Royal Pains

by D P Lyle

  “Did you?”

  “Of course not. I’ll have a word with him.”

  Divya marched toward Evan, Jill following. He looked up and smiled.

  “What are you doing here?” Divya asked.

  “Evan was here having dinner,” Ashley said. “He saw you come in and like figured out this must be where Nicole’s party is.”

  “I’m sure that’s exactly what happened,” Divya said. “He’s been hounding me all day about this party.”

  “Is that true?” Ashley asked.

  “Of course not,” Evan said. “She likes to make trouble.”

  “With you that never proves difficult.”

  Ashley laughed. “Either way, I’m glad you’re here.”

  Evan gave Divya a smug look. She frowned back.

  Evan felt a tap on his shoulder and turned. It was Esther Palumbo. He had met her at Ellie’s party and had set up her parents as HankMed patients.

  “Hi, Evan,” she said. “I wanted to say hello and thank you for getting my parents in to see your brother.”

  “Glad I could help.”

  “My dad needs the help. Too many bad habits.”

  “Hank can fix those for him.”

  “We’ll see. He’s pretty stubborn.”

  “So is my brother.”

  Esther laughed. “I want to introduce you to one of my friends. She’s looking for a new doctor for her mother.”

  Lawson. Evan R. Lawson. CFO on the case.

  With Jill and Divya at Nicole’s party and Evan somewhere playing James Bond, I had a quiet evening at home. I read a little, and then watched an old movie while eating microwave popcorn. Hitchcock’s Rear Window. One of my favorites. Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly. Doesn’t get much better than that. I’d seen it a dozen times and would probably watch it a dozen more.

  Around eleven o’clock I grew bored, so I had a dish of strawberry ice cream. The perfect cure for boredom. After that, I crawled into bed with the latest James Lee Burke novel. I got through the first four chapters before the phone rang.

  It was Evan. He had obviously found the party. I could barely hear him over the background din of voices and music.

  “Hank? Hank? Can you hear me?”

  “Barely. And no, I am not coming to the party.”

  “No, that’s not it. It’s Nicole. She’s missing.”

  I closed the book, set it aside, and swung around to sit on the edge of the bed. “What do you mean?”

  “She was here and then she was gone. No one knows where she is.”

  “Was she behaving oddly beforehand?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been chatting with Ashley and some of the other girls, so I wasn’t really paying attention to her.” I heard him turn and say something to someone, but I couldn’t make it out with all the background chatter. Then he was back. “Jill said that she saw her maybe forty-five minutes ago and that she appeared okay then.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Castellano’s. In East Hampton.”

  “Maybe she went home. Or took off somewhere else.”

  “She doesn’t have a car. She came with Ashley.”

  “Did you check the other bars in the area?”

  “Not yet. That’s why I’m calling you. Where do you think we should look?”

  I wasn’t sure why he thought I would know the answer to that, but I realized sitting here talking on the phone wouldn’t resolve the issue. I stood. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Castellano’s is on—”

  “I know where it is. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  It only took about twenty minutes to change clothes and drive over to the restaurant.

  “Welcome to Castellano’s,” the attractive young brunette who stood behind a reception podium said. “Would you like a table?”

  “No, thanks. I’m looking for the wedding party.”

  “It’s in one of our private rooms. Just go straight through the dining area and turn left at the fireplace. You’ll see it.”

  I found the room and immediately saw Evan talking with Ashley, Jill, and Divya near the far wall. I walked over.

  “Any news?” I asked.

  “No,” Ashley said. “I’ve called her cell phone like a million times and all I get is her voice mail. She always answers her phone.”

  “Maybe she turned it off or is in a place too noisy to hear the ring?”

  Ashley shook her head. “No, something’s wrong. This is the way it is when she has one of her spells.”

  I glanced at Jill and then asked Ashley, “What kind of spells?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Tell me what happens. What she does.”

  “I don’t know how to describe them. She just seems like out of it and goes off by herself. When she comes back, she like doesn’t remember where she was or what she’d been doing.”

  “She do that often?”

  “Like every couple of months or so.” She shrugged. “At least as far as I know.”

  “How long do these episodes last?” Divya asked.

  “An hour or two. Sometimes longer.”

  “Has she taken any drugs tonight?” I asked.

  “No. I did see a couple of the guys over there doing some coke. At least that’s what it looked like to me.”

  “Did you see Nicole using?”

  “She hasn’t done that for like a couple of years. I know that for sure.”

  How many times had I heard that? One thing you learn as a physician is that people either lie about or play down their drug and alcohol use. Particularly to their friends and their doctor. If they say they have a couple of glasses of wine with dinner each night, it’s more like four or five. If they say they rarely smoke pot, it’s three times a week. People don’t like their weaknesses and vices exposed, so they fudge the numbers. Human nature.

  “Some people are able to hide it,” I said. “Even from their closest friends.”

  “Not Nicole. She and I tell each other like everything. Everything.”

  I looked across the room at the two guys that Nicole had indicated. They were laughing and chatting with a couple of girls. I excused myself and walked over.

  “How are you guys doing?” I asked.

  Four faces turned toward me, all smiling, one of the girls wiping laughter tears from her eyes.

