by Lucia Sinn
“But at least she found out what really happened to the boy. You should be proud of her for that.”
“I am proud. But she’ll be furious if she finds out I followed her, and I wouldn’t blame her one bit.”
McAuliffe stood up, jiggling his keys in his pocket. “Well, sorry to have bothered you. Just thought you might have seen something that would be helpful.”
“If that were true, don’t you think I would have been in touch with you?”
McAuliffe looked at a place just over John’s shoulder, his eyes unfocused.
“One thing you learn in this business, you never know people.”
“Just out of curiosity, who was it reported seeing me?”
“Our guys tend to eat at McDonald’s a lot. One of them recognized you from the problems you had a couple of years ago, when your nurse was forging prescriptions.”
“Ah, my bad reputation follows me everywhere. No wonder Cara doesn’t quite trust me.”
“If it’s any comfort,” McAuliffe said. “This conversation is just between you and me—at least for now.”
“That’s good of you,” John said. “But I think it would be best if I tell Cara about it, myself.”
When McAuliffe was gone, John sat at his desk with his head resting in his hands. His thick hair felt damp as he tried to massage away the pain across his forehead. The longer he put off telling Cara he’d followed her, the worse it would seem. He picked up the phone and left a message with her secretary.
Cara’s voice sounded strained when she returned his call.
“I need to see you over the lunch hour,” he said.
“Yes, that would be good.” Cara’s words were terse, clipped. “How about meeting at Franklin Park?”
“Shall I pick up some sandwiches?”
“If you want to. I’m not hungry.”
What was she upset about? Had McAuliffe broken his promise? It didn’t seem likely, but maybe she’d heard about him following her some other way. But at least she was willing to see him. “Look, you’re not in any shape to walk that far. Why don’t I pick you up at the back door?” John said.
Cara agreed to meet him on the receiving dock. From the pinched expression on her face, John could see she had something on her mind. And it wasn’t pleasant. He got out to help her into the truck, but she brushed him away. “I’m not an invalid, you know.”
“Is something wrong?” he asked as they drove out onto the street and headed north.
“You bet there is.” Cara said. “I’ve just found out something strange.”
John swallowed hard, feeling like something was caught in his throat. “All right, I’m sorry. I know I should have told you.”
“Told me what? Did you know Janie was a friend of Dr. Rozgonyi’s?”
John was mystified. Obviously, he and Cara were on different wave lengths. “Janie? Who is that?”
“I’ve told you about her. She’s Tony Cabella’s sister. I’m not sure if she still goes by her married name. Anyway, I went over to talk to Dr. Rozgonyi today and Janie was in her office. And guess who they were talking about? Me. How I wasn’t co-operating with Jeff King. I didn’t realize Janie and Jeff knew each other. It’s spooky.”
John felt his muscles relax, relieved that she hadn’t yet heard about what he’d done. If he was lucky, she’d be so fired up about this incident with Rozgonyi, it would lessen the impact of what he was about to say.
They turned into the park and drove around a circular drive lined with trees until arriving at a wooden shelter. John helped Cara out, and they sat at a table near the playground. “There’s something I have to tell you,” he said. “It’s about Saturday.”
“So? Go on.”
He told her that he’d followed her, and about McAuliffe stopping in his office.
Cara lowered her eyes and kicked at a pile of dry leaves, swishing them back and forth with the toe of her black leather boot. Seconds ticked by.
John was heartsick, knowing how bad it looked that he had followed her . “I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with Doug’s disappearance.” he said
Cara’s chin quivered. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t sneaked off like that, you wouldn’t have followed me, and now I’ve gotten you in another mess.”
John wrapped his arm around her, and she lifted her face for a kiss. Her lips were cool and trembling, but her cheeks felt hot. A warm sensation of tenderness rose in his chest. “You mean you aren’t mad at me?”
“I might have been, a week ago, before all of this happened. But now it seems trivial.”
“I was afraid you’d think I was a stalker.”
