The Diagnosis is Murder (A Dr. Valorian Mystery Book 1)

by Steven Gossington

  Alec grinned. “I don’t think you are. But if you do have a delusion, can I be in it with you?”

  “Sure.” Laura laughed. “I’ll dream up a good one.”

  Later that evening, Laura stared at the ceiling from her bed, replaying the assault in her mind—the ski mask—the snarling voice She’d treated patients who’d been attacked, and she’d empathized with them the best way she knew how. She shut her eyes. She hadn’t, after all, been able to feel—really feel—what those victims were going through, deep down in their souls or wherever it is that agony lives. Now she knew. It was so different, so real, so . . . terrifying—now that she was a victim.

  Her heart pounded as she thought of ways to exact revenge. Should she use a knife, a red-hot poker, or maybe just scratch his eyes out with her fingernails? After a while, she didn’t feel any better. Tears welled up, and she cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter 22

  At the modest house in Bethesda late that evening, George Detmeyer sat on his tattered living room couch, a scowl on his face and his eyes toward the television. His blue striped dress shirt was unbuttoned, exposing a white undershirt. Muscled wrestlers bounced around the TV screen, but Detmeyer’s thoughts were elsewhere.

  “I tell you, I don’t know who the hell that was. Don’t ask me again,” he yelled at his wife, who snatched two more beers from the refrigerator in the kitchen.

  She walked back into the living room with the cold beer cans, handed one to Detmeyer, and put hers on a rickety end table, one leg of which was supported by a thin paperback book. Detmeyer’s wife had auburn hair that was disheveled at the moment, and her generous girth was comparable to his. She was barefoot and wore a pink, short-sleeved blouse and white shorts.

  “Well, why won’t you tell me what he said on the phone? I heard you say something about ‘buying drugs from a dealer.’ ” She stood to his left at the edge of the couch, her hands on her hips.

  “Drop it, Sylvia. It’s none of your damn business.” He took a deep swig from his beer can.

  “It is my business, George Detmeyer. If you’re in trouble again, you’d better tell me.”

  Detmeyer clenched his teeth and his nostrils flared. He slammed the beer can down, spewing foamy liquid onto the already stained and scarred coffee table, and he shot up off the couch. With one smooth motion, he punched his wife on the cheek with his right fist. She screamed and collapsed on the couch, her hands raised in front of her. She began to sob.

  “Why don’t you ever listen to me?” Detmeyer said. “You just keep nagging and nagging. I told you it’s none of your business, and I mean it, bitch.”

  Detmeyer grabbed a light jacket from the back of a nearby chair and marched to the front door. “I’m going out for a while.” He stomped out and slammed the door behind him. “Damn women. They’re all the same. They just pester me ‘til I’m crazy.” He jumped into his car, a splotchy vintage Buick of an indefinable color, and sped to his favorite lounge to have a few drinks. He always did that when he was upset.

  Detmeyer was soon perched on a chair at the WXYZ bar. He sipped from a foamy beer mug. Joe, the bartender, was mixing a drink for a customer. George and Joe had known each other for years.

  “Hey, Joe, were you here last week when that doctor died out front?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you know him?”

  “Sure, I knew him. He was okay.”

  “He came in here a lot?”

  “Maybe once or twice a week. Drank Scotch and soda.”

  “Do you know some folks think he was murdered?”

  Joe looked up. “Murdered? What’re you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. That’s just what some folks are saying.”

  Joe frowned and shook his head. “Well, you never know. I do think a lot of people get away with murder.”

  “Where was he sitting?”

  “He usually sat over there, in the corner.” Joe pointed toward the back of the lounge seating area.

  “Did you see anybody acting suspicious around him?”

  Joe thought about it for a few seconds. “No. But I’m sure he didn’t just sit there the whole time. Folks get up to go to the john or talk on the phone, and then I guess it’d be easy to slip something into a drink, if that’s what you’re thinking. But nothing funny happened that I recall.” Joe walked away with the freshly mixed drink. After a few steps, he stopped and turned back toward George. “By the way, weren’t you here that evening? Seems I remember you sitting here at the bar.”

