Terminal (2 page)

`How was he killed?' Newman asked casually.

`
Killed
was perhaps the wrong word...'

`But it was the word you used,' Newman pointed out. `Maybe you could fill us in on the details. I'm sure Nancy would appreciate that...'

Dr Rosen hesitated. He stroked his thinning hair with his right hand as though searching for the right words to express himself. Newman frowned at Nancy who was about to say something and she remained silent.

`It was
very
tragic. He went off the road near Gates Pass in his new Mercedes. He was DOA when we got him back here...'

`He must have earned a lot of money to afford a Mercedes,' Newman remarked.

`He told me he got lucky during the one trip he made to Vegas. He was that kind of man, Mr Newman — if he made a killing... I'm using that word again — don't read any significance into it. What I'm saying is, if Buhler came into a lot of money he would hang on to it.'

`You said "very tragic" and I noticed you emphasized the first word. He had a family?'

Rosen swivelled in his chair, gazed out of the window and then turned back to face Newman who had the impression Rosen was uncomfortable about the subject of their conversation. Clasping his hands, he leaned forward across his desk and looked at both his visitors.

`Buhler went off that road at speed because he was drunk. It was a shock to all of us because we'd never suspected he was an alcoholic..

`Driving off a road when you've had one too many doesn't make you an alcoholic,' Newman pressed. 'Why not complete the story?'

`Buhler had no family, wasn't married — except to his job. He had no relatives we were able to trace. When the police checked his home they found cupboards stacked with empty bottles of whisky. The evidence was conclusive — he'd been a secret drinker. That's why I said very tragic...'

And he was the specialist who checked my grandfather's blood sample and diagnosed leukaemia?' Nancy interjected.

`That's correct. Young Dr Chase brought them in himself for Buhler to check. Unfortunately, there was no doubt about it — if that's what you're wondering, Nancy.'

`I wasn't wondering that—why this Dr Chase? For years our doctor has been Bellman...'

`All this has to be in confidence, Nancy. Some of it I'm only telling you because of our long acquaintance — and to put your mind at rest about Jesse being sent to that clinic in Switzerland. Mrs Wayne changed your doctor — she never liked Bellman. Said she preferred someone younger...'

`Linda chose this Dr Chase!' Nancy's tone expressed near amazement. 'Someone entirely new — and young — advised her to shuttle Jesse off to Europe?'

`Well...' Rosen hesitated again, glancing at Newman, who gazed back with no particular expression. 'Frank Chase has gone up like a rocket — he's very popular. My guess is he'll soon have a string of wealthy patients. He has a way with... people.'

`The records,' Nancy persisted, 'the blood samples Buhler took to check my grandfather. They're here at the hospital?'

`They were destroyed...'

`That's not right,' Nancy protested.

`Wait a minute. Please!' Rosen held up a placating hand. `Let me finish. Buhler was an eccentric. As I told you, he lived for his work. He had a habit of carrying his files round with him so he could study them whenever he felt like it. They were inside the car when he went over the edge. There was a partial fire — all his records were incinerated...'

`How young is this Dr Frank Chase?' Newman enquired.

`Thirty-two. He still has a long way to go to get to the top of the tree, if that's what you were wondering. But he's climbing.'

`Could we have. Dr Chase's address?' Newman asked. `Sure. He's out on Sabino Canyon Road.'

`Very nice, too,' Nancy commented. 'Skyline Country Club territory. Linda is practically his neighbour if he's far enough out.'

Rosen said nothing as he took a pad and wrote carefully in a fine Italian script. Newman read the address upside down and for a member of the medical profession it was surprisingly legible. Something in Rosen's attitude puzzled him: the doctor had given Newman several close scrutinies as though trying to make up his mind about something, an aspect which was bothering him. He tore off the sheet, folded it neatly and handed it to Newman — which caused Nancy to raise her eyebrows.

He stood up and came round his desk to shake hands and escort them to the door, opening it to let Nancy leave first. His handclasp was warm and reassuring.

`I really don't think you have anything to worry about,' he told her. 'The Swiss are very good...'

He waited until Newman was half way along the corridor leading to the exit before he called him back. Newman told Nancy he would be with her in a minute and to wait in the car. Rosen closed the door once the Englishman was inside his office. He handed him a visiting card.

`That has my phone number here and at home. Could I meet with you this evening? Just the two of us over a drink for half an hour? Do you know the Tack Room?'

`Nancy took me there.' He slipped the card inside his wallet. 'It's a nice place...'

`MOBIL give it a five-star rating. Seven o'clock? Good. Maybe considerate not to mention this to Nancy. A few weeks before Jesse was shunted out of Tucson, we had an eminent Swiss medical personality here on a tour of the States. Linda, Nancy's sister, attended one of his lectures.'

`Any significance in that?'

`He happens to be head of the Berne Clinic …'

Two

`Where the hell have you been, Nancy?' Newman demanded. `I've sat here roasting in your Jag. for exactly forty-three minutes. At least I've got the smell of that place out of my system...'

`And how long were you with Rosen?' she flared. 'I might have sat here waiting forty-three minutes for you...'

`Three minutes,' snapped Newman.

`Well, how was I to know? I popped into another department to see an old friend and she had a lot to tell me. I've been away at St Thomas's for a year in case you've forgotten. And do you mind getting out of the driving seat?'

`I'm driving...'

He inserted the ignition keys and switched on the engine. She said something under her breath and her classic, pleated skirt swept high up her long legs as she sat in the passenger seat and slammed the door. She asked the question as he drove smoothly out of the Medical Center.

