With Deadly Intent (29 page)

“Three days,” Cam said in a cheery voice, seemingly unaware of the tension crackling
around him. “Maybe less if your fever stays normal. Amy's a fine doctor, I trust her
implicitly.”

“Bully for you.” Simon stomped to the far side of the room and sat down with his back to
them.

Cam motioned to her and she followed him out. “He can leave before noon, if that's
convenient.”

“I'll be here.”

“The supplies you'll need will be at the nurse's station.”

She made a wry face. “How about something to sweeten his disposition?”

He folded his arms and grinned at her. “I've done my part to get the two of you together.
The rest is up to you.”

Simon stalked up to them. He'd put on a robe and fitted a slipper over his bare foot.
“I'm going to your car with you.”

She'd have hugged him if she'd thought for a minute he'd have let her. He acted tough,
but his caretaker instinct took precedence over his anger. Much as she welcomed the
opportunity to make things right between them, she couldn't allow him to take the risk.
She opened her mouth to protest, however Officer Sampson's arrival made her protest
unnecessary.

He contemplated Simon's aggressive stance for an instant before switching his attention
to her. “The lieutenant says I'm to accompany you to your car.”

Simon took her arm. “I'll do it.”

Officer Sampson narrowed his eyes. “When you get out of here, you can do as you please.
Until then, you'll stay in your room.”

Simon bunched his fist. “Go to hell.”

“Don't make things difficult, Kittredge. Dr. Prescott is my responsibility, not yours.”

“No point in making an issue of it, Simon,” she said. “I'll be all right.” He let go of
her arm. As she went down the hall, she glanced over her shoulder. Simon stood where
she'd left him, frustration lining his face.

When she reached her apartment house, she found Lt. Salgado waiting for her. She greeted
him, but all he gave her in return was a grunt and a scowl. Fine, she could play that
game too. They climbed the stairs to her second floor apartment in silence.

Once inside, he pointed to a chair. “Sit.”

Ignoring his high-handed command, she hung her coat in the closet and asked him if he'd
eaten dinner. He said he had, so she made coffee and heated chicken broth for herself.
When she had everything prepared, she sat down opposite him. “Anything new on Dr.
Tambor's murder?”

He lifted sagging shoulders and let out a gusty breath. “The man died of a blow to the
back of the head sustained while he sat on the couch in his office.”

She nibbled a cracker. “So his murderer had to be someone he knew and trusted.”

He straightened and eyed her suspiciously. “How do you figure that?”

“It was night time and the building was deserted. Do you think he'd be stupid enough to
let a stranger get behind him.” She paused to let her words sink in. “And he'd be a
downright idiot if he didn't keep his guard up in the presence of his lover's fiance.”
She ignored his stare. “Especially when he's carrying a baseball bat.”

“Cute. Real cute, doctor. But sarcasm won't alter the case against your cousin.”

“Has the M.E. fitted the weapon to the skull depression?”

“He's working on it.”

“Did you find Oren's fingerprints on anything else except the bat?”

“Well, no.” He picked at a pulled thread in the knee of his blue polyester pants. “But
the forensic crew's still going over the clinic.”

“I see.” She blew on a spoonful of soup and swallowed it. “So, the bat is actually all
you have.”

“Yea gods, the doctor stole his woman. That's motive. Whether or not Oren killed his
fiancée is not our concern at the moment. However, if he didn't"—he pointed a finger at
her—"your father says you think Tambor killed the Dorset woman and framed Oren. That
alone would be sufficient to make Oren want revenge.”

She lay her spoon on the coffee table. “Maybe, but this isn't a straightforward case
either. You'll soon learn none of the evidence you find is quite what it appears to be.”

She took another sip of her soup. “For instance, you know that a man by the name of Roger
Norman bought Elise's Mazda RX-7. Right?” At his nod, she went on. “Are you also aware a
car of similar make and color ran down my dad?”

“Uh huh, and I won't bother to ask how you got the information.”

“Did Simon tell you Norman was an orderly at Marchmont Hospital in Montana where Elise
Dorset worked until three years ago?”

