Dr. Hallie Malone Cozy Mystery (4 Book Box Set)

by Liz Turner

  Gladys looked stricken at the word “bludgeon,” and Hallie patted her arm reassuringly. Jackson reluctantly agreed that it would have been too difficult for an old woman like Gladys to commit the murder. “But that still leaves us with the question of motive. Mrs. Dean was the most likely suspect.”

  Hallie snapped her fingers. “Gladys, do you have any idea of who Smith’s new romantic interest was?”

  “Why, no, I never felt it would be appropriate to ask. He started seeing her last April, though, does that help? I remember because the weather had finally started getting warm, and we had plans to drive down to the beach for a few days, when he suddenly rang me and told me it was over. ‘A young, professional woman’ he said, had just ‘stolen his heart.’”

  Hallie stared at Gladys. The storage fire had happened around the same time. That couldn’t be a coincidence. She had a hunch, and now she just had to test it.

  “Detective Jackson, have you dusted for fingerprints throughout Smith’s house?” she asked.

  Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Of course, Dr. Malone. But the killer was clever and wiped clean his prints from the scene of the crime.”

  Hallie paced around the room. “No—I don’t mean dusting for prints around the scene of the crime. I mean dusting the whole house for prints, particularly any of Smith’s documents.”

  ***

  Hallie arrived back at the hospital to find Dr. Livingstone waiting outside in the bright sun, his breath making little puffs in the cold air. “Hallie! I thought we could have lunch in your office,” he held up a brown bag and smiled, but tilted his head in concern as Hallie approached looking nervous.

  Squeezing his arm affectionately, Hallie said, “How long have you been waiting here? Oh, so much has happened.” She regretted having to be the one to tell him about Smith. They hadn’t known each other well, but a murder in a town like Warrenton would be shocking to anyone.

  “I’ve only just arrived—pretty perfect timing, I’d say,” James replied. But then he added, “What do you mean? What’s happened? Did Mr. Smith not have your files?” He looked at her with anxious eyes.

  Hallie sighed and led him inside to her office. Once the door was shut behind them, she spoke in a hushed tone, “When I went to Mr. Smith’s home this morning, I found his door ajar, and—he was dead.” James’ face went white. She continued, nodding somberly, “A nasty blow to the head. I was hours too late, nothing I could do. The police are looking into it, but—” James took her by the hands to her desk chair. She added, with as frank a tone as she could muster, “I’m sure it must have had something to do with me and that file. The coincidence is just too great.”

  James blew a puff of air out his mouth. “Are you okay? No one was there?” he asked worriedly, stooping a bit to look into her eyes.

  Waving her hand at him, irritated, Hallie said, “Of course I’m alright. I just need to…” she realized she didn’t know now exactly what she needed to do. She suddenly felt light-headed.

  “Hallie, I want you to be careful. The situation is clearly dangerous. Someone was killed for goodness’ sake! Perhaps you should back off a bit, leave it to the police. I don’t want you ending up on the floor somewhere with your head bashed in,” James said.

  Hallie frowned at him. “Dr. Livingstone, I’m far too old to be talked to like I’m a child. I can’t just let this alone, not now! Besides, I’m already involved, aren’t I? Smith is dead partly because of his connection to me.” Her voice grew louder as she spoke, and she glanced up nervously, regretting nearly shouting the last phrase.

  James sighed knowingly and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. “Of course, of course, you shouldn’t just leave it. Now, let’s think, together, of how we can figure this out.”

  Hallie sighed in relief. “Thank you, James. I could use any help I can get. I keep running into dead ends.” Eyeing the lunch bag he had brought, she added, “And, of course, I’ll still accept your offer of lunch!” Her stomach grumbled as she set up the food on a blanket spread on the floor of her office, picnic-style.

  After eating, the two sat at Hallie’s desk pouring over notes and swapping ideas, with Hallie calling out frequently the time on the clock in her office. They had just been about to give up, when James got up and looked out the window, and she joined him in silence, trying to fight off the despair she felt. The view from her office was that of the hospital parking area, full of cars, except for one wide area, which was for the loading and unloading of patients. The familiar sound of an ambulance siren blared, louder and louder, as one veered into the lot. James watched the paramedics unload a patient out from the back on a stretcher and make quick work of guiding him to the entrance. In a few minutes, the scene was over, the parking lot returned to its industrial tranquility.