“I don’t know what to think, John. I’m just sort of numb right now.” She leaned back against the picnic table and stared off into the distance.
John studied her for a moment, admiring the creamy skin at the nape of her neck as the wind lifted her auburn hair. Following her line of vision, he saw that the trees had turned overnight. He felt a spell of melancholy coming on. Soon, the simple pleasure of sitting outside would give way to winter’s cold.
At that moment Cara sat up straight and clutched John’s arm, motioning toward a small yellow Volkswagen approaching. “Speak of the devil. There’s Jeff King.”
“Oh great. I can’t get away from that guy.” John said.
The car slowed down and glided to a stop by the playground. Jeff cut the motor, got out and went around to the passenger side, helping a young child out of the car.
Cara said, “What is he doing with Angie?”
John shaded his eyes and leaned forward for a closer look. “Are you sure that’s who it is? That kid looks heavier than Angie.”
“Yes, well, maybe that sweatshirt would add some bulk. But I guess you’re right, there’s something different about the way she walks. Angie is very light on her feet. But it’s still puzzling. Somehow, I didn’t think Jeff was married, and I certainly would never have dreamed he’d have a daughter. By the way, how did you know it was Jeff? As I recall, you’ve never met him. Did I do that good a job of describing him?”
“I met him this morning.”
“You’re kidding! After he left my office, I thought he’d gone out to the kitchen.”
“I was going to tell you about it as soon as I saw you. But after McAuliffe came my mind went off in another direction. But yes, I had a run in with him up in the Coronary Care unit. I was doing rounds when I found him talking to one of my patients, Agnes Sullivan. This lady has low cholesterol, weighs less than 100 pounds and has the appetite of a sick cat. The one thing that tempts her is crisp bacon sandwich. So, if she eats three bites, it’s better than nothing at all. But here was Jeff, taking it upon himself to lecture her about her poor choices and cramming all this vegetarian stuff down her throat. She looked bewildered.”
John picked up a smooth acorn gleaming in the sunlight and rolled it between his fingers. “Naturally, I didn’t want to make a scene. But I asked him to wait for me in the conference room. By then, I’d put it together that this was the guy who’s been driving you nuts. So, when we were alone, I told him he was way out of line, and if he ever interfered with my orders again, I’d report him to administration.”
Cara jumped to her feet, but had to sit down when pain shot up her sore hip.
“Now I’ve really got something on that twit. I’m going to talk to Dr. Rozgonyi as soon as possible. Imagine, her complaining that I’m not co operating, when her protégée is fighting with the doctors. And I’d also like to find out what she and Tony’s sister, Janie, are up to.”
John dropped the acorn, crunched it underfoot and threw it to a squirrel. “There’s probably a simple explanation,” he said. “You told me Tony was taking her to Indy to another doctor. I’m thinking they didn’t want to do all that driving and decided to find another physician here in town. If that’s what happened, Angie is one of Rozgonyi’s new patients.”
Cara nodded. “Which means that Janie, in her usual interfering way, has
taken it upon herself to micro-manage Angie’s treatment. But why would they be talking about me and saying I’m not co-operating?”
“All I can think is that they’ve have bonded and become friends. Rozgonyi’s new in town--not too well liked by the rest of the medical staff and no doubt feeling a little lonely.”
“What’s the problem? Don’t they like lady doctors?”
“Oh Lord, Cara, don’t start that feminist stuff. It’s not just the men, it’s the women too. Rozgonyi has an air of superiority that’s off-putting--as if the rest of us aren’t quite as well educated and sophisticated as she is.”
“Back to Jeff. What did he say after you confronted him?”
“He flared up like a sparkler on the 4th of July. Said he was only trying to help the woman. He threw a pencil across the room and walked away, red faced.”
“Looks like he’s calmed down now.” Cara looked at her watch. “You haven’t eaten. We’d better go.”
