Caroline frowned. “That strikes me as awfully cold-blooded, considering.”
Ginny shrugged. “It was never a sure thing.”
“Jim doesn’t know, does he?”
“No, and don’t you tell him.”
“I won’t.” Caroline looked around. “You know what everyone’s going to think, don’t you?”
“That we’re an item.”
“Are you?” Caroline’s voice was carefully neutral.
“I’m off men at present.”
Caroline nodded. “I can understand that. Does Jim?”
Ginny shifted uncomfortably. “We haven’t really talked about it.”
Caroline lifted an eyebrow. “Everyone assumes you and he will end up together.”
Ginny gave a non-committal shrug. “There are a lot of eligible women in town. He doesn’t have to settle for me.”
Caroline turned to face her. “Oh, I think we all know what he wants. The question is what do you want?”
Their conversation was interrupted by the approach of the two combatants. Ginny reached into her bag, pulled out water bottles, and handed them over as Jim and Alan dropped onto the grass. She turned to Alan, who was eyeing Caroline with a tentative smile on his face. “Caroline, I think you and Alan already know one another.”
Caroline nodded and Ginny was amused to see the beginnings of a blush.
“Hello,” Alan said.
“Hello.”
Ginny turned back to Jim, leaving Caroline to fend for herself.
“How did you do out there?”
“He did just fine,” Alan answered her. “Especially since he’s years behind the curve.”
Ginny smiled at the look of annoyance on Jim’s face. He had yet to learn that good-natured teasing was part of the package.
“Well, it isn’t my fault. You have no idea how odd it feels to aim for someone’s liver with the idea of cutting it out of his body without anesthesia.”
Everyone laughed, but it was true that the physicians among them had trouble with the idea of deliberately inflicting mayhem on an enemy, even a hypothetical one.
Jim lowered the water bottle and caught her eye. “Maybe you should learn how to handle a sword,” he teased. “That way you could skewer me if you wanted to.”
“Auch, she knows how,” Alan volunteered. “She just knows she couldn’t beat either one of us with cold steel and has sense enough to use her pistol instead.”
This was true. Ginny was a dead shot with her nine millimeter semi-automatic. So, for that matter, was Caroline.
“Are either of you gentlemen hungry?” Ginny asked.
“I am,” Alan said.
“Me, too.”
“Then may I suggest the four of us go get something to eat?”
“Oh! I can’t!” Caroline said. “I have to be back on duty in ten minutes.”
Alan smiled at her. “I tell you what. Let’s go pick up something from the kitchen and show the tourists how to eat with our fingers.” He rose gracefully and held out a hand to Caroline. She let him pull her to her feet, then waved to Ginny.
“We’ll finish our conversation later.”
Ginny watched the two of them move off in the direction of the compound, chatting easily, and thought how much more mature Alan seemed. She crossed her fingers for her friend.
“What were you talking about?” Jim asked.
Ginny turned her head and looked at him. “You, of course.”
He sighed heavily. “I’m getting tired of being the subject of everyone’s curiosity.”
“I’m afraid you’re stuck with it.” Ginny dimpled suddenly. “She wanted to know if you and Alan were properly dressed under your kilts.”
Jim choked on his water.
“And I was able to assure her I had seen enough to put her fears to rest.”
He was laughing and coughing at the same time.
Ginny watched him long enough to make sure he was in no danger, then got up and held out her hand.
“Come on. It’s lunchtime and you need a shower.”
He rose and stood looking down at her, still laughing. “I knew I had a lot to learn about this place. I just didn’t have any idea what that included.”
“It’s a good thing you’re a fast learner.”
“I have a good teacher.”
“Alan? Yes. He’s as good as they get.”
He stepped toward her. “I wasn’t talking about Alan.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Before you come any closer, you should know there are three people over there watching us.”
“Oh.” He sighed. “It will have to wait, then.” He picked up his jacket, then took her arm and led her off in the direction of the parking lot. When they were out of earshot, he said, “When are you going to let me kiss you, Ginny?”
She felt her throat tighten, but tried to keep her voice light. “You’ve kissed me.”
“As I would a sister, yes. When are you going to let me really kiss you?”
She closed her eyes and tried not to panic. Caroline was right, she needed to decide what she wanted. It wasn’t fair to string Jim along if she had no intention of letting him get close.
“You mean like Hal used to?” Maybe she should let him. It might help her make up her mind.
“If by that you mean as a pale candle is like a roaring fire, then yes.”
She looked up, surprised to find a poet’s soul in this physician’s body. “Are you such a good kisser, then?”
He smiled. “My skill has been admired. Envied, even.” He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “And I guarantee, my bonnie lass, once I have kissed you, you’ll never think of that man again.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
His lips brushed her ear as he straightened up and Ginny found her mouth dry and her heart racing. She recognized the physiologic response to a perceived threat. Fear, then. Remembered fear or fear of the unknown. Or perhaps it was something else. Whatever it was, it was distracting. She concentrated on not tripping over her own feet.