  “I never thought I’d say it, but right now, I’m yearning for the simplicity of a medical emergency,” Hallie said, closing the drapes and leaning heavily against the wall.

  James snapped his fingers. “That’s it!” He rushed to Hallie’s bookshelf and knelt to read the titles of the books.

  “What are you doing?” Hallie asked warily. She doubted the answers could be found on her bookshelf.

  “Maybe this situation does have the simplicity of medicine! We’ve been thinking all along about to prove Lewis killed Smith, how Lewis is lying about everything. Instead of thinking about how—”

  “Of course! We don’t need that original x-ray after all! It’s all in the bones!” Hallie finished excitedly, feeling silly for getting so caught up in her own drama that she had failed to understand the medical side of the situation.

  “I don’t think you have it here,” James said, standing up. “But I know where you could find it!”

  Chapter 7

  The Library

  T he walk from the hospital to the Warrenton Library was short, but in this cold, Hallie wished she had taken her car, anyway. She kept her head down against the wind and marked each crunchy step through the snow for her progress. Finally, she saw the familiar stone of the library drive appear beneath her feet.

  Breathing in the musky smell of hundreds of books, some hundreds of years old themselves, Hallie headed for the MEDICAL REFERENCE section. The library was one of Warrenton’s gems, second only to the hospital. It had been one of the first buildings built two hundred years ago, and it still stood proudly in its original frame. Wooden beams held up the high vaulted ceilings, stone floors reflected the echoes of the tiptoeing patrons, and stained glass windows stretched across the walls. It had always reminded Hallie of an old-world church, and perhaps for this reason, filled her with calm. For now, she was grateful for its warmth.

  Hallie ran her fingers across the dusty books in the medical reference section, lamenting having only been able to explore the library’s rich resources one other time since moving to Warrenton. It seemed something was always getting in the way of the blissful afternoon she imagined pouring over book after book. She stopped at a large, dark green volume. BONES, JOINTS, & MUSCLES it read. Here we are, Hallie thought, struggling to pull the heavy book out of the shelf.

  Hallie hummed as she skimmed the table of contents. She was a bit anxious she wouldn’t be able to find exactly what she needed. If Lewis wouldn’t listen to reason, or trust her expertise as doctor, she would have to find some other way to show him she was right about his so-called fracture. Moreover, perhaps it would be enough to convince him to drop his blackmailing scheme altogether and come clean about the events last night.

  The chestnut grandfather clock in the front hall chimed loudly. It was almost 2:30 pm. Hallie felt a knot of anxiety. She hurriedly turned the chapter she needed and began reading, her forefinger pressed firmly on the page, keeping pace with her eyes. Hallie’s mouth felt dry. She walked briskly to the water fountain and bent to drink when she felt a presence at her back.

  “Dr. Malone?”

  Hallie froze and slowly turned around. A tall, skinny man with purplish half-moons unde
r his eyes hunched before her. It was Sinclair Smith, Alan Smith’s eldest son. Hallie had never met him, but she recognized his spindly frame from the photos she had seen on Smith’s desk in his study. He did not look well although that was understood considering the terrible news about his father he must have just received. From what she could remember, Sinclair lived in New York City. Certainly he had made the trip to Warrenton for the funeral in a few days, but what was he doing here in the library all alone? Hallie wondered. A panicky thought whirled involuntarily through her mind that he might have followed her there. “Hello, er, Sinclair—is that right?”

  The man’s lips jerked upward for a brief second into what Hallie supposed was a smile before lapsing back into a neutral position. “Yes, yes, I’m afraid I am. I’m sorry for coming up behind you like that. I just heard that the new doctor in town, a pretty woman about your age, was the one who had found my father.” He turned his head to the floor and wrung his hands. “It’s awful news.”

