The Cradle Will Fall

Her mind was only half on the page she was reading. Then something triggered her full attention. Last night. The eight-o'clock appointment Vangie Lewis had with Dr. Fukhito.

Vangie had come in early and sat talking with Edna. She was sure upset. Vangie had put on a lot of weight during the pregnancy; she really wasn't well. Last month she'd started wearing moccasins because her other shoes didn't fit anymore. She'd shown them to Edna. 'Look at this. My right foot is so swollen, I can only wear these clodhoppers my cleaning woman left behind. The left one is always falling off.'

Edna had tried to kid her. 'Well, with those glass slippers, I'll just have to start calling you Cinderella. We'll call your husband Prince Charming.' Vangie was nuts about her husband.

But Vangie had just pouted and said impatiently, 'Prince Charming was Sleeping Beauty's boy friend, not Cinderella's.' Edna had just laughed. 'Never mind-before you know it, you'll have your baby and be back in pretty shoes again.'

Last night Vangie had pulled up that long caftan she'd started wearing to hide her swollen leg. 'Edna,' she'd said, 'now I can hardly even get this clodhopper on. And for what? For what?' She'd been almost crying.

'Oh, you're just down in the dumps,' Edna had said. 'Good thing you came in to talk to Dr. Fukhito. He'll relax you.'

Just then Dr. Fukhito had buzzed and asked her to send in Mrs. Lewis. As Vangie started down the corridor to his office, she stumbled. She'd walked right out of that loose left shoe.

'Oh, to hell with it!' she cried, and just kept going. Edna had picked up the moccasin, figuring Vangie would come back for it when she finished with Dr. Fukhito.

But when Edna was ready to go home around nine o'clock, Vangie still hadn't come back. Edna decided to ring Dr. Fukhito and tell him she had the shoe, but there was no answer. Vangie must have left by the door that led directly to the parking lot.

That was crazy. She'd catch her death of cold getting her foot wet.

Irresolutely Edna had held the moccasin in her hand and locked up. She went out to the parking lot toward her own car just in time to see Vangie's big red Lincoln Continental pull out with Dr. Highley at the wheel. She'd run a few steps to wave to him, but it was no use. So she'd just gone home.

Now, checking her calendar, she wondered if Dr. Highley had already made a new appointment with Vangie. She decided to phone her just to be sure. She dialed the number. The Lewis phone rang once, twice.

A man answered. 'Lewises' residence.'

'Mrs. Lewis, please. This is Dr. Highley's office. We want to set up Mrs. Lewis' next appointment.' 'Hold on.' She heard muffled voices talking. What could be going on? The voice returned. 'This is Detective Cunningham of the Valley County prosecutor's office. I'm sorry, but Mrs. Lewis has died suddenly. You can tell her doctor that someone on our staff will contact him tomorrow.'

'Mrs. Lewis died!' Edna's voice was a howl of dismay. 'Oh, what happened?'

'It seems she took her own life.' The connection was broken.

Slowly Edna lowered the receiver. It just wasn't possible.

The two-o'clock appointments arrived together: Mrs. Volmer for Dr. Highley, Mrs. Lashley for Dr. Fukhito. 'Are you all right, Edna?' Mrs. Volmer asked curiously. Edna knew Mrs. Volmer had sometimes talked to Vangie in the waiting room. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her she was dead. But some instinct warned her to tell Dr. Highley first. His one-thirty appointment came out. He was on the intercom. 'Send Mrs. Volmer in, Edna.' 'Doctor, may I step into your office for a moment, please? I'd like to have a word with you.'

'Certainly.' He didn't sound very happy about it.

She hurried down the hall to his office, then timidly stepped inside. 'Doctor,' she began, 'you'll want to know. I just phoned Vangie Lewis to make an appointment. A detective answered and said she killed herself. They're coming to see you tomorrow.'

'Mrs. Lewis did what?'

Now that she could talk about it, Edna's words came tumbling out in a torrent. 'She was so upset last night, wasn't she, Doctor? She acted like she didn't care about anything. But you must know that; I thought it was the nicest thing when I saw you drive her home. I waved to you, but you didn't see me. So I guess of all people you know how bad she was.'

'Edna, how many people have you discussed this with?' There was something in his tone that made her nervous. Flustered, she replied, 'Why, nobody, sir. I just heard this minute.' 'You did not discuss Mrs. Lewis with Mrs. Volmer or with the detective on the phone?'

'No, sir.'

'Edna, tomorrow when the police come, you and I will tell them everything we know about Mrs. Lewis' frame of mind. But listen to me now.' He pointed his finger at her and leaned forward. 'I don't want Mrs. Lewis' name mentioned by you to anyone-anyone, do you hear? Her suicide reflects very badly on our hospital. How do you think it's going to look if it comes out that she was a patient of mine? If I hear you have so much as mentioned the Lewis case, you're finished here. Is that clear?'

'Yes, sir.' 'Are you going out with friends tonight? You know how you get when you drink.'

Edna was close to tears. 'I'm going home tonight. I want to have my wits about me tomorrow when the police talk to me. Poor little Cinderella.' Tears came to her eyes, but then she saw the expression on his face. Angry. Disgusted.

Edna straightened up, dabbed at her eyes. 'I'll send Mrs. Volmer in, Doctor. And you don't have to worry,' she added with dignity. 'I value our hospital. I know how much your work means to you and to our patients. I'm not going to say one single word.'

The afternoon was busy. She managed to push the thought of Vangie to the back of her mind. Finally at five o'clock she could leave. Warmly wrapped in a leopard-spotted fake fur coat, she drove home to her apartment in Edgeriver, six miles away.

CHAPTER FOUR

IN THE autopsy room of the Valley County Morgue, Richard Carroll gently removed the fetus from the corpse of Vangie Lewis. It was a boy, and he judged that it weighed about two and a half pounds. He noted that the amniotic fluid had begun to leak. Vangie Lewis could not have carried this baby much longer; she had been in an advanced state of toxemia. It was incredible that any doctor had allowed her to progress so far in this condition.

Richard had no doubt that it was the cyanide that had killed the woman. She'd swallowed a huge gulp of it, and her throat and mouth were badly burned. The burns on the outside of her mouth? Richard tried to visualize the moment she'd drunk the poison. She'd started to swallow, felt the burning, changed her mind, tried to spit it out. It had run over her lips and chin.

To him it didn't make sense.

There were fine white fibers clinging to her black coat. They looked as though they'd come from a blanket. He was having them analyzed, but, of course, they might have been picked up at any time.

Her body had become so bloated that it looked as though she had just put on any clothes she could find that would cover her.

Except for the shoes. They were an incongruous note. They were well cut, expensive and looked quite new. It was unlikely that Vangie could have been outdoors on Monday in those shoes. There were no water spots on them, even though the ankles of her panty hose were spattered. Which suggested that she must have been out, come in, decided to leave again, changed her shoes and then committed suicide. That didn't make sense either.

Another thing. Those shoes were awfully tight. Particularly on the right foot. Considering the way she was dressed, why bother to put on shoes that will kill you?

Richard straightened up. He was just about finished. Once more he turned to study the fetus. Suddenly something struck him. Was it possible? It was a hunch he had to check out. Dave Broad was the man for him. Dave was in charge of prenatal research at

Mount Sinai. He'd send this fetus to him and ask for an opinion. If what he believed was true, there was a