driver's license, complete with name, address, height, weight, eye color, and identification number. Her fingernail ran across the signature. 'Right-handed,' she stated. 'See the slant to the characters and the way the dot on the T trails to the right?' She placed the next sheet in front of Boldt. She was leaning in close to him, and he could smell the shampoo in her hair. 'Another rightie,' she declared. 'He's the one who retained the Tender Care name, isn't he?'
'Yeah, but I don't see how-' She interrupted again, 'This is my training,' Lou. Not yours.' She delivered the last sheet to the table.
Her finger traced along the signature. 'A leftie! See the posture of the T and the V? It's him!'
Reading the name from the license, Boldt asked, 'Elden Tegg? How sure are you about this rightie/ leftie business?'
'Put him under surveillance,' she instructed, taking charge. 'I am going to find out who the hell this bastard is.'
At eight forty-five she re-entered Boldt's office and took a seat across from him. 'Dr. Elden Tegg is Canadian by birth-a U.S. citizen now. You want to guess what city in Canada he's from?' When he failed to answer her she said, 'Vancouver,' and left it hanging in the air like a bomb. 'How do you know any of this?' he asked skeptically.
She slid the faxes over to him, her heart beating quickly.
'Just got these.' She could feel Boldt's anticipation. 'He's a board-certified veterinarian. I obtained his curriculum vitae from the Seattle Veterinary Medical Association. It gets real interesting on page two. Prior to veterinarian school here in Washington, Elden Tegg attended medical school in Vancouver.' 'As in humans?' Boldt's eyes were as wide as saucers. 'As in. He didn't make it through his residency, which is not unusual in itself, the dropout rate being what it is. He came down here to Seattle and studied to be a veterinarian-also not that unusual. But it sure as hell fits the profile. Page three: There's a doctor listed as an attending physician: Dr. Stanley Millingsford. Lives outside Vancouver. I called him. What is unusual about Elden Tegg is that he was at the very top of his class. He didn't leave his residency; he was asked to leave. Dr. Millingsford was reluctant to give me that. In fact, Dr. Millingsford is an ardent supporter of Elden Tegg, or was until I told him about the nature of our investigation.' She added, 'Would you like to guess Elden Tegg's special interest in residency?'
Boldt answered, 'Transplants?' She nodded. 'Transplantation surgery. Millingsford is willing to talk but not over the phone. He has a dislike of phones.'
Understanding her situation, Boldt stated, 'You need a travel voucher signed by Shoswitz.'
'You're such a good cop,' she said. 'We've established surveillance of the clinic and Tegg's residence. You're on your way. Now!'
She jumped up. They stood only inches apart. It seemed he might try to kiss her. Something inside her hoped that he might at least hug her, but the moment passed. He hurried out the door, running toward the lieutenant's office. 'Lieutenant!' she heard him shout, 'We've got him!'
Nestled in a shoreline forest of giant cedar, madronas and pine, Dr. Stanley Millingsford's gray clapboard home was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence with a stone pillar gate. It had a horseshoe driveway made of crushed stone and gave Daphne the impression, of an English manor house. As the taxi dropped her off, she faced a nine-foot-high black lacquer door with a polished brass knocker in the shape of a half moon. The sun shone brightly but was not hot. She tapped the moon gently against a polished brass star.
Mrs. Stanley Millingsford, who introduced herself as Marion, was in her late sixties, with pale blue eyes. She wore a riding outfit, complete with high black boots. She led Daphne into the cozy living room where a fire burned in the large fireplace. She seemed upset with Daphne coming here, bothering her husband, and she communicated this in a single, intense expression. She offered tea an went o to prepare it before Daphne had a chance to answer.
