steve and I had been on a few of years ago. Steve had packed a basket of cold fried chicken, and beer for us. He had actually brought a potato salad, although I suspected that it had originally come from the supermarket. Jacqueline and her brother Ben and his wife had been there. We spent the day on the lake on Steve’s friend Reid White’s boat. At the end of a day of swimming and sunbathing, I had the same exhausted, contentment as I had now.

  When we had pulled into the dock, Reid had arrived to join in for an evening barbecue. He wore a white shirt from the office, and a powder-blue sport jacket without a tie. His smile, even at play, had nettled me.

  My mind filled with the vision of the pained look on his face at the morgue. I needed to know the real truth. Hauling my sore body off of the couch, I looked up Reid’s address online and changed into pants.

  I drove to a parking lot full of luxury sedans and sport utility trucks, and picked an unnumbered space to park in. He lived in a brand-new condominium complex that still had new units under construction less than a hundred yards away from his. I located his unit and slipped up the stairs to check it out. Shading my eyes to look in the windows, I saw a huge, carved, mahogany dining table, and a crystal chandelier. A giant entertainment center dominated the living room, with speakers attached to the ceiling. He was getting quite a bit of money from somewhere. I slipped back down to my car just as a white Lexus pulled in to the condo’s numbered space.

  I checked my watch, 3:00 pm; too early for him to be home from work. I slumped in my seat and felt my pulse pounding in my face. Old spy novels flashed through my mind as I watched Reid scuttle inside and come back immediately carrying a heavy briefcase. He pulled back out immediately.

  I wound through the traffic behind him, trying to stay at least one car back, and hoping that he did not recognize the Prius. Twice, I almost turned off of the expressway, feeling foolish, but then steeled myself to find out what was going on and followed him to the Ness offices. He quickly stepped inside, and after a moment’s hesitation, I followed him into the huge, white atrium. He turned down a long, carpeted hall with walls covered in pictures of past company officials.

  I asked the receptionist for directions to the restroom, and then crept slowly down the hallway toward the ladies room. I slid past that door and tiptoed down the remainder of the hallway, listening outside of each door, until I heard his voice.

  “I can’t keep making these
trips over here. We need a better system for transferring the money.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, I have a business to run. If I don’t keep Kinder on track, we won’t make any money at all,” said Reid.

  “We’ll make a bundle.”

  “Not if Kinder stops producing. The rest won’t hold up to scrutiny. Look, I’ll put this where it belongs.” Reid said.

  I turned quickly to duck back into the ladies room and the door opened. “You!" he called. “What are you doing here?”

  I froze. “I was trying to find the entrance to the mill area, I wanted to see Sarah’s friend on the line.” The answer sounded weak to me even as I said it.

  “I don’t believe you,” he said.

  “Which way to the mill area?” My palms were sweaty.

  “You were following me. So what did you learn? That I make investments on the side? Would you like to know that I invest your ex-husband’s money as well?”

  I stammered. I knew I should never have come here, and now I was caught. “I knew that. He told me.”

  The veins on his face popped out and he looked like he was going to explode, then just as quickly, he calmed himself, and I watched the colors on his face fade back from purple to olive. Then he just shook his head and walked away.

  I watched him go, unable to move for a few moments while my heart restarted. Something was not right here. I just wish I knew what.

  ***

  The loss of sleep from the night before finally caught up with me, and when I arrived home from Ness, I crawled into bed without even removing my clothes. Jamie’s face flitted through my mind before I drifted off to sleep. Too few minutes later, the phone jolted me awake.

  “Nic, where are you? I thought that you were coming over at six.” Jacqueline’s voice was petulant over the airwaves.

  “I guess I fell asleep. I’ll be right over.” I snatched a brush through my hair, and changed into my favorite pair of low rise blue jeans and a black stretchy mock wrap top. Minutes later, I pulled in next to Jacqueline’s gold BMW and glanced at the front seat. It was beautiful tan leather. I had wanted a car like that since Jacqueline had bought hers last year. Well, I thought, maybe in another year, or three. I noticed Jacqueline’s Versace silk scarf of the passenger seat and made a mental note to tell her she had left it in the car. Something like that could easily attract a thief to break the window.

  I stepped over a bed of hyacinths on my way inside, and thought longingly of my quiet, warm house and the soft comforter on the bed. I’d rather go home, but I couldn’t let Jacqueline and Jamie down after all that they had done for me in the past few weeks.

  “Hey Nic,” said Jacqueline as she opened the door, stepping back gracefully. “Ready for some champagne? Jamie brought enough for ten men.”

  “I’ll drink for seven of them,” Jamie said.

  Jacqueline brought out shrimp dip and crackers and a glass for me.

  “So is this everyone?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said Jacqueline. “I thought about inviting the reporter, but that might be a little too tacky.”

  I smiled awkwardly. “Yes, I would think so.”

  Jamie raised his glass. “Here’s to two beautiful women and our smashing success.”

  “Cheers.” Jacqueline and I said together. I allowed them to clink my glass before tipping it up. Jacqueline looked at her glass, shrugged, and threw it into the fireplace. Jamie looked at me and tossed his in as well, with a satisfying crash of glass. Jacqueline slipped into the kitchen for a new round of glasses.

  “How was your nap?” she asked through the passageway.