  Nodding somberly, Hallie said, “It is. Absolutely terribly that a thing like that happened to your father. He was part of the very foundation of this town as we know it. He will be missed by so many people, myself included,” Hallie replied softly. She was still pressed up against the water fountain awkwardly and had no way of getting around Sinclair. Despite his posture of sadness, he was still an imposing figure. Hallie racked her brain for information about him. What did he do in New York, anyway? He never came to see his father, Hallie knew that much. Had there been a falling out in the past? Could he have been angry enough to hurt his father? “Sinclair, if I may, why are you here in the library right now, instead of preparing for the funeral?” Hallie ventured reluctantly.

  He frowned at her for a moment, pausing, as though judging what his next words should be. “This place,” he said, motioning somewhat erratically around him, “was always my place of refuge in Warrenton. Always quiet. Always… mine. In a way, my father’s house growing up never felt quite like home. All his secret meetings and obsessive organization. When I wanted to escape life, I came here. And read about places like New York City.” He sighed. Looking at Hallie from underneath bushy eyebrows, he added, “I suppose you know ole’ Alan and I weren’t close.”

  Hallie edged to her left, anxious to not be cornered. Sinclair appeared a bit unhinged, a state of mind Hallie understood—if her father had been brutally murdered, she surely would have been quite distraught. It was clear enough to her that he was too genuinely upset to have been the killer, and she set her suspicions aside. Still, she had no intentions of being the receiver of any misplaced emotion.

  “Oh, Sinclair,” she said soothingly. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. We just did some business last year that’s all.” When his eyes gleamed brighter, she quickly continued speaking, “—but I’m sure that even if you two had your differences, he knew that you loved him in the end. Fathers and children, no matter the events that transpired between them, always have a special bond. I hardly saw my father but once every five years my entire life, but he loomed large in my heart. When he died, I felt such an unexpected sorrow—” Hallie abruptly stopped talking, as Sinclair had begun sobbing. He teetered, and Hallie steadied him with both hands on his thin shoulders.

  The man had his hands balled into fists and lodged against his temples in anguish. Hallie felt immensely sorry for him but also relieved that his emotions had erupted this way, and not into violence. She crooned and rubbed his back as though he were an infant, and when his crying subsided some, she led him gently into the front hall to a couch.

  The librarian looked up from her desk. “Oh, dear,” she said, too loudly. Sinclair began sobbing anew, full force. Hallie smiled wanly at the librarian and plodded over.

  “Would you mind watching to see that he doesn’t do anything rash? I’m going to call for a taxi to come pick him and drive him to the hotel,” Hallie said.

  The librarian nodded and reached under her desk for something. “The poor dear. You can use this to phone for the taxicab,” she said, sliding a heavy telephone toward Hallie.

  After Sinclair had been carted off, Hallie got back to work in the medical section, though in a more subdued mood than before. It hit her fully how cruel Smith’s killer had been. Taking a man’s life. And for what? Money? She thought, bitterly, remembering Sinclair’s crushed expression. Even more important to get to the bottom of this.

  An hour later, she suddenly looked up with glee. A glance to her watch informed her she had just enough time to make it back to the office before Lewis showed. Making sure no one was around, Hallie tore out the page of the medical book and made her way to her car. She hoped the detectives had been as lucky with their findings.

  Chapter 8: A Whole New Life

  Hallie waited patiently in her office for four o’clock to hit. She had gathered before her a bundle of documents on her desk: the page from the medical book, Lewis’ latest x-ray from his so-called other doctor, a list of the files destroyed in the storage fire, and a sealed envelope from the Warrenton Police Station. Hallie was half-worried that Lewis wouldn’t show up. If he did show, she knew he must be extremely confident that his plan was going well to show up after he had killed someone—by now, word had gotten out that Smith was dead and that the police were still looking for the killer. Hallie had seen the headline on a special issue of the W Gazette. Would Lewis be arrogant enough to go ahead and try to swindle her with blood on his hands? Or…. Hallie thought, her finger pulsing on her lips, maybe he was just ignorant, not arrogant, of some very important facts.

