Murdered By Plastic Surgery

by Dianne Harman

  If she’s the murderer, she’s missed her calling. She’d make a great actress, Jeff thought.

  “This shouldn’t take long, Sybil. As you know, Dr. Thurston was the one who discovered the body at approximately 6:30 in the evening. He told me he’d returned to the office to check his surgery schedule for the following day, since his home computer wasn’t working and that he’d seen light on in Dr. Ramsey’s office. I’d like to know what time you left the office and if you saw anything suspicious prior to that.”

  “Detective, if you’re asking me for an alibi, I don’t have one. I left the office at 5:30, just like I usually do. I went home, changed clothes, and took my two dogs, a Jack Russell terrier and a cocker spaniel, on a long walk. After our walk, I decided to have a glass of wine while I watched the news and thought about what I’d fix for dinner. About 7:30 I’d just starting making my dinner when, as you know, I received the call from you that Dr. Ramsey had been murdered. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Sybil, I hate to ask this, but did you talk to anyone or see anyone while you were walking your dogs?”

  “Detective, you might as well ask me outright if anyone can corroborate my story, and the answer is no. As a matter of fact, I remember thinking how odd it was that no one else was walking their dog that evening. Usually I run into a couple of other people at that time of night, but unfortunately I didn’t see anyone.”

  “Did you receive any calls or talk on the phone to anyone during that time?”

  “Again, Detective, the answer is no. Believe me, I wish I had an alibi for that time frame, but I don’t. What I can tell you is that I was probably the most loyal employee Dr. Ramsey ever had. I’ve known his last two wives, and I’m even the godmother to Dani, his daughter by his second wife. Quite simply, I’ve devoted the last twenty years of my life to him and his practice. I’ve never married, and I have a very limited social life. My priority has been Dr. Ramsey. Do you have any other questions?”

  “Have you noticed anything unusual either recently or in the last few years regarding Dr. Ramsey or Dr. Thurston? I’ll consider whatever you tell me to be confidential. I’m just trying to figure out who the murderer is, and quite frankly, I don’t have much to go on.”

  She looked out the window for several minutes, her hand cupping her chin, and then she turned to him. “Detective, I’m going to tell you a couple of things, but quite honestly, I don’t see how they could have anything to do with Dr. Ramsey’s murder.”

  “Sybil, please tell me whatever you know, no matter how inconsequential you may think it is. It’s been my experience that often the most trivial thing is the one that helps to solve a crime.”

  She walked over to the door and made sure it was securely closed, then she turned around and said, “I’ve been asked by Dr. Thurston to remain here and become his administrative assistant, and I’ve agreed to do so. It makes sense in a number of ways. I know the patients and the office procedures, plus it guarantees me a job, although I don’t think I’d have a problem getting another job.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. I would think that with the number of plastic surgeons in the Palm Springs area, someone who has been an administrative assistant to one for that many years would be very employable.”

  “That’s true, but I really don’t want to go through that.” She looked at her watch and said, “I do have a number of people I need to call, but there are a couple of things that cause me concern.”

  “Anything you can tell me would be appreciated.”

  “Well, the first thing is that one time I heard an argument between Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Thurman. It was after the office was closed, and I was just getting ready to leave. I’m sure they thought I’d already left. Anyway, Dr. Thurman was accusing Dr. Ramsey of making too many of his facelift patients look alike. He even hinted that Dr. Ramsey was trying to recreate his former wife, Lisbeth, when he did facelifts on his patients.”

  “What’s your feeling on that?” Jeff asked.

  “Quite honestly, I know that Lisbeth was the love of his life. He was heartbroken when she left him, and leaving him for the pool man didn’t help his self-esteem. I do have to say that some of the patients he’s performed surgery on tend to look like her, but I always thought it was because she was so beautiful he was just trying to recreate her beauty. I never saw it as a liability, but a couple of the patients weren’t too happy with their results.”

  She told him how Brandy had called several times, and Missy’s husband had called and complained to Dr. Ramsey about how they looked following their facelift surgeries. Sybil told him that neither one had called in the last few days.

  “Do you know if Dr. Ramsey was ever sued by a patient for malpractice or if any other patients were unhappy?” Jeff asked.

  “No, as a matter of fact I heard him say many times that he was probably one of the few plastic surgeons in the Palm Springs area who hadn’t been sued for malpractice. He thought of it as quite a testament to his surgical abilities.”

  “Sybil, back to the argument you overheard. How did Dr. Ramsey respond to Dr. Thurman?”

  “He told Dr. Thurman that the women bearing a resemblance to one another probably occurred because he thought of his ex-wife as the most beautiful woman in the world, and while he was operating he probably had her in his mind. He said all of his patients had been happy with the results, so it really wasn’t a problem.”

  “Was that before he operated on Brandy and Missy?”

  “Yes, come to think of it, it was, but as I said, after their initial phone calls, we haven’t heard from either of them recently. Dr. Ramsey was very charismatic and very persuasive. If there were other patients who questioned how they looked, I imagine he talked to them when they returned for their post-surgery exams, because I certainly never heard anything.”