Dr. Millingsford walked with a cane. He wore a blue blazer, khakis, white socks, and corduroy slippers. A pair of bifocals protruded from the pocket of his Stewart plaid shirt. He had silver-gray hair and eyes the same color as his wife's. He motioned Daphne to the couch and took the leather wingback chair by the fire for himself. He placed his bad leg on a footstool and leaned the cane within reach. 'Sorry to make you come all this way.' She didn't say anything. He had that air about him: You didn't interrupt his thoughts. 'Your generation is more comfortable with the telephone than mine.' He sounded American, not Canadian, but she wasn't going to ask. 'Elden Tegg,' he said. 'Yes.
'Organ harvesting?' He glanced at the fire. 'Which organs?' he asked. 'Kidneys. Lungs. We think it is mostly kidneys. Two of the victims are missing a kidney.'
'Victims?'
'At least three of the donors hemorrhaged and 'died.'
He lost some of his color and looked at her gravely. 'He was asked to leave his residency,' she reminded him. 'Yes.' He collected his thoughts. 'You don't forget a man like Elden Tegg. There aren't many that good, which makes them stand out all the more. I don't mean just talent. Talent and intelligence abound in the residency programs. But rare is the individual who rolls the two together and achieves something of a higher level from this combination call it creativity, call it confidence-when you see it, you know. 'Elden Tegg has as sure a pair of hands as I have ever seen. Brilliant control. He had the eye-that's the thing so many lack. Oh, they've read all the texts, they are founts of technical information, but they can't see. A surgeon must be able to see that which is there. Not just that problem for which he operates, but everything. Elden Tegg has such an eye, and the hands to go along with it. But while he was with us he had something else: ambition. The wheels of education moved too slowly for him. He sensed his greatness. He wanted everything, wanted it all. More than anything, he wanted acceptance from his peers. He wanted to belong. It wasn't difficult to see that. He was the freak, the whiz kid, and he suffered for it.'
Millingsford's wife entered with a rolling tray containing a cozied teapot, cups and saucers, a lemon poppyseed cake and small plates. 'You'll have to fend for yourselves, I'm afraid. I'm awfully sorry. We have a sick foal I must attend,' she explained. She left.
Daphne poured them both tea and cut some cake for him.
He chewed some cake, looking into the fire. 'Have you met him?
Tegg?'
'No.'
'His problem-and this is a problem with nearly every surgeon, including this one-is his ego. He keeps his nose high. He was quick to put people down. He intimidated most everyone around him. That had its plusses-he effectively controlled everyone, and that sense of leadership is important for any surgeon. The surgeon must be in control. Everyone must know it, must feel it.' He glanced at her. Here, he was in control. 'The incident that led to his expulsion is what I wanted to talk to you about. We had an, open heart to do. Tegg was to assist. I was delayed by another surgery, across town. The patient was submarining-we were losing him quickly. I was nowhere to be found. 'Tegg informed the nursing staff that I had okayed his beginning the procedure without me. He lied: No such conversation had ever taken place. As I have said, he controlled the nurses. They went along with it. Tegg accepted full responsibility. Taking charge was one of his long suits. 'When you perform open heart or any invasive thoracic surgery,' he continued, 'you open the chest cavity with something called a sternal saw. It's a very useful tool-the sawing used to be done by hand. It's tricky, however. You must maintain an upward pressure at all times-that's the way the blade works.' His hands flexed as he spoke. 'In my absence, Tegg mishandled the sternal saw. He severed the left ventricle, killing the patient.
'Naturally, Tegg was asked to leave and was told in no uncertain terms that he would never be accepted in any residency program. if he applied, all would be revealed. He went on to veterinarian school-I wrote a recommendation for him.'
'Was he ever charged for that killing?'
'This is medicine, Miss. Matthews. It wasn't murder. It was a mistake. Mistakes happen.'
'There were no lawsuits?'
'Yes, there was a lawsuit.
That's one of the reasons he was dismissed. The school had to dismiss him immediately in an attempt to defend its position on this. To clarify it. That is precisely why no other program would have ever taken him.'
She took some notes while her thoughts were still fresh. She looked up and asked. 'Do you remember the patient's name? The one who was killed?'