  “Very nice. I wish I’d had more of it,” I admitted.

  “Well, I’m glad to see you back to your old self again,” said Jacqueline.

  “Close.” I agreed. I sat down by Jamie to talk, resolving to make an effort to enjoy myself. Jacqueline was right. I needed to stop living my life in the past of my failed relationship. With relish, I ate the hors d’oeuvres of shrimp dip on crackers and canapés that Jacqueline produced, and drank quite a bit of champagne.

  “Why don’t we all go downtown and go dancing?” Jamie suggested when our conversation reached a lull.

  Jacqueline demurred with a semi-sad smile, “I can’t go. I’m way behind on my sleep too. Why don’t you go on without me?”

  “It sounds like a great idea. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been out.” The champagne must have gone to my head. I was willing to go, but shot Jacqueline a dirty look for making me go alone with Jamie.

  Jacqueline merely shrugged. A few minutes later, we walked out into the cool air of the parking lot. Jamie helped me into the low seat of his Ferrari.

  I said, “I can’t believe you have a little, red sports car. It doesn’t seem like you somehow.”

  He laughed. “I couldn’t help it. You sign up, and you get a fountain pen, some gray suits, and a red sports car,” he joked. “There is an option though.”

  “Really, what is that?”

  “Hard-top or soft.”

  “So, sensible you got the hard-top.” I tried to keep a straight face.

  “That’s right. You never know when it might rain,” he did break into a smile.

  I looked at the tiny rear window. “So I was wondering the other day, what’s this decal on the back? AOPA? Is that a law thing?”

  He laughed.

  “What?” I was embarrassed enough to be irritable about it. “In medical school I was AOA. Of course, I never got a sticker.”

  He turned to me with another flash of humor in his dark blue eyes. “Okay, you got me. What is AOA?”

  “Oh no, you first.” I smiled. “You laughed, now you’ll have to pay.”

  “AOPA, Airplane Owners and Pilots Association. Happy now?”

  I didn’t answer for a moment, thinking.

  “Nic?”

  “I give up.” I said. “Are you telling me you’re a pilot too?”

  “Yes.” He cut his eyes to the side at me. “Owner too. I have a red Starduster biplane. I like to do a little barnstorming.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “Barnstorming? What on earth?”

  “Barnstorming.” He grinned as he watched the road. “When the pressure gets too much. I go out there and do a few wingovers and rolls, dive at the sides of barns, chase birds. It’s better than Valium.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, what?”

  “Oh, that sounds, um, fun.” I said lamely.

  “You should come with me sometime.”

  I looked at him, studying his handsome profile. Dark hair, dark blue eyes with long dark lashes. Black Irish they called it. So very different from Steve. So bold where Steve was cautious. So driven where Steve was, well, not. I shook my head. “No that’s okay.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know how you felt when we were in the morgue?”

  He nodded.

  “Something like that.”

  “Sick?” He glanced at me warily as though he expected me to suddenly be ill on his beautiful seats.

  I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m afraid so.”

  He nodded his head. “I’d be very gentle.”

  I wrinkled my nose confused. “What?”

  “I’d be very gentle.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “We wouldn’t have to do the aerobatics. At least not at first.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “It should.” Now he turned to grin right at me. “I can fly her smooth as glass. It’s not like being in a jumbo jet. It’s like more like sailing over the land. You don’t mind sailing do you?”

  “I’ve never been.”

  “Well I’ll just have to show you.” He turned his attention back to the road. “Your turn. What’s AOA?”

  “Oh, um, it’s an honor club. Top students in med school are selected.”

  “Like Law Review?” he asked.

  I thought for a moment. "Yes, Jacki
e was in that.”

  “Ah,” he replied. “Um.”

  “What?” I smiled in anticipation of his next question. It was nice getting to know him.

  “How about if we skip the dancing? I know a little bar that plays the blues, and serves dynamite oysters. I’m still a little hungry after that girl food.”

  “Girl food?” I snorted, laughing. “I’m filled up on the girl food, but I do love the blues.”

  “Well, that’s something anyway. By the way did you know that your laugh sounds like a wounded animal?”

  I laughed again, surprised to find that I was thoroughly enjoying myself. “Yes. I’ve been told something of the sort. Where are we going?”

  “I’ve sort of been heading there already,” he admitted. “It’s right out on Old Town Road. Have you ever been out that way?”

  “No, I haven’t been there. I’m usually too busy to get out much.” I tried not to sound bitter about that fact, or about having to admit to another adventure I had missed out on.

  “That’s a shame. You should take a little more time for fun,” he said.

  I smirked, “Especially when you have a little, red sports car. How much recreation do you get? How often do you take out your clients after you win their case?”

  “I never take out clients. It’s bad policy.” He looked me straight in the eyes as he said it. Reaching across for the glove compartment, his arm accidentally brushed my leg. “Excuse me. You like old stuff? Most of the tapes in here are classic rock.”

  A shiver ran up my body from the spot he’d touched on my knee. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I guess so.”

  “You guess?” He arched his eyebrow at me.

  “I like classic rock. Better?” I smiled at him, trying to remember what dating was like, and telling myself that this was not a date. Just a victory celebration, Jamie would have taken out any client after such a huge turn-around, even if he’d just said that he wouldn’t. But the butterflies in the pit of my stomach made it clear that no one was fooled by that argument.