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"How about Vangie Lewis? What did the nurse know?"
"Dr. Salem asked her to get out Vangie's file yesterday morning. She saw him put it in his attache case. That case was found in his hotel room. But the Lewis file wasn't in it. And get this: after Dr. Salem left his office, Chris Lewis phoned. Said he had to talk to Salem. The nurse told him where Salem would be staying in New York. I'll tell you something, Richard: by the end of the day I expect to be swearing out a warrant for Lewis' arrest."
"You mean you think there was something in that file that Chris Lewis would kill to get? I find that hard to believe."
"Someone wanted that file," Scott said.
Richard hung up the phone. Who would know what was in a medical file that might be threatening? A doctor.
Was Katie right in her suspicions about the psychiatrist? And what about Edgar Highley? Impatiently Richard searched on his desk for the slip of paper Marge had given him with the names of the two patients who had filed malpractice suits against Edgar Highley: Anthony Caldwell of Peapack, A
She came in a few minutes later. "Berkeley wasn't in. I left a message. Anthony Caldwell moved to Michigan last year. I got one of his former neighbors on the phone. She told me that his wife died of a tubal pregnancy. Mrs. Caldwell had been told by two other doctors that she'd never conceive, but as soon as she started at Westlake she became pregnant. She was terribly sick all the time, however, and died in her fourth month."
That gives me what? I need," Richard said. "We're going to subpoena the hospital records. What about Mrs. Horan?" "I caught her husband home. Says she works as a computer programmer. Here's her office number."
Richard dialed it. "Mrs. Horan," he said.
"Yes."
Richard introduced himself. "Mrs. Horan, you filed a malpractice suit last year against Dr. Highley. I wonder if I might ask you some questions about that case. Are you free to talk?" Her voice became agitated. "No… not here." She had an accent he could not place.
"I understand. But it's urgent. Would it be possible for you to stop by the prosecutor's office after work today and talk with me?" "Yes… all right. I know where it is. I'll be there by five thirty."
The co
It was nearly noon. Richard decided to go to the courtroom where Katie was trying her case and see if she'd have lunch with him. He wanted to ask her about Highley. Would she agree that maybe something was wrong at Westlake-a baby ring, or a doctor who took criminal chances with his patients' lives?
The courtroom was deserted except for Katie, who still sat at the prosecutor's table. Preoccupied with her notes, she shook her head when he came over and asked her to lunch.
"Richard, those skunks are trying to say someone else set the fires, and I swear the jury is falling for it." Richard studied her. Her skin was deadly pale. He noticed the tissue wrapped around her finger. Gently he unwound it. "That darn thing," Katie said. "It must be deep. It's been bleeding off and on all morning."
Richard studied the cut. Released from the tissue, it began to bleed rapidly. Pressing the tissue over the cut, he picked up a rubber band and wound it above the cut. "This should stop it. Have you been having any clotting problems, Katie?"
"Yes, some. But I can't talk about it now. This case is ru
He straightened up. "Now go and win your case. You can do it. And please, take it easy this weekend. Monday I'm going to need your input on an angle I see in the Lewis case."
All morning she'd felt so cold-so desperately, icy cold. Even the long-sleeved wool dress hadn't helped. Now, close to Richard, she felt the warmth of his body. As he turned to leave, she impulsively grasped his hand and held it against her face. "Monday," she said.
"Monday," he agreed, and left the courtroom.
BEFORE they left Edna's apartment complex, Charley and Phil rang the Krupshaks' doorbell.
"We're finished with our examination," Charley told Cana. "You're free to enter the apartment." He showed her Edna's note. "You and Mrs. Fitzgerald can look the stuff over and divide it between yourselves, but don't remove anything yet."
The two investigators returned to the office and went directly to the lab, where they turned in the contents of the vacuum bag. "Run this through right away," Phil directed.
Scott was waiting for them in his office. At the news that Chris had been in the vicinity of Edna's apartment on Tuesday night, he grunted with satisfaction. "Lewis seems to have been all over the map this week," he said, "and wherever he's been someone has died. Two bellmen positively identify him as being in the lobby of the Essex House around five o'clock."
The phone rang. Impatiently he answered it. Then his expression changed. "Put her on," he said quickly. Holding his hand over the mouthpiece, he said, "Chris Lewis' girl friend is calling from Florida… Hello, yes, this is the prosecutor… Yes, we are looking for Captain Lewis. Do you know where he is?"
Scott's forehead furrowed as he listened. "Newark at seven? Very well. I'm glad he's surrendering voluntarily. If he wishes a lawyer, he may want to have one here." He hung up the phone. "Lewis is coming in," he said. "We'll crack this case open tonight Now let's see what Richard's got."
The three men went to the autopsy room; with Richard they studied the body of Vangie Lewis, now dressed in the clothes in which she had died. The scrap of flowered material that had been found on the prong in the garage exactly fitted the tear near the hem of her dress. The panty hose on her left foot showed a two-inch slash directly over the fresh cut.
"No blood on the hosiery," Richard said. "She was already dead when her foot caught on the prong."
"How high was the shelf that prong was on?" Scott asked.
"About three feet from the floor," Phil answered.
"So someone carried her in through the garage, laid her on her bed and tried to make it look like suicide," Scott said. "Without question," Richard agreed. A few moments later he left the autopsy room and returned to his office., At four thirty Jim Berkeley called. "I understand you've been trying to reach me." His voice was guarded.
"It's important. Can you stop in my office on your way home?"
"Yes, I can." Now Jim's voice became resigned. "And I think I know what you want to talk about."
EDGAR Highley turned from the girl on the examining table. "You may get dressed now." She had claimed to be twenty, but he was sure she wasn't more than sixteen or seventeen. "Am I-"
"Yes, my dear. You are very definitely pregnant. About five weeks. I want you to return tomorrow morning and we will terminate the pregnancy."
"I was wondering: Do you think I should maybe have the baby and have it adopted?"
"Have you told your parents about this?"
"No. They'd be so upset."
"Then I suggest you postpone motherhood for several years at least. Ten o'clock tomorrow."
He left the room, went into his office and looked up the phone number of the new patient he had chosen yesterday. "Mrs. Englehart, this is Dr. Highley. I want to begin your treatment. Kindly come to the hospital tomorrow morning at eight thirty."