For Every Evil Read Online Free PDF Page A

away.”
     
    “The paramedic who was here earlier said you were doing just fine,” said the sergeant, his tone a rough attempt at being comforting.
     
    “I’m a diabetic,” replied Ivy. “And I’m on several medications. I want my own doctor.” She said the words with great firmness. “Louie, you’ll find his home number and the number of his service on the wall next to the kitchen phone. Try his home first. And don’t take no for an answer. I mean that.” Her mouth set angrily.
     
    Louie understood her irritation. Doctors could be a pain in the ass. His wife, Sarah, had seven in periodic attendance. Not that they did anything particularly brilliant. They couldn’t even seem to make her comfortable. “I’ll do my best.”
     
    “Get him here!” she shot back.
     
    The sergeant looked up, startled by the vehemence in her voice.
     
    A bit more calmly, she added, “I need him.”
     
    “Of course. I’ll only be a minute.” Louie quickly ducked into the kitchen. On a whim as he passed the refrigerator, he peeked inside. Sure enough, there was the plate of cold chicken, several bites taken out of one of the drumsticks. At least Hale hadn’t been lying about that Even so, something about the entire evening had struck a faintly discordant note. He couldn’t put his finger on just what it was.
     
    Standing now in front of the phone, he found Max’s number right where Ivy said it would be. He’d met the good doctor a couple of times over the years, finding him a bit too athletic for his liking. Max had the complete gym body, and from what Louie could discern, the complete gym mind. The man should have been a sports doctor instead of a surgeon. Max Steinhardt was close to sixty, but looked ten years younger. Maybe, thought Louie, this animosity was simple jealousy: Louie looked and felt every day of his fifty-four years.
     
    After several rings, Max’s voice answered. “Steinhardt.”
     
    “Hello. This is Louie Sigerson.”
     
    “Who?”
     
    Louie took a deep breath. “I’m at the Micklenberg home. There’s been a … shooting. Ivy Micklenberg would like you to come over immediately. She’s unhurt, but very upset.”
     
    Silence.
     
    “Dr. Steinhardt?”
     
    “Yes. I’m here.”
     
    “She insists that you come. I think your presence would be calming. Right now she needs that badly.”
     
    “Are you sure she wanted you to call
me
?
     
    “Does she have another doctor?”
     
    “Many.”
     
    “Look, she specifically asked me to call you. And she said not to take no for an answer.”
     
    A pause. “I see. Is
anyone
hurt?”
     
    “No. The police are here right now.”
     
    Again, silence.
     
    “Can I tell her you’re coming?” Louie didn’t understand the reticence. Unless … Steinhardt was known for being a ladies’ man. Of course. He probably wasn’t alone.
     
    “Yes. All right, I’ll be over shortly. Tell Ivy not to take anything until I come. Hale has a medicine chest that would put a pharmacy’s to shame.
I’ll
prescribe a sedative, if I determine she needs one. Is that clear?”
     
    “Crystal.”
     
    “Keep her off her feet and warm. And tell her — Oh, forget it. I’ll tell her when I see her.”
     
    “Fine.” Louie put the receiver back in its cradle. What a wonderfully caring man. He returned to the living room. Ivy’s interrogation was still in progress.
     
    “Do you work outside the home?” asked the sergeant.
     
    “I’m a professor of art history at Morton College.”
     
    “How long have you been there?”
     
    “Fourteen years.”
     
    Louie could tell Ivy was tired of answering questions. She barely looked at the officer. Instead, her eyes were fixed on the shattered windowpanes.
     
    “Do you have any reason to suspect someone might want to harm you?”
     
    Ivy stopped and looked up as soon as she saw Louie resume his seat. “Is Max coming?”
     
    Louie nodded.
     
    She seemed to relax a bit. “Good. Now, what was the question?