Attending Physician

by Vivienne Hartt Quinn

  “Oh, I’ve wondered about that place, but I’ve never been. That would be lovely.” I paused, then added, “What about poker night? It’s the third Friday.”

  “We changed it, milady, because we’re seeing each other Sunday.” She reached for me. “Thanks for tracking that, baby.” She came into the kitchen. “Let’s go have dinner early, baby. I’ll come get you at six. Cool?”

  “Yes. Is it dressy?”

  “No, business clothes max, down to casual.”

  “What are you wearing, darling?”

  “Business casual.”

  “Got it,” I said. “Italian, did you say? Is that where the butch mafia hangs out?”

  Raven laughed. “Don’t know, baby. Maybe we’ll start a trend.”

  Once again, she kissed me a hot good-bye promising to see me at six. I repaired my lipstick and went into my casual Friday day of clients. The day swam along till five o’clock when I started to shake for no apparent reason.

  By six my legs wouldn’t hold me anymore. True to her word, Raven’s key was in the lock at six sharp. “Baby?”

  “Here, Raven,” my voice was a whisper.

  “Baby?”

  I tried again but I wasn’t capable of a sound she could hear.

  Her boots echoed in the hallway as she sought me.

  Seated in my black leather chair in the front room, my therapy office, I was helpless to move.

  “Baby?” Raven took in my face and knelt beside me in an instant. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” my voice would not stop shaking. I sat on my hands to stop the tremors. My legs shook so much that my skirt rippled.

  Raven studied me. I watched her study me. Then some light of comprehension dawned in her eyes.

  “Verity, sweetheart, you’re safe. I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you, milady. I promise.”

  I watched her still. As if I didn’t understand what she was saying.

  “Verity, darling,” said Raven, grasping my shoulders, “Ellie’s not going to do it again. The biker dealers are not playing an encore. I’m not letting you out of my sight for the entire weekend.” She stroked my cheek. “Do you understand what’s happening to you?”

  I shook my head.

  “You’re caught in what happened a week ago. Your body is reliving it.”

  When she said it, I snapped out of it.

  “Oh, my Goddess,” I said, “of course I am.” I flared into tears. Raven pulled me out of the chair, into her arms, and sat down with me in her lap. She let me cry.

  After a few minutes, she lifted my chin to make my eyes meet hers, “Better?”

  “Uh-huh,” I said.

  She reached for her handkerchief and gave me the belly whoosh I usually got. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

  “Baby, it’s a miracle you’re only this upset.”

  The buzzer squawked. I froze.

  “Chill, baby. It’s Terry and her crew. They have a hunch.”

  “They do?” I asked, as Raven put me down in the chair to go get the buzz.

  “They do,” said the leader of the pack over her shoulder. Jesus, she was sexy. I wanted to jump her.

  Terry and four of her crew filed into my office. Raven followed after she secured the door.

  “Baby,” she started, kneeling eye-level reassuringly, “some of the guys in the jail overheard the biker boys talking amongst themselves about something they stashed, Terry and her guys think, here in your space.”

  “What?!” I reacted.

  “Sh, sh, sweetheart. They’re on it,” said Raven.

  “They are?” I said. “They’re `on it.’ What does that mean?”

  “It means, ma’am,” said Terry, formally, for the sake of her guys, “that we’ll be hidden in your space when they see you and Rave leave for dinner—which is when, if we’re not mistaken, we think they’ll try to sneak in to retrieve it, whatever it is.”

  “And what will you do if they do?” I asked.

  “We’ll arrest their asses,” said Terry matter-of-factly, “but first, we’ll let them lead us to whatever they hid which,” she scanned my office with its shelves full of books, “we will be able to use against them in the case, not to mention that they’ll be breaking-and-entering as well as blowing the restraining orders sky high.”

  “They’re in the books,” I said dully.

  “What are?” asked Terry.

  “The papers you want.”

  “How do you know that?”

  I looked at Raven for help. “I don’t know how I know,” I said, “I just know.”

