Silver Anniversary Murder

by Leslie Meier

  Then her name was called and she was ushered to an examining room where she was given a gown and told to take off everything except her underpants. She complied and then, as usual, she waited for a good ten minutes until the doctor appeared, studying the chart of the human spine that hung on the wall. Dr. Fine was now much older than the young groom she remembered, who had sported long sideburns and pale blue tux. Now he was carrying an extra twenty pounds and was balding. He didn’t look up when he entered, but stood inside the doorway, reading through her questionnaire.

  “What brings you here today?” he asked, in a puzzled tone. “You seem quite healthy, um, Mrs. Stone.”

  Lucy studied the doctor, with his rumpled chinos and white lab coat, his double chin and potbelly, his comfortably worn shoes, and decided he didn’t seem to be much of a threat. She might as well drop any pretense of being a patient and admit why she was there.

  “I’m quite well, thank you. I came to talk to you about my friend and your ex-wife, Beth Gerard. Perhaps you remember me? I’m Lucy Stone. Beth and I were best friends.”

  Their eyes met and she saw a glimmer of recognition in his. “Ah, yes. Lucy.” He paused, considering his words. “You know what happened to Beth?”

  “I do. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I really can’t accept the idea that she committed suicide. I’m looking for answers.”

  “Well, the police investigated and concluded it was suicide. The case is closed.”

  “I’m aware of that, but I can’t help wondering about it. Do you have any insight into why she might want to kill herself? Or if there was anyone who might have wanted to kill her?”

  “Oh, my goodness, no. We didn’t stay in touch after the divorce; we went our separate ways. It was more than twenty years ago, you know. I’m remarried, quite happily. And of course Beth remarried, too. But I will say this, in my experience she was quite unstable, and it was impossible to live with her. One day she was on top of the world, singing and dancing, and the next she wouldn’t get out of bed because everything was so hopeless. I tried to get help for her but she was very resistant. In the end, I simply couldn’t take it.”

  Lucy found his attitude rather callous, especially since Beth had a child when she married Colin Fine. “You had a stepson, Dante. Weren’t you concerned about him?”

  “A very odd child, indeed. I can’t say I ever felt fatherly toward him, and he clearly resented me. He wanted his mother to himself.”

  “That’s not unusual, is it?”

  Dr. Fine sighed. “Looking back, I suppose I could have tried harder. I was pretty young, you know, just out of university and beginning my practice. I guess I saw getting married as something you did when you grew up, like it made me an instant adult. Now I realize I still had a lot of growing up to do.” He looked at her and furrowed his brow. “Would you mind standing up?”

  Next thing Lucy knew he was telling her to bend forward, sideways and backward, then asked her to stand and raise one leg at a time. Next she walked a line painted on the floor, feeling a bit like a suspected drunk driver, followed by the request that she loosen the back of her gown so he could observe her spine while she walked in place. She found the whole thing somewhat amusing, until she was asked to lie down on the examining table so he could palpate her spine. She realized she really didn’t want this man to touch her but wasn’t quite sure why. Besides, she reminded herself that, since she was probably going to pay for the exam, she might as well get some benefit from it. She had her doubts about chiropractic, but all those people in the waiting room were presumably getting some good from Dr. Fine’s treatments. Somewhat reluctantly, she climbed onto the table and lay face down, as instructed.

  Next thing she knew the doctor was running his hands up and down her back. He then pressed down hard on her shoulders, which forced the air out of her lungs. She was primarily concerned with getting some air back in when she felt his hands on her lower back, where they seemed to stay for quite a while. Adding to her discomfort was the odd little hmmmm noise he made as he stroked her bottom. She was about to protest when the hands were suddenly removed.

  “It’s as I thought,” he finally said, “you have a subluxation.”

  “I feel just fine,” said Lucy, quickly sitting up with her legs dangling off the table and refastening the ties on her gown.

