Dead Tease (7 page)

“Thank you for your time,” said Lew, getting to her feet. “Since you say you didn’t know her well, that about covers it.”

Osborne saw a crafty look spread across Cynthia’s face as she rocked back in her chair. “They told you how she was around the docs, right?” she asked Lew.

“No, I don’t believe anyone has—is there something we should know?” Lew paused before reaching the doorway.

“She was, well, I’d call it promiscuous. Blatantly promiscuous,” said Cynthia. “Frankly, I have no doubt her entire reason for taking the job at this clinic was to marry a doctor—or an administrator. I mean—the way she hung on Jim McNeil, for example, was … sinful. Even his wife got upset. Though,” Cynthia rolled her eyes, “
there’s
a nut case.”

“Mr. McNeil?” asked Osborne.

“His wife. You heard about her, right? She’s convinced people are breaking into her house. You should talk to her—ask
her
about Jennifer Williams. Poor soul is paranoid. A lit-tle over the top, too, if you ask me. I’ve encouraged Jim to get her some counseling.”

Lew sat back down on the chair. “How do you know all this? About Mrs. McNeil being worried about intruders? Is that common knowledge here at the clinic?”

“Well …” Cynthia hedged with a coy look, “I certainly heard about it from Jim.”

“He confides in you?” Lew’s tone was noncommittal.

“We’re good friends.” The hostility had evaporated. Cynthia appeared pleased with herself.

“You didn’t sound very friendly during your encounter this morning,” said Lew. “Dr. Osborne and I were standing outside his office while you were shouting.”

“Oh, that!” Cynthia waved a hand. “That was all about my schedule. We go through that every month.”

“I see. One last question,” said Lew. “Where were you late yesterday afternoon between five o’clock and six thirty?”

“Here. At the clinic. In the emergency room.”

“And you have witnesses to corroborate that?”

Cynthia’s voice tightened. “Aren’t you overstepping, Mrs. Ferris? Of course, I have witnesses. Probably half the ER staff. For heaven’s sakes, why?”

“It’s a question we’re asking everyone,” said Osborne before Lew could answer. He summoned the tone he’d perfected over the years to assure dental patients that “you’ll feel a pinch and that’s all” as he administered a shot of Novocain.

But Cynthia’s eyes had widened.

A sudden knock on the door as Brenda cracked it open, saying, “Dr. Daniels, your mother is on the phone. I told her you were meeting with the police but she insists—”

“Please, take your call,” said Lew, getting to her feet for the second time. “You’ve answered my questions. If I have more later, Dr. Osborne or myself will be in touch.”

“Gladys—what’s the problem?” asked Cynthia, her voice loud and unhappy. She listened for ten seconds then waved for Lew and Osborne to wait, then listened again. “Are you serious? Okay, I’ll tell them. You’re home now? Yes. I will.” She put the phone down and stood up.

“Well—that’s a surprise,” said Cynthia. “My mother lives about a half mile from those condos where Jennifer Williams was killed. She always walks the dog down that road and thinks she may have seen something yesterday. She isn’t sure it’s important but she wants you to call her. Said she’ll be home all afternoon.”

Cynthia reached for a small notepad and a pen on her desk. She scribbled something quickly and handed the note to Lew. “Here’s her cell phone number—she doesn’t answer the house phone.”

Lew glanced down at the number and said, “Your mother doesn’t wear a purple coat by any chance?”

“Yes, she does. Why?”

“We’re trying to reach all the residents in the area and we were told there was an elderly woman in a purple coat walking a small dog right around the time that Jennifer may have been attacked.”

“That would be Gladys,” said Cynthia. “She has a Yorkie.”

“This has been very helpful, thank you for your time,” said Lew, reaching to shake Cynthia’s hand.

“Sure,” said Cynthia, more agreeable than she had been all morning. Osborne noticed the hand she extended to Lew was shaking.

Chapter Ten

As they left Cynthia’s office, Brenda jumped to her feet, motioning for them to follow her down the hall. After leading the way through double doors requiring a passkey and down another long hallway, she beckoned them into a small waiting area.

“Chief Ferris,” said Brenda, sounding more confident than she had all morning, “I heard you ask Dr. Daniels where she was yesterday afternoon. I thought you should know she was
not
in the emergency room. She wasn’t in the doctors’ lounge either. I know because she had an emergency call from the clinic in Minocqua and I could not find her. I even had her paged and she didn’t answer.”