  “There are hundreds of books in this room.”

  “There are,” I agreed.

  “Do you know which one?”

  “No, but I can probably find it, or narrow it down to a shelf.”

  “How?” Terry asked.

  “By feeling for it.”

  Her eyeballs bounced off the ceiling. Out of the corner of his mouth, Geoff said, “Boss, let her do her thing. Stranger things have worked for us.”

  “Got that right,” said Terry, without moving her eyes from me. “Go for it, Verity.”

  I got slowly out of my chair. I walked into my small office next door to retrieve my pendulum.

  I said sharply, “No one is to say anything. I need to concentrate.”

  Terry grinned at me, as if to say, Sure, lady, whatever you say.

  I walked from bookcase to bookcase focused on the spinning of my pendulum. At one particular one, it began to swing. I tested each shelf. Spinning, except for one. I went for the left side; it spun. The right side; it swung. I divided that in half. Again, left, spin; right, swing. I narrowed it down to three books.

  “Don’t touch them,” Terry said, putting on a pair of latex gloves, as if they harbored explosives not papers.

  She pulled the first book out. The pendulum spun. Second, swing. Third, spin. She fanned through the pages of the second book, incidentally, The War of Art by Steven Pressfield, a classic for creators of any kind.

  There, midway through, was a bank check for $100,000.00 made out to cash, and one sheet of plans for the next big operation.

  Geoff said, “Verity, that was wicked pissa.”

  “No, Geoff,” I corrected, “that was the Divine.”

  Terry put the books where they had been. They had to catch the guys with the evidence so they had to let them play it out, and hope that my office, not to mention my home, wasn’t trashed before it ended.

  Raven and I were supposed to go out for a romantic dinner and forget this operation was happening. Ha!

  “You better have a good plan to distract me, milord,” I spoke under my breath.

  “I’ll do my best, baby,” she grinned. “I hope Terry’s right. We have to be obvious leaving. I’m sorry they have to use your home this way.”

  “If they stop these guys, it’s okay,” I said.

  “Verity, Raven’s Beauty,” said Terry, “I owe you an apology.”

  I didn’t speak. I knew what for. I wondered if she did.

  “I thought what you suggested was total bullshit, and I didn’t bother to hide what I thought. I’m the ass because you delivered.”

  “That’s correct, detective,” I said evenly.

  She flinched. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I won’t doubt you again, ma’am.”

  “You’d better not,” I teased.

  Raven came down unequivocally on my side.

  “She’s right, Terr.”

  “I know, Raven. Sorry, boss.”

  “We’re learning,” Raven said as a sop.

  Chapter 62

  Out of the Blue was the perfect place for the butch mafia to hang out. Checked tablecloths. Long-time waitstaff that regulars knew by name. Private-ish spaces in the back. I’d tracked a mouth-watering Frutte Di Mare on the menu that sent me right to heaven. Raven had some local fish and pasta.

  Her distraction technique was to tell med school stories that had me clutching my sides. Her class had been first-rate p
ranksters, and they considered their pranking personal and serious. I don’t think I’d seen her so relaxed. We’d had quite the tense couple of weeks. I unwound, and paid strict attention to her gorgeous face, letting my desire for her run on simmer for the duration of the meal. Focus, I told myself every time I thought of the operation happening in my front room.

  After I finished my seafood—every last bite—I commenced one of the seminal rituals of a femme’s life. I pulled my Forever Fuchsia out of its own special mirrored case, and repaired my lipstick. Raven watched me like a cat ready to pounce.

  “Perfect,” she said.

  “What, darling?” I lifted my eyes to her.

  “Your lips.”

  “Oh those,” I said. “Of course they are—they’re mine.” My standard line.

  I flashed her a flirty smile. She gave it right back.

  Raven had finished the last sip of her glass of house red when she got a text which made her grin with a bit of nasty on the side. She showed me her phone screen:

  Nabbed ‘em. Olly olly oxen free. Come home, we need you.

  “Baby,” Raven reassured me, “if your house were a disaster, Terry would have called. I had her word.”

