Third Grave Dead Ahead
Page 27
“No.” She shook her head. “She wouldn’t elaborate, but she seemed sad. I was surprised she’d called us. It had been so long, and then for her to be so depressed.” Her eyes glistened with sadness. “If we hadn’t gone out, none of this would have happened.”
“Why do you say that?” I followed her as she led Mrs. Romero to a salon chair.
“Because she never made it back to the house.”
That surprised me. “How do you know?”
“Nathan told me. He said the security system had never been disarmed. If she’d come in the front door, there would have been a record.”
“You mean, every time someone goes in and out, it’s recorded?” I took out my memo pad and made a note to check on that.
“From what I understand, yes, if the security system is armed.”
“What?” Mrs. Romero yelled.
“Do you want the usual?” Della yelled back.
The woman nodded and closed her eyes, apparently her naptime.
I dragged as much information out of Della as I could before heading out. She agreed with everyone else. Nathan was a saint. A pillar of the community. And oddly enough, as much as she cared for Teresa, she seemed to think Teresa was the reason their marriage was in trouble. Obviously, the doctor could do no wrong, so it had to be Teresa’s fault.
With my list whittling down to almost nothing, I decided to hit the doctor’s office just before closing, when everyone was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home. People in that position talked less and got to the point faster. Because the doctor always left early to do his rounds at the hospital, I figured he’d already be gone when I walked into his offices. He was apparently an otolaryngologist. I couldn’t begin to guess what that meant.
The receptionist was just packing up and had to hurry out to pick up her daughter from daycare. Luckily, one of the doctor’s assistants, an audiologist by the name of Jillian, was still in, finishing up some paperwork.
“So, have you worked for Dr. Yost long?” I asked her. Jillian was a big-boned girl with curly blond hair and one-too-many chins to be considered traditionally pretty. But her features were pleasant, her eyes warm. I could see her working with kids. The waiting room had toys and games scattered throughout.
We sat in the receptionist’s area on padded chairs that rolled. It took every ounce of strength I had not to take advantage of that.
“I’ve been with Dr. Yost for twelve years,” she said, her eyes filling with sadness. “He’s such a good person. I just can’t believe this is happening to him.”
Wow. Fooling friends and family, I could see, but fooling someone you worked with day in and day out for twelve years? Who was this guy? “Did he seem different lately? Upset about anything? Or possibly mention someone following him or calling and hanging up?”
At this point, I was trying to figure out how premeditated the doctor’s actions were, if he’d set up an alibi beforehand. Had he been planning to harm his wife or was it a spur-of-the-moment thing?
“No, not until that morning.”
“Can you describe what happened?”
“Well, I don’t know really,” she said, shaking her head. “He just called my house Saturday morning, frantic, said he couldn’t get in to do his rounds at the hospital that day and to see if Dr. Finely could cover for him.”
“Did he tell you his wife was missing?”
After grabbing a pen from her lab coat, she nodded and said, “He even asked if she’d called me. He said the police were at his house and would probably be over to talk to me.” She transferred some numbers onto a chart, signed it, then closed the file.
“And did they come?”
“Yes. An FBI agent came to my house late that afternoon.”
“Agent Carson?”
“Yes. Are you working with her?”
“In a way,” I said, trying not to stretch the truth too far. “So, there were no noticeable changes in his behavior in the days prior to his wife’s disappearance?”
“No, I’m sorry. I wish I could be of more help.”
Well, whatever happened, it didn’t sound premeditated. Then again, the guy was obviously good.
“After everything he went through before…”
I froze. “Before?”
“Yes, with his first wife.”
Those bells that ding between boxing rounds? Yeah, in my head. “Right, his first wife. Tragic.”
A tear that had been shimmering against her eyelashes finally pushed past them and slid down her cheek. She turned to get a tissue, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. It’s just … I mean, for her to have died so suddenly.”
“Oh, no, I completely understand.” I tried not to notice how her curls vibrated when she blew her nose.
“For her heart to just stop, and while on vacation, no less. He was just so alone after that.”
Now we were getting somewhere. Didn’t Agent Carson mention something to that effect? One stick and her heart would stop? “I can’t believe it myself.”
I had to look into this ay-sap. And Jillian seemed more taken with the guy than I’d originally assumed. I wondered how much of her ignorance was him and how much of it was her. Puppy love was a powerful elixir. I should know. The things I did for Tim La Croix, my senior-year crush. Unfortunately, I’d been in kindergarten at the time, otherwise he might have taken note.