John helped Cara in the truck and started the motor. As he drove away from the playground, he glanced in the rear view mirror. Jeff had stopped pushing the child in the swing and stood on the road with his hands behind his back, watching as they drove away.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
ANA
ANA STOOD ON the big metal disc at the end of the playground, trying to make it go around. “Jeff,” she called, “come help me.” When he didn’t answer, she ran to his side and tugged on his shirt sleeve.
Jeff slapped her ear. “Don’t touch me; your hands are dirty”.
Ana bit her lip to keep from crying. “They are not.”
Jeff wrapped his fingers around her wrist and squeezed hard. “Don’t you talk back to me little miss.”
“Oww. Stop. Let go.”
Jeff loosened his grip. “Did you see those people near the shelter when you were playing on the slide?”
“Yes.” Ana jerked away and ran back to the playground. When Jeff was in a bad mood, he got mean.
But then he ran up behind her, and patted her on the shoulder. “Do you think they saw us?”
“I don’t think so,” Ana said. She could tell that’s what he wanted to hear.
“How can you be sure?”
“Because, they were making out, not paying us any attention. They’re probably going to have sex or something.”
Jeff narrowed his eyes. “And just how would you know about such things?”
Ana remembered the afternoon when she’d found out what was going on with Mom and Jeff. She’d been outside, and decided she wanted to play with the computer in her bedroom. She had pushed open the front door and run upstairs. Her mother’s bedroom door was open, and Jeff stood up to close it, but it was too late. Ana had already seen that squirrelly mess between his legs.
Mom had looked at her funny during dinner, but Ana pretended like she hadn’t seen a thing. Later, it was Doug who told her Jeff was sticking that thing in her mother. Now, she wanted Jeff to know she wasn’t so dumb. “Doug’s dad has magazines with pictures of naked women,” she said. “He explained some things to Angie and me.”
“That rotten kid. I knew he was no good.”
Ana smiled to herself, but didn’t say anything because now, Jeff was being nice again. He set his coffee down and pushed her around in the tilt-a-whirl, showing her how to lean her body against the center pole. “Why didn’t you take me right back to school when we left Dr. Roxgonyi’s office?” she asked.
“Because she wanted us to wait an hour or so, to see how your new medicine is working. Besides, wasn’t it more fun to eat at Wendy’s than in the cafeteria?”
“Of course it was. Don’t you know I hate my school?”
Jeff shook his head. “You’re just depressed. That’s why Dr. Rozgonyi is giving you Prozac.”
Ana was dizzy. The hamburger backed up in her throat, and she felt like she was going to throw up. “That medicine is making me sick,” she said.
“No, you just have motion sickness. Let me help you to the ground.” As Jeff stopped to pick up his coffee, he hit his cup against one of the support bars, spilling coffee on Ana’s neck.
“Yuck. Look what you did.” Ana felt the liquid work its way down her chest and into her pants. “I can’t go to school in these clothes. “They’re wet and sticky.”
Jeff helped her down. “Gosh, I’m so sorry,” he said. “Why don’t we go out to the mall and buy you a whole new outfit?”
Ana knew it would be easier to go back home and get a change of clothes. But if Jeff wanted to do something special for her, she wasn’t going to argue.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CARA
CARA HAD LOST her appetite when she realized Jeff had seen them drive away from the park, but she agreed to stop at a Subway. John ordered a loaded sandwich sans the onion: pickles, lettuce, tomato, ham, turkey, cheddar, mayo, and mustard. She liked watching him eat, because it meant he was feeling better about her, and about the visit from McAuliffe.
Their gray stone tabletop shone in the warm sunlight while Cara crunched on a few potato chips from John’s plate. The sky was clear and bright—that heartbreaking color of blue that deceives one into thinking winter will never come.
“Hey, you said you weren’t hungry.” John’s eyes crinkled at the corners when she snatched a chip.
“I’m not. It’s nervous eating.” The yeasty smell of bread and pickles almost made her gag.
“Now what’s wrong?”
“Everything. Nothing has really changed. I simply have to talk with Rozgonyi-- especially now, after what you’ve told me about your disagreement with Jeff this morning.”
