Doctor and Protector

by Meredith Webber

  ‘Some routine?’ McCall queried.

  ‘I suppose so,’ she conceded. ‘Monday, Tuesday and Friday we have outpatient sessions at one. Mike, my resident, and I both do them, though one of us is often called away to something else. Wednesday at one I do the prenatal outpatient clinic.’

  ‘OK, so those times are routine, and you’ve given me some other times that would be fixed. The day the flying surgeon comes, for instance. He’s not going to wait around for you to be free because he has to go somewhere else after Wakefield.’

  McCall glanced at his watch, surprised to find the day was still young.

  ‘It’s ten o’clock—what say you take a coffee-break and we work out a rough schedule for the next few days? Once I’ve got that, I’ll be able to be around but not so close so often I’m suffocating you.’

  She frowned at him.

  ‘I don’t believe this is necessary.’

  ‘I know you don’t.’ McCall at his most placatory! ‘But think of it as humouring Dave.’

  Her frown deepened and McCall wondered if Dave’s decision not to tell Cassie all the details of this surveillance had been the right one. Dave’s theory had been that, in a household of women, if one knew the truth all would know it.

  ‘And,’ he’d added cynically, ‘once that happens the whole town will know!’

  But Cassie Carew was obviously a highly intelligent woman. Wouldn’t she guess she’d been cast in the role of the tethered goat? A bait to catch a killer?

  ‘I can’t think of a single reason why I’d want to humour Dave,’ she said with more than a touch of asperity. Then she lifted the receiver on her phone, pressed a series of numbers and asked whoever answered to bring coffee for two to her office.

  She was about to hang up when she glanced across the table to where McCall had slid into a chair.

  ‘Biscuits for three,’ she added. ‘My visitor probably needs a lot of filling.’

  She cut that call and pressed more numbers.

  ‘Suzy? Would you bring in my diary, and the appointment book from the front office, please?’

  To McCall she added, ‘Suzy works in the administration section and acts as my secretary as well. She keeps track of where I’m supposed to be and when, and chivvies me along when I get behind.’

  ‘Using your pager to contact you when you’re not in the office?’

  Cassie nodded, though she looked puzzled by the question.

  ‘So you could use the same system to let me know when you’re leaving the office,’ he told her. ‘You could page me—send a message saying where you’re going.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous.’ She stood up, as if her rejection of the idea was too strong to express sitting down. ‘I can’t be paging you every time I move from one place to another. Have you seen this hospital? It’s not that big! Surely if you’re mooching you’ll be able to find me wherever I am.’

  ‘I’ve seen the hospital and it’s like a rabbit warren. New bits tacked onto old, with corridors everywhere. You’ve the choice of paging me or putting up with me by your side all the time.’

  She turned away, looking out the window behind her desk, which he knew, because he’d studied it, had a very uninspiring view.

  ‘Staying with me all the time would make you look stupid. What’s more, no one in the hospital would believe you were that nuts about me, Cassie Carew! I’m not the type of woman men make fools of themselves over. A super-model maybe, but not good old Cassie, which is how most of the people in this town think of me.’

  He saw her mood change in the stiffening of her shoulders, the straightening of her spine, so guessed what she was about to say when she turned back to face him.

  ‘Most of the people,’ she repeated, emphasising the ‘most’. ‘It’s not very nice to think there’s one who doesn’t!’

  He stood up, wanting to be closer to her when he offered words of encouragement, but a light tap on the door heralded the arrival of morning coffee, so instead he turned to take the tray from the young woman who was carrying it.

  ‘You can get me a pager?’ he asked as he slid the tray onto the desk. Providing her with something to argue against seemed the best way to divert her from negative thoughts.

  The look she shot him told him he’d made the right move, while her words confirmed the look.

  ‘You do not need a pager.’

  He smiled at the steely edge she gave the sentence.

  ‘If you think not,’ he said easily, shrugging his shoulders to show how immaterial it was to him, ‘I’m happy to go with the alternative and follow you around.’