  George Detmeyer gulped the last of his beer and slammed his mug and money down on the counter. “No. I wasn’t here that night.” He stood up, scowled at Joe, and wobbled away.

  ***

  Alec’s eyes flew open. A sound had awakened him. He held his breath and looked around the room. Oh, yeah. I’m at Laura’s.

  He eased open the drawer of the nightstand by the bed and pulled out his trusty handgun. Crouching on the floor as he leveled the gun in a full circle around him, he spotted nothing unusual in the bedroom. He ran to Laura’s room and cracked open the bedroom door. Hearing a smooth, natural rhythm to her breathing, he closed the door and searched the rest of the house, starting at the front door and checking all windows, closets, and cabinets. He returned to the front door, saw nothing through the peephole, and then retracted the lock and deadbolt and opened the door, his gun aimed at the breach. Buzzing in his ears became louder, as a piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

  Alec looked around outside, ready to put a bullet into anything that moved. Detecting no worrisome sounds or movements, he lowered his gun and picked up the sliver of paper from just inside the front door. Jagged words jumped from the note: “Are you scared yet? You’re dead meat. You can’t get away from me. I’m your Grim Reaper.”

  Bring it on, creep.

  Chapter 23

  After a few hours of fitful sleep, Laura strolled into the ER the next day early for her shift. Her rib cage ached, especially with certain movements. She couldn’t stop the movie projector in her head, as it replayed her assault over and over again in slow motion. Alec had followed her to work in his car, and she hadn’t noticed any suspicious people along the way.

  Derek stood at the office door, sipping a cup of steaming coffee. “Good morning.”

  “Hello. Ready for business?” Laura sat down at a computer.

  “You bet. How’ve you been feeling?”

  Laura sensed that he was referring to her loss of composure six days before. “Well enough. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “That child you admitted last weekend—he was a victim of child abuse. The mother was abusing him.”

  “Thanks for checking up on that.”

  “What will happen to the child?”

  “He’ll be placed in a safer environment.”

  Derek cradled his coffee. “They told us in school that, sometimes, if something bad happens to doctors, like missing a case of meningitis, or a heart attack, they tend to overreact afterwards.”

  “Yes, that can be true. If a doctor misses a case of meningitis, he or she often does more spinal taps on future patients than might ordinarily be indicated.”

  “You think that’s what happened to me—and you?”

  Laura stood and touched his shoulder. “We’ve both been traumatized, and that can leave scars that are slow to heal. Just keep moving on. Things will get better.”

  Derek looked down. “I hope so.”

  “The bad memories never go away, but after a while, they don’t sting as much.” I sound like I know what I’m talking about.

  Derek sighed and took a generous gulp of coffee.

  “You seem nervous today,” Laura said. “Are you short of sleep, too?”

  Derek stared past her. “Everything’s going to be better soon.” He walked out of the office.

  Laura stood for several seconds, her eyes narrowed. She wondered what he’d meant by that last statement.

  Laura’s shift was pleasant, fo
r the most part. She had to keep moving, because if she sat too long, she would start to nod off. She paid more attention to males in the ER, for maybe, just maybe, she’d get lucky and spot face marks left by a certain ski mask. But that didn’t happen.

  After work, Laura dressed in her running outfit before leaving the hospital and drove to a strip mall a few miles away. A sign out front read: “Martial Arts.” She arrived a few minutes before the class began and registered.

  A Caucasian man in a white karate gi and a black belt approached her just inside the entrance door. “Are you the one that called?”

  Laura nodded and followed him into a gymnasium-type room. People in guis stretched and kicked and punched the air, apparently to warm up before the session began. Laura noticed a range of ages: teenagers to upper middle-aged.

