“At first I thought Arthur was just having a one-time out-of-towner, and he seemed so embarrassed when he realized I’d seen the two of them together that I figured he’d drop what he was doing and straighten up. It wasn’t until months later when Ruth came into the hospital as a patient that I realized she was local.”
Lauren stares at me, tears welling in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Lauren. I know I should have said something to you, but it was awkward for me. I mean, I have to…well, had to…work with Arthur.”
Lauren finally uncrosses her arms and waves away my apology. “I’d expect nothing less from you, Mattie. I know from our past dealings that you have a deep respect for people’s privacy, and unlike some in this town, you can and will keep a secret. I knew it when you took care of me at the hospital a couple of years ago.”
I nod.
“And then there’s that whole patient confidentiality thing.” She pauses, then says, “I’m guessing you have some kind of obligation along those lines with this new job as well?”
“Some,” I tell her. “Obviously if I discover something relevant to a case I’m investigating, I have to share that information with certain people.”
“But if it’s not relevant?”
“Then my lips are sealed.”
Lauren nods solemnly and takes a deep breath. She looks away for a moment, then turns back to me and says, “I’ve known about Ruth all along, Mattie. In fact, I knew before it ever happened.”
I stare at her, confused. “Before it happened?”
I watch indecision, then resignation flit across her face. “What I’m about to tell you has no bearing on Karen Owenby or her case so if you breathe one word of it to anyone, I swear I will hunt you down and kill you,” she says.
I laugh—a quick snort—then swallow it down. One look at her face and I know she isn’t kidding. Having no desire to be laid out on Izzy’s table, I nod my understanding.
She leans forward, folds her hands on the table in front of her and stares at them, picking at one thumb with the nail of the other. “When I was little, my father…he…abused me.” She pauses and swallows hard. “Sexually. Beginning when I was about six and continuing until I left home at the age of seventeen.”
“Oh shit, Lauren. I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs. “It happens in the best of families. Or so my therapist says.”
“Did you tell anyone? Try to get help?”
She gives me a wry smile and a quick, sad glance before looking back at her hands. “I told my mother when I was about twelve or so. She insisted I was making mountains out of molehills, that my father was merely an affectionate man and that such talk could ruin him and his reputation. The image of a happy, middle-class family was everything to her. It didn’t matter what the reality was, all she cared about was what other people would think or believe. Protect the façade at all costs,” she says bitterly.
I squeeze my eyes closed, blocking out the awful pain on her face.
“Once I left home I thought I’d be fine, but I was wrong. I love my husband very much, Mattie, and I believe that he loves me. But when it comes to sex…I…I…well, I can’t. I tried during the early years of our marriage—that’s how I came to be blessed with Jenny and Kelly. But I simply can’t do it anymore. I become physically ill. And Arthur isn’t the type to push himself on someone if he isn’t wanted. Yet he has…needs. So I told him years ago that I would understand if he sought release elsewhere. The only thing I asked was that he not do anything to jeopardize our marriage or trigger gossip until the kids are grown.” She lets out a sad little laugh. “Ironic in a way. I’m as much into the façade as my mother was.”
I am utterly dumbfounded. I shudder to think of the mental and emotional effort it must have taken for this woman to keep it together and present a happy front all these years. “My God, Lauren. I had no idea. I’m so, so sorry.”
She flashes me a weak smile. “Me too,” she says. “It’s not the life I dreamed of when I was a little girl, that’s for sure. But I think it’s as close as I’m going to get.”
“Forgive me if I’m treading where I shouldn’t here, Lauren, but are you still getting counseling?”
She shakes her head. “Can’t see the point. I did it for nine years and it didn’t change much of anything. To be honest, telling you gives me a huge sense of relief. I’ve been carrying this secret around so long…it feels good to finally share it with someone.” She looks at me then and this time her smile is a warm one. “I’ve always liked you, Mattie. You’ve always seemed so strong to me and you’re a good person. Honest. You have integrity.”
She couldn’t make me feel more ill at ease if she stripped me naked, painted BITCH on my back, and paraded me up and down Main Street.
“I trust you to keep what I’ve told you to yourself.”
“I will,” I tell her. “I swear. I’ll take it to my grave.”
She eyes me a moment and then says, “Yes, I believe you will. And since it’s what you came for, I might as well tell you the rest. Arthur has some income that we don’t keep on the books. It’s his discretionary fund, money he uses for whatever…personal needs he has. Some of it comes from investments, some of it comes from side ventures we’ve dabbled in. One of those side ventures is an arrangement of sorts with a medical supply company that Karen Owenby had connections to, a place called Halverson Medical Supply. It’s basically a convoluted ownership setup that allows the docs to invest in the place without any apparent conflict of interest problems. It’s not strictly aboveboard, but it’s not exactly illegal either.”
As soon as I hear Lauren mention Halverson Medical Supply—the same name that was on the business card I found in David’s tobacco pouch—I know I have to add a visit there to my day’s agenda.