  Another glare but this time she lifted the receiver as she directed the withering expression his way.

  ‘Suzy, track down a spare pager for me as well, would you, please?’

  She dropped the receiver back into its cradle.

  ‘Satisfied?’ she said to McCall.

  He wasn’t. Not entirely. In fact, he was rethinking the whole scheme. His first reaction when Dave had approached him with this problem had been for the police to go public with what they knew and, hopefully, scare off the unknown assailant.

  But Dave had argued this action would leave the murderer free to wait until things quietened down before striking again, or to move to another town and kill there.

  Not a happy prospect to have burdening one’s conscience!

  ‘Milk or sugar? Both?’

  Cassie watched the man as she asked the question. He’d apparently gone into a trance after she’d asked Suzy for the pager, and from the frown on his face it wasn’t a happy one.

  But at her questions he glanced up and once again she was struck by the quick intelligence in his eyes.

  ‘Both,’ he said, and smiled. ‘As I remember, hospital coffee needs all the help it can get.’

  ‘Not this hospital coffee,’ Cassie told him, pouring milk into his cup then pushing the sugar basin towards him. ‘I haven’t changed much in the running of this place—after all, it’s run well for the hundred odd years it existed before I arrived—but I did insist on decent coffee, not only for the staff but for the patients as well. Plays hell with the budget.’

  She was chatting and knew it, but this time McCall’s smile had caused a strange flutter in her chest, a reaction so unexpected—not to mention unwelcome—she’d rushed to camouflage her confusion with words.

  Chest flutters? What was happening to her?

  But, mind now back on track, talk of the budget reminded her of the conversation she’d had with Dave earlier.

  She looked directly at McCall, challenging whatever was happening in her chest.

  ‘Speaking of budgets, who’s paying you to be here? Dave managed to avoid answering that question.’

  McCall took his time answering. He sugared his coffee, stirred it, lifted the cup and took a sip, then he looked at Cassie across the rim of the cup.

  ‘You’re a research project,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, great! A student paper perhaps?’ She hoped he recognised sarcasm when he heard it. ‘I dare say I couldn’t hope to be something as important as a master’s thesis.’

  This time his smiling response was accompanied by a chuckle, a sound so deep and deliciously inviting Cassie was hard put to not laugh with him.

  Hard put to ignore more internal reactions…

  ‘Nothing so grand,’ he assured her, helping himself to one of the biscuits. ‘Let’s just say there was money available for a special project and this seemed to come under that banner.’

  He paused, as if savouring his next sip of coffee, then added, ‘It’s amazing the amount of money that’s out there in the way of grants. The application forms are a bit of a hassle to complete, but once you get into the way of them it’s a breeze.’

  Cassie forgot about laughing. She’d seen newspaper reports of some of the ‘special projects’ for which people savvy in the way of grants had received money, and she’d joined in condemnation of the government’s ability to give money away for what seemed trivial
pursuits. And while she had no doubt the majority of grant recipients were worthy, she had no time for those who worked the system successfully enough to avoid paid employment.

  ‘Oh,’ she said coolly, telling herself intelligent eyes and a bone-melting chuckle didn’t make up for the man’s failing in other ways.

  McCall knew he’d lost her and, because he’d often had less than charitable thoughts about people who survived on government hand-outs, he knew why as well. But Dave had decided to keep McCall’s present occupation—as an academic pursuing studies in criminology—a secret not only from Cassie but from everyone in town, including other members of the local constabulary.

  ‘Nice biscuits,’ he said, hoping to chip away at a little of the ice which had settled between them with her ‘oh’.

  ‘Ginger kisses.’

  McCall was watching her, and guessed, from the way her lips thinned after she’d said the words, that she’d immediately regretted them.

  ‘Ah, I wondered.’

  She glanced suspiciously at him, and he smiled.

  ‘Now, about your schedule?’