  I let go a breath I’d have sworn I wasn’t holding. “Good,” I said.

  “Yeah,” she asked for the check.

  “Are you ever going to let me take you out for dinner?” I asked.

  “Probably not,” she said, “why?”

  “Well, how am I supposed to reciprocate?”

  “Surprise me, baby,” she wolf-grinned in my direction.

  “I’ll see what I can do, sir,” I bobbed a brief curtsey as I stood. She didn’t know this but I was plotting. I’d pay for dinner some day. See if I didn’t! Raven stood to wrap me in my raincoat. The sky had been threatening all day.

  We walked around the corner from the restaurant where we’d parked and sailed home in Chérie. Raven’s usual spot awaited her at the front of the house. I wondered how she did that.

  The paddy wagon (did they use those anymore?) was long gone and with it bikers, drug dealers and other assorted deplorables. My heart began to beat a faster tattoo as we ascended the stairs. Raven grabbed my hand before we went through the door to my flat.

  “Baby, it’ll be alright. Breathe.” She pulled me to her chest and kissed my forehead. “You’ve been such a brave girl.” Then she dipped her head to touch her lips to mine. “Come on.” She slipped the key into the lock, the knob turned, and Terry was right there.

  “Terry,” said Raven measuredly.

  “Raven, Raven’s Beauty,” she said. “Not a hair out of place,” she bowed. “We got them.”

  “May I make tea, Terry?” I asked. “Before we get into the details.”

  “By all means, ma’am.”

  I wandered down the hall. The house was calm, not exactly as it had when we’d left, but that could have been the cops as much as the dealers.

  Making tea is a soothing ritual. At least, it’s soothing to me.

  “Is it the three of us?” I called down the hall.

  Terry called, “And Geoff.”

  “Thanks,” I said. Tea for four. “Raven, darling, will you come carry this tea tray?”

  Geoff appeared in my kitchen. “I’ll do it, Verity.”

  “Thanks, Geoff.”

  “What you did earlier was wicked cool.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Uh, can I ...” Geoff started. “Could you ... what I wondered—”

  “Can I teach you?” I put him out of his misery. “Sure I can. Go to Seven Stars in Cambridge and get one you like.”

  “It’s that easy?”

  “Using a pendulum is easy. Trusting it takes practice.”

  “That was out there and the boss thought it wicked total b.s., but it way wasn’t.” His enthusiasm tickled me.

  “No, none of those sorts of tools is b.s., if you know how to use them. That’s like saying a hammer is b.s.—and it is, if what you want to do is stir the soup, but if you want to hang a picture, a hammer is inspired.”

  “You’re right, Verity.”

  “Right about what, baby?” asked Raven. “Not that that is a surprise.”

  “The pendulum,” I said.

  “I’ve never seen anyone do something like that.”

  “You should see it work for things that are lost,” I said.

  “Really?” Raven’s question had a sharp sound to it.

  “Yep.”

  She and Terry exchanged a meaningful glance which meaning was lost on me.

  “Can you bring it when we go to my house?”

  “Lose something?”

  “Later,” she muttered.

  Happily, pouring tea comforted me, and I let the details of Terry’s account wash over and through me instead of hanging on them. I was less interested in how than I was in her hunch.

  “Terry, what I want to know,” I began after she ran down, “is how you had the hunch.”

  “Oh, that?” She flashed a dull red. “They happen to me all the time.”

  “Hunches?” I pursued.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know, you do enough police work and you develop this sense of things.”

  “Geoff,” I sparkled dangerously, “get one for your boss, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he grinned from ear to ear.

  “One what?” asked Terry.

  I smiled at her oh, so sweetly. “A pendulum.”

  “What for?” Bless her, our Terry sounded alarmed.

  Raven started to chuckle deep in her throat.

  “You’re going to learn to use it with Geoff when I teach him,” I replied saccharine sweet.

  “I am?” She gave me a dubious stare.

  Then the steel magnolia showed her mettle. “Yes, dear, you are.”

