The Diagnosis is Murder (A Dr. Valorian Mystery Book 1) Read online

  Kathy’s eyes widened. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  Laura had to improvise, or she might miss out on any chance for useful information. “Well, this is a little embarrassing for me. But, you see, Mrs. Preswick told me, after she was notified of his death, that she thought he might’ve been having an affair with another woman, possibly someone from the hospital. She was just saying what was on her mind, you know, like grieving people do when they need to talk to someone. I thought I might find out, so I could reassure her that he’d actually been faithful to her.”

  Kathy studied Laura for a few seconds and then nodded.

  Laura let out an imperceptible sigh. She sensed that Kathy was warming up to her.

  “There were rumors,” Kathy said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure he was having an affair with one of our hospital nurses. You don’t have to tell Mrs. Preswick, do you?”

  “Of course not. But I’d like to tell that nurse that Mrs. Preswick suspected an affair. That way, if the proper people are alerted, maybe we can avoid any problems in the future.” Laura squeezed the padded armrest and gritted her teeth. Her reasoning was weak, but just maybe it would work.

  Kathy paused and considered Laura’s statement. Then she nodded again. “I believe it was Tina Landry. She hasn’t worked here for that long.”

  Laura suppressed a grin, but she couldn’t stop a rush of air from her mouth.

  Kathy stared at her. “Are you okay?”

  Laura covered her mouth and coughed. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just a little allergic cough I get sometimes. No worries.” She decided not to press her luck any further. “Thank you, Kathy. I’ll take care of it. I’m sorry to bother you at such a sad time.”

  “Oh, no problem. Glad to be of help.” She began to shuffle through her pile of papers again as Laura exited the office.

  Laura didn’t know Tina Landry, and she figured that the best setting for a difficult interview about a love affair would be outside the hospital, away from interruptions and eavesdroppers. If Tina had medical records on file, Laura could try to access them to get her demographic information. Patient records at this hospital were computerized, and staff physicians accessed medical files every day for various reasons, usually for patient care purposes.

  Laura walked downstairs to the ER, which was only moderately busy with patients, and the staff didn’t appear stressed. After the requisite hellos, she sat at a computer station and typed her user name and password. She navigated to the proper section and entered Tina Landry’s name.

  “Checking up on some patients, Doc?” Peggy, an ER nurse, had stopped behind her chair.

  Laura told another little white lie. She didn’t want anyone at the hospital to find out about her sleuthing just yet. “I treated this patient in the past, and I want to verify what medication I prescribed for her.” Laura figured the chances were good that Tina had required evaluation and treatment from a hospital physician or at least a physical examination for employment.

  Someone called out, “Peggy, one of your patients is pressing her call button.” Peggy hurried away.

  A chart on Tina Landry popped up on the computer screen. Several months back, she’d been evaluated in the ER for a cough and fever. Laura pulled up the registration data page and copied down Tina’s address and phone number.

  Outside, the rain clouds had scattered. It was early afternoon on a gorgeous spring day. Laura stepped into her car and slapped her knee, congratulating herself on the productive encounter with Kathy. She drove away from the hospital to a nearby coffee shop. Lunch was chicken noodle soup and a tuna fish sandwich.

  As Laura returned to her car, a large blue jay flew right over her head to a tree branch, and, several trees away, she spotted a bright red cardinal searching for a meal from its high perch. After selecting a flower arrangement at a nearby florist shop, she drove on the Capital Beltway around to the Leesburg Pike, which led her northwest into the thickening trees of suburban Virginia, to an area not far from the Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts. Laura’s area map led her through several turns off the Pike to the Preswick house in the lush green countryside.

  Her stomach churned. Talking to grieving family members was awkward by anyone’s measure. Laura had to do it often enough in the emergency room, but this was different.

  She wondered if Nancy Preswick would talk to her at all. Should I even be doing this, especially now? After a few more minutes of stomach churning, she decided to forge ahead. There will be no good time for what I have to do.