“Yes, and all the rest of the stuff he's dug up.”

She pressed sweaty palms together. “What I'm about to tell you could put a woman's life
in jeopardy. So you must promise you won't repeat the information, or act upon it.”

His features hardened. “Depends.”

“One of Marchmont's mental patients called me. She claims Elise died at the hospital four
years ago during an abortion performed by the hospital's director.”

His eyes went wide. “Madre de Dios!” He shot to his feet, leaned over and shook his
finger in her face. “I told you not to keep things from me. You're going to be in deep
trouble if it happens again.”

His angry breathing slowed and he slumped into his chair. “Okay, I'll hold off for now.”
He searched his pockets for a notebook and pen. “Let's hear about this guy you've been
tailing.” He flung a stern glance in her direction. “Start at the beginning, and don't
leave anything out.” He took down everything, including a detailed description of
Darryl, the pet shop clerk.

When they reached her lab report, she gave him the note she'd found on Cleo, the scratch
paper she'd gotten at Rasmussen's Pet Shop, the graph she'd made, and her written
report.

He lined up the print of the note's torn edge with the blank sheet and gave a low
whistle. “Holy Jesus.” His eyes met hers. “Not a bad day's work, doctor.”

She offered a tentative smile. “I'd rather you called me, Amy.”

He pursed his lips. “You gonna stop messing around in my investigation?”

“Guess I'll have to. I don't have any more leads.” She assumed a disinterested
expression. “Do you?”

He ignored the question and returned his pen to an inside pocket of his gray suit coat.
“The character you're dealing with is either desperate or off his nut.” He cocked his
head. “Any gut reaction to this Darryl person?”

She frowned. “There's something"—she gnawed her lip—"something that's off key, only I
can't put my finger on it.”

He got to his feet. “Let me know if it comes to you, okay? Meanwhile, you'd better watch
it, Amy. This guy's playing for keeps.” He walked to the door, but stopped with his hand
on the knob. “Late this afternoon, the lab crew found a print inside a rubber glove we
found beside Dr. Tambor's body in the elevator shaft. It doesn't match up with Tambor or
anyone else in his office.” He shifted his feet. “This could clinch the case against
Oren,” he said and closed the door behind him.

Had all of her efforts been in vain? For a few seconds, she could scarcely think.
Gradually, her mind cleared and she realized his facts didn't jibe.

She dialed her father and brought him up-to-date. After they'd discussed everything else
at length, she told him about Simon's food being poisoned.

“Holy hell, Amy,” B.J. said. “Get him out of that place.”

“Cam Nguyen says he'll discharge him tomorrow if—” She hesitated, not sure of her
father's reaction to the rest of her announcement. “If I'll agree to look after him for
a few days.” She cleared her throat. “Give him his shots, eye drops, and ... and make
sure he gets his rest.”

“Now, that's uh ... uh a fine idea. A ... mighty fine idea. Simon's too blamed active for
his own good. Won't hurt you to let-up either. You plan on staying at your place or
his?”

She relaxed. “His condo will be safer. And there's a chance whoever's after us won't know
where he lives.” She gave him Simon's home phone.

“I'll call you Monday after my replacement finishes work on the blood stains,” he said,
and bid her good night.

Sunday, November 6

Next morning, she rose early so she'd have time to wash and curl her hair before going to
the hospital. She jeered at herself in the mirror. In his present mood, Simon wouldn't
even notice. Nevertheless, she put in her contacts, applied make-up with extra care and
donned a matching sage green skirt and blouse.

After surveying herself with a critical eye, she added a dab of expensive perfume.
Satisfied at last, she tossed the clothes she thought she'd need in an overnight bag and
rushed downstairs. An icy wind caught her hair and undid all her efforts. Disgusted, she
finger-combed it and took off for the hospital.

She found Simon ready to go. As they waited for him to be discharged, she caught him
eyeing her several times, but each time he quickly looked away. When all was ready, an
orderly insisted on wheeling him to the car. Simon being Simon protested loudly before
subsiding with a scowl.

Neither of them spoke as she put the car in gear and got under way. When she turned onto
James Street and started down the hill, Simon stopped dwelling on the passing scene.