  “Why am I going to do that, exactly?”

  “Because I’m your capo’s femme, and I’m telling you that you are.”

  Geoff and Raven were outright laughing at how uncomfortable Terry was. Terry understood perfectly what I’d done; she was effectively trapped.

  I followed up, “That’ll teach you to think that any tool is b.s., dear.”

  Oooh, I loved this.

  Terry, perhaps a bit gracelessly, gave. “Yes’ m,” she muttered knowing I’d bested her, at least for the nonce

  Chapter 63

  “Geoff,” said el capo, to ease her guy’s discomfort, “get one for me, too. I’ll learn with you guys.” Raven reached for her back pocket and my belly did its usual whoosh. “Baby, what should they cost?”

  “Close to twenty-five dollars apiece, I should think.”

  She handed Geoff a hundred dollar bill. “On us,” she said.

  Both Geoff and Terry started to protest. I nipped that in the bud.

  “Darlings,” I said, “we’re doctors. You’re cops. Please.”

  They hushed.

  Terry whispered to Raven, “She’s bossy, boss.” My eagle ears caught it.

  Raven was politic. “Ya think?”

  I patted Terry, “Get used to it, sweetie.” I reached to kiss her cheek.

  “But this is only after a couple of weeks,” protested Terry. “How’s it gonna be when it’s a coupla years?”

  “Worse,” I said gleefully.

  “Jesus,” she swore.

  “There’s only one possible mitigating factor that might work in your favor,” I warned her.

  “Yeah?” she perked up. “Gonna tell me?”

  “Absolutely!” I smiled. Terry waited, ambivalent whether she wanted to know. “A femme of your own.” Terry groaned. I laughed again.

  Raven said, “Bro, they’re smarter than we are. Get used to it.”

  Terry flashed a glance at Raven. “If mine is anywhere near as pretty and as brave as yours, I’m in.”

  “Thank you, dear knight,” I responded.

  “When can we have our lesson?” asked Geoff.

  “As soon as you have your pendulums.”

 
“Cool. I’ll go Saturday.”

  “Next week then,” I said. “We’ll figure out an evening.”

  “Thanks!”

  They confiscated my book as part of their chain of evidence, which was too bad, because it had my annotations in it. They snapped a zillion pictures of the bookcases and my office, and it tick-tocked to long after ten before they were through. Police work is a lot of detail and it takes a lot of time. I’d gained an appreciation for the caution with which they had to proceed. It’s shocking, given the danger that some cops face, that we don’t have more police incidents.

  Raven saw them out and saw to it that the door was locked. I’d disappeared into the kitchen to rummage for a glass bowl and a lot of salt and water.

  “What are you doing, baby?” she asked from the kitchen doorway.

  “Preparing the materials to clear my office. Mal-intent was the name of the game in there tonight both from the dealers and the cops. It needs clearing in order for me to work in there.”

  “Clearing?”

  “A bowl of salt water will do it. By tomorrow morning, the salt will be dried and wicked up the sides of the bowl.”

  “How can it possibly happen that fast?” she asked.

  “Intention,” I said.

  “C’mon,” Raven responded. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Are you staying the night, milord?” I asked.

  “If you’ll have me.”

  “Always.”

  “Then I’m staying, milady.”

  “Good. Then we’ll check the bowl in the morning. You’ll see,” I said as I walked down the hall with it. Raven followed me.

  I bent over at the waist to place the large mixing bowl in the center of the floor. Close to five inches deep with a lot of salt. There’d been intense feelings that needed a place to go. If I didn’t clear my therapy office, it became unbearable to work in there, at least for me.

  As I straightened, Raven said, “God, baby, you have a sexy ass.”

  I glanced at her. Her desire was written on her face.

  “Is there something you’d like to do about that, milord?”

  “Several somethings,” she said as her voice deepened.

  “I see,” I sparkled at her. “Don’t stop on my account—please.”

  Raven reached for my waist to run her hands over my hips and down that particular part of my anatomy.