Mosconi's office without giving the other passengers time to get out of his way. He got perverse pleasure out of provoking the people, especially men in business suits, and he half hoped one of them would try to be a gallant hero.
Devlin was in a foul mood. He'd been awake for most of the night, uncomfortably propped up in the front seat of his car watching the Rhodes's house. He'd fully expected Jeffrey to come sneaking home in the middle of the night. Or at the very least, he expected Carol to leave suddenly. But nothing happened until just after eight in the morning, when Carol came out of the garage like the Green Hornet in her Mazda RX7 and left a patch of rubber in the middle of the street.
With great difficulty and not very high hopes, Devlin had followed Carol through the morning traffic. She drove like an Indy 500 driver, the way she weaved in and out of the traffic. She led him all the way downtown, but she'd merely gone to her office on the twenty-second floor of one of the newer office buildings. Devlin decided to give up on her for the time being. He needed more information on Jeffrey to decide what to do next.
'Well?' Michael asked expectantly as Devlin came through the door.
Devlin didn't answer immediately, which he knew would drive Michael crazy.
The guy was always so wound up. Devlin dropped onto the vinyl couch that faced Michael's desk and put his cowboy boots on top of the small coffee table. 'Well what?' he said irritably.
'Where's the doctor?' He thought Devlin was about to tell him he'd already delivered Rhodes to the jailhouse.
:'Beats me,' Devlin said.
'What does that mean?' There was still a chance Devlin was teasing him.
'I think it's pretty clear,' Devlin said.
'It might be clear for you, but it's not clear to me,' Michael said..
'I don't know where the little bastard is,' Devlin finally admitted.
'For chrissake!' Michael said, throwing up his hands in disgust. 'You told me you'd get the guy, no problem. You gotta find him! This is no longer a joke.'
'He never showed up at home,' Devlin said.
'Damn, damn, damn!' Michael said with progressive panic. His swivel chair squeaked as he tipped forward and stood up. 'I'm going to be out of business.'
Devlin frowned. Michael was more wound up than usual. This missing doctor was really getting to him. 'Don't worry,' he told Michael. 'I'll find him.
What else do you know about him?'
'Nothing!' Michael yelled. 'I told you everything I know.'
'You haven't told me squat,' Devlin said. 'What about other family, things like that? What about friends?'
'I'm telling you, I don't know anything about the guy,' Michael admitted.
'All I did was an 0 and.E on his house. And you know something else? The bastard screwed me there too. This morning I got a call from Owen Shatterly at the bank, telling me he just learned Jeffrey Rhodes had upped his mortgage before my lien was filed. Now even the collateral doesn't cover the bond.'
Devlin laughed.
'What the hell's so funny?' Michael demanded.
Devlin shook his head. 'It tickles me that this little piss-ant doctor is causing so much trouble.'
'I fail to find anything about this funny,' Michael said. 'Owen also told me that the doctor took the forty-five thousand he'd upped his mortgage in cash.'
'Geez, no wonder the guy's briefcase hurt,' Devlin said with a smile. 'I've never been hit with that kind of dough.'
'Very funny,' Michael snapped. 'The trouble is that the situation is going from bad to worse. Thank God for my friend Albert Norstadt down at police headquarters. The police weren't going to do a goddamn thing until he got involved.'
'They think Rhodes is still in town?' Devlin questioned.
'As far as I know,' Michael said. 'They haven't been doing much, but at least they've been covering the airport, bus and train stations, rent-a-car agencies, and even taxi companies.'
'That's plenty,' Devlin, said. He certainly didn't want the police to catch Jeffrey. 'If he's in town, I'll find him in the next day or so. If he's skipped, it will take a little longer, but I'll get him. Relax.'
'I want him found today!' Michael said, working himself up into a renewed frenzy. He started to pace behind his desk. 'If you can't find the bastard,
I'll bring in some other talent.'
'Now hold on,' Devlin said, bringing his legs off the coffee table and sitting up. He didn't want anybody else homing in on this job. 'I'm doing the best anybody could do. I'll find the guy, no sweat.'
'I want him now, not next year,' Michael said.
'Relax. It's only been twelve hours,' Devlin said.
'What the hell are you sitting around here for?' Michael snapped. 'With forty-five grand in his pocket, he's not going to hang around forever. I want you to go back to the airport and see if you can pick up his trail from there. He had to get into town somehow. He sure as hell didn't walk.
Get your ass out there and talk to the MBTA people. Maybe somebody will re- member a skinny guy with a mustache and a briefcase.'
'I think it's better to cover the wife,' Devlin said.
'They didn't strike me as being so lovey-dovey,' Michael said. 'I want you to try the airport. If you don't, I'll send someone else.'
'All right, all right!' Devlin said, getting to his feet. 'If you want me to try the airport, I'll try the airport.'
'Good,' Michael said. 'And keep me informed.'
Devlin let himself out of Michael's office. His mood had not improved.
Normally he'd never let someone like Michael tell him how to do his job, but in this instance, he thought he'd better humor the man. The last thing he wanted was competition. Especially on this job. The only trouble was that now that he had to go to the airport, he'd have to hire someone to follow the wife and watch the house. As Devlin waited for the elevator, he thought about whom he could call.
Jeffrey paused on the broad steps of Boston Memorial's entrance to marshal his courage. Despite his efforts at disguise, he was apprehensive now that he had reached the hospital's threshold. He was worried he'd be recognized by the first person who knew him.
He could even imagine their words: 'Jeffrey Rhodes, is that you? What are you doing, going to a masquerade ball? We heard the police are looking for you, is that true? Sorry about your
being convicted of second-degree murder. Sure does prove it's getting harder and harder to practice medicine in Massachusetts.'
Taking a step back and switching his duffel bag to the other shoulder,
Jeffrey tipped his head to look up at the Gothic details over the lintel of the front entrance. There was a plaque that read: THE BOSTON MEMORIAL
HOSPITAL ERECTED AS A HOUSE OF REFUGE FOR THE SICK, INFIRM, AND TROUBLED.
He wasn't sick or infirm, but he was certainly troubled. The longer he hesitated, the harder it was to go inside. He was locked in indecision when he spotted Mark Wilson.
Mark was a fellow anesthesiologist whom Jeffrey knew well. They'd trained together at the Memorial. Jeffrey had been a year ahead. Mark was a large black man whose own mustache had always made Jeffrey's appear sparse by comparison; it had always been a point of humor between them. Mark seemed to be enjoying the brisk spring day. He was approaching from Beacon Street, heading for the front entrance-and straight for Jeffrey.
It was the kick Jeffrey needed. In a panic, he went through the revolving door and into the main lobby. He was immediately swept up in a sea of people. The lobby served not only as an entrance but as the confluence of three main corridors that led to the hospital's three towers.
Fearing that Mark was on his heels, Jeffrey hurried around the circular information booth in the center of the domed lobby and walked down the central corridor. He figured Mark would be heading left to the bank of elevators that led to the OR complex.
