the thermostat, then ran to the kitchen, quickly made coffee and took a cup back upstairs to bed.
Propped against the pillows, the comforter wrapped around her, she eagerly sipped as the heat of the cup warmed her fingers.
'That's better,' she murmured. 'Now, what's the matter with me?'
She glanced into the mirror of the antique mahogany dresser opposite the bed. Her hair was tousled. The bruise under her eye was now purple tinged with yellow. Her eyes were swollen with sleep. I look like something the cat dragged in, she reflected.
But it was more than the way she looked. It was a heavy feeling of apprehension. Had she dreamed that queer, frightening nightmare again? She couldn't be sure.
Vangie Lewis. It seemed impossible that anyone would choose to kill her by forcing cyanide down her throat. She simply didn't believe Chris Lewis was capable of that kind of violence.
She thought of Dr. Highley's call. That damn operation. Well, at least she was getting it over with. Check in Friday night. Operation Saturday, home Sunday. At work Monday. No big deal.
As she sipped her coffee, she glanced instinctively at John's picture. A handsome, grave-looking man with gentle, penetrating eyes. Maybe Richard was right. Maybe she was keeping a deathwatch. John would be the first one to blast her for that.
A hot shower picked up her spirits. She had a plea-bargaining session scheduled for nine, a sentencing at ten and Friday's trial to prepare for. I'd better get a move on, she thought.
She dressed quickly, selecting a soft brown wool skirt and a turquoise silk shirt with long sleeves that covered the bandage on her arm. The car from the service station arrived as she finished a second coffee. She took the driver back and drove to the office.
It had been a busy night in the county. There had been a drunken-driving accident resulting in four deaths, and two armed robberies.
Scott Myerson was just coming out of his office. 'Lovely night,' Katie observed.
He nodded. 'Look, I'm interested in the psychiatrist Vangie Lewis was going to. I'd like his opinion of her mental state. I can send Phil, but a woman would be less noticeable over there.'
Katie hesitated. 'Maybe I can help out. Dr. Highley is my gynecologist. I actually have an appointment with him today. Perhaps I could see Dr. Fukhito before or after.'
Scott's eyebrows shot up in surprise. 'What do you think of Highley? Richard made some crack yesterday about Vangie's condition; seemed to think that he was taking chances with her.'
Katie shook her head, 'I don't agree. Highley's specialty is difficult pregnancies. That's the point. He tries to save the babies other doctors lose.' She thought of his phone call to her. 'I can vouch for the fact that he's a very concerned doctor.'
Scott frowned. 'How long have you known him?'
'Not long. My sister, Molly, has a friend who raves about Dr. Highley, so I went to see him last month.' She remembered his words. 'You're quite right to have come,' he'd said. 'I think of the womb as a cradle that must always be kept in good repair.' The one thing that had surprised her was that he did not have a nurse in attendance during the examination, unlike other gynecologists.
'All right,' Scott said. 'Talk to Highley. And the shrink too. Find out whether or not they think she was capable of suicide. See if she talked about her husband. Charley and Phil are checking on Chris Lewis now. Talk to the nurses too.'
'Not the nurses.' Katie smiled. 'The receptionist, Edna. She knows everybody's business. I wasn't in the waiting room two minutes before I found myself giving her my life history.'
Katie went into her office for her files, then rushed to her appointment with a defense attorney about an indicted defendant. From there she hurried to a second-floor courtroom to hear the sentencing of a youth she had prosecuted for armed robbery.
When she returned, she had two messages to call Dr. Carroll. She tried to reach him, but he was out on a case.
She phoned Dr. Highley's office fully expecting to hear the nasal warmth of Edna's voice. But whoever answered was a stranger. 'Doctors' offices.'
Katie decided to ask for Edna. 'Is Miss Burns there?'
'She called in sick today. I'm Mrs. Fitzgerald.'
Katie realized then how much she had counted on talking to Edna. Briefly she explained that Dr. Highley expected her to call for an appointment and that she'd also like to see Dr. Fukhito. Mrs. Fitzgerald put her on hold a few minutes, and then said, 'Dr. Fukhito is free at a quarter to four. Dr. Highley would prefer three o'clock if it is convenient.'
Katie confirmed the appointments, then turned to the work on her desk. At lunchtime Maureen Crowley, one of the office secretaries, popped her head in and offered to bring Katie a sandwich. Deep in preparation for Friday's trial, Katie nodded.
'Ham on rye with mustard and lettuce,' Maureen said.
Katie looked up, surprised. 'Am I that predictable?'
The girl was about nineteen, with a mane of red-gold hair, emerald-green eyes and a lovely pale complexion. 'Katie, about food you're in a rut.' The door closed behind her.
You're on a deathwatch. You're in a rut. Katie was astonished to realize she was close to tears. I
When the lunch arrived she ate it, only vaguely aware of what she was having. Vangie Lewis' face was constantly before her. But why had she seen it in a nightmare?
CHAPTER SIX
RICHARD Carroll was in his office just after nine. Twice he tried phoning Katie, hoping to catch her between court sessions. He wanted to hear the sound of her voice. For some reason he'd felt edgy about leaving her alone in that big house last night. Why did he have a hunch that something was troubling her?
He went out on a case. When he returned to his office at four thirty, he was absurdly pleased to see that Katie had returned his calls. Quickly he phoned her, but the switchboard operator said that she had left for the day.
That meant he wouldn't get to talk to her today. He was having dinner in New York with Clovis Simmons, a TV actress. Clovis was fun, but the signs were that she was getting serious.
Richard made a resolve. This was the last time he'd take Clovis out. It wasn't fair to her. Refusing to consider the reason for that sudden decision, he turned his thoughts again to the Lewis case.
He had not been exaggerating when he'd said that if Vangie Lewis had not delivered her baby soon, she wouldn't have needed cyanide. How many women got into that same condition under the Westlake Maternity Concept? Had there been anything unusual about the ratio of deaths among Westlake's patients? Richard asked his secretary to come in.
Marge was in her mid-fifties, an excellent secretary who thoroughly enjoyed the drama of the department.
'Marge,' he said, 'I want to do some unofficial investigating of Westlake Hospital's maternity section. I'd like to know how many patients died either in childbirth or from complications during pregnancy. I also want to know the ratio of deaths to the number of patients treated there. Do you know anybody at Westlake who might look at the hospital records for you on the quiet?'
His secretary frowned. 'Let me work on it.' 'Good. And check into any malpractice suits that have been filed against either of the doctors.'
Satisfied at getting the investigation under way, Richard dashed home to shower and change. Seconds after he left his office a call came for him from Dr. David Broad at Mount Sinai Hospital. Marge took the message asking Richard to contact Dr. Broad in the morning. The matter was urgent.
KATIE was a few minutes early for her appointment with Dr. Highley. The other receptionist, Mrs. Fitzgerald, was coolly pleasant, but when Katie asked about Edna's illness, the woman seemed nervous. 'It's just a virus,' she replied stiffly.
