The Cradle Will Fall

in her brain. Oh, the pain, the pain! Edna sighed, floated into darkness.

He jumped clear of the spattered blood. As he watched, the pulse in her throat flickered and stopped. He bent over her carefully. She had stopped breathing. He slipped the paperweight back into his pocket. He wouldn't need it now. He wouldn't have to bother robbing her. It would look as though she'd fallen.

Quickly retracing his steps, he went back into the bedroom. He scanned the parking area, then stepped out the window, replaced the plant, pulled down the shade and closed the window to the exact place where Edna had had it. As he did, he heard the persistent chiming of a doorbell-her doorbell! Frantically he ran back to his car. He started the engine and drove out of the apartment complex, not turning on his headlights until he approached Route 4.

Who was standing on Edna's doorstep? It had been close, so terribly close. Adrenaline pounded through his veins. Now there was only one threat left: Katie DeMaio. He would begin to remove that threat at once. Her accident had given him the excuse he needed to start medication.

It was a matter of hospital record that her blood count was low. He would order another transfusion for her on the pretense of building her up for the operation. He would give her large doses of Coumadin pills to short- circuit her blood-clotting mechanism and negate the benefits of the transfusion. By Friday, when she came to the hospital for surgery, she'd be on the verge of hemorrhaging. The surgery would then be very dangerous, and he would make it even worse by giving her heparin, another anticoagulant. The initial low blood count, the Coumadin and the heparin would be as effective on Katie DeMaio as the cyanide had been on Vangie Lewis.

AFTER THE MEETING IN SCOTT MYERSON'S office, Richard drove Katie to a rustic restaurant perched precariously on the Palisades. The small dining room was warmed by a blazing fire and lighted by candles. The proprietor obviously knew Richard well. 'Dr. Carroll, a pleasure,' he said as he guided them to the table in front of the fireplace.

Richard ordered a bottle of wine; a waiter produced hot garlic bread. They sat in companionable silence, sipping and nibbling.

Richard was a big man with a wholesome look, a thick crop of dark brown hair, strong, even features and broad, rangy shoulders. 'Do you know I've been wanting to ask you out for months?' he said. 'But you release a do-not-disturb signal. Why?'

'I don't believe in going out with anyone I work with.'

'I can understand that. But that's not what we're talking about. We enjoy each other's company. We both know it. And you're having none of it. Here's the menu.'

His manner changed, became brisk. 'L'entrecote and steak au poivre are the specialties here,' he told her. When she hesitated, he suggested, 'Try the steak au poivre. It's fantastic.' He ordered salads and baked potatoes, then leaned back and studied her.

'Are you having none of it, Katie?'

'The salad? The steak?'

'All right, I'm not being fair. I'm trying to pin you down and you're a captive audience. But tell me what you do when you're not at the office or your sister's. I know you ski.'

'Yes. I rent a condominium in Vermont with some friends.'

'Maybe you'll invite me up sometime with you.' He did not wait for an answer. 'Sailing is my sport. I took my boat to the Caribbean last spring… Here's your steak.' They lingered over coffee. By then Richard had told her about himself. 'I was engaged during med school to the girl next door.'

'What happened?' Katie asked.

'We kept postponing the wedding. Jean was a very nice girl. But there was something missing.' 'No regrets; no second thoughts?' Katie asked. 'Not really. That was seven years ago. I'm a little surprised that the 'something missing' didn't turn up long before now.'

He did not seem to expect her to comment. Instead he began to talk about the Lewis case. 'It makes me so angry, the waste of life. Vangie Lewis had a lot of years ahead of her.'

'You're convinced it wasn't a suicide?'

'I'll need much more information before I pass judgment.'

'I don't see Chris Lewis as a murderer. It's too easy to get a divorce today if you want to be free.' 'There's another angle to that.' Richard pressed his lips together. 'Let's hold off talking about it.'

It was nearly ten thirty when they turned into Katie's driveway. Richard looked quizzically at the handsome fieldstone house. 'How big is this place?' he asked. 'How many rooms?'

'Twelve,' Katie said reluctantly. 'It was John's house.'

Richard did not give her the chance to say good night at the door. Taking the key from her hand, he unlocked it and followed her in. 'I'm not going to stay, but I do admit to an overwhelming curiosity as to where you keep yourself.'

She turned on some lights and watched somewhat resentfully as he looked over the foyer, then the living room. He whistled. 'Very nice.' He studied John's portrait. 'I hear he was quite a guy.'

'Yes, he was.'

'How long were you married, Katie?'

'One year.'

He watched as a look of pain flickered over her face. 'When did you find out that he was sick?' 'Shortly after we got back from our honeymoon.' 'And ever since, it's been a deathwatch. Sorry, Katie; my job makes me too blunt for my own good. I'll take off now.' He hesitated. 'Don't you draw these drapes when you're alone here?'

She shrugged. 'Why? No one's going to come barging in on me.'

'You, of all people, should be aware of the number of home burglaries. Do you mind?' He went to the window and pulled the draperies shut. 'See you tomorrow. How will you get to work?' 'The service-station people are going to lend me a car. They'll drop it off in the morning.' 'Okay.' For a moment he stood with his hand on the knob of the door, then in a highly credible brogue said, 'I'll be leavin' ye,

Katie Scarlett. Lock your door now. I wouldn't want anyone tryin' to break into Tara.' He bent down, kissed her cheek and was gone.

Smiling, Katie closed the door. The clock chimed musically. After Richard's bear-warm presence, the room seemed hollow. Quickly she turned out the lights and went upstairs.

The phone rang just as she got into bed.

'Mrs. DeMaio?' It was a man's voice.

'Yes.'

'This is Dr. Highley. I hope I'm not calling too late, but I've tried several times to reach you this evening. The fact that you were in an accident and were in our hospital overnight has come to my attention. How are you feeling?'

'Quite well, Doctor. How nice of you to call.'

'How is the bleeding problem?'

'I'm afraid it's about the same.'

'Well, it will all be behind you by this time next week. But I do want you to have another transfusion to build you up for the surgery, and I also want you to start in on some pills. Can you come to the hospital tomorrow afternoon?'

'Yes. As a matter of fact, I was planning to come anyhow. You've heard about Mrs. Lewis?'

'I have. A terrible situation.'

'I'd like to discuss her emotional and physical states with you.'

'Fine. Call in the morning to arrange a time.'

'Thank you, Doctor,' Katie said. As she hung up, she reflected that Dr. Highley hadn't really appealed to her at first because of his aloof attitude. It shows how you can misjudge people, she decided.

CHAPTER FIVE