  The crying girl said, “We’re having too much fun.” Another wave of laughter rolled through them.

  “Have you seen Nicole Crompton?” I asked.

  “Who wants to know?” one of the guys asked. He was tall and thin, with slicked-back black hair. The collar of his blue shirt was turned up in back. He was ultracool. Don’t believe it? Just ask him. Odds are he’d tell you.

  “I’m Dr. Hank Lawson. I’m looking for Nicole.”

  His smile evaporated and his brow creased. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Have you seen her?”

  His head swiveled as he looked around the room. The other guy and the two girls also scanned the room. Finally the guy said, “I saw her an hour ago. Maybe a little longer. I’m not sure.”

  The others nodded in agreement.

  “Did you share any of your goodies with her?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure, you do. Peruvian marching powder? You share any of that with her?”

  He cupped a hand behind one ear, turning his head slightly. “Sorry, but I can’t hear you.”

  “Look, I’m not trying to cause trouble and I don’t really care what you do or don’t do. I’m trying to find Nicole. All I’m asking is, as far as you know, did she do any drugs tonight?”

  He looked nervous. His gaze bounced around the room but finally came back to me. “Not that I saw.”

  Again, the others nodded in agreement. Easy to see the social hierarchy here.

  “Did she mention that she might be going somewhere? Maybe another bar?”

  He shook his head.

  “You di
dn’t see her leave? Or see her talking with someone you didn’t know?”

  “Nope. Nothing like that.”

  I thanked them and then rejoined Evan, Ashley, and Jill.

  “Where’s Divya?”

  “She went to talk with the bartender,” Jill said. “Any luck?” She nodded toward the couples.

  “They don’t know anything.”

  Divya walked up. “I talked with the manager and a couple of the bartenders,” she said. “None of them saw Nicole leave or saw her talking with anyone unusual. They suggested she might have gone to one of the other bars or restaurants in the area. There are several in easy walking distance.”

  “Let’s go check them out,” I said.

  “Should we call the police?” Jill asked.

  “No,” Ashley said. “Her parents would like absolutely freak if we did that.”

  “What would they do if something was wrong and we didn’t call them?”

  “There’s nothing wrong. She’s done this before. Like all the time. She’ll come home. She always does.”

  “You sure?” I asked, still not feeling comfortable with this.

  “Yes, I’m sure. Let’s just look for her.”

  That’s what we did. We went to a dozen restaurants and bars. Both Ashley and for some reason Evan had photos of Nicole on their cell phones. We chatted with the receptionists and the bartenders and even a couple of managers, but none had seen Nicole that night. One of the bartenders knew her but said he hadn’t seen her in a few months.

  Everything was a dead end and by two o’clock in the morning we had run out of options. The bars were closing. Ashley tried Nicole’s cell phone but again got her voice mail. Jill suggested, for the third time, calling the police.

  “No way,” Ashley said. “Really. Her parents would like go ballistic.”

  “But she could be in trouble,” Jill said.

  “She will be if we call Mark or Jackie.” Ashley dropped her cell phone into her purse. “She’s done this in the city. Don’t you think here in the Hamptons is safer than there?”

  She had a point. Not one I was comfortable with, but what were we going to do? Call the police and tell them that Nicole had walked away from a party? That no one had seen her abducted or anything sinister like that? She was an adult, which meant she had a right to come and go as she pleased, and I could just hear the police telling us as much.

  “She could be home already. In bed,” Ashley said.

  “Let’s call and see,” Evan said.

  “She’s not answering her phone, and if we call the house, we’ll wake everybody up. That’s the last thing Nicole needs.” Ashley sighed. “Believe me, she’ll turn up. She always does.”

  I still didn’t like this, but we weren’t accomplishing anything and the streets were now deserted. No one out, no traffic. Running around here in the middle of the night didn’t seem to make much sense either. “You promise you’ll call me the minute you hear from her?”

  Ashley nodded. “I will.”

  “And if she doesn’t turn up by sunrise, we will tell her parents.”

  Ashley hesitated.

  “That wasn’t a question. I’m saying that if you don’t tell them, I will.”

  Ashley nodded. “I promise.”

  Chapter 14

  The call came just after seven a.m. I was asleep. Something I enjoy at that hour. I fumbled the phone, twice, before I brought it to my ear. Apparently my voice betrayed my sleep deprivation because Ashley said, “Sorry I woke you up, but I told you I’d call as soon as I heard from Nicole.”

  Now I was awake. I sat up on the side of the bed as a sense of dread swelled in my chest. One thing you learn practicing medicine is that phone calls at odd hours are almost never good news. Someone was ill or injured. Or worried, maybe even panicked, by some new or odd symptom. Even worse, a patient you thought was stable had taken an unexpected downward turn.

  This one wasn’t so bad.

  “She came in around four,” Ashley said. “We talked until she finally fell asleep.”

  “Where was she?”

  “She doesn’t remember.”

  “Doesn’t remember or just has a fuzzy recollection?”

  “She said like the last thing she remembered, she was in the women’s room at the restaurant, brushing her hair. The next thing she knew, she was like standing in front of a bank. Middle of the night. No one around. Everything totally dark and deserted.”

