stuff. I was out of work for two months and David controls all the purse strings in our household, so I’m a bit cash shy.”
Gina pouts prettily. “A big mistake to let them have that much power,” she says.
“I know that now.”
“So do you need a loan? Is that it? Because I’d be happy to loan you whatever you need.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Thanks for the offer, but that won’t be necessary. I’m getting by and I do have income again. But when it comes time for the divorce, I want to make sure I get a fair share of the assets. I’m not out to take David for a bundle or anything, I just want enough to get by on.”
Gina leans back and stares at me with an expression that is half frown, half smile. “That’s a marvelous attitude, Mattie. And a rare one. Are you sure you want to be that understanding?”
I nod. Given Gina’s declaration that she and Sid intend to keep both David and me as friends, I figure my best approach is one that will seem innocuous and equitable. “Actually, I think David will be more than fair,” I tell her. “But given all that’s happened, I just can’t be sure.”
“And you’d be foolish to trust your future to him at this point. You need to look after your own interests.”
“And that’s where you might be able to help. I think David may have some income sources that I don’t know about, money that he’s hiding away somewhere. I overheard bits and pieces of a conversation he was having about some sort of investment scheme. I don’t know who he was talking to or what it was about, but I did get the impression that some of the other docs might be involved as well. Do you know if Sid is into anything like that?”
Gina thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. “I’m not aware of anything. We don’t really need any extra income, you understand. So I’m not sure Sid would know if there was something like that going on anyway.”
“Has David come to him for capital or a loan for any business ventures that you know of?”
“I really don’t know, Mattie. Sorry. But I might not be privy to everything Sid’s got going. Have you asked him directly?”
“I started to last night, but we got interrupted.”
“Ah, yes. Calhoun.”
“He did mention something about a medical supply company that some of the docs have invested in. Do you know anything about that?”
Gina frowns again, taking a moment to think. “You know,” she says slowly. “I do remember hearing something along those lines.” She pauses, seeming to give it more thought. Then she shrugs. “Sorry, I don’t recall what it was.”
“That’s okay,” I say. The simple fact that she’s heard something is verification enough on the heels of what I learned from Lauren.
“I wish I could be more help,” Gina says. She reaches over and lays a reassuring hand on my arm, her face again full of sympathy. “All of this must be so terribly hard on you.”
“I’ll get through it.”
“Well, as I said, if there’s anything I can do to help you along, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thanks.”
“Now, then,” she says, leaning back and smiling. “You must tell me about this new job you have. It sounds very exciting.”
“I’m not sure
“Do you help with the autopsies and such?” she asks, grimacing prettily.
“Yes, most of them anyway.”
“And it doesn’t bother you?”
“At times,” I admit. “Death is always somewhat disturbing. But I’m getting used to it. It’s really not that different from assisting with surgeries except that I don’t have to worry about whether or not the patient is stable.”
“No,” Gina says with a chuckle. “I guess you wouldn’t.”
“I’ve only been doing it for a few days, but I’ve learned a lot. It’s amazing how much science there is in death.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, there are several branches of forensic science, each one its own specialty. In addition to basic forensic pathology, which is what Izzy and I do, there are forensic odontologists who specialize in teeth, forensic anthropologists who specialize in bones, and forensic entomologists who specialize in bugs.”
Gina shudders.
“It all sounds rather grim at first,” I admit. “But there’s a real science to it and that’s the part of it I think I’m going to like the most. Biology, chemistry…even physics come into play. And the tiniest bits of evidence can prove to be significant—something as simple as a single hair or a bit of skin or even blood drops.”
Gina swallows hard and I realize what I’m doing. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, Gina. What a great thing to talk about right before we eat, eh?”
“I’m okay,” she assures me. But she doesn’t look okay and I give myself a mental kick for being so stupid.
“Tell you what,” I say. “Let’s change the subject because there’s something else you can do for me.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve been out of the gossip mill for the past couple of months and I’m completely out of touch with all the latest scuttlebutt. Can you bring me up to speed?”
“Now you’re talking,” Gina says. “Have you heard that Myra Baldwin is pregnant with triplets?”
Chapter 24
Talking and eating at the same time is a bit of a challenge for me, and by the time I leave Carver’s I have a mustard stain and a grease splotch on my blouse. I don’t realize I’m wearing part of my lunch until after I am in the car, so I pull in to a gas station and spend ten minutes in the rest room trying to clean the worst of it off, though all I manage to do is make the blotches bigger and very wet. Resigned to looking like a slob, I get back in my car and turn the heater on, aiming the vents at my chest. After fanning and fluffing for a few minutes, I head for the small industrial park that serves as home to Halverson Medical Supply.
An annoying buzzer sounds as I open the front door and enter what is essentially a showroom. But there is no slick marketing here, just several artfully discreet displays of infirmity. Shelves along the wall hold things like bedpans, adult diapers, and bed pads. Set up in the middle of the room are various hospitallike tableaux composed of electric beds, portable commodes, wheelchairs, walkers, and other sundry signs of illness.
There is no one around but I notice a metal door at the back of the room and, given the size of the building, assume there is additional space beyond it, most likely a small warehouse of sorts. I guess that whoever is working the store is back there, so I kill a little time browsing amid the sickroom dioramas, waiting to see if the door buzzer has announced my presence.
After thoroughly checking out the merchandise without anyone coming forward to greet me, I think about opening the door to trigger the buzzer again. Then I notice there are two desks with accompanying file cabinets near the back wall and realize I might be missing out on a golden opportunity. While I’m not quite brave enough to open drawers and snoop, I figure anything out on top of the desks is fair game. I know the odds of finding anything useful are slim, but I figure it’s still worth a shot. Maybe I’ll get lucky.
I move toward one of the desks and am close enough to just make out the writing on an invoice when the door to the back opens. I jump and flash a guilty smile at the tall, bald, gaunt-looking man who steps into the showroom. For a split second I think I know him, but on closer scrutiny I realize I am mistaken. Before the door closes all the way, I catch a quick glimpse of the room behind it. As I guessed, it is a warehouse area filled with more equipment and supplies.
“May I help you?” the man asks.
“Hi there,” I say, extending a hand. His handshake is quick but firm, the hand itself uncomfortably clammy. Now that I am here, I realize I haven’t thought things through very well. I have no idea how to approach the matter
