As Jeffrey's thoughts switched from Chris to Kelly, he found himself thinking that she, more than anyone else, would have some insight into what
Jeffrey was now going through. Having lost a husband through the emotional devastation caused by a malpractice case, she'd probably be acutely sensitive to Jeffrey's emotional plight. She might even have some suggestions for dealing with it. At the very least she might provide some much needed sympathy. And if nothing else, at least his conscience would be assuaged by finally making a call he'd been vaguely meaning to make.
Jeffrey returned to the terminal. At the first bank of phones he came to, he used a directory to look up Kelly Everson. He held his breath as his index finger trailed down the names. He stopped on K. C. Everson in
Brookline. That was promising. He put in his coin and dialed. The phone rang once, twice, then a third time. He was about to hang up when someone at the other end picked up. A cheerful voice came through the receiver.
Jeffrey realized he hadn't given a thought as to how to begin.
Abruptly, he said hello and gave his name. He was so unsure of himself, he was afraid she wouldn't remember him, but before he could offer something to jog her memory, he heard her ebullient 'Hello, Jeffrey!' She sounded genuinely glad to hear from him and didn't sound at all surprised.
'I'm so pleased you called,' she said. 'I'd thought about calling you when
I read about your legal problems, but I just couldn't get myself to do it.
I was afraid you might not even remember me.'
Afraid that he wouldn't remember her! Jeffrey assured her that wouldn't have been the case. Taking her lead, he apologized profusely for not having called her sooner as he'd promised.
'You don't have to apologize,' she said. 'I know tragedies intimidate people, the way cancer does, or used to. And I know that doctors have a hard time dealing with a suicide of a colleague. I didn't expect you to call, but I was moved you'd taken the time to come to the funeral. Chris would have been pleased to know you cared. He really respected you. He once told me that he thought you were the best anesthesiologist he knew. So I was honored you were there. A few of his other friends didn't come. But I understood.'
Jeffrey didn't know what to say. Here Kelly was forgiving him completely, even complimenting him. Yet the more she said, the more he felt like a heel. Not knowing how to respond, he changed the subject. He said he was glad to find her home.
'This is a good time to catch me. I just got home from work. I guess you know I don't work at the Valley anymore.'
'No, I didn't know that.'
'After Chris's death I thought it would be healthy for me to go elsewhere,'
Kelly said. 'So I moved into town. I'm working at St. Joe's now. In the intensive care unit. I like it better than recovery. I guess you're still at Boston Memorial?'
'Sort of,' Jeffrey said evasively. He felt awkward and indecisive. He was afraid she'd refuse to see him. After all, what did she owe him? She had a life of her own. But he'd gotten this far; he had to try. 'Kelly,' he said at last, 'I was wondering if I could drop by and talk with you for a moment.'
'When did you have in mind?' Kelly asked without missing a beat.
'Whenever's good for you. I... I could come by now if you're not too busy.'
'Well, sure,' Kelly said.
'If it's inconvenient, I could..
'No, no! It's fine. Come on over,' Kelly said before Jeffrey had a chance to finish. Then she gave him directions to her house.
Michael Mosconi had Jeffrey's check on his blotter in front of him when he placed the call to Owen Shatterly at the Boston National Bank. He didn't think he'd be nervous, but his stomach filled with butterflies the instant he dialed. He had taken a personal check only once before in his bail bondsman career. That transaction had turned out fine. He hadn't been burned. But Michael had heard horror stories from colleagues. Of course if anything did go wrong, Mosconi's biggest problem was that his underwriting company forbade him to take checks in the first place. As Michael had explained it to Jeffrey, he was putting his ass on the line. He didn't know why he was getting to be- such a soft touch. Then again, it was a unique case. The guy was a doctor, for chrissake. Also, a $45,000 fee came along only once in a blue moon. Michael had not wanted to lose the case to his competition. So, in his way, he'd offered better terms. It had been an executive decision.
Someone at the bank answered, then put Michael on hold. Muzak floated out of the receiver. Michael drummed his fingers on the desk top. It was close to four in the afternoon. All he wanted to do was make sure the doc's check would clear before he deposited it. Shatterly had been a friend for a long time; Michael knew there would be no problem finding out from him.
When Shatterly came on the line, Michael explained the information he needed. He didn't have to say more. Shatterly only said, 'Just a sec.'
Michael could hear him tapping his computer keys.
'How much is the check?' Shatterly asked.
'Forty-five grand,' Michael said.
Shatterly laughed. 'The account only has twenty-three dollars and change.'
There was a pause. Michael stopped his drumming. He got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 'You sure there's been no deposits today?' he asked.
'Nothing like $45,000,' Shatterly said.
Michael hung up the phone.
'Trouble?' Devlin O'Shea asked, peering over the top of an old Penthouse magazine. Devlin was a big man who looked more like a sixties-style biker than a former Boston policeman. Dangling from his left earlobe was a small, gold Maltese cross ear-
ring. He even wore his hair in a neat little ponytail. Besides helping with his work, his appearance was his small way of thumbing his nose at authority now that he didn't have to trouble himself with rules like dress codes anymore. O'Shea had been dropped from the force after a bribery conviction.
Devlin was making himself comfortable on a vinyl couch facing Michael's desk. He was dressed in the clothes that had pretty much become his uniform since his leaving the force: a denim jacket, acid-washed jeans, and black cowboy boots.
Michael didn't say anything, which was enough of an answer for Devlin.
'Anything I can help with?' Devlin asked.
Michael studied Devlin, taking in the man's massive forearms and their lattice of tattoos. One of Devlin's front teeth was gone, giving him the look of the barroom brawler he occasionally was.
'Maybe,' Michael said. He was beginning to form a plan.
Devlin had dropped by Mosconi's office that afternoon bdcause he was between jobs. He'd just brought back a killer who'd jumped bail and fled to
Canada. Devlin was one of the bounty hunters that Michael used when the need arose.
Michael felt that Devlin was just the man to send to remind Jeffrey about his obligation. Michael thought that Devlin would be far more persuasive than he could be.
Leaning back in his desk chair, Michael explained the situation. Devlin tossed the Penthouse aside and stood up. He was six-foot-five and weighed two hundred and sixty-eight pounds. His rotund belly spilled over the large silver buckle of his belt. But underneath the layer of fat was a lot of muscle.
:'Sure, I can talk to him,' Devlin said.
'Be nice,' Michael said. 'Just be persuasive. Remember, he's a doctor. I just don't want him to forget about me.'
'I'm always nice,' Devlin said. 'Considerate, well-groomed, well-mannered.
That's my charm.'
Devlin left the office, glad to have something to do. He hated just sitting around. The only problem was that he wished the task was a bit more lucrative. But he looked forward to the ride out to Marblehead. Maybe he'd hit that Italian restaurant up there and then go and have a few beers at his favorite harbor bar.
Kelly's house was a charming two-story colonial with mullioned windows. It was painted white with black shutters. The two chimneys on either end were surfaced with old brick. A two-car
garage was to the right of the house, a screened porch off the left.