  The intercom buzzed, and Hallie answered, keeping her voice casual. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Lewis is here for his appointment,” Laura’s voice came through the static.

  “Send him in, thank you.”

  Lewis swaggered in moments later, not sweating this time. His face was neutral, but Hallie thought she detected his telltale smirk crinkling around his lips.

  “Mr. Lewis, please have a seat,” Hallie said, a bit more coldly than she intended.

  “Why, Dr. Malone, that’s the greeting I get?” Lewis replied slowly. “And I thought we went over this. I’m happy as a clam to stand.” He stomped his cane on the floor cheerfully. “I’m pleased you agreed to see me again, doctor. I knew you would change your mind about the settlement. It really is for the best, and painless for both parties. I’d have hated to drag you into court and see your pretty reputation burned to the ground. Misdiagnosing is serious business.” He hadn’t even bothered to take off his hat or coat.

  Hallie narrowed her eyes, then smiled. “Misdiagnosing is serious business indeed.” She matter-of-factly handed Lewis the page from the medical book. It read THE HEALING PROCESS: BONE FRACTURES.

  Lewis looked down at the page. “What’s the meaning of this? You’re the doctor, not me. If you just discovered how to diagnose fractures, well, I’m afraid you’re eight months too late.” He chuckled, but it came out sounding forced.

  Hallie took the page back and began reading from it in her best doctor voice. She had the upper hand now; she relished the chance to make Lewis nervous. “ ‘When a fractured bone heals without being set, it will leave behind scar tissue where the break used to be. This process can be painful, but usually occurs within two months, and may result in permanent disfigurement or motion impairment in the affected area.’ ” Lewis looked at her impatiently. Hallie continued, “So, you see, Mr. Lewis, if you had had a fracture eight months ago when I treated you, your new x-ray would show where the bone had tried to repair itself. And, certainly, you couldn’t possibly still have an unchanged fracture eight months later. Whatever fracture is there now, is new.”

  Lewis stared at Hallie dumbfounded. “Well, I assure you, I did have a fracture eight months ago—and you failed to recognize it! It’s the same fracture that’s ailing me today in this gosh darned hip of mine. And another thing, this whole ‘medical jargon’ ploy you’re pulling now is clearly fabricated to save yourself. If what you’re saying is tr
ue, then you would have told me this immediately and sent me on my way.” He was growing red in the face, and a single drop of sweat slid slowly down his forehead before he angrily mopped it away.

  “Perhaps I would have, Mr. Lewis, except you were too good. You had me doubting myself.” Lewis smirked grandly at this remark. Hallie ignored him, coming around to the front of her desk with a deliberate motion. “But you inadvertently solved my crisis of faith in myself, and in doing so, ruined any chance you had of extorting money from me.” Hallie kept her gaze fixed unwaveringly at Lewis, who was beginning to sputter slightly.

  He hobbled around the room, then spun around and planted his feet firmly. “I—what are you talking about?” He stabbed his cane in the air toward the clock on the wall. “Time is running out! I should remind you that my offer is only good for another five minutes!”

  “Oh, I won’t be paying you anything, Mr. Lewis, if that wasn’t clear enough already.”

  Lewis grabbed the hat off his head, slung his coat down his shoulders, and thrust them both onto the coat rack. “Well, Doctor Malone, I’m not going anywhere until I get what’s owed me.” He huffed angrily and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I thought your offer expired in five minutes?” Hallie couldn’t help but grin. Lewis merely glared back at her, his face and neck a cherry red. “Very well, it won’t take long to explain why I will not be paying you anything, not now, not ever. When you destroyed my copies of your original x-ray, you thought you were getting rid of any evidence I had to prove you wrong, but you also eliminated any chance of proving yourself right. Your new x-ray shows no trace of an earlier fracture, so who’s going to believe you on your word alone that you indeed had a fracture eight months ago? It’s your word against mine at this point, and I’ve got medical science on my side.” She waved the filmy paper of the x-ray he had so pompously displayed before her yesterday. “There’s no regrowth here. Only a new—less than a few weeks old—hairline fracture.”