Lauren glances at the clock. “The girls will be home in half an hour.”
I realize this is her way of signaling an end to our conversation and that she is asking me to leave. I rise from my chair and stand there a moment, wracked with indecision. Part of me wants to turn and run, another part of me wants to gather Lauren Henley into my arms and rock her like a child. But the expression on her face tells me she will tolerate neither cowardice nor pity. So I simply thank her, smile, and leave.
Chapter 23
I’m hungry and the coffee I had at Lauren’s is churning away in my stomach, threatening to eat a hole in it. Consequently, I am looking forward to chowing down on one of Carver’s cheeseburgers and topping it off with a turtle sundae. Gina arrives ten minutes late and, as usual, her entrance turns a few heads. Aside from being the closest thing to a famous person we have here in Sorenson, she is the sort of woman who attracts attention. She is dressed in black slacks and a simple pullover sweater. The only jewelry she is wearing is a pair of small gold hoops in her ears. Her short hair has a reckless, tousled look to it—loose blond curls that frame her face in a soft, golden glow—and the fact that her dark roots are beginning to show doesn’t detract from her overall beauty. If anything, it simply adds to her air of casual self-assurance.
I wave to catch her eye and once she sees me, she heads to the booth where I’m seated.
“Hey there,” she says, beaming me a huge smile as she slides in across from me. She eyes my forehead with a worried expression. “What’s this?” she asks, touching her own forehead in the region where mine is bandaged.
“A small cut. Nothing serious.”
“Ah, good. I’m so glad you called, Mattie. How are you?”
“I’m doing okay for the most part. But at times…”
She looks at me sympathetically. “You know Sid and I will always be there for you. Sometimes when couples split, their friends feel the need to take sides. But Sid and I won’t do that. You and David are both our friends and we intend to keep it that way, no matter what happens.”
“Even if he’s guilty of murder?” I ask her.
She hesitates, then shakes her head. “I can’t believe David killed that
woman. What he did do with her was pretty damned stupid, but I just can’t picture him as a murderer. It doesn’t fit.”
I’m glad to hear her echo my own thoughts. “I agree,” I tell her. “But I realize now that I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. I don’t think he’s the type who would kill someone but I never thought he was the type to have an affair either.”
“Men!” Gina says with disgust. “Sometimes you have to wonder what the hell they’re thinking.”
“I’m not sure there was much thinking involved with this.”
“Or maybe he was just thinking with the wrong head,” Gina says, a wicked gleam in her eye.
We both start to giggle, and it is all we can do to get ourselves under control when the waitress comes by. After placing our orders—a cheeseburger with all the trimmings for me and a healthy chicken salad for Gina—I get down to business.
“Thank you for your support, Gina. It means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome. Like I said last night, we girls have to stick together.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, because I could use some help on a particular matter.”
“Great,” she says. “Name it.”
“I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that I plan to file for a divorce from David. As soon as we’ve been separated long enough, I’ll get the paperwork started. In the meantime, I’m struggling a bit with some financial stuff. I was out of work for two months and David controls all the purse strings in our household, so I’m a bit cash shy.”
Gina pouts prettily. “A big mistake to let them have that much power,” she says.
“I know that now.”
“So do you need a loan? Is that it? Because I’d be happy to loan you whatever you need.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Thanks for the offer, but that won’t be necessary. I’m getting by and I do have income again. But when it comes time for the divorce, I want to make sure I get a fair share of the assets. I’m not out to take David for a bundle or anything, I just want enough to get by on.”
Gina leans back and stares at me with an expression that is half frown, half smile. “That’s a marvelous attitude, Mattie. And a rare one. Are you sure you want to be that understanding?”
I nod. Given Gina’s declaration that she and Sid intend to keep both David and me as friends, I figure my best approach is one that will seem innocuous and equitable. “Actually, I think David will be more than fair,” I tell her. “But given all that’s happened, I just can’t be sure.”
“And you’d be foolish to trust your future to him at this point. You need to look after your own interests.”
“And that’s where you might be able to help. I think David may have some income sources that I don’t know about, money that he’s hiding away somewhere. I overheard bits and pieces of a conversation he was having about some sort of investment scheme. I don’t know who he was talking to or what it was about, but I did get the impression that some of the other docs might be involved as well. Do you know if Sid is into anything like that?”
Gina thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. “I’m not aware of anything. We don’t really need any extra income, you understand. So I’m not sure Sid would know if there was something like that going on anyway.”
“Has David come to him for capital or a loan for any business ventures that you know of?”
“I really don’t know, Mattie. Sorry. But I might not be privy to everything Sid’s got going. Have you asked him directly?”
“I started to last night, but we got interrupted.”
“Ah, yes. Calhoun.”
“He did mention something about a medical supply company that some of the docs have invested in. Do you know anything about that?”
