Compromising Positions Read Online Free PDF

Singer.”
    “Look, this is silly. Marilyn Tuccio wouldn’t be interested in a man like Dr. Fleckstein. It was a professional relationship. I went to see him a few years ago and all he was interested in was my gums. I’m sure it was the same with Marilyn.”
    “We’re just going through his patient file. Could I ask you a few more questions, now that I’m here?” I nodded. “During your visits, did you ever see Dr. Fleckstein in angry conversation with anyone?”
    “No,” I said apologetically. I wished I could help him.
    “Well, do you recall seeing him answering the telephone and becoming upset?”
    “No.”
    “Did he say anything significant to you?”
    “He told me to use unwaxed dental floss.”
    “I see,” Smith said. “Mrs. Singer, when we investigate a murder, we have to look at all aspects of the deceased’s life. Do you have any reason to believe that Dr. Fleckstein was keeping company with other women?” I must have looked startled, because he explained: “It’s just a routine question, but it’s important.”
    I stepped back a few inches and cleared my throat. “Well, I’ve heard some rumors about him.”
    “Would you mind going into detail, ma’am?”
    “I can’t. I just heard he was quite a ladies’ man.”
    “Ma’am, I want to assure you that this is a confidential investigation. We just want to get to the bottom of this.” He was wearing a navy peacoat, and a thin line of perspiration had appeared on his upper lip.
    “Would you like to take your coat off?”
    “No, thank you. Did you happen to hear who Dr. Fleckstein was having an affair with?”
    “I don’t like to spread rumors.”
    “We’ll check everything out very discreetly, ma’am. We don’t want anybody to get hurt.”
    “I heard he was carrying on with his nurse, Lorna Lewis. But it’s pure, unadulterated gossip and I have no way of knowing if it’s true.” Not a flicker of interest; his blond eyelashes didn’t even blink. “I see you’ve already heard that,” I observed.
    The perspiration moved up to his forehead. “I can’t really comment on that, Mrs. Singer.”
    “Okay. Anything else?”
    “To the best of your recollection, have you heard any other information about Dr. Fleckstein or his associates or family?”
    I pondered that for a minute, debating whether to mention Fleckstein’s Mafia link. But the police must have known, and it would be in Newsday the next morning. “No, I can’t think of anything. As I said, I saw him years ago, and only for one visit.”
    Smith thanked me. I went to open the door for him and noticed Joey, leaning against the wall, observing us both.
    “Do you want to be a policeman when you grow up?” Smith asked.
    “No,” Joey snapped back. “No way.”
    “Joey,” I said aghast. “What kind of way is that to talk?”
    “That’s all right, ma’am,” Smith said softly. “Goodbye,” he said to me. “Goodbye, son.” Joey turned his back and stomped up the stairs.
    Kate came in a few minutes later, her overalls covered with green paint, traces of it on her nose and cheeks. “I was painting today,” she explained.
    “I see that.”
    “It’s really a mess,” she observed cheerfully. “Where’s Joey?”
    “In his room, playing records.” She considered that for a moment, entwining a stubby, green-tipped finger in her smooth, dark braid. “Would you like a glass of milk?” I asked.
    “No. I’ll see if Joey wants some company. Thanks anyway.”
    I smiled as she pranced upstairs, hoping that they could spend the afternoon together in relative peace. Two minutes passed without any screams of protest, no sound of toys or bodies being hurled against the door. I walked into the living room and curled up on the couch, and tried to put things in order.
    The police would be interviewing hundreds of puffy-gummed people. A few of the women would say that Fleckstein propositioned them. A few of the men might say he liked the Jets or that he seemed fascinated