“Good idea.” John took a long sip of iced tea and set it back down. “You have to stop letting this woman patronize you. Remember what I told you? That she doesn’t fit in with the other female docs? My opinion is that she has an underlying lack of self esteem that she compensates for with haughtiness.”
“I can’t imagine why that would be. She has credentials that make the other physicians look like hayseeds: On the faculty at Berkeley. Published research.” Cara saw the color flare in John’s cheeks. She touched his arm. “Sorry, that wasn’t very tactful.”
John grinned and squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. I’m glad I’m a country boy. But Rozgonyi doesn’t seem comfortable in her own skin. Maybe she’s trying to compensate for being so short.
Cara shook her head. “I don’t believe she’d be worried about such a thing.”
John scooted back his chair and stared thoughtfully out the window. “I’m just trying to get a handle on her. Actually, she’s not that bad looking. But there’s something wrong. I can sense it.”
Cara pulled on her jacket and picked up her purse. “I’m going back over there this very afternoon and tell her that Jeff King can’t upset your patients and he can’t order food without Lydia’s approval.”
John waved his glass in the air. “You go, girl.”
Energized by a sense of high purpose, Cara called Rozgonyi’s office the minute she got back from lunch.
“This is the Director of Nutrition Services,” Cara said to the receptionist. “Cara Mackenzie.”
“Yes, I know who you are.”
“I would like to see Dr. Rozgonyi as soon as possible.”
There was a slight pause. Cara braced herself to catch some flak. But the woman’s voice was sweet as sugar free syrup. “She’s available at three. Shall I put you down for then?”
“That will be fine.” Cara replaced the phone on the hook, wondering if the receptionist was the same gray haired woman who’d tried to bar her admittance this morning.
At 3 p.m., Cara anticipated an argument when she saw it was the same receptionist at the desk. But the woman seemed somewhat amused as she pushed a buzzer and the outer door clicked open. Once again, Cara walked down the long carpeted hallway to Rozgonyi’s office. The door was open, but her back was turned as she sat facing her computer.
Cara rapped on the door frame to announce her arrival, bu
t Rozgonyi didn’t look up. Cara knocked again, this time so hard it hurt her knuckles.
Without turning her head, Rozgonyi held up her hand and motioned Cara inside with a bony index finger.
Cara stepped into the office but didn’t take a seat. For once, she wanted this intimidating woman to have to crane her neck and look up at her. Rozgonyi appeared to be checking out the value of her stock market investments. The thermostat was turned down, and the air smelled faintly of disinfectant soap. Cara watched the slow rotation of a large atomic clock on the wall. She waited three long minutes before Rozgonyi clicked offline, swiveled around and pointed to a chair next to her desk.
Cara sat down, very slowly.
“Now, what’s this all about?” Rozgonyi’s icy blue eyes were unwavering as a painted statue. She wore her usual drab tailored suit—gray today—and a black silk blouse open at the neck. She wore no jewelry except for two small silver hoop earrings.
Cara pressed her fingertips together. “I would like to discuss a problem that’s come up with Jeff King”
Rozgonyi reached for a container of bottled water and took a long swig, her neck muscles working as the liquid gurgled in her throat. “There’s a problem?” she asked.
“There is. As I recall, during our meeting in Jim Mason’s office, we agreed that Jeff and I would work together in planning the new vegetarian menus. I am, after all, the head of the department.” Cara folded her hands in her lap and paused, waiting for her words to sink in.
Rozgonyi’s eyelid twitched. “Yes, I’m aware of that. What is it you’re so upset about?”
“He’s gone off on his own, ordering supplies and sending up menus that I’ve neither seen nor approved.”
Rozgonyi flattened her palms against her desk and glared at Cara. “What is it with you? Why are you so resistant to change?”
Cara remembered Rozgonyi’s conversation with Janie. “I know you think I’m not being co-operative,” she said, “but…”
Rozgonyi’s hand flew to her neck. “You were eavesdropping, weren’t you?”
