Angora Alibi (28 page)

T
hey had made one quick stop on the way to Dr. Lily’s office—at Izzy’s house to feed
Red and find out if his nose worked as well as Horace’s had.

It did.

•   •   •

It was quiet when Nell and Birdie followed Izzy into the waiting room. Two women sat
reading magazines, and a third watched a video on taking care of one’s body.

A receptionist looked up and greeted them with a smile and a “please take a seat.”
Janie, recognizing their voices, immediately appeared in the doorway.

She seemed better each day, Nell thought. Her color had come back and her smile was
quick. But the lingering uncertainty of the murder and her loss were still there,
a shadow, if not a storm cloud today. Nell wished she felt the same.

On her own shoulders, the shadow felt more like a nor’easter.

Cass walked in behind them. “Do you have room for me, too?”

Janie laughed. “Next visit I think we put Izzy on a big video screen.” She checked
her watch, then asked Izzy to follow her inside. “If the rest of you don’t mind waiting
here, I’ll take Izzy in and call you when we’re ready.”

Dr. Lily laughed when they all trailed into the examining room a short while later.
It was good to see the weariness lift briefly from her eyes. Babies had a way of doing
that.

“I’m happy to report this baby is packing his bags and getting ready for the ride
out. It’s any day now.”

They all clapped, then looked at Izzy. She smiled cautiously. “Not quite ready. We’re
almost there, though.”

“Well, let’s check the heartbeat, just to say hello, shall we?” They passed the stethoscope
around, each one listening, then acknowledging baby Perry with a loving pat on Izzy’s
abdomen.

Nell looked over at Lily, patiently watching the ritual. “How are you doing, Lily?”
she asked.

Lily leaned up against the wall, hugging her clipboard to her chest. “Honestly? I’ve
had better days.”

“And your father?”

“Well—I think he’s doing all right. He can’t be with patients right now, for obvious
reasons. And that’s killing him. He spends a lot of time walking back and forth along
the beach at Paley’s Cove—just like Horace used to do—as if somehow he’ll find an
answer there. And he’s rummaged through all his notes, racking his brain to figure
out connections between Justin and him, Justin and this clinic, Justin and the missing
morphine, though Justin was already dead when it was taken. It’s almost as if he wants
to solve the crime himself, as if somehow he should have the key to it. He spent a
lifetime doing that in medicine—finding correlations, coming up with hypotheses. I
guess he thinks he should be able to do it with something as important as his own
future.”

“What kinds of connections?” Izzy asked.

“He’s obsessed with the idea that someone stole morphine from his office, for starters.
He blames himself for that—for leaving it in plain view. He was especially agitated
about it these past couple days, even questioning cleaning staff and delivery people,
the nurses. Janie is worried about him, and I had to ask him to stop. It was upsetting
people so I asked him not to come in for a while. But you can’t please everyone. There
are still patients wanting to talk to him about their tests—needing his clear, understandable
explanations of things. He is so good at that.” She looked at the closed door as if
she could see it happening. “Just a bit ago one of my scheduled patients came in early,
hoping to talk to him. It’s a shame.”

“It must be terrible for him, knowing he didn’t do anything wrong and not being able
to do anything about it,” Nell said.

“It is. He hears the rumors, though he pretends to ignore them. Yet . . . yet all
he seems concerned about is me.” Her smile was sad. “It’s been a long time since we’ve
had these kinds of emotions between us.”

“In the meantime, you’re carrying the worry of it all on your shoulders,” Birdie said.

Lily nodded. “I know my father. He’s dedicated and thoughtful, no matter what kind
of appearance he presents. Yes, he went through a bad time in his life, but putting
that aside, he cares deeply about life. Being falsely convicted of murdering someone
would kill him. I mean that literally. It would, it would kill him.”

Her voice quivered slightly, but she continued talking. “I can’t imagine who did this
to Justin and Horace. It’s awful. But my father cannot die in prison for something
he didn’t do. The police have to find the person who did it. I’ll do anything to help
make that happen.”

