by Judi McCoy
“Probably,” Ellie answered. Still flipping through her notebook, she realized there was one person she hadn’t questioned. “You know, maybe I should visit a doctor and get the diagnosis from a pro. Who knows? I may be offered a prescription for happy pills to help with the pain.”
Ellie searched the Hamptons’ phone directory, took down Dr. Bordowski’s address, and called the office number. A recorded voice told her that despite the storm, Dr. B was holding office hours and no appointment was necessary. After taking a shower and donning decent clothes, she borrowed a slicker from Arlene and took the BMW keys from Viv.
It was about time she did some detecting on her own. She needed to earn the trust Arlene, Viv, Rosa, and the girls had given her. Thanks to the bad weather, she figured the roads would be fairly clear of cars, so she could drive without scaring the bejesus out of herself or any of the “out east” residents. She was a big girl, she had a license, and if Viv could do it, so could she.
Now out in the driveway, Viv leaned into the driverside window. “Are you sure you want to do this alone? I don’t mind coming along.”
“You already have a job helping Arlene arrange Dr. Kent’s memorial. And remember to invite Jim Bond and Detective Wheeling, too. If anything exciting happens, we’ll need police backup and they’re the primaries on this case.”
“Got it,” Viv said in a cheery voice. She kept her head inside the window, though her rear end was getting soaked by the falling rain. “Go on, start the engine. I need to know you can at least do that before I let you leave the driveway.”
Ellie puffed out a breath and fastened her seat belt. “All right already.” Keeping everything in neutral, she stepped on the clutch and turned the key while the engine hummed to life. “Satisfied?”
“So far,” said Viv. “Do you remember what I told you?”
“Yes, I remember. I can do this on my own. If I need you, I’ll hit the horn.”
“Ooo-kay.” Viv stepped back and raced up the front steps. “Be careful,” she yelled before she ducked inside and slammed the door.
First things first, thought Ellie: Get familiar with the car, find all the knobs and switches, and make sure I know how to use them. She stared at the cluttered dash and steering wheel column, found the windshield wipers, and turned them on. Playing with their speed, she smiled when she got the blades moving at a nice even pace.
Then she spotted the headlights and flicked them on. After that, she rolled the windows up and down a couple of times. The rain had lessened. If it stopped, it might be nice driving with fresh air tousling her curls and cooling her overworked brain. And speaking of cool . . . The interior of the beastly BMW was warm, the front and side windows steamed. After locating the defroster, she turned it on.
Already exhausted from fussing with the dashboard buttons, she heaved another sigh. Manhattanites had it right. Sit back and let the buses, subways, and cabs get you where you needed to go. There was no messing with engines, stick shifts, or foggy windows. You could sit back and read a newspaper or talk to a friend without a care, and still reach your destination in one piece.
Easy-peasy and less nerve-racking than having to actually drive.
Last step, she told herself, and it was the “big one.” Time to use the clutch and move the gearshift into place. After sliding through each gear a half dozen times, she checked the windows. The heat vents had done their job and cleared the fog, so it was time to take off.
What was it Viv had said? Driving a car was like riding a bicycle? Once you learned how, you never forgot?
Repeating nice and easy in her brain, she needed only three tries to back out of the parking spot and execute a K-turn so she was facing the street. Not that difficult, she thought, moving the car into first gear. Just ease up on the clutch and give it a little gas.
The engine died and her neck snapped in place, making the bump on her temple throb and her teeth clatter.
Try it again, only this time move slower. You can do it.
Inching out of the drive, she turned onto the road and exhaled. Now for second gear. Clutch, shift, ease up, give the engine gas, and go.
She repeated the effort and slid into third. When that worked, she eased into fourth. If she was careful, she could stay in this gear for the entire drive. So what if the posted speed limit was fifty? There were no cars on the road. If someone came up behind her, they could just go around.
She passed through the nearly deserted Amagansett, gliding along in fourth gear and damn proud of herself. So far, she’d hit every green light and no one had crept up behind her to hurry her along. The hard part was next. East Hampton was a larger village with more lights and a tricky intersection she’d have to traverse to stay on Route 27.