  “How did she get home?”

  “She called a cab.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “She’s like asleep and when she goes out after one of these adventures, she’s like impossible to wake up.”

  “I want to talk to you anyway,” I said.

  I showered, shaved, put on fresh jeans and a white shirt, sleeves rolled to my elbows, and in forty-five minutes stood at the door of Westwood Manor.

  “Dr. Lawson,” Sam said as he opened the door. “What brings you by?” He gave a quick glance over his shoulder. “Did she call you?”

  “No, Sam. I’m here to see Ashley.”

  He hesitated a beat.

  “About Nicole.”

  Sam nodded as he stepped back to let me enter. He led me to the kitchen, where Ashley sat at the breakfast table drinking coffee. She offered me a cup. I accepted and settled in the chair across from her.

  Ashley looked tired, face drawn, eyes puffy and red, hair tousled. Even at her young age, two hours of sleep wasn’t enough. Add to that the stress of looking for Nicole until two and then doing a couple of hours of friend-to-friend psychotherapy when Nicole finally showed up. Yet, even with all that and no makeup, hair combing, or any of the other things women do before stepping out of their rooms, she was beautiful.

  “I want some straight information,” I said. “Okay?”

  “About what?”

  “You know about what. I’m concerned about Nicole. Her behavior. I’ve already talked with Ellie and I know about her past drug use. I asked you last night, but here in the light of day I’ll ask again. . . . Is she still using?”

  Ashley stared into her cup, running one finger around its lip. She then pushed her hair back from her face and gazed out the window. Delaying tactics.

  “Listen, Ashley, you’re her best friend. You’re the only one who can help her. The only one who can tell me the truth.”

  She looked down and seemed to work on a cuticle with a fingernail. She sighed and then looked up at me. “Like what do you want to know?”

  “Is Nicole using drugs again?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “That sounds like a qualified no. Tell me about it.”

  “She like smokes a little pot every now and then. She probably drinks a little too much on weekends and at parties, but like who doesn’t? But like nothing heavier than that.”

  If she said like one more time, my head might explode. Where did that come from? Who first started talking with every third word like? Probably started out in like California, dude.

  “Don’t hold out on me,” I said.

  “That’s it. I swear.”

  “Other than these episodes, have you noticed anything odd about her behavior recently?”

  “Like what?”

  First appropriate use of the like word so far.

  “Anything out of the ordinary. More irritable or shorttempered? A change in her sleeping patterns? A change in her eating habits or her weight?”

  “Not really. Maybe she’s like gained a couple of pounds from all the parties we’ve been doing around the city as a run-up to this wedding. But not enough that anyone would like notice.”

  “Yet she thinks she needs to lose weight?”

  She shrugged. “Name a girl our age that doesn’t. It’s a battle we fight like all the time.”

  I refrained from telling her it was a battle they didn’t need to fight, that they all looked perfectly healthy, that movies and commercials were created to make them feel that way. Instead I asked, “Has s
he seen that nutritionist of yours yet?”

  “Yesterday. He put her on a program and guaranteed she would lose like ten or twelve pounds before the wedding.”

  Ten or twelve pounds she didn’t need to lose. “Does the program include taking vitamins and other supplements?”

  “Of course. Julian always prescribes those types of things. I mean like they boost metabolism and lower appetite. That’s why his program works better than anybody else’s.”

  She looked at me as if she couldn’t fathom that a doctor wouldn’t know that. I wrote it off as a reflection of a young and unseasoned mind. Maybe gullible was a better word.

  “So she might’ve started these supplements yesterday?”

  “I know she did. She like took some at lunch and more last night at dinner.”

  That still wouldn’t explain her behavior at the reception the other night.

  “But none before yesterday?”

  She looked at me quizzically. “She just saw him yesterday. That’s when she got the pills.”

  “She didn’t take any of yours?”

  “I’m not on the program right now, so like I don’t have any.”

  “How does the program work?”

  “Julian does all these blood tests . . . for things like vitamins and minerals and things he calls neurotransmitters. Not sure what they are.” She twisted a strand of her thick black hair around a finger. “Then he gives you supplements for like four weeks and then retests everything. Usually everything is back to normal.”

  “And that’s it? Four weeks?”

  She nodded. “Every three months he does more lab tests, and if things are like messed up again, he will give you another four weeks of treatment.”

  “You know these blood tests aren’t real, don’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are no blood tests for neurotransmitters.”

  “Sure, there are. I do them all the time.”

  This was going nowhere. Time to get back to Nicole.

  “Tell me about Nicole’s spells. Where she gets lost or confused.”

  Now Ashley used both of her hands to push her hair back. She gathered it into a ponytail, which she tossed over one shoulder, the dark waves covering half her chest. “It’s like she’s there and then she’s not. She seems to get this odd expression and then goes off somewhere. I’ve like tried talking to her during a couple of these episodes, but it’s like she doesn’t hear me. I remember one . . . maybe three or four weeks ago. . . . We were at a bar and she was like talking to this guy. I came over to make sure everything was okay. . . . You know us girls have codes.”