“Why would she say she was here if she wasn’t?” asked Lew.

“I have no idea,” said Brenda. “She only works thirty-six hours a week and she wasn’t on call yesterday either. And she lies a lot.”

“She
lies
?” asked Lew. “Dr. Daniels
lies
? What kind of lies? Can you give us an example?”

Brenda shrugged, her face impassive. “She’ll make a mistake. Maybe something dangerous for the patient and blame someone else even though she did it. A good friend of mine who’s a nurse in the ER has seen her do it. Oh, and sometimes she fakes that she’s sick when she isn’t. I know she isn’t ’cause I’ll see her fixing her makeup to go meet someone.”

“You don’t care much for her, do you?” asked Lew.

Brenda gave a tight little smile of satisfaction as she said, “Today is my last day working here. I put in for a transfer a couple months ago—so I start at the clinic in Rhinelander next week. Just so you know, I’m not the first to ask for a transfer away from her. Dr. Daniels is not a nice person.

“But men like her,” she said, raising her eyebrows in wonderment. “The men here
adore
her.”

Lew caught her eye and nodded, “And we know why, don’t we.” Brenda chuckled, then checked her watch.

“Do you need to get back?” asked Osborne.

“Umm, not really. I’m on break. It’s okay.”

“Brenda, did
you
know Jennifer Williams?” asked Lew.

“Oh sure. I really like Jen. She’s pretty cool. She always wears
… Oops, sorry, I mean
wore
the coolest jeans and carried these really funky purses.” She paused, her eyes glistening, “I—we—all of us here …” She took a deep breath, “We can’t believe what happened.” A long pause, then Brenda whispered, “But, umm, Dr. Daniels just hated her. I shouldn’t say this but I’ll bet she’s glad Jen’s … gone.”

“Any good reason why?” asked Lew. “That you could see?”

“Um … no,” said Brenda, shaking her head. The “no” was so hesitant Lew and Osborne exchanged glances.

“It’s okay, Brenda,” said Osborne, doing his best to sound fatherly. “Chief Ferris and I have heard other people mention that Dr. Daniels didn’t care for Jen. We’re just exploring all the reasons why that might be. No one is accusing anyone.”

“They’ll deny it, I’m sure, but Mr. McNeil and Dr. Daniels have been having an affair. I’m not sure, but I think he’s been trying to weasel out of it.” Brenda gave a harsh laugh and said, “Dr. Daniels doesn’t know this but she’s not the only one he’s fooled around with. He’s the type—know what I mean? I feel sorry for his wife.”

“Was he involved with Jennifer? Is
that
what you mean?” asked Lew.

“Oh no, I don’t think so. I mean someone else.” Brenda leaned forward to whisper, “Corrine Jensen. But that was last summer.”

“Is the relationship between Mr. McNeil and Dr. Daniels common knowledge?” asked Lew.

Brenda nodded. “I’m not sure. I’ve known—and Kerry Schultz and some of the other nurses. But if you need proof, I’ve been her assistant for the last year and I’ve had access to her e-mails. All the ones she sent Mr. McNeil—I’ve saved. And some he sent her.” Brenda smirked.

“Was this in case she tried to have you fired?” asked Lew.

“Yeah. My dad told me to. He’s a retired cop—from Chicago.”

“But Brenda,” said Osborne, “let’s back up for a moment. Why Cynthia Daniels’s intense dislike of Jennifer? Does it make sense to you?”

“She was jealous,” said Brenda. “For one thing, everyone liked Jen. Especially Mr. McNeil. He would go out of his way to say nice things about her work in his Monday morning clinic newsletter. Just last week he went on and on about how our clinic’s brochures and posters all won awards at some big conference. Dr. Daniels did not like
that
. Not one bit.”

Back at the cruiser, Lew slid onto the driver’s seat, cell phone in hand, and punched in the number that Cynthia had given her. After reaching the elderly woman who answered and arranging with Gladys to meet at her home later that afternoon, she clicked off.

“Doc, I’d say Cynthia Daniels just may learn a hard lesson.”

“And what is that?” asked Osborne, looking forward to the answer.

“Don’t kick the little guy.”

As she turned the key in the ignition, Lew’s police radio gave an alert.

“Marlaine?” she said to the switchboard operator who was on the line, “can this wait? Doc and I are on our way to the station right now—oh, all right, go ahead.” Lew tipped her head, listening. Marlaine being a large woman with a voice that boomed made it easy for Osborne to hear her every word even as he sat over in the passenger seat.