Up ahead, the light flashed from yellow to red and her heart rate accelerated. She hit the clutch, moved into neutral, and stepped on the brake, then coasted to the light. When it turned green, she stepped on the gas, which was definitely not the right thing to do. She wasn’t in gear. All the BMW’s roaring engine did was catch the attention of a few folks wearing rain gear and waiting to cross at the light.
She jiggled the stick shift into first and eased up on the clutch again, causing the car to jerk and die in the middle of the intersection. Someone behind her honked and she rolled down the window, waving a hand, encouraging them to pass.
The next thing she knew, a blue light was flashing behind her. She checked the rearview mirror and the cop car shot out its Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!
Filled with trepidation, Ellie searched her tote bag for her wallet, which held her license. When she glanced in the mirror, the officer was talking on a radio and she imagined he was calling in the car’s plate.
She reached into the glove box and pulled out the rental agreement. Taking deep breaths, she willed her stomach to be calm. Then she flipped down the visor mirror and took a look at herself. Yeech! Her face was a mass of color, mostly blue and purple, but there was a bit of that ghastly yellow-green Viv had mentioned earlier.
Even though rain and clouds filled the sky, she slipped on her sunglasses, hoping he wouldn’t notice the shocking condition of her face.
“License and registration, please,” said the officer when he got to her door.
Ellie had the paperwork waiting.
He scanned her license and rental agreement. Then he inched down and gazed at her through the window. “Are you having trouble with your vehicle, miss?”
Ignoring her twitchy stomach, Ellie smiled. “Just a little. It’s a rental, and I’m not used to a stick shift.”
He raised his eyebrows and gazed at her. “Would you mind removing those sunglasses? I like to look a person in the eye when I talk to her.”
She did what he asked, but her feeble confidence took a nosedive when he got sight of her face. No doubt about it, this was going to take a while.
Chapter 16
Ellie found Dr. Sabrina Bordowski’s office on Newtown Lane, just off Route 27 in East Hampton. After parking head-on in the spacious lot next door to the office, she took a couple of deep breaths. She’d finished her session with Officer Pat O’Brien—no kidding, that was his name—just minutes ago, and was still a bit shaken. Though he’d given her a short lesson on shifting the BMW in a more efficient manner, he’d also given her a warning for careless driving.
His instructions had been insightful, and Officer Pat was sweet yet firm, sort of like a fresh summer peach. Too bad Viv hadn’t been in the car. She’d have eaten him up for sure.
The sign identifying Dr. Bordowski’s place of business was small and unassuming, its information clear: DR. SABRINA BORDOWSKI, M.D., ADULT GENERAL PRACTICE. If she was into supplying drugs the same way Dr. Kent had been, this sign had to be one way she protected herself from selling to minors.
She checked the parking lot, taking note of the Mercedeses, Jags, and Audis surrounding her. A few spaces down, a petite, dark-haired woman quickly exited a bottle green Rolls-Royce. Slamming the door with a thrust of her si
ze-2 hips, she brushed off her white designer jeans while she raced to the building in the light rain.
Ellie slipped from her BMW and followed Ms. Dolce & Gabbana. She’d seen the complete outfit, including the woman’s sleeveless D&G floral-print top, while gawking at an online Web site with Viv. Even on sale, the two pieces cost over a thousand dollars. No doubt about it, Dr. Bordowski’s clientele was pretty much the same as Dr. Kent’s had been. In fact, she’d bet money Dr. Bordowski had picked up a few of the deceased doctor’s patients already.
Walking a short distance behind Ms. D&G, Ellie entered the building and followed the woman through a foyer and into the waiting room. The cool inside air held the faint scent of lemon and verbena. Classical music played over the sound system, while the end tables held a few more magazines than Dr. Kent had provided, and the same huge glass jar of iced lemon water sat on a sideboard against a far wall. The office furniture, a mix of beachy rattan and oak, gave the room a casual yet elegant feel.