Gina frowns again, taking a moment to think. “You know,” she says slowly. “I do remember hearing something along those lines.” She pauses, seeming to give it more thought. Then she shrugs. “Sorry, I don’t recall what it was.”
“That’s okay,” I say. The simple fact that she’s heard something is verification enough on the heels of what I learned from Lauren.
“I wish I could be more help,” Gina says. She reaches over and lays a reassuring hand on my arm, her face again full of sympathy. “All of this must be so terribly hard on you.”
“I’ll get through it.”
“Well, as I said, if there’s anything I can do to help you along, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thanks.”
“Now, then,” she says, leaning back and smiling. “You must tell me about this new job you have. It sounds very exciting.”
“I’m not sure exciting is the right word for it. Though it’s certainly not dull.”
“Do you help with the autopsies and such?” she asks, grimacing prettily.
“Yes, most of them anyway.”
“And it doesn’t bother you?”
“At times,” I admit. “Death is always somewhat disturbing. But I’m getting used to it. It’s really not that different from assisting with surgeries except that I don’t have to worry about whether or not the patient is stable.”
“No,” Gina says with a chuckle. “I guess you wouldn’t.”
“I’ve only been doing it for a few days, but I’ve learned a lot. It’s amazing how much science there is in death.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, there are several branches of forensic science, each one its own specialty. In addition to basic forensic pathology, which is what Izzy and I do, there are forensic odontologists who specialize in teeth, forensic anthropologists who specialize in bones, and forensic entomologists who specialize in bugs.”
Gina shudders.
“It all sounds rather grim at first,” I admit. “But there’s a real science to it and that’s the part of it I think I’m going to like the most. Biology, chemistry…even physics come into play. And the tiniest bits of evidence can prove to be significant—something as simple as a single hair or a bit of skin or even blood drops.”
Gina swallows hard and I realize what I’m doing. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, Gina. What a great thing to talk about right before we eat, eh?”
“I’m okay,” she assures me. But she doesn’t look okay and I give myself a mental kick for being so stupid.
“Tell you what,” I say. “Let’s change the subject because there’s something else you can do for me.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve been out of the gossip mill for the past couple of months and I’m completely out of touch with all the latest scuttlebutt. Can you bring me up to speed?”
“Now you’re talking,” Gina says. “Have you heard that Myra Baldwin is pregnant with triplets?”
Chapter 24
Talking and eating at the same time is a bit of a challenge for me, and by the time I leave Carver’s I have a mustard stain and a grease splotch on my blouse. I don’t realize I’m wearing part of my lunch until after I am in the car, so I pull in to a gas station and spend ten minutes in the rest room trying to clean the worst of it off, though all I manage to do is make the blotches bigger and very wet. Resigned to looking like a slob, I get back in my car and turn the heater on, aiming the vents at my chest. After fanning and fluffing for a few minutes, I head for the small industrial park that serves as home to Halverson Medical Supply.
An annoying buzzer sounds as I open the front door and enter what is essentially a showroom. But there is no slick marketing here, just several artfully discreet displays of infirmity. Shelves along the wall hold things like bedpans, adult diapers, and bed pads. Set up in the middle of the room are various hospitallike tableaux composed of electric beds, portable commodes, wheelchairs, walkers, and other sundry signs of illness.
There is no one around but I notice a metal door at the back of the room and, given the size of the building, assume there is additional space beyond it, most likely a small warehouse of sorts. I guess that whoever is working the store is back there, so I kill a little time
browsing amid the sickroom dioramas, waiting to see if the door buzzer has announced my presence.
After thoroughly checking out the merchandise without anyone coming forward to greet me, I think about opening the door to trigger the buzzer again. Then I notice there are two desks with accompanying file cabinets near the back wall and realize I might be missing out on a golden opportunity. While I’m not quite brave enough to open drawers and snoop, I figure anything out on top of the desks is fair game. I know the odds of finding anything useful are slim, but I figure it’s still worth a shot. Maybe I’ll get lucky.
I move toward one of the desks and am close enough to just make out the writing on an invoice when the door to the back opens. I jump and flash a guilty smile at the tall, bald, gaunt-looking man who steps into the showroom. For a split second I think I know him, but on closer scrutiny I realize I am mistaken. Before the door closes all the way, I catch a quick glimpse of the room behind it. As I guessed, it is a warehouse area filled with more equipment and supplies.
“May I help you?” the man asks.
“Hi there,” I say, extending a hand. His handshake is quick but firm, the hand itself uncomfortably clammy. Now that I am here, I realize I haven’t thought things through very well. I have no idea how to approach the matter and, after a quick mental two-step, I decide to take the most direct approach. I lie.
“My name is Mattie and I’m a nurse in a doctor’s office. I heard through the grapevine that you are offering special deals for some of the docs so I thought I’d come by and check it out.”
His eyes narrow and he takes a step back. “Deals? I’m not sure what you mean by that.” He looks over his shoulder with a tense, wary expression, as if he thinks someone might be trying to sneak up on him.
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