  “You’re probably just used to the discomfort. I see this all the time. People come in and say ‘Oh, Dr. Colin, I had no idea what feeling healthy is really like. I’ve been feeling twenty years younger since my adjustment.’ Now, if you’ll just sit on this stool and allow me to make an adjustment.. . .”

  “Really, there’s no need. . . .”

  “Nonsense. I’m the doctor.”

  Something in his tone convinced Lucy that the only way she was going to get out of this examining room, short of screaming bloody murder, was to let Dr. Colin do this adjustment, whatever it was. So she sat on the stool and allowed him to take a series of measurements using various devices.

  “It’s exactly as I thought,” he said, standing behind her and massaging her shoulders. “Now, I should explain that a subluxation is an alteration of the contiguous structures in the spine that can cause a neural disturbance. You will feel an immediate improvement after this adjustment, but it’s likely you will need to return regularly for further adjustments. Now, I want you to relax and breathe deeply,” he intoned, running his hands up and down her sides, brushing her breasts before suddenly grabbing her shoulders and yanking sharply upwards, causing her to yelp.

  “Very good,” he said, “the adjustment was successful.”

  “Uh, good,” said Lucy, rising rather gingerly to her feet and discovering, much to her relief, that everything still worked.

  “Now, you may experience some soreness tonight and tomorrow, but I can give you a prescription, guaranteed to make you feel like a million bucks.”

  “No, thanks,” said Lucy, who was a firm believer in nothing stronger than an occasional aspirin.

  “Are you sure?” He leaned into her face, causing her to step back. “These are perfectly safe, nonaddictive, and my patients swear by them.”

  “I’m sure.” Lucy looked at her watch. “I must go. I have a, um, meeting. . . .”

  “I understand.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “But if you change your mind, just call the office. Anytime, day or night, and I can call in a prescription to your pharmacy. And I would like to see you again for another adjustment in four weeks.”

  “I’ll consider it,” said Lucy, desperate to get away from the doctor but aware she was still dressed in nothing but her underpants and the exam gown.

  “You can make an appointment with my receptionist,” he continued, leaning against the closed door. “And I would advise you to reconsider the prescription,” he added, producing a pad from his pocket and tearing off a preprinted script. “Just add your name at the top,” he advised, pressing the slip on gray-blue paper into her hand. Then he grabbed her hand with both of his and held on, stroking it. He stepped close and brought his mouth to her ear, brushing it with his lips as he whispered, “I only want to make you feel good.” Lucy flinched and pulled away, which caused him to chuckle before finally releasing her and leaving the examining room.

  She crumpled the prescription into a ball and tossed it on the floor, ripped off the gown, and began to put on her bra with trembling hands, struggling with the tangled straps. Calm down, she told herself. You’re overreacting. The exam was certainly creepy and uncomfortable, but she doubted it qualified as sexual assault. Or did it? she wondered, pulling her top over her head. She didn’t bother to comb her hair but grabbed her purse and reached for the doorknob, pausing to take a last look to make sure she didn’t leave anything behind in her hasty exit. Spotting the prescription on the floor, she considered picking it up and throwing it in the trash basket, then decided to leave it and marched down the hall and through the waiting room to the door. She had her hand on the knob when the
receptionist called her name.

  “How do you plan to pay, Mrs. Stone?”

  Lucy turned and answered sharply, “Just send the bill. You have my address.”

  “I’m sorry, but payment is due at the time of treatment.” She held up a sheet of paper and waved it. “Right here, you signed the agreement.”

  “All right,” said Lucy, pulling out her wallet as she crossed the waiting room to the receptionist’s counter. “How much is the copay?”

  “Two hundred and forty dollars for today’s initial appointment.”

  Lucy’s jaw dropped. “What did you say?”

  “It’s right here,” said the receptionist, sliding the bill across the counter and indicating the total with a scarlet-tipped fingernail.

  “What about my health insurance?”

  “You have a deductible that you haven’t met; after you meet the deductible your plan covers eighty percent.”

  “I see,” said Lucy, realizing resistance was futile and giving the woman her charge card. Just like death and taxes, health insurance wasn’t something you could fight.

