Well, for the record, I don’t have any favors out there that big, or I might try,” she winked. “See ya.”
I looked around the cell, and oddly realized that I was missing the dogwood trees blooming. I shook my head. How could I be worrying about flowers? I missed the flowers.
***
Monday morning, Jamie called and I was brought back out to the room I had called from on the day I was booked. He told me that a woman named Fiona Crawford had called, and said that she had some information which she thought would be helpful.
“I knew it,” I said. “That’s the woman from the insurance company.”
“I told her I could meet with her at lunch. I’ll let you know what she says right after. Hopefully, when I come to bail you out.”
“They won’t have my bail set any earlier?”
“No, I’ll push, but I doubt it. I put in a plea on Friday with Judge Smoltz, so it should be at the top of his pile today. He’s got no great love for Judge Wilburn. He says the man operates like a field general drunk on power. That should mean that he’ll put less weight on a warrant written by him and release you on a lower bail.”
“I hope so, too. Come as soon as you can.”
“I will. The minute he says you can go,” Jamie said.
I went back to my cell where Missy was still sleeping. I tugged the blanket up around the girl’s ears and sat down. The guard came around with the breakfast trays of coffee, grits, eggs, and toast.
She asked, “You gonna make bail today?”
“I hope so.”
“Well, you go give that judge what for.” Encouraged the guard. “I heard a little bit about you. I know you’ve got it in you.”
“I will.” I smiled. I had been so scared of the woman when I had arrived, but the guard had a big heart under her gruff exterior, and after she felt that she had laid down the line, she was kind to all of the prisoners. I picked up the cup of bitter coffee and drank as I picked at the eggs.
The guard came back around. “You’ve got a visitor up front.” She opened the door again, and I walked to the familiar room with the telephone. I looked at the huge wall clock and wondered if it was as intimidating to others as it was to me. The guard saw my look and said, “You got plenty of time.”
I gasped in surprise when I recognized the man sitting in the chair. “Dr. Denby! How nice to see you. Thanks for coming to see me.”
“You know that I couldn’t let something like this happen to you without checking on you.” He looked as comfortable here in the prison conference room as he did in the hospital. He made no nervous attempts to pretend that nothing else was going on.
Not so for me however. I cringed as I realized what it must be like for him visiting me here. I sat down, completely self-conscious. I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound forced. “So, um, how are things at the hospital?”
“They’re very well. One of my patients just left the hospital this morning in full remission.”
“Things running smoothly without me?” I made a pathetic attempt at a joke.
His aged face took on a sorrowful look. “Veronica, I have to tell you something. The board discussed your arrest.” He looked straight into my eyes.
I held my breath, suddenly focused on prying a dried piece of gunk off the tabletop with my fingernail.
“Now I want you to know that I stand behind you all of the way. I know that this mix-up has nothing to do with you. I made sure that when you are cleared, they will reinstate your privileges immediately.”
“They suspended me?” I jumped up. “How could they?”
“Veronica, don’t worry.” Denby’s voice was steady and comforting. I felt like one of his patients. “When you are ready to come back, there will be a place for you. This is nothing permanent.”
“I can’t believe it.” I paced back toward the locked door, catching a peek at the guard, my guard, as I did so. The whole situation was unreal. I’d never even had a parking ticket before.
“This has nothing to do with your skills as a doctor. The hospital is a very political place. They really couldn’t do anything else.” Denby spread his sturdy hands out, palm up. “You know the routine.”
I leaned my head back against the chair back. “I know. Thank you for being the one to tell me.”
The gentle doctor stood up and patted me on the head as though I were one of his patients. I felt the healing in his touch. “Keep your faith. We’ll get through this one too.”
“Thanks.” I said, and tried to feel better as he walked out.
Back in the cell, Missy was awake and had finished both of our breakfasts. She said, “Last meal here for a while. You weren’t going to eat that were you?”
“No.”
Missy looked as if she was going to miss the place. “Missy, where do you stay?” I asked.
“Hotel rooms. I usually stay in the last one of the night until they make me go.”
“Then where do you go?”
“I walk around places.”
“They aren’t going to send you to a rescue home?”
“No, the lawyer always makes my bail. After that, I just lay low, until I get busted again.”
I reached in my pocket for a scrap of paper. I found a crumpled prescription blank, and handed the top half to Missy. “If you need a place to stay, you call me. Don’t lose that.” I warned.
Missy stuffed it inside her black lace bra.
Jacqueline arrived a few minutes later.
“Jamie Stone thinks that I’ll be released around noon. He got a call from Fiona Crawford from the insurance company. She’s coming back from Europe. I think that she knows something about my case. She must have been following the local news online. Reid wouldn't have told her.”
I didn’t include my theories about Crawford being involved in the killing, because I was not supposed to discuss my case with Jacqueline anymore. But, why else would she bother to call from Europe telling us that she had information? I hoped that Jamie would pick me up with a confession from Crawford, and that this whole horrible thing would soon be behind me. Then, I could tell Jacqueline everything.
“That’s super, when are they meeting?” Jacqueline asked.
“Noon.”
“Is she coming in straight from the airport?”