Six women looked up when she and Ms. D&G arrived inside, but only one nodded a hello. The others quickly returned to their reading material. Ellie took a second scan of the room and spotted a large Plexiglas window next to a door that she assumed led to the examining rooms. When Ms. D&G walked to the window, wrote something on a clipboard sitting on the ledge, and took a seat, Ellie figured the receptionist had taken a day off because of the weather.
She sauntered to the window as if she knew the program and clearly printed her name on the patient list. Unfortunately, the names of those who’d signed in before her were impossible to read. These women had either flunked penmanship, or they wrote in a secret code known only to themselves and the doctor.
Hoping to appear unassuming, she sat next to the only woman who’d actually acknowledged her presence when she entered the room. The patient, close to her mother’s age, had a remarkably unlined face, courtesy of Botox, she imagined, and seemed friendlier than the others present.
Searching for a conversation starter, Ellie focused on the woman’s wrist and immediately recognized her watch. Georgette had given her a similar gift for her college graduation, along with a warning. It was one in a series of special timepieces, each of which cost over twenty-five thousand dollars. The fact that she owned something that rare and expensive so terrified Ellie that the watch was still in its original box on a shelf in her closet.
“Excuse me,” she began, eyeing the watch. “Is that a Girard-Perregaux you’re wearing? I haven’t seen one is a while. It’s quite beautiful.”
“This old thing?” The woman gave another Botox grin, which meant nothing moved though her eyes did sparkle. “It was my grandmother’s. The darling passed away about ten years ago and it’s been mine ever since, even though my sisters tried to get it away from me in a battle of, shall we say, wills.”
Thinking her answer was a perfect intro to Dr. Kent’s death, Ellie said, “Don’t you just hate it when people die without a will? I heard that’s what’s going on because of Martin Kent’s murder. Poor Arlene is trying to sort it all out, but it’s been difficult.”
“You’re a friend of Arlene’s?” Watch Lady blinked. “What a coincidence. I know her, too.”
“Really?” said Ellie, working to keep the inquisition on track. “Then you were with the group that was banned from the prewedding party because of the doctor’s demise.”
“Well, not exactly,” the woman continued. “I’ve always been a patient of Dr. Bordowski’s, but I met Dr. Kent when Sabrina threw a get-together to announce the opening of his new office in Montauk. Arlene was there, of course, and since then I’ve seen her around.” She folded the magazine she’d been reading and inched closer. “I heard that Dr. Kent had his faults, as do most men, but they seemed like a happy couple. I can’t believe someone killed him.”
“All I know is the family is in shock,” Ellie replied, her voice low. “I’m here because I had a little . . . accident . . .” She removed her sunglasses. “And I’m looking for something to take the edge off the pain. I was hoping to get a prescription from Dr. Kent, but that never happened, and I was told Dr. Bordowski could take care of me.”
“Oh, dear,” said Watch Lady, grimacing when she saw Ellie’s face. “That does look nasty. How did you—”
The far door opened and a woman walked out, followed by the doctor, who kissed the patient’s cheek, then checked her clipboard. After locating the next name, she walked to one of the waiting patients and whispered a welcome. A moment later, both women disappeared through the door.
“That’s the one thing I like so much about Sabrina,” said Watch Lady. “Everything she does is private. I’ve been here when there were twenty women waiting, and no one spoke unless they were drawn into conversation by a friend.” She raised her sculpted nose in the air. “If you hadn’t asked about Grandma Marion’s watch, I doubt we’d have said a word.”
Ellie bit her lower lip. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but why the secrecy? This is a doctor’s office. Why don’t these women discuss their ailments?”
The question seemed to set off an alarm in Watch Lady’s brain. “I don’t believe that’s any of your concern,” she answered, returning to her magazine.
Well, crap. “Do you know of anyone else who might see me without an appointment? My face really hurts.”
Watch Lady thought for so long Ellie was positive she wouldn’t answer. Then she said, “Tell me, how did you get that horrendous bruise in the first place?”
