Again Julie squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, but this time she lost her battle to hold back her tears. They began to run down her face. She forced herself to continue, ignoring them. “I went to let myself in, but the door wasn’t locked. And the door to the bedroom was . . . ajar. I presumed Claire was in the shower.” Her nose was running and she began to sniff as she rummaged in her leather purse for a tissue.
Mitchell Oates, who had been sitting in the living room with the two women most of this time, plucked a crisply laundered white linen handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. Julie took it gratefully, dabbed hopelessly at her face and blew her nose. Without thinking, she went to hand it back to the detective, then flushed. “I’ll. . . launder it for you.”
He smiled gently, an expression Nat had never personally witnessed before on the handsome but usually grim detective’s face. “Keep it,” he told Julie warmly. “I’ve got a whole drawer full.” She managed to return a small smile of gratitude. “Thank you.”
Oates rose and went back to the bedroom to join his partner. He closed the door behind him.
“It must have been some dope addict,” Julie said, crumpling then smoothing out, then again crumpling the hanky. “Someone who knew Claire was a nurse. What’s this about a journal that the other detective was asking me about?”
Nat didn’t respond.
“I mean, it must have been a stranger, right? I can’t imagine Claire having any enemies.”
“There appears to be no sign of forced entry,” Nat repeated, an observation she’d heard Oates make earlier.
Julie’s hand went up to her mouth. “Oh, God. You think Claire let the killer in? That. . . That she knew him? But. . . who?”
One name sprang immediately to Nat’s mind: Dr. Harrison Bell. Bell knew Claire had found Lynn’s journal. Nat had told Leo about Fisher’s call on the drive over there. Bell’s name immediately popped into Leo’s mind as well. Neither of them said anything about the possibility—probability?—that they’d been wrong about Father Joe, but it hung in the air between them.
Leo had immediately radioed in for two uniforms to head to the pain clinic and another two were directed to the doctor’s house. Harrison Bell was now wanted for questioning regarding the murder of his nurse, Claire Fisher. And now there would also be more questions regarding the attack on Lynn Ingram.
The problem was, as of yet, Bell hadn’t been found. He’d left the clinic early but, according to Carol Bell, he hadn’t come home. She claimed she had no idea where he was. Asked if she was concerned, she’d said he occasionally came home late because of meetings or symposiums. Sometimes he’d forget to tell her beforehand.
The journal hadn’t been found in the apartment. It seemed likely Claire Fisher’s killer had taken it. And equally likely that the nurse had been murdered because she’d had the terrible misfortune to have unearthed the journal.
Flad Bell panicked that Lynn had written about their affair? About breaking it off? Had Lynn written that he’d threatened her—that she was afraid of him—afraid for her life?
Was Bell afraid that if the police got their hands on that journal, they’d consider him their prime suspect in Lynn’s assault— whether or not he was responsible? That he’d be arrested? tried? convicted?
What if Harrison Bell
was
guilty?
But then, where did Father Joe Parker fit in?
God—what if the priest didn’t fit in?
Nat staved off her incipient guilt about having borne some responsibility for driving Father Joe to suicide by quickly reminding herself that the priest had been far from innocent. Whatever else he may or may not have done, he had, after all, raped Lynn Ingram when she was in prison. He also had adeptly and assiduously managed to brainwash Suzanne Holden into protecting him the whole time she was at Grafton. And if Ross Varda hadn’t been able to break through her defenses, they might never have known the truth about the priest.
Still, it did leave Nat feeling exceedingly unsettled.
She looked over at the distraught physician. “You mentioned you did some work at the pain clinic.”
Julie nodded. “That was almost five years ago.”
“You worked with Dr. Harrison Bell.”
“Yes,” Julie said cautiously.
“And wasn’t Dr. Lynn Ingram working there at that time as well?”
“Yes.” She began refolding the linen hanky.
“You know Lynn Ingram’s in the ICU at Boston General”— Boston General being the hospital where Julie Morganstein worked.
“Yes.” She hesitated. “Is there . . . some connection? Between what happened to Lynn Ingram and what. . . what happened . . . to Claire?”
“What do you think?”