“I assume so.”
“Wow, that’s great news Nic. I just came by to tell you good luck today with the bail.” She hesitated. “I’ve got to go out to check on my brother today.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” I was alarmed. I liked Ben. He had always been fun to be around, and he was quite handsome, blond and green-eyed like his sister. He lived on their parents’ old farm, and he ran it well.
“Nothing much is wrong. He just fell off of the tractor last night, and I thought that I should go check on him.”
“You’ll let me know if he isn’t okay won’t you?”
“Of course I will. But don’t worry about it; I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” Jacqueline hurried out.
I looked at the television. TV-on-a-stick. It was a small, old fashioned, tube set box suspended high on the wall by a movable arm, and it was really too small a set to see clearly from the cot. I watched it anyway because there was nothing else to do. Missy was released around eleven. At noon, I got butterflies in my stomach. I could hardly have tolerated any food as I thought about what Jamie and Fiona were discussing, but I couldn’t bear even the smell of what they brought me to eat. It was institutional fare: a big pile of reconstituted mashed potatoes, some steamed, canned, mixed vegetables which were producing the foul odor, and two slices of over-processed roast beef.
At around one-thirty, Jamie finally arrived. I was pacing in circles around my cage.
“Jamie, I’m so glad to see you. Please tell me we’ve got bail and I can go.”
“Your bail is paid. You’re free to go,” he said stiffly.
“What’s wrong with you?” I trotted out of my cell, exhilarated.
Outside the discharge are
a, Jamie stopped to speak with the guards. I walked on outdoors where I could feel the fresh air on my face again. I nearly ran into Peter Zacker as he entered the guest waiting area.
“Hello,” Peter’s voice cracked. “Hey, I’m sorry that you couldn’t come to watch the game with me the other day.”
“Thanks. I’m glad that you came by to see me.” I smiled.
“I’ve, uh, been sent here to say that we will continue to cover for your patients while you’re in this uh, predicament.”
“Thanks. That is very considerate of you.” I hadn’t given a thought to it. I had simply expected that as my back-up, they would continue to do so.
Peter nodded and shuffled his feet, “They, I mean we, have decided though, that it might be too much of a burden on you after you get out to cross cover for us, so don’t worry about it.”
“It won’t be a problem. I owe you for taking care of me while I’m in this bind.”
“That’s okay. We can take care of it ourselves.” He said his high voice a touch colder.
“You don’t want me to help.” I was stunned.
“We do. It’s just that we can’t risk the exposure. Really Veronica, you’re a nice girl. We could have made a great team.”
“Look, thank-you for taking care of my patients.” I tried to be cordial. To appear oblivious to what he was really saying to me. That they considered me to be a liability, possibly even thought that I was guilty.
“I should also tell you. Some of your patients are asking if they can stay with us. We told them it would be fine. I mean considering what has happened...” His nasal voice grated.
“What has happened? Other than you poaching my patients?” I scowled then.
“You’ve been put in jail for murder.”
“Any chance that you’ve thought of telling them that you don’t think I did it?” I asked.
“Of course I have,” he brayed. “I told them that it would be decided in court, and they should watch for the verdict.”
“I’m sure that eased their minds, Peter.” That hurt me. I’d thought that we had some sort of mutual trust. That he would stand up for me.
“It’s really a shame we couldn’t have had that date.”
I took a sudden short breath of realization. He was really sabotaging my practice simply because I wouldn’t sleep with him. Unbelievable. It wasn’t even about the murder. I said firmly. “Goodbye, Peter. You don’t need to come around again.”
He turned back the way he had come without another word. I leaned against the brick wall of the jail and took deep gasping breaths, my mood destroyed. I was staring at the sky when Jamie rejoined me.
Jamie’s brow furrowed slightly. “Are you alright?”
I straightened and sighed, walking toward the parking lot beside him. “Yes. What did Crawford say?”
“She didn’t.”
I stopped. “She didn’t show? I can’t believe it. She must have chickened out, or Reid stopped her. Well, at least we know where to look now. I wondered about her involvement. Did Jacqueline tell you that I tried to find Crawford the other day?”
“They don’t know what happened,” said Jamie, ignoring my babbling.
“They? They who? What’s up?”
“The police.”
“You sent the police after her? Bad move. She may never come talk to us.” Dazed as I was, I was talking too much, and too fast, and making a fool of myself, but I couldn’t stop. I was elated to be leaving the cell, flattened by meeting Zacker, and impatient to find Crawford.
Jamie gave me an exasperated look. “Nic, there was an accident along the bypass near the airport. The description of the body fits hers.”
“She’s dead?” My heart thudded in my chest. That slowed me down.
“They’re checking.”
“What happened?” I asked wide-eyed.
“The car was completely destroyed. The girl ran off of the road and hit a tree. They think that she lost control. Maybe she fell asleep from jet lag.”
“No other car involved?”
“No, none reported.”
“Can we go see her?” I asked.
“We can, but they’ll notify us when they get a positive ID. Why do you want to go?”
“I need to see for myself if it really is her.” I had to know for sure that Crawford was dead, that my best chance for acquittal was lying in the morgue.
