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From the kitchen, I tried Shana Timberlake's number, but got no answer. Maybe I'd stop by her place again in a bit. I intended to press her for information when I caught up with her. She held a big piece of the puzzle, and I couldn't let her off the hook. The telephone book was on the kitchen counter. I looked up Dr. Du
"Oh, hi. Is Dr. Du
"No, I'm sorry. This is Doctor's day at the clinic in Los Angeles. Can I be of help?"
"I hope so," I said. "I was a patient of his some years ago and I need records of the illness I was seeing him for. Can you tell me how I'd go about getting those?"
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"When would this have been?"
"Uhm, oh gee, 1966 actually."
"I'm sorry, but we don't keep records that far back. We consider a file inactive if you haven't seen Doctor in five years. After seven years, records are destroyed."
A
"And that's true even if a patient is deceased?" I asked.
"Deceased? I thought it was your medical records we were talking about," she said. "Could I have your name please?"
I hung up. So much for Jean Timberlake's old medical chart. Frustrating. I hate dead ends. I returned to the living room.
I hadn't stalled long enough.
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"I stopped by late afternoon, but he was asleep. Did he ask for me again?" I tried to look every place, but at her.
"They called this morning," she said irritably. "He's raising all kinds of hell. Knowing him, he wants out." She swiped alcohol on the bald flesh on her mother's thigh.
I fumbled in my handbag for a Kleenex as she plunged the needle home. Ori visibly jumped. My hands were clammy and my head was already feeling light.
"He's probably making everybody's life miserable." She was blabbing on, but the sound was begi
She paused, a look of concern crossing her face. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. I just feel like sitting down," I murmured. I'm sure death creeps up on you just this way, but what was I going to say? I'm a bad-ass private eye who swoons in the same room with a needle? I smiled at her pleasantly to show I was okay. Darkness was crowding my peripheral vision.
She went on about her business, heading toward the kitchen to return the insulin. The minute she left the room, I hung my head down between my knees. They say it's impossible to faint while you're doing this, but I've managed it more than once. I glanced at Ori, apologetically. She was moving her legs restlessly, unwilling, as usual, to concede that anybody might feel worse than she did. I was trying not to hyperventilate. The creeping darkness receded. I sat up and fa
"I don't feel good," she said. She scratched at her arm, her ma
"Oh Lord," she rasped. "It couldn't…" Her face was ashen, swelling visibly, hot pink welts forming on her neck.
"What is it, Ori? Can I get you anything?" Her distress was accelerating so quickly I couldn't take it in. I crossed to the bed and then yelled toward the kitchen. "A
"Be right there," she called. I could tell from her tone I hadn't conveyed any sense of urgency. "A
Ori's hands went to her throat, her eyes rolling wildly, sweat popping out. It was clear she wasn't getting air. I tried to help, but there was nothing I could do. She grabbed for me like a drowning woman, clutching my arm with such force that I thought she'd tear off a hunk of flesh.
"Now what?" A
She appeared in the doorway, wearing an expression that was a mix of indulgence and irritation at her mother's latest bid for attention. She paused, blinking as she tried to assimilate the sight before her. "What in the world? Mother, what's wrong? Oh my God!"
I don't think more than two minutes had passed since the attack began. Ori was convulsing, and I could see a flood of urine spread along the bedding under her. The sounds she made were none that I had ever heard from a human being.
A
It was clear the 911 dispatcher had picked up the call. I could hear a tiny female voice buzz across the room like a fly. A
Ori was still, her eyes wide and blank. She was already beyond medical help. I looked at the clock automatically for time of death. It was 9:06. I took the phone out of A
About 20 percent of all people die under circumstances that would warrant an official inquiry into the cause of death. The burden of determining cause and ma
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