* * *
Chapter 4
Day 2 – Saturday noon
Restaurant
Jim sat across the table from Ginny and watched her eat. He’d finished his meal and was sipping coffee, his mind on the murder. He hadn’t seen the body, hadn’t been invited to, but he’d seen cases of strangulation and had a pretty good idea what the victim must have looked like. He ached at the thought that she’d had to face that by herself.
“Nice day.”
Ginny looked up and smiled at him. “Very.”
She had declined the services of the grief counselor at work. Jim wasn’t surprised. The Scots took care of their own and the suggestion had come from one of the outsiders.
“Would you like to go for a drive this afternoon?”
“Can’t. I have to be at the police station at two.”
“What do they want?”
Ginny poked at her salad. “Statements, signatures, DNA samples.”
Not for the first time he wished they were at a point in their relationship where he could insist he go along.
“How about tomorrow, after church? I want to look at sailboats and I’d like your help.”
She looked up in surprise. “Mine? What can I do?”
“If I’m going to teach you how to sail, I need to make sure you can reach everything.”
Their eyes met and Jim got the impression she was wondering if it was safe to go out in a small boat with him.
She nodded slowly. “Okay. Sounds like fun.”
Jim refilled her coffee cup. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
She shrugged, her eyes back on her meal.
“Ginny?”
She looked up, then back down at her plate, then set her fork down and pushed the plate away.
Jim frowned. “Aren’t you going to finish that?”
“I’ve had enough.
”
His frown deepened. She had started October in robust health, her curves firm and round, her cheeks rosy, her eyes sparkling. Since then, she’d been steadily losing weight. He made a mental note to keep difficult conversations away from mealtimes. “Well, if you’re not going to eat, let’s talk.”
She crossed her arms on the table and leaned on them. “All right, Jim. Talk.”
He reached over and put a hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry this happened. The last thing you need is another murder. If I had known, I would have come up with a medical excuse and sent you home. That way you would have been out of the worst of it.”
Ginny shook her head. “We were already short-staffed. I couldn’t leave.”
“Or brought you down to the ER and put you to work there.”
“Same comment.”
“Or stayed in the Unit and tried to prevent the murder.”
He saw the corner of her mouth twitch.
“My hero.”
He glowered. “Whoever did this had better hope we don’t meet in a dark alley. I might give him a taste of his own medicine.”
“That would not be a good idea. Leave it to the police.”
He leaned toward her. “It was a cowardly thing to do, kill a woman then leave the body for someone else to find. He doesn’t deserve police protection.”
“Maybe not, but that’s the price we pay for civilization.”
Jim tried to keep his voice steady. “It might have been you.”
Ginny pulled her arm away, shaking her head. “No. The one thing we know for sure is that the murderer meant to kill Phyllis. The room was well lit. He couldn’t have mistaken her for someone else.”
“It might have been a random choice.”
Ginny’s brow furrowed. “Much as I hate to admit it, the list of suspects precludes a random attack. It was one of us, Jim. That implies a motive.”
“It wasn’t you.”
He saw her quick smile. “Are you sure? You weren’t there.”
“Ginny, my love, your face gives you away. If you were guilty, you’d be confessing by now.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I didn’t do it.” Her smile faded. “I had no reason to. I liked Phyllis.”
Jim shook his head. “That’s not a barrier to murder. Maybe you were jealous of her. Or she was getting on your last nerve. Or she rebuffed your amorous advances.”
Ginny looked startled. “Where did you get that one? Too much time on the Internet?”
Jim laughed. “Romance novels. People bring books into the exam rooms to read while they’re waiting and leave them behind. We have a collection and sometimes, when there’s a lull in the action, I’ll pick one up and look through it.”
She raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I’ll stick to mysteries, thank you.”
He smiled. “They seem to stick to you, too.”
“Very funny.” She made a face.
Jim felt his heart lift at her tone. “Okay. Levity aside, what are we going to do about this?”
“You—nothing. And I will do as little as I can get away with.”
“I want to help.”
“I know.”
“Did you sleep last night, Ginny?”
“You already asked me that.”
“You didn’t answer.” Jim waited, watching a variety of expressions cross her face as she considered what to tell him.
She shrugged. “I had a nightmare, but it didn’t last long. It was just unpleasant.”
He lowered his voice. “Tell me about it.”
“No.”
He dropped the pitch again, using a technique he’d learned in school. He had a warm, rich baritone that he could use to good effect when interviewing nervous patients. “Please?”
She studied him for a moment, her brow furrowed, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I have to go or I’ll be late for my appointment. Take me home, please.”
Jim checked the time. She wasn’t wrong. Even if he could have persuaded her to tell him what was in the nightmare, he didn’t have enough time to follow through on it. He would have to try again later.
* * *
Saturday afternoon
Dallas Police Substation
Ginny presented herself at the police station at two p.m., as instructed. She allowed the technician to collect her DNA and fingerprints, looked over her statement, corrected one or two minor details, signed it and turned it in, then found herself face to face with the investigating officer.
“Detective Tran! Did you draw the short straw on this one?”