  “Would you like to make another appointment? It’s best to book now as the doctor’s schedule fills up quickly.”

  “No thank you,” said Lucy, turning and finally making her exit. “Not over my dead body,” she muttered, stepping out into the fresh air and breathing deeply.

  Lucy had to admit she felt somewhat different as she walked to the subway, which in this part of the city was actually elevated above the street on a steel superstructure. She wasn’t convinced she felt better, just looser and kind of jelly-like, and she found climbing the steps to the train platform rather tiring. She was standing up there in a sunny spot, waiting for the train, when her cell phone beeped, announcing a text. Much to her surprise, it was from E. L. Haley, suggesting an early Tuesday morning meeting. Lucy was sending off her response when the train rattled into the station.

  Since the train would be above ground for a while, before descending to the dead zone below ground, Lucy decided to call Bill, and to her surprise he answered.

  “Finally!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”

  “I left my phone in the truck and then it was dead. I got your messages this morning, but I’ve been busy all day. Sylvia hired me to remodel the storefront of her bridal shop, wants it done in time for Orange Blossom Bridal’s Silver Anniversary Weekend.”

  “Since when is it Orange Blossom Bridal’s Silver Anniversary Weekend?” asked Lucy.

  “Since the banners arrived on Friday; Sylvia made a few changes to the original order. Some of the participating businesses aren’t happy, since they agreed to pay for the banners, and you can imagine how busy poor Corney is, trying to smooth a lot of ruffled feathers.”

  Lucy could imagine only too well. “Why on earth did you agree to Sylvia’s remodel? You know what she’s like.”

  “I do indeed, but she’s handed this project off to Warren and I get along fine with him. It’s not a big deal, either. She just wants some old-fashioned gingerbread trim added to the facade, along with some flower boxes. Piece of cake.”

  “Famous last words.”

  “Probably, but worst case scenario I should be done by Thursday, ready to head for New York on Friday. I’m driving, so don’t expect me before late afternoon.”

  “How come you’re driving?”

  “I don’t want the hassle of flying, and I figured driving would probably be just as fast if you add up the time it takes to drive to the airport, sit there for a couple of hours, and then you know there’d probably be some sort of delay.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you, with a nice, hot dinner. . . .”

  “How about a nice, hot you?”

  “That too,” said Lucy, smiling. “Any news from the kids?”

  “Nope. Sara and Zoe are studying for final exams. Elizabeth sent a selfie with Hugh Jackman. He’s making a movie in Paris and staying at the Cavendish.”

  “Wow.”

  “And no news from Alaska, which I take to mean everything’s okay.”

  “Sounds good,” said Lucy, as the lights blacked out momentarily and the train was swallowed up by the dark tunnel. “I love you,” she added, as the phone went dead.

  She spent the remainder of the train ride replaying her conversation with Dr. Colin, wondering what Beth had seen in him. Looking back, Lucy had to admit he’d been a good-looking guy in his youth, but even then she had found him unappealing. She hadn’t spent much time with him, but she remembered feeling a sense of relief when the newlyweds went on their way after dropping in for an unexpected visit to see Lucy and Bill’s new house in Maine. Back then, she’d put that sense of discomfort down to the fact that the house was in terrible shape, a real handyman’s special, and she was embarrassed by its ramshackle condition. But after today’s unpleasant examination she wondered if even back then she’d sensed something a bit off about the doctor. Dante had remembered Dr. Colin as a germophobe who had fits if he forgot to remove his shoes when he came into the house, and today the doctor himself had as much as admitted he hadn’t really cared for his young stepson.

  When Lucy got off the train, she resolved to keep an open mind about the chiropractor. She didn’t like him—she’d never liked him—but that didn’t mean he’d pushed his ex-wife off a balcony to her death. As he’d reminded her, they’d been apart for decades and he was unlikely to have a motive.