  Right on cue there was a tap on the door, and in tripped a buxom young woman, clutching a huge appointment book, a smaller diary and a tiny pager.

  ‘Here!’ she said, dropping everything on Cassie’s desk and turning to flash a radiant smile at McCall. ‘Is the pager for you? Are you a new doctor? I hadn’t heard we were getting one, though I know Cassie’s always trying to get one more. The hospital used to have three doctors, and having the flying surgeon and flying gynae doesn’t really make up for an extra person, does it?’

  Another smile, this one winsomely appealing.

  ‘Thank you, Suzy.’

  Cassie’s voice cut off whatever Suzy had been about to tell him next, and the young woman nodded to Cassie, smiled again at McCall and departed.

  ‘I wish you were a doctor,’ Cassie said, and, although she’d spoken almost under her breath, McCall heard the earnest desire beneath the words and found himself responding.

  ‘Well, I am, as it happens, but not practising. I mean I was, but I gave it up. I haven’t practised for years but I do the odd locum just to keep my skills up to date and my registration current. Would it make things easier for you? Because you’d be able to explain me better, or because you desperately need another doctor?’

  She was frowning at him again, but this time in disbelief.

  ‘You gave it up?’

  ‘People do, you know,’ McCall said, speaking mildly in spite of the bleak, dark memories that flashed so vividly across the screen in his brain.

  ‘Yes, irresponsible people like my ex-brother-in-law who discovered he’d make more money climbing mountains and writing books about his adventures than he would treating patients.’

  McCall was about to point out her sister was off having her own adventure, but Cassie wasn’t finished.

  ‘And what was your excuse?’ she demanded. ‘Work too hard? Hours too long? Easier to apply for grants for special projects than get your hands dirty with icky medicine?’

  She didn’t twiddle her fingers in the air to give the last words inverted commas but he heard them anyway, and was trying to think of something to say when she waved her hand as if dismissing his lack of commitment from her mind.

  ‘I don’t suppose I can afford to be picky!’ she said, almost to herself, before addressing McCall directly. ‘I always need another doctor—though most of the time not desperately. However, the young resident is going on leave in another week and I’ve just been advised we won’t be getting a replacement immediately.’

  ‘But that’s wonderful!’ McCall told her. ‘It adds an extra layer of verisimilitude to my cover story. You were in a bind, so, adoring you as I do, I’ve rushed to assist.’

  A neat brown eyebrow rose high on Cassie’s forehead.

  ‘Adoring me as you do?’ she said.

  McCall grinned at her.

  ‘Great cover, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s ridiculous, that’s what it is,’ she told him, scorn burning in the words.

  ‘Not if it saves your life,’ McCall reminded her, then regretted it as the colour drained from her skin, leaving even her lips bleached and trembling.

  He wanted to reassure her but guessed she wouldn’t accept false assurances that all was well—not when a killer was stalking her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CASSIE opened the appointment book and diary Suzy had brought in. Although she’d told McCall differently, her schedule, when she looked at it this way, was fairly predictable.

  She tried to repress the involuntary shiver that ran through her as she acknowledged this but, looking up, knew McCall had seen it.

  McCall!

  She glanced across the table at the man, sipping coffee and making short work of the last ginger kiss.

  She loved her work, which made it hard to comprehend that someone could give it up. And worse than the incomprehension was a small burn of anger that people like McCall and Em’s ex-husband prevented students who might have made wonderful doctors from being accepted into med school.

  And now she had this deadbeat drop-out as her final line of protection against whoever was trying to kill her!

  He smiled, and she told herself deadbeats probably had to have wonderful, warm, genuine kind of smiles—it was how they charmed their way through life.

  The way they conned people.

  And got away with pretending to be something they weren’t?

  ‘I can’t really employ you as a doctor,’ she said, speaking firmly so he’d realise his smile wasn’t working on her, and she wasn’t going to be conned by it, or by anything he said. ‘Appointments all have to go through official channels at the Health Department.’