  He stopped and turned to her. “We’re just about to start. We have people with varying degrees of training in the class, but I always try to start with the basics with any beginning student. Anything in particular get you interested in martial arts?”

  “I was attacked while jogging. I want to be prepared to defend myself if it happens again.”

  “You look fit. So you’re a runner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then your legs are probably your most powerful weapons. I’ll start out with some moves that you can learn tonight. Now get good and limber.”

  Laura winced at the soreness in her ribs as she bent over to touch her toes.

  The teacher walked to the front of the room and stood at attention. Students formed lines and bowed as their sensei bowed to them.

  “Okay, class. Someone is charging to tackle you or knock you down. Let’s practice a defensive move to neutralize your enemy.”

  After Laura repeated the move until her legs were as sore as her ribs, the teacher congratulated her. “You learn fast. I hope that technique comes in handy, if you should need it. It’s a judo technique called tomoe nage or circle throw.”

  Laura felt more confident as she left the martial arts gym, even if her legs were wobbly. She didn’t like the feeling of helpless victim—didn’t like it one bit.

  That evening, Laura and Alec settled on her living room couch.

  “You must’ve been tired today,” Alec said.

  “Yes, but the ER pumps me up. I have worked a shift or two in the past after no sleep at all. And I started a self-defense class this evening after work, so I’m running on fumes now.”

  “Self-defense class. Great idea.”

  Laura had a diet Coke, and she and Alec each polished off two chicken tacos to-go. Cosmo rested on the floor at her feet. Tomorrow was a free day, so she was planning to sleep in. She’d just slipped off her shoes when the telephone rang.

  “Dr. Valorian?” a tentative voice said. “This is Lisa Kline. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  “Matthew’s gone. He just left and went away.”

  “What?” Laura sat forward on the couch. “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He didn’t talk to you before he left?”

  “No.” Laura heard sniffles over the phone.

  “When did he leave?”

  “I guess early this morning. I woke up, and he was gone.” Lisa’s voice was breaking.

  “Are you sure he didn’t just go for a drive or something?”

  “He packed a suitcase. He must’ve packed one since his favorite bag is gone and so are some of his favorite clothes, and his razor and toothbrush.”

  “He wasn’t planning to leave town? To a conference or meeting? Maybe he forgot to tell you about it.”

  “He still would’ve said goodbye to me. He just left without telling me or even leaving me a note. I haven’t heard from him all day. He won’t answer his phone.” She sobbed into the phone. “Something’s wrong.”

  “Can I come over to your house and talk to you?”

  “Yes, that would be nice.”

  Laura stepped back into her shoes after hanging up the phone. “That was Lisa Kline. She thinks Matthew’s disappeared. She wants someone to talk to.”

  Alec stood.

  “Let’s take my car,” Laura said. She locked up her home, and drove on the Capital Beltway west and then north to Matthew’s home in Maryland. Lisa opened the front door as they walked up.

  “This is Alec, a friend of mine. He’s a private investigator, so maybe he can help.”

  Lisa nodded. “The baby’s asleep.” Lisa’s eyes were reddened, and the skin of her upper cheeks was moist. “Follow me.”

  Lisa led Laura and Alec into the shadows and back into the main bedroom. She showed Laura his closet with the empty areas where some shirts and pants had hung before. She pointed out the missing toiletry articles in their bathroom. Laura and Alec then wandered around the large house, searching for nothing in particular. Lisa walked behind them.

  “Sometimes doctors can be difficult to live with,” Laura said, recalling her own failed marriage. “Are you and Matthew doing all right?”

  “Us? Oh, yes. Our marriage is fine. That is, it was fine until the lawsuit. He’s changed since then. He can’t sleep. He’s not interested in going out or doing anything. He thinks about the case all the time. He can’t seem to deal with it.”

  “Even I could tell he’s depressed about it. He told me he was going to get counseling.”

