manner.
"This is Dr. Newton."
"It's Detective Wesley, Dr.Newton. I spoke with you the other day."
The reminder was unnecessary. She remembered him as a physically fit and imposing black man.
Receding hairline. Stern visage. All business. "Yes?"
"I got your number from the hospital. I hope you don't mind me calling you at home."
She did. Very much. "What can I do for you, Detective?"
"I'd like to meet with you tomorrow. Say ten o'clock?"
"Meet with me?"
"To talk about Dr. Howell's murder."
"I don't know anything about his murder. I told you that ... was it the day before yesterday?"
"You didn't tell me that you and he were vying for the same position at the hospital. You left that out."
Her heart bumped against her ribs. "It wasn't relevant."
"Ten o'clock, Dr. Newton. Homicide's on the third floor. Ask anybody. You'll find me."
"I'm sorry, but I've scheduled the operating room for three surgeries tomorrow morning.
To reschedule would inconvenience other surgeons and hospital personnel, to say nothing of my patients and their families."
"Then when would be a convenient time?" He asked this in a tone that suggested he wasn't really interested in going out of his way to accommodate her.
"Two or three o'clock tomorrow afternoon."
"Two o'clock. See you then."
He disconnected before Rennie could. She returned the telephone to the end table. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths through her nose, exhaling through her mouth.
Lee Howell's appointment to chief of surgery had been a major blow. Since the retirement of the predecessor, she and Lee had been the leading contenders for the position. After months of extensive interviews and performance assessments, the hospital board of directors had finally announced their decision last week-while she had been conveniently away, a move she had thought ultra-cowardly.
However, when word of Lee's appointment reached her, she was glad she was away. The hospital grapevine would be circulating the news with the speed of fiber optics. By the time she had returned to work, the buzz had died down and she wasn't subjected to well-meaning but unwelcome commiserations.
But she hadn't escaped them entirely. A comprehensive write-up about his appointment had appeared in the Star-Telegram. The article had extolled Dr. Lee Howell's surgical skills, his dedication to healing, his distinguished record, and his contributions to the hospital and the community at large. As a consequence of the glowing article, Rennie had been on the receiving end of many sympathetic glances, which she had deplored and tried to ignore.
Basically, being chief of any department involved reams of additional paperwork, constant crises with personnel, and haggles with hospital board members for a larger share of the budget.
Nevertheless, it was a coveted title and she had coveted it.
Then three days after the newspaper profile, Lee had made headlines again by being slain in the hospital parking lot. Looking at it from Detective Wesley's standpoint, the timing would be uncanny and worthy of further investigation. His job was to explore every avenue. Naturally, one of the first people he would suspect would be Lee's competitor. The meeting tomorrow amounted to nothing more than a vigilant follow-up by a thorough detective.
She wouldn't worry about it. She simply wouldn't. She had nothing to contribute to Wesley's investigation. She would answer his questions truthfully and to the best of her knowledge and that would be the end of it. There was no cause to worry.
The roses, on the other hand, were worrisome.
She stared at them as though intimidation might cause them to surrender the sender's identity. She stared at them so long that her vision doubled, then quadrupled, before she suddenly pulled it back into sharp focus--on the white envelope.
Tucked deeply into the foliage, it had escaped detection until now. Being careful of thorns, she reached into the arrangement and removed the card from the
"This is Dr. Newton."
"It's Detective Wesley, Dr.Newton. I spoke with you the other day."
The reminder was unnecessary. She remembered him as a physically fit and imposing black man.
Receding hairline. Stern visage. All business. "Yes?"
"I got your number from the hospital. I hope you don't mind me calling you at home."
She did. Very much. "What can I do for you, Detective?"
"I'd like to meet with you tomorrow. Say ten o'clock?"
"Meet with me?"
"To talk about Dr. Howell's murder."
"I don't know anything about his murder. I told you that ... was it the day before yesterday?"
"You didn't tell me that you and he were vying for the same position at the hospital. You left that out."
Her heart bumped against her ribs. "It wasn't relevant."
"Ten o'clock, Dr. Newton. Homicide's on the third floor. Ask anybody. You'll find me."
"I'm sorry, but I've scheduled the operating room for three surgeries tomorrow morning.
To reschedule would inconvenience other surgeons and hospital personnel, to say nothing of my patients and their families."
"Then when would be a convenient time?" He asked this in a tone that suggested he wasn't really interested in going out of his way to accommodate her.
"Two or three o'clock tomorrow afternoon."
"Two o'clock. See you then."
He disconnected before Rennie could. She returned the telephone to the end table. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths through her nose, exhaling through her mouth.
Lee Howell's appointment to chief of surgery had been a major blow. Since the retirement of the predecessor, she and Lee had been the leading contenders for the position. After months of extensive interviews and performance assessments, the hospital board of directors had finally announced their decision last week-while she had been conveniently away, a move she had thought ultra-cowardly.
However, when word of Lee's appointment reached her, she was glad she was away. The hospital grapevine would be circulating the news with the speed of fiber optics. By the time she had returned to work, the buzz had died down and she wasn't subjected to well-meaning but unwelcome commiserations.
But she hadn't escaped them entirely. A comprehensive write-up about his appointment had appeared in the Star-Telegram. The article had extolled Dr. Lee Howell's surgical skills, his dedication to healing, his distinguished record, and his contributions to the hospital and the community at large. As a consequence of the glowing article, Rennie had been on the receiving end of many sympathetic glances, which she had deplored and tried to ignore.
Basically, being chief of any department involved reams of additional paperwork, constant crises with personnel, and haggles with hospital board members for a larger share of the budget.
Nevertheless, it was a coveted title and she had coveted it.
Then three days after the newspaper profile, Lee had made headlines again by being slain in the hospital parking lot. Looking at it from Detective Wesley's standpoint, the timing would be uncanny and worthy of further investigation. His job was to explore every avenue. Naturally, one of the first people he would suspect would be Lee's competitor. The meeting tomorrow amounted to nothing more than a vigilant follow-up by a thorough detective.
She wouldn't worry about it. She simply wouldn't. She had nothing to contribute to Wesley's investigation. She would answer his questions truthfully and to the best of her knowledge and that would be the end of it. There was no cause to worry.
The roses, on the other hand, were worrisome.
She stared at them as though intimidation might cause them to surrender the sender's identity. She stared at them so long that her vision doubled, then quadrupled, before she suddenly pulled it back into sharp focus--on the white envelope.
Tucked deeply into the foliage, it had escaped detection until now. Being careful of thorns, she reached into the arrangement and removed the card from the
Similar Books
Blaze of Memory
Nalini Singh
Harness
Viola Grace
Gone and Done It
Maggie Toussaint
All He Desires: The Complete Series
Erin Lark
Cambodia Noir
Nick Seeley
No Use Dying Over Spilled Milk
Tamar Myers
My Number One: Kasha & Knox
Janice Ross
Do You Take This Enemy?
Sara Orwig
Why They Run the Way They Do
Susan Perabo
Man with a past
Jayne Ann Krentz