  “Sybil, I know I’ve taken up quite a bit of your time and you have a lot to do, but is there anything else you can think of that I should know? You mentioned two things.”

  “Detective, this is probably nothing, but I just think it’s odd.”

  “Sybil, as I said earlier, nothing is too small when I’m trying to solve a murder case. Please, tell me what it is.”

  “Okay. Several times I’ve seen Dr. Thurman writing things in a little black notebook, you know, kind of a diary thing. It’s not done in a casual manner, like you’d write in an appointment book or something like that. Each time I’ve seen him, he’s been furiously writing. As soon as I walked into his office, he looked uncomfortable and shoved the book in a drawer.”

  “Do you have any idea what he was writing down?”

  “No, but there was something weird about it, because he was always so intense when he was doing it. It struck me as strange.”

  “I’d feel the same way if I saw someone doing that. Last question. Did Dr. Ramsey ever say anything to you about Dr. Thurston’s writings?”

  “No, and I’d be willing to bet he never saw him do it. You see, each of the doctors had separate offices and nurses. The only things they shared were the reception room, the billing clerk, the file room, and the surgical center. The reception area was like the suite’s halfway point. Dr. Ramsey’s offices are to the left, and Dr. Thurston’s offices are to the right. That’s why I thought it was odd that Dr. Thurston discovered Dr. Ramsey’s body. Normally, they never went into each other’s offices unless they came to me and asked if one or the other was free.”

  “What do you mean, free?”

  “Just whether or not they had a patient or were in surgery. Their practices were separate, and although they called themselves partners, in reality Dr. Thurston paid Dr. Ramsey a monthly fee for the things they shared along with the utilities and insurance and his suite of offices. I know each of them carried their own malpractice insurance, and Dr. Thurston’s employees were paid directly by him. I really must go, Detective. I hope some of what I’ve told you helps with your investigation.”

  Jeff stood up and put out his hand. “I’m not
quite sure what any of it means yet, but at some point, it will all fit together. Here’s my card, and please feel free to call me if you think of anything else. My cell phone number is on the card, so you can call me at that number 24/7. Thank you so much for your time.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Jeff left the surgery office and headed west to the casino where Paul Donaldson worked. He had an appointment to meet with Hugh Lawson, Paul’s pit boss, while he was on his lunch break. He parked in the large parking lot and seeing the number of cars in the lot, he once again realized what a boon the recent casino additions had been to the economy of the Palm Springs area.

  Hugh had told him to take the elevator to the third floor, turn left, and at the end of the hall was the employees’ lunchroom area where they could meet. He said to walk in, and he was the one with grey hair and a grey mustache. When Jeff entered the lunchroom he easily spotted Hugh and walked over to where he was sitting. Hugh had been watching for him and stood up, his lunch on the table in front of him.

  “You must be Detective Combs. I’m Hugh Lawson. Please have a seat. May I get you some coffee?”

  “No thanks, I think I’ve had enough for the day. I promise not to take up much of your tine. I just have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

  “Fire away. You mentioned it was about the death of some plastic surgeon. I’ve never been to one, and to my knowledge, no one in my family has ever had any work done, but hey, this is Palm Springs. Be willing to bet that half the people in the casino downstairs have been to one.”

  “I’d agree. I’m more interested in an employee who works as a dealer in the casino, and I understand you’re the pit boss for the section of the casino where he works. His name is Paul Donaldson.”

  “Yes, Paul works for me. He works the noon to 8:00 p.m. shift. Actually, he’s one of the best-liked dealers here at the casino. His tables are always full.”

  “I don’t quite know what you mean by ‘his tables are always full.’ Could you explain?” Jeff asked.

  “Sure,” Hugh said taking a long drink from his iced tea. “When a dealer’s popular with the players, their tables usually have more players than the other tables. All you have to do is walk through a casino, and you can see for yourself which dealers are more popular.”

  “Let me interrupt before you go any further. Why would one dealer be more popular than another?”

  “It’s all about money. If you win at a certain table, you tend to go back to that table. And the more people at the table means more winners and more money changing hands.”

  “Does that translate into bigger salaries for certain card dealers? Pardon my ignorance, but I really don’t know how casinos operate.”

  “That’s a yes and no question, Detective. You see the base pay of all of the dealers is pretty much the same. There may be an adjustment for longevity or something like that, but basically, they’re pretty much all paid the same. The operative word here is ‘paid the same.’ What makes the difference in how much money they make is the amount in tips they take home.”

  “So, they receive tips from the players at their table, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes. Consider that the average dealer is getting a base pay of around $25,000 a year, yet some of them take home upwards of $60,000. I’ve even known a couple of dealers who made it to the $100,000 level, but that’s pretty unusual. When people win big at the tables, they often give the dealer a big tip. It seems like the later it is at night, or should I say, early morning, the bigger the tips. I imagine the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed by that time has something to do with it as well.”

  “Wow, I had no idea. I must be in the wrong profession. If Paul is so popular and the tips are bigger the later it is, why doesn’t he work a later shift? I’d think he could make more money.”