Tran Thi Hue—trim, petite, and just shy of forty—shook her head. Her straight black hair, cut to frame her face, swung gently, then settled back into place; very neat, very professional. She had been the officer assigned to investigate the trouble last October and had proved a subtle and tenacious sleuth.
“I requested the assignment.”
Ginny smiled. “I’m happy to hear that.” She took the seat indicated. “So what’s next? Waterboarding? Bamboo under the nails?”
Detective Tran gave her a dry look. “No need. I already know you did not do it.”
Ginny grinned. “Because I’m such a bad liar!”
“Correct.”
“In that case, why did you want to meet with me?”
The older woman leaned forward. “I would like your help in this investigation.”
Ginny raised her eyebrows. “What could I possibly do to help you?”
“I would like to have someone on the inside. Someone who knows how an Intensive Care Unit works. You could spot discrepancies I would likely miss.”
“Are you looking for something in particular?”
“A way to narrow the suspect pool, if that is possible.”
Suspects.
Ginny had heard of the walls closing in but had never experienced it for herself. She did so now. They weren’t very nice walls, either. Painted a dull, industrial green, cracked and peeling, with white scratch marks at chair level, the room contracted around her, pressing on her, making it hard to breathe.
She sat very still. Amateurs were always a nuisance in a police investigation. They tipped off the wicked and messed up the evidence and accused the innocent, to the consternation of all. In literature and movies they were a laughingstock, many of them caricatures, so they wouldn’t be mistaken for genuine detectives.
She had played that role last October and it had almost gotten Jim killed.
But there were times when an expert assisted with an investigation. There was precedent. She drew in breath and the walls retreated.
She rubbed damp palms down her thighs. She could run. She might even be able to hide, but she couldn’t escape. Her cooperation was being requested by the one person with the greatest right to do so, one to whom she owed thanks and a civic duty. Ready or not, she was back in the investigation business.
Ginny forced her smile into place and nodded. “Where would you like to start?”
“Tell me about the victim.”
Ginny spent the next ten minutes describing Phyllis: her work ethic, her personality, her home life.
“Were you friends?”
“School chums. Sometimes we ended up taking a break at the same time and would fall into conversation. Nothing outside of work.”
“Why is that?”
Ginny shrugged. “I’m Homestead. She wasn’t.”
Tran nodded. “Can you think of anything she might have said or done that could make an enemy of someone at the hospital?”
“You think it was one of us.”
“We are not ruling out any possibility, but we are considering the most likely first.” She studied Ginny’s face, her eyes narrowing. “Do you know something?”
Ginny nodded slowly. “I think I might.” She explained about her reception at the Kyle household.
“He mistook you for another woman?”
“A woman from Hillcrest, apparently.”
“Did he mention a theft?”
Ginny
blinked. “No. Just that she wasn’t welcome. Why do you ask?”
“Because we have not yet found Mrs. Kyle’s purse.”
“Did you look in her locker?”
Detective Tran flipped through the file on her desk. “The officers on the scene reported they had asked for and received her personal belongings. It does not specify whether that included the contents of a locker. I will follow up on that. See? I knew you would be useful.”
Ginny nodded. “What else can I do for you?”
Detective Tran set the notebook down and fixed Ginny with a steady gaze. “If you can do so discreetly, see if anyone at the hospital knows anything that might have made Mrs. Kyle a target.”
Ginny swallowed. “Wouldn’t it be better to let the police do that? I wouldn’t know the right questions to ask.”
Detective Tran gave her a shrewd look. “I have seen the way your mind works. You will do very well.”
Ginny felt she could have done without the compliment. She had one more card up her sleeve. She played it now. “For me to be of any real use to you, I will need access to the evidence.”
Detective Tran nodded. “So you can look for incongruencies.”
“Yes.”
She smiled, then rose and gestured for Ginny to follow her. “Come with me.”
Two hours later Ginny headed for her car, thinking hard. The crime lab was still processing the scene, still tracking down persons who could assist them in their investigation. What’s more, it seemed doubtful that the biological exemplars they were collecting would help. In a place as public as a bathroom in a hospital, there were thousands of stray bits of DNA.
Ginny’s eyes narrowed. If she were planning to murder someone in a hospital bathroom, she’d wear Personal Protective Equipment—the gowns, masks, and gloves that were everywhere. No one would think twice about someone in scrubs grabbing a set and hurrying off to take care of an unspecified patient. The PPE would both disguise the wearer and prevent the transfer of DNA.
Ginny pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Loch Lonach, still thinking.
Scrubs. No help there, since all the staff had to buy their own uniforms. If you weren’t picky, you could buy new scrubs at the grocery store and used ones in second-hand clothing outlets. But even if the murderer had gone to the trouble of buying the professional grade, color matched versions Ginny and the rest of the Hillcrest staff wore, so what? Unless a set of scrubs could be found on a particular person, covered in the victim’s DNA, it wasn’t even circumstantial evidence. What she needed was a motive. Something that made it necessary for Phyllis to die.
The Swick and the Dead Page 3