  Other cars, presumably belonging to relatives, were parked in the long, circular driveway. Laura slowed to a stop at the side of the street in front of the house. Established surgeons made a good living, and Roderick Preswick had lived well indeed, if this house was any indication. As Laura walked away from her car, she passed by rose bushes, huge spreading live oak trees, and an immaculate lawn.

  Her mind raced as she rang the doorbell. What am I going to say? She’d reviewed potential scenarios in the restaurant at lunch but couldn’t decide on anything specific.

  A plump, middle-aged woman, apparently a housekeeper employed by the Preswicks, opened the door. “Yes?”

  “I’m Dr. Valorian. I worked at the hospital with Dr. Preswick. I just wanted to give my condolences to Mrs. Preswick.”

  “How nice of you to come. I’ll tell Mrs. Preswick you’re here.” She guided Laura to a sitting room at the front of the house. “We can put the flowers in here.” She placed the vase on an ornate mahogany table in the center of the room and walked away.

  Laura admired the red print couch and lighter red flower-patterned chairs. I’ll bet they’re expensive antiques. Several paintings of beautiful landscapes with rolling hills hung on the walls. One painting was abstract art and was signed by Picasso. Laura didn’t know enough about art to know if it was an original. She thought it seemed out of place.

  “Hello.” Nancy Preswick walked into the sitting room and hugged Laura. She clutched a handkerchief, and her eyes were red.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Preswick. I know this is a difficult time for you.”

  “Thank you for coming.” They sat down on the couch next to one another. Nancy Preswick was the gracious host, even in mourning. Her jet-black hair maintained its gentle curl. “The medical examiner said my husband must’ve suffered some kind of rhythm problem in his heart. At least he went quickly, without suffering, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m certain he didn’t feel any pain.” Laura patted her shoulder.

  “He always pushed himself too hard. And he smoked too much.”

  “Mrs. Preswick, I don’t know if this is a good time or not, but, well, there probably never will be a good time—”

  “Good time for what?”

  “I have some rather awkward questions.”

  “Awkward questions?” Mrs. Preswick straightened her back, and her eyes widened at Laura.

  “I’m concerned that your husband might not have died a natural death.”

  “What?” Mrs. Preswick jerked forward to the edge of the couch.

  Laura put her hands up, palms forward. “I’m just reacting to something I saw when he was in the ER—something that wasn’t quite right.”

  “What did you see?”

  “A physical sign that could indicate something other than a natural death.”

  “Wouldn’t the medical examiner have called the police if he’d suspected something unnatural?”

  “Yes, if he’d found any solid evidence of that. My ER finding is only a hint. You need convincing or suspicious evidence before the police will be interested in investigating foul play. The medical examiner doesn’t suspect foul play.”

  “Foul play? Foul play?” She spat out the words. “Why are you even considering that?”

  “It’s only a hunch, but I have to make sure.”

  Mrs. Preswick stood up from the couch and held her hands to her temples. “This is all so confusing.”

  Laura was quie
t for several minutes. Mrs. Preswick walked around the room with her arms folded and a frown on her face. She sat down on the edge of a chair facing Laura.

  “Well, he’s dead. Why are you doing this?” She sobbed into her handkerchief.

  “Mrs. Preswick, if he was killed, poisoned—if there’s even a remote possibility of it—don’t you want to find out for sure?”

  “Yes, of course. Oh, it seems so preposterous.”

  As Laura watched the grieving widow, she began to have misgivings about her theory. The room, the walls, seemed to close in on her. Maybe I should just leave. Laura ran her fingers through her hair, took a deep breath, and decided to wait. Silence could sometimes bring people out.

  Laura was about to stand and leave when Mrs. Preswick dried her eyes and spoke. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just answer a few difficult questions,” Laura said.

  “Okay, I’ll try.”

  Laura gulped. “Did you ever suspect your husband of having an affair?” Laura caught the initial reaction: the sharp intake of breath, the quickly downcast eyes. Laura knew the answer.