* * *
“Why do you say that?” I followed her as she led Mrs. Romero to a salon chair.
“Because she never made it back to the house.”
That surprised me. “How do you know?”
“Nathan told me. He said the security system had never been disarmed. If she’d come in the front door, there would have been a record.”
“You mean, every time someone goes in and out, it’s recorded?” I took out my memo pad and made a note to check on that.
“From what I understand, yes, if the security system is armed.”
“What?” Mrs. Romero yelled.
“Do you want the usual?” Della yelled back.
The woman nodded and closed her eyes, apparently her naptime.
I dragged as much information out of Della as I could before heading out. She agreed with everyone else. Nathan was a saint. A pillar of the community. And oddly enough, as much as she cared for Teresa, she seemed to think Teresa was the reason their marriage was in trouble. Obviously, the doctor could do no wrong, so it had to be Teresa’s fault.
With my list whittling down to almost nothing, I decided to hit the doctor’s office just before closing, when everyone was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home. People in that position talked less and got to the point faster. Because the doctor always left early to do his rounds at the hospital, I figured he’d already be gone when I walked into his offices. He was apparently an otolaryngologist. I couldn’t begin to guess what that meant.
The receptionist was just packing up and had to hurry out to pick up her daughter from daycare. Luckily, one of the doctor’s assistants, an audiologist by the name of Jillian, was still in, finishing up some paperwork.
“So, have you worked for Dr. Yost long?” I asked her. Jillian was a big-boned girl with curly blond hair and one-too-many chins to be considered traditionally pretty. But her features were pleasant, her eyes warm. I could see her working with kids. The waiting room had toys and games scattered throughout.
We sat in the receptionist’s area on padded chairs that rolled. It took every ounce of strength I had not to take advantage of that.
“I’ve been with Dr. Yost for twelve years,” she said, her eyes filling with sadness. “He’s such a good person. I just can’t believe this is happening to him.”
Wow. Fooling friends and family, I could see, but fooling someone you worked with day in and day out for twelve years? Who was this guy? “Did he seem different lately? Upset about anything? Or possibly mention someone following him or calling and hanging up?”
At this point, I was trying to figure out how premeditated the doctor’s actions were, if he’d set up an alibi beforehand. Had he been planning to harm his wife or was it a spur-of-the-moment thing?
“No, not until that morning.”
“Can you describe what happened?”
“Well, I don’t know really,” she said, shaking her head. “He just called my house Saturday morning, frantic, said he couldn’t get in to do his rounds at the hospital that day and to see if Dr. Finely could cover for him.”
“Did he tell you his wife was missing?”
After grabbing a pen from her lab coat, she nodded and said, “He even asked if she’d called me. He said the police were at his house and would probably be over to talk to me.” She transferred some numbers onto a chart, signed it, then closed the file.
“And did they come?”
“Yes. An FBI agent came to my house late that afternoon.”
“Agent Carson?”
“Yes. Are you working with her?”
“In a way,” I said, trying not to stretch the truth too far. “So, there were no noticeable changes in his behavior in the days prior to his wife’s disappearance?”
“No, I’m sorry. I wish I could be of more help.”
Well, whatever happened, it didn’t sound premeditated. Then again, the guy was obviously good.
“After everything he went through before…”
I froze. “Before?”
“Yes, with his first wife.”
Those bells that ding between boxing rounds? Yeah, in my head. “Right, his first wife. Tragic.”
A tear that had been shimmering against her eyelashes finally pushed past them and slid down her cheek. She turned to get a tissue, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. It’s just … I mean, for her to have died so suddenly.”
“Oh, no, I completely understand.” I tried not to notice how her curls vibrated when she blew her nose.
“For her heart to just stop, and while on vacation, no less. He was just so alone after that.”
Now we were getting somewhere. Didn’t Agent Carson mention something to that effect? One stick and her heart would stop? “I can’t believe it myself.”
I had to look into this ay-sap. And Jillian seemed more taken with the guy than I’d originally assumed. I wondered how much of her ignorance was him and how much of it was her. Puppy love was a powerful elixir. I should know. The things I did for Tim La Croix, my senior-year crush. Unfortunately, I’d been in kindergarten at the time, otherwise he might have taken note.
* * *