“I didn’t really know Lynn. I worked with her at the clinic for three months and we had a few patients in common, but we never socialized. Not that I had anything against her. She seemed perfectly competent. It’s just that she stayed pretty much to herself.”
“Did you know at the time she was a transsexual?”
“No. I didn’t know until her trial.”
“Did you think there was something romantic between Lynn and Dr. Bell?”
Morganstein seemed surprised by the question.
“Is that a no?”
“I don’t feel right saying this. But I suppose—” She paused, glanced quickly at the closed door to Claire Fisher’s bedroom, then just as quickly looked away. “You see, Claire was the one who was involved with Dr. Bell.”
Now Nat was surprised. She’d sensed that Claire was carrying a torch for her boss, but she hadn’t considered that he’d reciprocated the feelings.
“How do you know?”
“She told me.”
“When?”
“When did she tell me, or when were they having an affair?” “Both.”
“She told me about it when I was working at the clinic. That was several years ago. But I know that until about a month or two ago, it was still going on.”
Had it ended when Lynn Ingram returned to the clinic? Had Claire ended it? Or had Bell?
“She told you it was over?” Nat pressed.
“Well, she didn’t really volunteer the information. But I stopped by, one evening a few weeks ago—we were planning to have some repairs done on the apartment and I wanted to go over the work with Claire—and she seemed kind of down.” “You guessed they’d broken up?”
“Yes. And she confirmed it.”
“Did she tell you what happened? Who broke it off? Why?” “No, she didn’t want to talk about it”
“Did you know Carol Bell?”
“Dr. Bell’s wife? Yes, I met her a few times when I was interning at the clinic. She occasionally came over to the office to meet her husband for lunch.”
“Planned dates?”
“I don’t know. I guess.” But after a short pause she said, “Not always. Sometimes, she surprised him.”
“You think she might have been checking up on him?”
“I really don’t know.” Julie hesitated. “Claire once mentioned that she worried that Carol suspected something was going on. I know it upset her.”
Nat was sure it had upset Carol as well. She was beginning to feel very sorry for the adulterous doctor’s wife. Nat didn’t know how many lovers Bell had had over the years, but she knew two of them now: Claire Fisher—and Lynn Ingram.
An image of the Bell family photo flashed in Nat’s mind. The little four-year-old girl nestled in her father’s arms. Daphne.
Daphne, did you draw a picture of a lady for your daddy? Did he tell you it was a silly monster drawing and make you giggle
f “You don’t think . . . The police don’t think—Dr. Bell shot Claire? I can’t believe it. It’s too horrible. Unimaginable.” Julie placed her palms flat on her belly and closed her eyes.
“How far along are you?” Nat asked.
“I’m in my fifth month.” Her lips quivered again. “It’s a boy. I just found out.” Tears started to flow again.
“I think I’ll make you that cup of tea.”
This time Julie didn’t turn down Nat’s offer.
“You sound awful,” Rachel said.
Nat, driving back home, had almost let her cell-phone voicemail take her sister’s call but changed her mind at the last minute. Maybe something had happened to one of Rachel’s kids. Maybe Gary had walked out again. It would be no big surprise there. Actually, it would be a big relief. At least as far as Nat was concerned. She believed her sister was only delaying a seesaw of heartache by taking Gary back again.
“I’m okay,” Nat said offhandedly. She didn’t want to discuss Claire’s murder. It was still too raw. Too jumbled. “How are you?”
There was a brief hesitation before Rachel answered. “Okay, I guess.”
“Gary?” Nat surmised.
“He’s really trying, Nat. We both are. We have our good times and our bad times.”
“Maybe you should go into couple’s therapy?” Nat said.
“I suggested that to Gary, but he said he’d rather we work it out ourselves.”
“Meaning he doesn’t want to be confronted by a professional about his behavior,” Nat said acidly.
“It’s not another woman, Nat. He swears—”
“And of course you believe him.”
“You’re so bitter, Nat. Maybe if you’d been a bit less . . . unyielding, your own marriage might not have—” Rachel stopped abruptly. “Sorry.”
Nat bristled. Probably because the same thought had occurred to her on plenty of occasions. And not just regarding her ex. She could already feel herself erecting barriers between herself and Leo, wanting to shield herself from the rejection she was unable to stop anticipating.