  Mrs. Preswick didn’t respond for several minutes. She just stared at the floor. Laura wondered if she was about to be ejected from the house. “Yes,” she whispered, still gazing at the floor.

  “Do you know who it was?”

  “No.” Mrs. Preswick’s face was hard, the muscles taut, the corners of her mouth drawn into an angry frown. Her eyes glinted. Then, in a second, her eyes and face softened and resumed the grieving widow’s appearance. “No, I never knew who the woman was, and she wasn’t the only one over the years. Roderick was an unsettled man, but I loved him, and he loved me.” She looked up at Laura. “He always came back to me.”

  “Was he complaining about anyone or anything recently?”

  Mrs. Preswick paused and considered the question. “My husband only rarely discussed his job with me. He didn’t believe in bringing his work home.” She scooted to the edge of the chair. “But there was a recent case that troubled him. One evening, he stayed up late reading a pile of legal documents. When I asked what he was doing, he said that he’d agreed to testify in a lawsuit—a malpractice case—as an expert witness.”

  “That’s not unusual. It seems that doctors are getting sued more and more these days.”

  “I know it’s not unusual. Lawyers called him up frequently to review cases. But it was almost always for the defense of doctors.”

  “So, he was testifying for the plaintiff in this case?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s not too unusual, either. What exactly was troubling him?”

  “He kept shaking his head. He said the doctor screwed up. And then he said, ‘I don’t even like the son of a bitch.’ And I said, ‘You’re going against a doctor this time?’ He said, ‘Yes, and I’m going to hang him up by his balls.’ ” She put her hand over her mouth. “He talked that way sometimes, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. So, he knew the doctor he was testifying against? That’s interesting. Do you know the doctor’s name, the defendant?”

  “Let me think. One day, I looked at the documents, just out of curiosity. It started with a K, Kl . . . Kline. The doctor’s name was Kline, I think.”

  “Matthew Kline?” Laura lurched forward and almost fell off the couch.

  Mrs. Preswick’s eyes widened as she sat back in her chair. “Well, yes, I believe that is his name. Do you know him?”

  “Yes.” Laura put her hand over her stomach. “Did Dr. Preswick testify in court?”

  “Yes, just last week.”

  Laura’s heart was pounding. Roderick Preswick had just testified against a medical school friend of hers. It was uncommon for a doctor to give evidence against another physician from the same area. In general, for a medical malpractice case to go to trial, the defense and plaintiff attorneys had to retain expert witnesses from the same specialty as the defendant doctor. Physicians in the same specialty from the same locality usually knew each other. They often served on state or county medical committees together, attended the same continuing medical education conferences, and even discussed interesting patient problems among themselves. Testifying against a fellow specialist from the same area virtually guaranteed local ill will, which could lead to fewer patient referrals, a loss of respect, and even a blackballing of sorts.

  Laura could understand that Roderick Preswick—the consummate egomaniac—would’ve done such a thing. He’d considered himself to be the final authority on everything surgical. He wouldn’t have expected anyone to question his judgment.

  Laura shook her head. I have to talk with Matthew. She stood. “Mrs. Preswick, thank you very much. I know my visit has been stressful for you.”

  Mrs. Preswick held up her hand. “If you’re right, and someone killed him, I’d sure like to know who it was.”

  “We’d all like to know.” Laura caught a guarded expression in the new widow’s eyes.

  Mrs. Preswick didn’t accompany Laura to the door.

  It was late afternoon, and Laura sat for a few minutes in her car until she found Tina Landry’s street on her map. Rush hour traffic was building. Laura headed back southeast down Old Dominion Drive to get to Tina’s apartment in Arlington. She figured that Tina would likely be home if she wasn’t at work, since residents of the D.C. area, if they had a choice, generally preferred to be inside somewhere, or at least off the roads, during times of heavy traffic. She also decided to show up without an appointment. At least, in TV detective shows, sometimes the element of surprise gave an advantage.

