Instead of the history she'd given him of prolonged periods of bleeding, he would write, 'Patient complains of frequent hemorrhaging, unrelated to monthly cycles.' Instead of sponginess of uterine walls, a condition that could be remedied by a simple operation, he would note signs of vascular breakdown. Instead of a slightly low hemoglobin, he would indicate that the hemoglobin was chronically in the danger zone.
He went into the library. Her official file was on top of his desk. From the drawer he extracted a new folder, put Katie's name on it and set down her previous medical history. This was the folder he would take to the hospital. He added several paragraphs to the file he would put in the wall safe when completed.
Patient was in minor automobile accident on Monday night, February 15. At 2:00 a.m. sedated patient observed the transferal of the remains of Vangie Lewis by this physician. Patient still does not understand that what she observed was a true event rather than a hallucination, but inevitably she will. She cannot be permitted to remain as a threat to this physician. On pretense of preparation for Saturday surgery, this physician prescribed anticoagulant medication to be taken on regular basis until Friday night.
He laid down his pen. It was easy to imagine how he would complete this report.
Patient entered the hospital at 6:00 p.m. Friday, February 19, complaining of dizziness and general weakness. At 9:00 p.m. this physician, accompanied by Nurse Renge, found the patient hemorrhaging. Blood pressure was falling rapidly. Emergency surgery was performed at 9:45 p.m. The patient expired at 10:00 p.m.
He smiled in anticipation. Every detail was perfectly planned, even to assigning Nurse Renge to floor duty Friday night. She was young, inexperienced and terrified of him. Putting the file in the temporary hiding place in the top desk drawer, he went upstairs to bed and slept soundly until six in the morning.
Three hours later he delivered a healthy baby boy by cesarean section to Mrs. Delano Aldrich and accepted as his due the tearful gratitude of the patient and her husband.
CHAPTER NINE
AT EIGHT a.m. Thursday morning the Investigative Squad of the Homicide Division of Valley County pulled up to the Lewis home. The six-man team was headed by Phil Cunningham and Charley Nugent. The detectives in charge of fingerprinting were told to concentrate on the master bedroom and bath and the kitchen.
According to the lab report, Vangie's fingerprints had been found on the tumbler that had been lying next to her. She had been right-handed. When she poured the cyanide crystals into the glass, it would have been natural for her to hold the glass with her left hand and pour with her right. Yet only her right prints were on the tumbler. This further discredited the suicide theory.
Every bottle in the medicine chest was opened, sniffed. But the bitter-almond scent they were looking for was not to be found.
The bedroom was carefully vacuumed in the hope of finding human hair. As Phil put it: 'Any house can have hairs from delivery people, neighbors, anybody. We're all shedding hair all the time. But most people don't bring even good friends into the bedroom. So if you find human hair that doesn't belong to the people who sleep in the bedroom, you might have something.'
Close attention was given to the shelves in the garage. The usual garden tools, hoses, insecticides and weed killer were there in abundance. Phil grunted in annoyance as a prong of a gardening fork pulled at his jacket. The prongs had been protruding over the edge of the shelf, the handle wedged in by a heavy paint can. Bending to free his sleeve, he noticed a sliver of printed cotton hooked on the prong.
That flowered print. He'd seen it recently. It was the dress Vangie Lewis was wearing when she died.
He called the police photographer out to the garage. 'Get a picture of that,' he said, pointing to the tool. When the picture was taken, he removed the material and sealed it in an envelope.
In the house, Charley was going through the desk. When Phil came in, Charley said, 'We've come up with a big zero. Wait a minute. They had an answering service. We'd better check it for messages.'
He got the number of the answering service from a file in the desk, then dialed and identified himself. 'Give me any messages left for either Captain or Mrs. Lewis starting with Monday.'
Taking out his pen, he began to write: 'Monday, February 15,
4:00 p.m. Northwest Orient reservations phoned. Mrs. Lewis is confirmed on Flight 235 at 4:10 p.m. from La Guardia Airport to Minneapolis/St. Paul on Tuesday, February 16.'
Charley asked, 'Did Mrs. Lewis receive that message?'
'Oh, yes,' the operator said. 'I gave it to her myself at about seven thirty Monday evening. She sounded very relieved.' 'All right,' Charley said. 'What else have you got?' 'Also on Monday a Miss Edna Burns called at ten p.m. She wanted Mrs. Lewis to phone her no matter how late it was. But Mrs. Lewis never contacted us again that night.'
There were no further messages on the service, but the operator knew a call had come through Tuesday evening and had been picked up by Captain Lewis. 'I was just starting to answer when he came on,' she explained. 'I got right off.'
Charley thanked the operator, then hung up the receiver and looked at Phil. 'Let's go. Scott's going to want to hear about this.'
'How do you read it?' Phil asked.
Charley snorted. 'How else can I read it? As of seven thirty Monday evening Vangie Lewis was planning to go to Minneapolis. A couple of hours later she's dead. As of ten o'clock Monday night, Edna Burns had an important message for Vangie. The next night Edna's dead, and the last person who saw her alive heard her telling Chris Lewis she had information for the police.'
FOR Katie, Wednesday night had seemed endless. She'd gone to bed as soon as she returned from Edna's apartment, first taking one of the pills Dr. Highley had given her. She'd awakened feeling vaguely troubled. Her grandmother's old black hat. Why was she thinking about that hat? Of course. Because of that shabby old shoe Edna obviously prized. But why just
Grimacing, she got out of bed. The soreness throughout her body had intensified during the night. Hoping that a hot bath might soak some of the achiness away, she went into the bathroom and turned on the taps in the tub. A wave of dizziness made her sway, and she grabbed the side of the tub to keep from falling. The bathroom mirror revealed the deathly pallor of her skin. It's this bleeding, she thought. If I weren't going into the hospital tomorrow night, I'd probably end up being carried in.
The bath did reduce some of the stiffness, and foundation makeup minimized the paleness. With her orange juice Katie swallowed another of Dr. Highley's pills. Then she grabbed a coat and her handbag and went out to the car.
Charley and Phil were searching the Lewis house this morning. Scott was drawing a web around Chris Lewis. If only she could find another avenue to explore before Chris was indicted.
She arrived at the office just before eight and found Maureen Crowley already there. 'Maureen,' Katie said, 'I've got a job. Could you come in when you have a minute?'
The girl got up quickly. She had a narrow-waisted, graceful-young body. The green sweater she was wearing accentuated the vivid green of her eyes. 'How about coffee, Katie?'
'Great. But no ham on rye-at least not yet.' Maureen looked embarrassed. 'I'm sorry I said that yesterday. You, of all people, are not in a rut.'
'I'm not sure about that.' Katie hung up her coat and settled down with her notebook. Maureen brought in the coffee, pulled up a chair and waited silently, her steno pad on her lap.
Katie said slowly, 'We're not satisfied that the Vangie Lewis death is a suicide. Yesterday I talked with her doctors, Dr. Highley and Dr. Fukhito, at Westlake Hospital.'
She heard a sharp intake of breath and looked up quickly. The girl's face had gone dead white.
'Maureen, is anything the matter?'
'No. No. I'm sorry.'
Unconvinced, Katie looked back at her notes. 'As far as we know, Dr. Fukhito was the last person to see Vangie Lewis alive. I want to find out as much as I can about him. Find out where he came from, where he went to school, other hospitals he's been connected with, his personal background.'
'You don't want me to talk to anyone at Westlake Hospital?'