  “I think that would be good for him.” She touched Laura’s shoulder. “You and Matthew were such good friends in medical school; maybe he’ll contact you.”

  Laura turned to her. “I hope so.”

  “Do you think I should call the police?”

  “Yes, you should. By the way, do you think Matthew might’ve been taking drugs?”

  “Drugs? Why would you think that?”

  “It’s just that desperate people, and desperate doctors, sometimes make unfortunate choices.”

  “Oh, no. I can’t imagine Matthew taking drugs.”

  Laura sighed. “I’ll do what I can to help. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Thanks for coming over.”

  Laura hugged her, and they walked to the front door. Laura left with a lingering vision of Lisa’s drawn face.

  Alec stepped into Laura’s car. “I wonder if his leaving has anything to do with our trap last night,” he said after securing his seat belt.

  “Yeah, I thought of that.” Laura started her car for the drive home.

  “Something might happen because of our gamble. We could’ve stirred things up.”

  Laura felt vulnerable, as she and Alec had lost their advantage with the killer, and she was glad Alec was with her. Cosmo hopped in circles as she opened her front door. “I have you, my faithful watchdog, to alert us to trouble.”

  Laura eased down onto her living room couch. “I’m exhausted, and my ribs hurt.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Alec said.

  Laura’s eyelids grew heavy, and within ten minutes, she was stretched out on the couch in a deep sleep.

  ***

  Two men met late that evening in a small, dark alley. One was Derek Hollister, medical student, who stood facing a shorter, muscular man.

  “Okay, what can you tell me?” Derek said.

  “Yo brotha was one of us. The peeps know you. Join us.”

  “I can’t do that. You know I don’t want to deal with you.”

  “You could help us, man. There’s bank in it for you. More than you’ll ever see doctoring. You could supply us good stuff.”

  “Forget all that. How did my brother die?”

  The man snorted and held out his palm.

  Derek dug in his pocket and plopped a roll of 50-dollar bills onto the man’s hand.

  The man counted the money and stuffed it into his jeans. Then he crossed his arms, leaned against the wall, and launched into the story of the night that Derek’s brother died.

  When he finished, Derek looked down at him and nodded. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m in, and I’ll
supply you with the pills for free.”

  Chapter 24

  Laura woke up several times during the night, hearing wind gusts against her house and the grating of a bush against a downstairs window. She kept telling herself that she had Alec her protector and two good warning systems, her house alarm and her dog. At some point, she made it upstairs to her bed. Cosmo slept on his floor cushions nearby and didn’t stir much all night.

  Laura slept for a few hours near dawn but awoke once again with a start. Sweat covered her forehead and neck, and her breathing was rapid and noisy. She caught a fleeting vision of angry people in white coats pointing and yelling at her as she stood over a bruised, blonde-haired little girl, lying still on a bed. Blotting her eyes with a tissue, she crawled out of bed, stumbled to the kitchen, and brewed a pot of coffee, extra-bold. In the dining room, she stood and gazed at a painting of a young girl reading at a window overlooking the ocean. The girl was engrossed in her book—not a care in the world—and with so much of life ahead of her. Laura’s breathing slowed, and her jitters calmed.

  I’m a strong person and a good doctor. I know I am.

  Alec strolled into the dining room. “Sleep okay?”

  “Not really,” Laura said. “I feel like we’re not getting anywhere.”

  “I know that feeling well enough.”

  “I need to run a few errands this morning. Then I’d like to get some fresh air and relax my mind a bit.”

  While cleaning up, Laura’s mind raced as she thought about her plans for the day. She knew they had to score points and uncover some incriminating evidence soon. She wondered what Matthew Kline was up to and if the police were looking into his disappearance. They might wait a day or two to see if Matthew returned home. She couldn’t believe for a second that Matthew would choose suicide. I’ll check with Lisa soon. He’ll be all right.

  She met Alec in the kitchen.

  “Why don’t we have lunch at the Newseum food court?” Alec said.

  “Great idea.”