  Tina lived in a sprawling two-story apartment complex not far from Interstate 66. Laura parked near the building at the front and walked up a sidewalk to study the signs showing apartment numbers. Tina lived several buildings back from the main street. Laura was able to approach the apartment from a small inner courtyard, which was empty except for a few gaunt bushes scattered about and two green park benches with peeling paint. She climbed the stairs to the second level, found the number she wanted, and knocked on the door.

  Laura felt jittery as she waited for the door to open. I’m out of my element here, but I’ve got to do this. She heard the deadbolt retract, and the door cracked open. “Ms. Landry, I’m Dr. Laura Valorian, from the hospital emergency room. I’m sorry to bother you, but I wonder if I could talk with you for a few minutes?”

  Tina Landry closed the door, unhooked the safety chain, and then admitted Laura into the small apartment.

  Laura hesitated before walking in. Tina was the young woman she had seen at the funeral with the angry expression.

  Tina smiled. “What a nice surprise. Of course, I know who you are. Have a seat.” She put her hands to her temples. “I’m sorry the apartment is such a mess. I wasn’t expecting anyone. You want a soda, or something else?”

  Laura sat on a couch, which was covered with a furry, orange fabric with a tiger skin pattern. “No thank you, I’m fine. And your apartment looks lovely.”

  The apartment reminded Laura of her own place back in medical school. Framed photographs of a spotless beach in Bermuda and a ski slope in Colorado hung on Tina’s walls. A television set faced the couch, and an iPod device with earphones sat on an end table.

  Tina wore shorts and an oversized T-shirt with a spouting whale pictured on the front. She was an attractive brunette with long eyelashes and a full figure. Laura recalled from Tina’s medical record that she was 25 years old. She noticed a small purplish discoloration just beneath one side of Tina’s lower lip and running parallel to it.

  “What do you want to talk to me about?” Tina sat down in a chair near the sofa. “Am I in trouble?”

  “No, no, you’re not in trouble. I want to talk with you about Roderick Preswick.”

  Tina hesitated. “Well, naturally, I was sorry to hear he—”

  “I tried to resuscitate him in the emergency room. The reason I’m here is that I’m not satisfied about the reason for his death.”

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p; Tina frowned. “The reason? I heard he had a heart attack or something.”

  “I think he might’ve been murdered, poisoned.”

  “What?” Tina’s jaw dropped. “Murdered?”

  “Please understand, I’m not certain about that. I just want to be sure about the cause of his death. Did he ever indicate to you that he was afraid of anyone?”

  Tina stared at Laura.

  “Ms. Landry, your affair with Dr. Preswick was suspected.” She noted the widening of Tina’s eyes and the sharp intake of air and added, “Don’t worry, that’s not what I’m interested in.” Another little white lie.

  Tina looked down. “Who knows about it? Does Mrs. Preswick know?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.”

  “Then how did you find out? Did Roderick tell you?”

  “No, he didn’t tell me. Who told me isn’t important now. Dr. Preswick is gone.”

  Laura thought that Tina was about to cry. Her eyes were closed and her arms were folded across her chest. Her mouth quivered. “I wasn’t close to him for very long, a little more than three months. Then he was gone.” She looked at Laura. “We loved each other.”

  “Yes, I can see that. And—you’re right—he may’ve died from a heart attack, and I could be on a wild goose chase, but I just want to verify the cause of death.” She repeated her last question. “Was he afraid of or worried about anyone in particular?”

  Tina considered the question and then nodded. “He did mention several times about a crazy guy who’d written him some threatening letters.”

  Laura leaned forward. “What was that all about?”

  “Something about a woman he’d operated on before, and she died. I think her husband was angry with Roderick. Especially after he sued Roderick and lost.”

  “What was the man threatening to do?”

  “I don’t know. Roderick wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Did he ever mention the man’s name?”

  “No, but I think he said that the guy was a lab tech at another hospital in D.C.”

  “Do you know how or why the woman died?”