`What smell were you referring to — the one you got out of your system?'

`Disinfectant. Hospital disinfectant...'

`You hate anything medical, don't you? I can't imagine what you ever saw in me the night we first met in that place in Walton Street. Bewick's, wasn't it?'

`My favourite London restaurant. And I saw your lovely legs. You display them frequently..

`
Bastard!
' She thumped his shoulder. 'What did Rosen want to tell you that was too spicy for my delicate ears?'

`With my not being a doctor, being British, he wanted to emphasize the conversation had been strictly confidential. He's a careful type, very ethical and all that. Now, guide me to the mansion of Dr Frank Chase...'

Holding the slip of paper Rosen had given Newman in her hands and staring straight ahead, Nancy spoke only to give directions. Sabino Canyon Road starts in a well-populated area on the north-east outskirts of Tucson heading for the Catalina Mountains. It starts as a district for the well-off and progresses up the canyon into an oasis for the wealthy.

Newman noted the houses were getting bigger, the grounds more extensive, and again ahead the mountains danced in the heat dazzle. But the Tucson range was like a series of gigantic, broken-backed dinosaurs turned into rock. Like the Skyline Country Club, the Catalinas were opulent, welcoming and had vegetation.

He accelerated past the Wayne property in case Linda happened to be looking out of a window. Nancy glanced at him with a hint of amusement.

`Why the sudden burst of enthusiasm?'

`So Linda can't phone Chase and warn him we're coming.'

`Robert, you never miss a trick,' she needled him.

She always called him Robert when she was either annoyed or wanted to get under his skin, knowing he disliked his Christian name. He parried the thrust by grinning and not replying. The Jag. went on climbing and behind them the city of Tucson spread out in the bowl formed by three separate mountain ranges.

`Slow down, Bob,' she warned, 'we're close now. That place on the left must be Chase...'

A split rail fence enclosed the property, a large, L-shaped house with two storeys and a green pantile roof. Newman drove through the open gateway and along the drive which divided — one arm leading to the front porch, the second to the double garage at the side of the house. The wheels crunched as they pulled up.

In front of the house the 'garden' was a generous stretch of gravel out of which grew evil-looking saguaro cacti. Shaped like trees, they had a main trunk from which sprouted prickly branches stretching up towards the sky as though trying to claw it down. A man standing by the double garage pressed a button and Newman, who had switched off the engine, heard the purr of power-operated doors closing over the garage. In the the wing mirror he watched the man approaching with a wary tread.

Thirty-two, Rosen had said. The man wore tight blue jeans and an open-necked shirt with a large check design. His face was bony, the skin tanned under a mop of thick brown hair. Seeing only that much in the mirror, Newman took an instant dislike to him. He looked up as the man put a long-fingered hand on the door top. Manicured nails and a strong whiff of after-shave lotion.

`Dr Frank Chase?'

`Yes.'

The word hung in the hot air like a challenge and the brown eyes which stared down at Newman measured him for the operating table. Newman smiled amiably and said the one thing which he thought would throw Chase off balance.

`I don't think you've met Dr Nancy Kennedy. Sister of Linda Wayne. Grand-daughter of Jesse Kennedy. She's about to launch an investigation into why her grandfather was hustled off five-and-a-half thousand miles away without consulting her. This is a lovely place you've got here, Dr Chase.'

`Miss Kennedy, I'm afraid there was no question your grandfather was suffering from leukaemia..' Dr Chase laid a thin, bony hand on the arm of the reclining chair Nancy sat in at the rear of the house by the side of the oyster-shell-shaped swimming pool. His smile was sympathetic but Newman observed the smile did not reach the brown eyes which studied her. 'You see,' Chase continued, 'we had the top specialist in the state examine him. Dr Buhler...'

`Who conveniently died in a car accident,' Nancy interrupted him coldly. 'And even more conveniently had the records of those tests with him so they now no longer exist. The only real evidence, when you get to the bottom line, that he has this disease.'

`
Conveniently?
' Chase's smile became a little tight. 'I don't quite follow.' His hand clasped Nancy's gently. Here we go with the famous bedside manner, Newman thought as he stretched in his own chair and sipped his glass of bourbon. `Dr Kennedy,' Chase continued more formally, 'I do realize you must be overwrought. You were fond of your grandfather...'

'I
am
fond of my grandfather...'

She pulled her hand free and swallowed a large gulp of her own drink. Newman stood up and eased his shoulders as though stiff from sitting. He grinned as Chase glanced up at him sharply.

`Mind if I just wander round your place?' he suggested. 'I'll leave you and Nancy to talk this thing out alone.'

`That might be a very good idea,' Chase agreed. 'Feel free.

The obligatory swimming pool and its surrounding patio were tiled with marble. The walls of the house were plaster painted a dark sludge green. The picture windows looking down on Tucson were huge and triple plate glass doors slid open on to the patio. As he wandered towards the side of the house Newman peered inside.

The largest hi-fi system he had ever seen occupied the end wall of the sitting-room. The rest of the furniture reeked of money. He looked back before he disappeared round the garage end of the house and Chase had his back to him, crouched forward as he spoke earnestly to Nancy, whose expression was blank as she listened.

It intrigued Newman that Chase's first action on seeing them arrive had been to close the garage. He may well have recognized Nancy—the Wayne house was full of photographs of her with Linda. His shirt stuck to his back as he shuffled quietly over the gravel which had a gritty feel that seemed to compound the heat.