  McCall seemed unfazed by this announcement. In fact, he seemed delighted by it.

  Delighted enough to smile again!

  ‘It wouldn’t really have worked anyway,’ he said, setting down his coffee-cup and leaning back in the chair in such a relaxed manner Cassie felt her irritability manifest itself in her skin as a prickly kind of discomfort.

  Or maybe she was getting heat rash…

  ‘With only two doctors you’d have to roster me on at different times to yourself, which would be pointless. Let’s leave it that I’m looking around—like a student doing work experience—and I can help you out if ever you really need me, especially once your other fellow goes on leave.’

  This time the smile gleamed with satisfaction, as if his suggestion was the most brilliant idea to come out of this increasingly bizarre morning.

  Cassie sighed and shook her head. Insults, arguments, denials—they all bounced off this man like tennis balls off a brick wall. Which left her where?

  Stuck with him?

  She turned her attention to the books open in front of her.

  ‘I have a meeting with the people I think of as the hotel staff—the catering, cleaning and yard staff—in forty minutes. Between now and then I want to see a patient in Room 4A. She’s—’

  Cassie broke off and McCall guessed why.

  ‘I really am a qualified doctor—you can check that out with Dave—and so I’m bound just as firmly as you are to privacy regulations. Anything you tell me about patients will be strictly confidential.’

  He tried another smile though Cassie Carew seemed immune to his smiles.

  ‘Sometimes it helps to discuss patients with another doctor.’ He paused for an infinitesimal moment, before adding a teasing, ‘Even an irresponsible one.’

  He waited, aware this was a big moment in their embryonic relationship, then felt relief flood through his body when she said, ‘She’s expecting her fifth child and has had bleeding from the placenta.’

  ‘Placenta praevia?’ McCall guessed, and Cassie nodded.

  ‘She’s only thirty-two weeks so I’ve got her on complete bed rest, hospitalised because with four other children she’d never stay in bed at home, but I’m still worried she could haemorrhage ba
dly any moment and we’d have to do an emergency Caesar.’

  ‘As foetal maturity is reckoned at about thirty-six weeks, I guess you’re hoping it won’t happen any time soon,’ McCall said, anxious to reinforce his standing as a doctor—even though he’d earned her scorn as one who’d given up!

  She nodded, frowning to herself, but McCall had remembered something else she’d said.

  ‘By “we” do you mean, you and the flying gynae?’

  She half smiled at him.

  ‘If by some lucky chance she bled on a day he was here,’ she agreed. ‘Otherwise the “we” means me and Mike Carlton—my current resident. He’s a fantastic anaesthetist, but before he came I called on whatever local GP I could get to act as an anaesthetist. There are two with sufficient training in town and, though I complain about the lack of staff at the hospital, all three of the town’s GPs help out when I need them.’

  ‘But for an emergency like a Caesar, wouldn’t that mean they’d be leaving patients sitting in their waiting rooms?’

  Cassie nodded, this time with a wider smile.

  ‘This is the country, McCall. Patients are so grateful for whatever services they get, they’re happy to put up with a little inconvenience.’

  McCall shook his head.

  ‘Sure is a different life.’

  But Cassie was already on her feet, patting the pockets of her white coat as if to check the contents.

  ‘You can stay here and read the appointment book,’ she told him. ‘Work out my schedule if you can. I’ll be in 4A then in the staff dining room just off the kitchen. There’s a map of the hospital pinned on a board behind the door.’

  She whisked out the door, then came back in, picking up his pager and pressing buttons on it.

  ‘Thought I’d better find out what your number is, in case a masked man bursts in on the staff meeting.’

  She grinned at him, jotted down the number, dropped the pager back on her desk and left again.

  McCall was pleased by her actions. She may have made a joke of it, but she’d been sensible enough to take his pager number. He would have liked to have followed, but it was more important to work out if she did have any kind of routine in her life—one that a killer could latch on to.