“Lily, we agree with you. Your father did not commit these awful crimes. We have a
favor to ask of you that might help things,” Birdie said. She paused, then said, “Would
‘doing anything’ include letting us use your computer for a few minutes?”

Lily frowned, thinking, wanting to do anything that might help her father. “Patient
records are on the computers. You’d need a password. I . . . I can’t let you into
those files. They’re confidential.”

“Of course they are,” Nell said quickly. “We wouldn’t ask that of you, Lily. Call
us crazy, but looking at your appointment calendar might be of great help to us. They’d
be on your computer, right?”

“You just want a date check?” She was surprised. “You want to know when patients had
appointments . . . ?” She said the words slowly, processing the request, and knowing
that Nell and Birdie were not telling her everything—just enough to ask a legitimate
favor.

“Yes,” Nell said. “Just to see what days people came in to see you, to talk with your
father. It won’t take any time at all.”

“My father has been thinking about calendars himself,” she said, more to herself than
to the others. She looked up. “Appointments are pretty much public knowledge, I suppose. . . .”

“We thought that might be the case,” Nell said, and slipped out the door before Lily
could change her mind. Cass followed, offering moral support and technical assistance,
should it be needed.

They walked into the reception area where several computers were lined up against
a wall, all of them humming and lit up, but without anyone sitting on the chairs in
front of them.

Nell and Cass sat next to each other looking at the blue-lit screen.

At the desk, the receptionist who had welcomed them earlier looked over, then busied
herself lining up patient files for the nurses to grab.

The calendar program was easy to access. It was arranged by month and had codes that
indicated the reason for the visit, the doctor seen, and time in and out. In minutes
Nell and Cass had found the pages they needed. Cass clicked
PRINT
.

The clinic’s door opened, but Nell barely heard it as she and Cass watched the printer
pushing out their printouts. It wasn’t until her name was called that Nell looked
up.

Franklin Danvers stood on the other side of the receptionist desk, watching her. Nell’s
breath caught in her throat.

“Do you work here now, Nell?” His smile was guarded.

Nell straightened up. “Sometimes I feel like I do, I’ve been in here so often recently.”

“Are things all right with Izzy Perry?”

“Yes. She’s almost ready to have her baby. Lily is checking her out right now. How
is Tamara doing through all this? It’s been difficult, I know.”

“She has an appointment today, a checkup, just to be sure everything’s all right.
She insisted on coming back here. But I . . .”

Nell waited for him to go on.

He looked at her, his eyes harder now. “I want to switch doctors. I will insist on
it once my wife is pregnant again. Being in a practice that once housed a murderer
doesn’t seem wise.”

The hardness in his voice startled Nell. Behind her, she heard Cass’ sharp intake
of breath.

Nell folded the printed papers in half and quickly slipped them into her purse. “I’m
sorry you feel that way. I think—and I know Izzy and Sam do, too—that this is one
of the finest practices on the North Shore. Izzy would never consider leaving here.
You . . . you’ve gotten to know the doctors, you’ve spoken to Martin—”

His eyebrows pulled together. “How do you know that?” he asked sharply.

“Tamara mentioned once that Martin had been a help to you both, answering questions
and explaining things.”

Franklin ignored her answer and checked his watch.

Nell stood and looked at him. “Dr. Seltzer isn’t in jail, Franklin. He hasn’t been
accused of anything.”

“It’s a technicality. He will be. He will be accused of two murders. And then he’ll
be found guilty and sent away for the rest of his life.”

The inner door opened and Tamara appeared in the doorframe, motioning for Franklin
to join her. Dr. Lily was ready for them, she said. “She’ll answer all your questions,
darling.”

As Franklin turned away, Tamara noticed Nell and Cass. She smiled at them—a woman-to-woman
kind of smile that begged for indulgence. Sometimes men are like that, it said. We
humor them.

•   •   •

They gathered at Nell’s in the early evening and spread the computer papers out on
the table, poring over them, connecting dots as best they could.

And alongside the dates were all the stones they turned over.

A young man who didn’t choose his dalliances wisely.

An old man with a gift of smell.