“First, Chief Ferris, I thought you would like to know that Bruce Peters got here an hour ago and is working the crime scene….”

“Good. But is that why you called?” asked Lew. She glanced at Osborne—that was one piece of information that could have waited five minutes.

“No. Chief, I’ve got a very upset individual here at the station insisting we put out an APB for his truck that he says was stolen by a friend of his.”

Lew rolled her eyes. “Well, did you tell him we don’t do APB’s on stolen vehicles?”

“I tried. He says he’ll lose his job if we can’t find it for him. Said he loaned it to Alvin Marski yesterday who promised to return it last night. Chief, he’s
very
upset.”

“Okay,” said Lew with a sigh, “tell him I’ll be there shortly and we’ll discuss it then. Is that it?”

“Yes, it’s just the guy is losing it and I wanted you to be prepared.”

“Thanks, Marlaine. See you in a minute.”

Clicking off the phone, Lew said, “Alvin Marski. Great. There’s a guy with a rap sheet of misdemeanors way longer than our pal Ray Pradt. Specializes in petty theft—gas cans out of boats, little kids’ Halloween candy. Stealing a vehicle doesn’t sound like Alvin, although last fall I nailed him for growing weed in his mother’s backyard. She insisted it was hers—if you can believe it. Poor woman. I’m sure that jabone’s half way to Detroit by now.”

“Is that Rhonda Marski’s son?” asked Osborne, remembering the exhausted but sweet woman, a widow who cleaned houses and spent money she couldn’t afford when her teenaged son had to have his front teeth replaced after losing them in a fight. Osborne charged her all of twenty-five dollars for the work. He couldn’t bear sending the poor soul a bill for close to a thousand.

Alvin, good-looking kid born under the sign of bad behavior.

“We got a call from the Loon Lake Pharmacy where he’s been buying too much Sudafed recently,” said Lew. “I don’t think he’s
cooking
meth but he’s got friends with bad ideas.”

Preoccupied as he pulled past the screen of pine trees fronting his driveway, Osborne was startled to see two mountain bikes parked in front of the garage door. He hit the brakes just in time.

Beth must have ridden home for lunch. With a friend. Either that or the kid was capable of riding two bikes at once. Sure enough, as Mike charged toward him across the yard, he heard a girlish voice call up from down near the dock.

“Grandpa … Harry and I are down here. Okay?”

“Sure,” said Osborne, heading down the rock staircase toward the water.

Recalling Lew’s caution that Beth’s constant text messaging was likely to involve a boy, he steeled himself to perform as a good grandfather should. Given he had raised two daughters now functioning as capable adults, he must know
something
about how to handle young people. At least he hoped.

“My friend Harry borrowed one of your spinning rods, okay, Gramps? Not a good one—the one you let Cody use,” she said, speaking fast and referring to her kid brother.

“That’s fine. How long have you been here? Nice to meet you, Harry,” he said, walking onto the dock to join the two teenagers.

Beth was tall and willowy with the same flaxen hair as her mother. Harry was nearly six feet and quite skinny with a shock of straight light brown hair that did a good job of hiding his eyes.
Kid needs a haircut
was Osborne’s first thought.

“Harry, how did you manage to make the girls’ basketball team?” said Osborne, walking up to the boy, extending a hand, and smiling at his own joke. “What’s your last name, son?”

“The boys’ clinic is over in the junior high gym,” said Beth, jumping in a little too fast.

“Harry Gardner. We … um … Beth and I have to get back for afternoon practice but we thought maybe it was all right to have our sandwiches out here?” His voice rose, leaving his question hanging in the air.

“Sure,” said Osborne. “I don’t mind but will you kids let the dog into the house before you leave? I’m going to make myself a quick bite to eat and skedaddle. Beth, did your mother bring your things by?” Osborne wondered why
he
felt awkward.

“Yes. She left a note for you on the kitchen table.”

“And when do you get out of practice this afternoon?”

“Um … four o’clock?” This time it was Beth’s voice ending on a high note. “But Harry and I—we—we’re going to bike the Bearskin for an hour….”

“Really? Aren’t you going to be exhausted after basketball practice?” asked Osborne. “I don’t mind if you go for a bike ride, but don’t overdo it in this heat, young lady.”

“I won’t, Grandpa. The coaches want us to either run or bike an hour a day before or after practice.”

“Your mother didn’t mention that.”