“B.J. phoned.”

“Oh? ... I wonder if he tried to get me?”

“I guess you'd already left.” His gaze met hers for an instant, then fell away. “That
Billings, Montana medical examiner friend of his called this morning.”

“Has he learned anything new?”

“From what B.J. said, the man's been busy. Among other things, he contacted Dr. Yates in
White Bird and persuaded him to go to the Attorney General. Evidently, they'd heard
rumors about the hospital only didn't have enough facts to warrant an investigation.”

Amy caught her breath. “What about Francine? If Wade Marchmont learns she turned him in,
God knows what he'll do to her.”

“They got her out.” He let out a sigh. “Wasn't difficult. She's dying of lung cancer.”

“Poor woman. Nobody deserves that kind of rotten luck.”

They fell silent and she concentrated on her driving. As usual the streets near Elliott
Bay and Pike Place Market were congested. She inched the station wagon through a throng
of wind-buffeted sightseers on Western Avenue.

“Look at that, would you?” Simon pointed to a limousine stretched across his condo's
garage entrance. “Never fails.”

“No problem.” Ahead a car pulled away from the curb and she slid into the spot he'd
vacated. “I'll move the car later.”

On the way up in the elevator, she returned to their conversation about Marchmont. “Did
Francine tell them what she told me?”

He laughed a harsh laugh that didn't hold a shred of humor. “Yeah, and then some.
Francine had a friend with her when she witnessed Elise Dorset's death. A patient by the
name of Mona Sanders.”

“Mona Sanders! Oh, my Lord, Francine did say, ‘
Mona
and me climbed into the
ventilator tube and watched it all.' Her story about Elise shocked me so, the name
didn't register.”

Simon ran his hand over his face. “Seems Mona was very resourceful. She knew Marchmont
would have to cover-up Elise's death, so she stole her I.D. and rifled her personnel
file. Then she seduced an orderly named Roger Norman, and talked him into helping her
escape.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “This sounds like a damned soap opera.” He inhaled
and went on. “She threatened Wade Marchmont. Told him she'd expose his shady
activities.”

“Did he toss her in that cage Francine was so scared of?”

He shook his head. “Mona convinced him she'd gotten a letter out to a friend. And if she
didn't show up at a certain time, the letter would go to the Attorney General's office.”
Simon blew out his breath. “So he brought her the money she demanded.”

Amy shuddered. “Then he probably sent his goons after her like he did us.”

“She outsmarted him. She and the orderly tied him up and took him with them. Later, they
dumped him alongside the road and kept his car.” He massaged his temples. “I can't
believe I lived with a woman like that.”

Amy's mouth twisted. “It can happen to anybody. You should've known my ex-husband.”

He winced as if her remark had struck a raw nerve. “Doesn't compare, Amy. Mona landed in
Marchmont because she stabbed a guy six times with a pair of scissors. She pleaded
insanity.”

“Dear Lord.” Amy sagged against the elevator wall. “Oren was lucky someone killed Elise—I
mean Mona.” She stopped and put her hand over her mouth. “What a terrible thing to say.”

The elevator stopped on the sixth floor and they got out. “Unfortunately, it's true ...
and both he and I know it.” He unlocked the door and swung it wide.

She gaped at the marked change his decorators had created. The night they'd brought the
doctor's trash bags here, the room had been stripped clean. Now, a Navaho rug softened a
stark white wall. The furniture and carpet picked up the rug's colors of muted rose,
terra cotta, burnt almond, and turquoise.

She felt him watching her. “You like it?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. Very much.” She set down the overnight bag she carried and circled the room.
She touched a bronze figurine, studied a picture and tried a chair. “Nice, real nice.”

Now they were alone, really alone, she began to doubt Cam's judgment. Simon would surely
guess she had an ulterior motive for coming. She gripped the packette of medications
she'd picked up at the nurse's station and frantically searched for something more to
say. Her mind struck a total blank. She flushed and hurried into the kitchen.

Simon followed her. “You hungry? I have a freezer full of TV dinners.”