And everything in between, including an innocent shower gift.

Ben had a meeting; then he and Sam would be over with pizza. And then they’d collect
everything they had and put it in Jerry Thompson’s capable hands for his consideration.
And hopefully it would lead to a quick conclusion to the awful beginning of their
summer. How much of this Jerry already knew was not known. But one thing was clear.
The police concentration right now was on peering into every single aspect and angle
of Martin Seltzer’s life with a high-powered microscope, looking for a murderer at
every turn.

When the truth might be much easier to find. It was all about dates. All about motive.

And if they were right, the motive was clear . . . and the timing tragic.

“Do you think Martin realizes his real role in this?” Cass asked. “I wonder if he . . .
if he’s figured any of this out himself.”

“I don’t know,” Izzy said. She looked up from scouring Nell’s sink. “Lily said he’s
been obsessed with finding the morphine thief. He’s been questioning people who might
have had access . . .”

“Questioning people . . . I wonder if that’s a good idea,” Birdie said. “We have had
two murders. We don’t want a third. I think that was Horace’s mistake. He figured
it out, but instead of going to the police, he tried to get an admission of guilt.”

Nell dropped the highlighter. She looked at Birdie. “That frightens me, Birdie. I
wonder . . . I wonder who he’s questioning.”

“He could be making his own suppositions,” Birdie said. Her words were coming faster
now, her tone urgent.

“I don’t know.” Cass looked down at their list again. “He’s too smart to put himself
in danger, isn’t he? I mean, like you said, two people have already been murdered.”

“From what Lily said, danger is the furthest thing from his mind. What he cares about
is clearing his name . . . for his daughter’s sake.”

“Of course he would.” Izzy threw down the scouring pad and spun around. Her voice
was louder than normal. “He’s a dad. He will do anything for his daughter, himself
be damned.” She wrapped her arms around herself and her baby protectively. “I think
he could be putting himself in danger—and he won’t care about the danger at all. I
already feel that way, and my baby isn’t even born yet.” She picked up her cell phone
and called Lily Virgilio.

Nell tried to call Ben but got his answering machine, his phone off until the meeting
ended. She left a brief message.

Birdie was putting on her sweater.

“Dr. Seltzer isn’t home,” Izzy said, putting her phone in her pocket. “Lily doesn’t
know where he is, but he was very agitated when she saw him leave a short while ago.
It had to end, he said. When she called after him, he said he was going to walk the
beach, clear his head, and get some answers. He was through protecting people. Then
he disappeared out the door. She was with a patient and couldn’t follow him.”

Nell looked at her niece, knowing there was more. “What? What else did she say, Izzy?”

“She said that her father owned a gun.”

The words were still hanging in the air as Nell pulled out her keys and headed for
the door.

“If Martin has connected any of the dots at all, there’s only one person he would
be going to see.”

They dismissed the thought of calling the police and left a message for Sam and Ben
instead. It would take too long to make a valid case to some night duty officer who
might not be familiar with progress on the case. Ben would call the chief at home.

Nell drove quickly, rounding the bends that led to the beach road. The sky had grown
dark while they were poring over their papers, not noticing the time of day. Stars
appeared, the moon a sliver of light, hanging low over the water.

At one end of Paley’s Cove, a party was gathering force, a small bonfire lighting
the sky and suntanned bodies dancing on the packed sand. The smell of hot dogs filled
the air. They thought of old Horace. He’d be sitting on his porch, smelling the dogs,
listening to the music. “Did he enjoy those nights?” Cass wondered out loud.

If the music wasn’t too loud, they guessed he would have. Red, too.

Nell drove on, past the line of parked cars, and pulled in at the farthest end.

Across the road, Horace Stevenson’s house sat dark and empty. In front of them, the
cliff was silhouetted against the night, the mansions at the top lit with warm lights
and television sets, candles on white-clothed dinner tables.

They piled out of the car and walked toward the bend in the path toward the private
beach. The servants’ beach. The last place Justin Dorsey had taken a breath. A perfect
private spot to meet, to not be seen.