Close to whispering a snarky comment, Ellie smiled. It couldn’t hurt to gloss over the truth here, since Watch Lady wasn’t one of Arlene’s friends. “I tripped and fell down a set of stairs that led to the beach. Landed facefirst on the bottom step.”
“I see a lawsuit in your future. You know, negligence on the part of the homeowner, or are you at the Montauk Manor?”
“A private house,” she said, not wanting to get an innocent hotel in trouble. “And yes, I’ve already consulted an attorney.”
“Are you here alone, or was someone with you when it happened?”
“I’m with a friend, but this is my first time ‘out east.’ As you can see, I’m not familiar with the rules, and I do appreciate you taking the time to fill me in.” She figured she was on a roll, so why stop now? “Tell me, have you ever had any trouble getting a prescription for pain from Dr. Bordowski?”
Watch Lady finally cracked a real grin. “Sabrina gives me anything I ask for. Just name your poison and bring the prescription to the drugstore in Montauk. Uncle Mickey will fix you right up.”
The front door opened and another woman walked in. At the same time, Sabrina Bordowski escorted her last patient out. Then she walked to Watch Lady and held out her hand. After that, things got complicated.
The doctor glanced at Ellie and flared her nostrils, glaring like a professional female wrestler Ellie had once seen on the TV. Come to think of it, she was built like one, too, nearly six feet tall, with broad shoulders and man-sized hands. “Have we met?”
“I believe we were both at the prewedding party for Dr. Kent and Arlene,” Ellie answered.
“Ah, I thought you looked familiar.” She scanned Ellie’s face with a trained eye. “That looks painful.”
“It’s the reason I’m here.”
“I’ve been telling her you’ll take care of her, Sabrina, so be nice,” said Watch Lady.
“Most of the patients I see are here because they’ve had a personal recommendation,” the doctor said.
“Oh—ah—Arlene sent me. She said you and Dr. Kent were in the same type of practice.”
“Really?”
“She did.”
The doctor nodded. “I’ll be with you soon.” She waggled a finger and Ellie’s new friend, the nameless watch lady, followed Dr. Bordowski through the door.
Ellie settled into a chair in the doctor’s office. Ms. D&G had just left the building, marching away in a fit of temper without the usual escort. And that was odd, because every other client had b
een given a friendly but professional sendoff as they were guided out. But before she had a chance to think on it further, Sabrina took her in hand.
“Rumors travel fast around here, especially in the summer.”
Dr. Bordowski trailed her fingers over the bump on Ellie’s forehead. “I heard someone broke into Arlene’s house a few nights ago and you were the one who stopped the intruder, so I assume that’s where you got this beauty of a bruise.” She raised an eyebrow as she studied the lump. “I see you didn’t need stitches, and I doubt you’ll have a scar. Whoever applied the butterfly bandage did a decent job.”
“Um, a police officer who came with Detective Wheeling took care of it.” Ellie had sat in the waiting room for over an hour, which gave her plenty of time to think of what she would say. There was no way she’d talk about her connection to James Bond and the DEA with Sabrina Bordowski. If she was involved in Dr. Kent’s drug ring . . .
“You say you’re having a lot of pain. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?”
“At least a nine,” Ellie lied. “I know people have different pain thresholds, but I’m a sissy. Splinters make me cry, and headaches do me in. Since I was slammed during the burglary, the jackhammer inside my head never seems to stop.”
Dr. Bordowski narrowed her blue eyes. “Surely you’ve been able to borrow something from Arlene.”
How many lies can I tell before I get caught?
“Arlene is going through a—a catharsis of sorts. When she found out about the charges the DEA planned to level against her fiancé, she flushed all but a few of her meds. The cops searched her house and her medicine cabinet, and she came up clean. She sent me here,” Ellie continued. “Said you and Dr. Kent were in the same—um—line of work.”
“Did she, now?” The doctor frowned and ran a finger under Ellie’s eye. “It sounds as if the two of you are close.”