  Emerging onto the street, Lucy noticed a going-out-of-business sale in a boutique on Lexington Avenue, so she decided to check it out. She wanted to find some little presents for the girls, and for her Thursday morning breakfast friends. An hour or so later she emerged with a large shopping bag filled with infinity scarves, cute change purses, and a black T-shirt with a large, glittery, neon-green Statue of Liberty she planned to give to Sue. It was a risk. She wasn’t sure Sue would actually wear it, but they would all get a good laugh out of it.

  The crosstown bus dropped Lucy in front of a Vietnamese restaurant that had a sign in the window advertising bánh mì sandwiches. Lucy had never had one, but had heard from Pam that they were to die for, so she decided to take a chance on one for supper. Back in the studio apartment she found she’d made a good choice as she bit into the crusty French bread and discovered a delicious combination of flavors: roast pork, pickled carrots, and luscious pâté, perfectly complemented by the last of the wine.

  After washing up her single plate and wineglass, Lucy settled in to DVR the episodes of Call the Midwife that she’d missed. She hardly ever got to watch the show at home, since Bill and the girls absolutely detested it. She didn’t mind the messy obstetrical details they found so offensive, and always cried happy tears when the babies finally arrived and were wrapped in towels and put in their mother’s arms. Unlike last night’s gruesome crime drama, she was confident that these heart-warming stories would guarantee a peaceful night’s sleep. But first, she was going to indulge in a lovely, long, rose-scented bath.

  There was no one knocking on the bathroom door, urging her to hurry up, and there was an endless supply of hot water, which wasn’t the case at home where the aged water heater didn’t quite keep up with demand, so Lucy enjoyed a leisurely soak. She even managed to complete the crossword puzzle in the day’s New York Times, which she’d picked up on her way home.

  She was drying herself off when she heard a noise that sent shivers up her spine. Probably just the chill of getting out of the tub, she told herself, when she heard a familiar creak. She’d heard that noise before, every time she got up from the futon and stepped on a loose board. The bathroom door was ajar, so she wrapped the towel tightly around herself and peeked out, spotting a dark figure leaning over the suitcase she’d left open on the floor. A burglar!

  She quietly closed the bathroom door and locked it, then scrabbled through the jeans she’d dropped on the floor, searching the pockets for her cell phone. She punched in 9-1-1 with trembling fingers, and reported the intruder and he
r address, keeping her voice as low as she could. Then she quickly pulled on her jeans before sliding down the bathroom door and sitting with her back pressed against it, her hands wrapped around her knees while she waited for help to arrive. She only had her bra and the towel to cover her chest because she’d stripped off her top in the living room and had carefully folded it and replaced it in the suitcase.

  Help took its time to arrive, and it was nearly an hour later when she heard loud banging on her door and a voice announcing, “Police! Open up!”

  Clutching the towel, she unlocked the bathroom door, checked that the studio was empty, and dashed for the hall door. Two uniformed patrolmen came in and Lucy wished she was wearing something more than a towel, but they were more interested in checking the windows and closet than in her state of undress. “So you saw an individual?” asked one.

  “He was right there,” she said, pointing to her suitcase.

  “Did you recognize him?”

  “No. He was just a dark shape.” She paused. “It might even have been a woman. The minute I realized someone was there I shut the bathroom door, locked it, and called for help.”

  “Is anything missing? Jewelry?” he asked, while his partner busied himself studying the door to the unit.

  Somewhat awkwardly, Lucy knelt down and examined the neat piles of clothing, the shoes tucked in the sides, and the mesh pocket where she stowed her underwear. Nothing was disturbed. “I didn’t bring any jewelry,” she said. “Everything’s here.”

  “What about your purse?”

  Lucy checked her wallet, finding cash and credit cards undisturbed.

  “It doesn’t seem like the lock on the door’s been tampered with, not that it’s much of a lock,” said the partner. “Did you lock it?”

  Lucy tried to remember. At home she wasn’t in the habit of locking her door, and tonight she’d been eager to eat her bánh mì sandwich, which had given off a tempting aroma despite the paper wrapping. “I’m not sure,” she admitted.

  “So you’re from out of town?” asked the cop.