  “I’ve talked to him about doing that, but he’s a real family man. He has a wife, Missy, and two kids. He doesn’t want to be away from them at night. Pretty commendable in today’s world, if you ask me,” Hugh said.

  “I agree. What do you know about his wife?”

  “He seems devoted to her. She had some plastic surgery done a couple of months or so ago, and at first Paul was furious about it. I guess his wife, Missy, was happy with it, but he said she didn’t look like she had before the surgery. He finally decided that was probably the whole point of it, and he even told me a couple of days ago that she really does look terrific. He said he was glad he hadn’t sued the doctor or done something stupid, but that he just hadn’t been prepared for having his wife look as different as she does.”

  “What’s his personality like? Would you say he’s easy-going or would he be the type that might easily lose his temper?”

  “Paul Donaldson is one of the most likeable, easy-going people I’ve ever met. To give you an idea of how easy-going he is, he recently took several days of vacation time, and he and Missy took ten girls from his daughter’s Girl Scout group on a camping trip. I mean, what dad is going to do that unless he’s been guilted or shamed into doing it? But Paul was really excited about it. That’s the kind of guy he is and probably why he’s such a popular dealer. If there was one man I’d rely on to do the right thing, it would be Paul Donaldson.”

  “Hugh, you’ve been more than helpful. I can’t thank you enough for taking time during your lunch break to talk to me. I see you have a little bit of your sandwich left and a couple of cookies. Enjoy, and again, thanks for your time. I can find my way out.”

  Jeff stood up and held out his hand. The men shook hands, and as Jeff left the casino, he was convinced that he could scratch one person off of his list of persons of interest, Paul Donaldson.

  CHAPTER 20

  When Jeff got in his car, he took his phone out and checked for messages. There was one from Sybil. He called her back, wondering if she’d remembered something.

  He recognized her voice when she answered the phone. “Sybil, it’s Detective Combs. I have a message on my phone asking me to call you. What can I do for you?”

  “Detective, I received a call a little while ago from Dr. Ramsey’s wife, Ashley. She sounded really angry and told me she’d arranged for a moving van to come to the doctor’s office and remove his collection of antiques. I happened to be talking to your wife when she called, and she told me I should call you. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Lock the front door right now, and I’ll call Dr. Ramsey’s attorney. I wanted to talk to him anyway. I’ll call you back once I’ve spoken with him. Don’t let Dr. Ramsey’s wife or anyone from the moving company into the office. Do you have any patients who will be coming to the office today?”

  “Yes. Dr. Thurston’s surgery schedule is filled for the rest of the afternoon, and I believe you have an appointment with him late this afternoon. What should I do?”

  “I recall seeing a back door when I was there earlier. Call the patients and tell them to enter the office through that door. You could say something like the police have suggested you make some changes at the office. If you can’t get in touch with someone and they show up at the front door, verify who it is, and then let them in. I don’t believe Mrs. Ramsey would have any way of knowing what patients would be having surgery today. I’ll get back to you in a few minutes.”

  Jeff placed a call to Roseanne, his secretary, at the station. “Roseanne, I want you to go into my office and get the file on the murder of Dr. Ramsey. I think it’s on the right side of my desk. I’ll hold while you do it.”

  A moment later she came back on the phone. “Detective, I found the file. What do you want to know?”

  “I need the name and telephone number of Dr. Ramsey’s attorney. I believe I wrote it down on the inside of the file folder. Take a look and see if you can find it.”

  A moment later she was back on the line. “His name is Roger Sills. Here’s his number.” She gave it to him.

  “As always, thanks. I should be in the office in about twenty minutes. See you then.”

  He
called the lawyer’s office, and a friendly female voice answered the phone. “This is attorney Roger Sills’ office. How may I help you?”

  “This is Detective Combs with the Palm Springs Police Department. May I speak with Mr. Sills? Tell him this is regarding the death of his client, Dr. Ramsey.”

  “Detective, he just walked into the office. Please hold.”

  “This is Roger Sills, Detective. What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to talk to you at length about your deceased client, Dr. Keith Ramsey, but I have an immediate problem regarding him. I’ve just received a call from his administrative assistant, Sybil, telling me that Dr. Ramsey’s wife just called her and told her she was coming to the office with a moving van and was going to remove the antique collection Dr. Ramsey had in his office.”

  “She has no right to it. As a matter of fact, his entire estate is part of a trust which will be distributed equally to his ex-wife, Lisbeth, and their two children, not to her. Dr. Ramsey appointed me to act as the trustee of his trust in the event of his death, and I will be administering the distribution of the trust assets shortly. When did Sybil think she would be there?”

  “From what she said, I gathered it was imminent.”

  “I just looked at my calendar, and I see that my appointment for this afternoon cancelled. I was going to spend the rest of the afternoon doing paperwork, but I think I better take care of this problem. I’m going to leave for Dr. Ramsey’s office right now. Would you call Sybil and tell her I’m on my way? I’ve met her before, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Of course. I told her to lock the door, call Dr. Thurston’s patients, and tell them to enter through the back door. You might want to do the same.”