“Let’s not argue, Nat. I’m fully aware that Gary isn’t a saint. But... I love him. And if you love someone enough, it’s worth hanging in there and trying to make it work.”
“Yeah, Rach. You’re right,” Nat said, not sure whether her sister was more adept at denial than she was, or whether Rachel was, in fact, wiser and more gutsy when it came to intimate relationships.
twenty-three
I have performed dozens of sex-reassignment surgeries and have never had one patient report regretting the decision. Which is not to say there aren’t both complex physical and psychological adjustments.
Dr. Ronald Chessman
CARRIE LI HEADED Nat off in the corridor of the ICU as she was on her way to Lynn Ingram’s room the next morning at a little past nine a.m.
Nat immediately felt a rush of alarm. “Is she okay?” “Physically, as well as can be expected under the circumstances,” the young nurse said. “Emotionally? Not so good. Dr. Varda is with her.”
“What happened?”
“The reality of her extensive injuries is starting to hit her. She asked one of the orderlies for a mirror. Stupidly, he gave her one without first checking—” Carrie frowned. “She started ripping off the bandages, screaming. The police guard outside her door rushed into her room, followed by myself and another nurse. It took all three of us to contain the poor woman. I gave her a shot of Valium and she calmed down some. We put fresh bandages on her face, and Dr. Madison spoke to her for a few minutes. Then the doctor told me to get in touch with Dr. Varda and see if he could come in to talk with Lynn. He got here about twenty minutes ago. It’s pretty quiet in there now.”
“I’ll wait in the lounge until he comes out. Will you keep an eye out for him and let him know I’d like to talk with him before he leaves?”
Carrie smiled. “Absolutely.”
Nat’s cell phone rang as she stepped into the lounge. It was Leo.
“Have you found Bell?” she asked immediately.
“No. But Carol Bell called the precinct at around ten
p.m.
She said she’d been out shopping at the mall with her kids and found a message on her answering machine from her husband. He said he was somewhere in Rhode Island—”
“Rhode Island?”
“En route from New York.
“What was he doing in New York?”
“Carol says all the message said was that it turned out his mom was okay after all. That it had been some kind of mistake.” “His mom?”
“Carol says her mother-in-law is in a nursing home in Brooklyn.”
Nat rolled her eyes. “Come on, Leo. This is Bell’s alibi?” “Well, we need to hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
“Where is he?”
“Don’t know. He supposedly said in the message that he was tired and would stop at a motel for the night and be back sometime this morning.”
“No mention of Claire Fisher’s murder?”
“The wife says no. Apparently her husband didn’t yet know about it.”
“Yeah, right.”
“It gets better. I told Mrs. Bell I’d be right down to get the tape with the message on it and she tells me that won’t be possible. Her son Billy ‘accidentally’ erased it.”
“You think she made the call up? You think Carol Bell’s covering for her husband?”
There was an awkward silence.
“Where are you now?” Nat asked.
“Over at Horizon House.”
Her first thought was that he’d gone there looking for her. But her next and more disquieting thought was that he’d gone there to see Suzanne.
“Where are you?” Leo asked.
“Boston General. Varda’s talking to Lynn.” She gave him a quick update.
“He’s probably heard about Claire Fisher. It’s been all over the news by now. If he’s not in a panic, he should be. You should be, too, Natalie.”
“I’m doing okay.”
“Until we get our hands on Bell, I don’t want you poking around. You hear what I’m saying?”
“The phone connection is fine, Leo.”
“You think Lynn knows about Fisher?” Leo asked.
“Not unless Varda told her. And I can’t imagine he would.” “How long you gonna be over there?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“I thought I’d bring you home for lunch. My mom made la-sagna. She knows how much you love it. And Jakey’s dying to show you his new train set.”
Nat swallowed hard. She missed Jakey. She missed Anna. She missed the warmth and sense of well-being she always felt at the Coscarelli home. And most of all, she missed being there with Leo.
Her misty gaze fell on the wall clock. “It’s nine-fifteen now. I should be back at Horizon House by eleven. Are you going to hang around there?”
“No,” he said. “I’m leaving now. Why don’t I pick you up there around noon?”
“Yeah, okay,” she said, even as she was telling herself this was not a good idea.