“It may not be a pretty sight.” said Jamie, and I gave him a bemused look. “Oh, right. You’ve probably seen it before. Maybe I’ll just wait outside, while you look.”
“You’re squeamish? I never would have thought that about you.”
Jamie arched a brow at that, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Probably right. I need to go to the morgue though.” I pled.
Jamie watched me with a look of pity, or maybe it was empathy. “I’ve paid your money. We're cleared to go.”
I nodded, and took a breath. I had to figure out what to do now. “Okay, we’ve got to stop by my house so that I can clean up some, and then I need some lunch. After that, hopefully I’ll be ready for the morgue.” I felt my dirty hair and was surprised again that I was embarrassed by it. I had looked this way plenty of times after a bad night on call and never batted an eye. On the other hand, Jamie, who was causing this unaccustomed concern, did not seem to notice my appearance at all. After all, I reminded myself, I was just another client.
“I’ve got to get back to my office, so I’ll take you to your car. We can meet later to go to the morgue. In fact, you could just come by my office, and see the rest of the evidence. Do you know where it is?”
“The old bank building, right?” I asked automatically, I had been there before, and, I remembered sorely, turned away.
“Yes. The fourth and fifth floors are ours. I’m at the end of the hall on four.”
Chapter 13
At home, I walked from room to room as though I had been gone a thousand years, and was amazed to find everything still the same. The mail was spilling over, and several newspapers were at the door. There could be nothing good contained in those papers. I knew that I was featured in most, and I never wanted to read them. I carried them all into the kitchen to place in the recycle bin.
The ivy on the kitchen counter was badly in need of water. I got out the pitcher of plant food, and poured some in.
Curiosity overcame me, and I retrieved the top paper and spread it on the counter. The oldest one had the picture of me in the police station. Today’s again had me on the front page, but showed a file photo which I recognized as being from a feature on new doctors that ran when I started practice.
The headline read ‘Accused doctor to make bail’. I read the first line, “Alleged murderer Dr. Veronica Lane to be granted bail today after being held over the weekend. Sources say that she is potentially dangerous, and concerned citizens question whether release is appropriate.”
I covered my mouth in horror as I backed away from the counter. It was worse than I thought, I felt sick. I wadded up the papers and buried them deep in the bin, then stumbled to the couch in the other room to lie down. I stared at the ceiling unblinking. Half an hour passed. Maybe if I was exonerated, and I was not convinced anymore that I would be, I could join a new practice in another state, maybe another country. I would never practice here again.
Finally, the horror receded and I gathered enough strength to climb up to my bedroom, undress, and toss my clothes at the hamper. As I stepped into the shower, I felt days’ worth of tension ease under the hot water. I scrubbed myself thoroughly, and it was the best I’d felt since the arrest. Still I didn't feel fully clean, so I sat down on the shower bench and leaned against the wall letting the water run over me until it started to get cold. Then, I toweled off and put on a bathrobe.
Down in the kitchen, I poured a glass of orange juice, made a sandwich, and took them to my studio. A flat table to my left, covered in a soft cloth, held all of my tiny instruments: forceps, wire cutt
ers, loupes. On the shelf underneath, my supplies of gold and silver plate waited. Over on the right lay a small, clear, plastic box divided into sections where I kept my stones, small diamonds, garnets, pearls, topaz, citrine, larimar, and amethyst. Mostly the stones were semi-precious, but I felt that the white of the diamonds and pearls was sometimes just the right touch. I usually spent hours here after work. Sitting at my bench cleared my head and reminded me of beautiful things. Sometimes the tragedies in the hospital got to be too much. I could often alleviate some of the strain just by coming down here and losing myself in the work.
I picked up the jewel box, and stirred the stones inside with my finger. They clacked against the plastic in a familiar way, and that felt good too. I chewed my sandwich slowly, thinking back. It had seemed strange to me, when I discovered the burglary that the thief had lugged out the heavy bottles, but paid no attention to the bead box full of gemstones. Now I noticed that the flasks of gold were again missing from their places, and that the shelf was covered with heavy white dust. My heart skipped, and the clock upstairs chimed making me jump. Had I been burgled again?
I stared at the dust. That hadn’t been there before. My finger had left a perfect image of itself in the sticky powder where I touched the shelf.
I rushed upstairs to see if anything else was out of place. On the table, where I had not noticed it among the other mail, lay a yellow slip of paper. It was a list of objects seized, and there was a search warrant. I had the claustrophobic feeling of being boxed into that tiny jail cell all over again. My head swam, as I crumpled the paper in my hand.
The doorbell rang. I looked out the peephole at a vaguely familiar man in shirt sleeves and a gold and blue rep tie. He was holding a name tag up, but I couldn’t read it.
“Who is it?”
“John Adams, The Daily News. Can I talk to you? I have some questions.”
“I don’t think so.” I called through the thick, paneled door. “My lawyer wouldn’t approve.” I sagged against the door. Not reporters here already. I didn’t know how much more I could bear.
“Do you know what happened to Sarah Summers on the night of her death?” called the voice.
Treating Murder: Book One of the Veronica Lane, M.D. series (medical thriller) Page 16