The Arms of Death Read online

  “That would be perfect.” Jim pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to her. She glanced down at it, her brow wrinkling slightly.

  “Hillcrest?”

  “Yes. I’ve just started working there, in the E.R.”

  She nodded, a speculative look creeping into her eye. “Dr. Mackenzie, I wonder if I could impose on you for something?”

  Jim sighed to himself, but kept his smile in place. It was an occupational hazard. Everyone wanted free medical advice in every setting, everywhere. A smart physician was prepared to be imposed on. “What may I do for you?”

  “It’s my son.” She was frowning now. Jim waited for her to continue.

  “He’s a brittle diabetic and he’s fifteen and it’s just me.” She hesitated.

  “Yes?”

  She flushed, clearly uncomfortable. “He has no male role model, you see, and I’ve heard some children, even younger than he is, engage in, well, adult behavior.”

  Jim waited, interested in spite of himself. He thought he could guess where this was going.

  She dropped her eyes, but continued on. “I wonder if there is someone you could recommend that would be willing to talk to him about insulin coverage and calorie expenditure under those circumstances?”

  Jim nodded. “I don’t know off the top of my head, but I will be glad to ask around and see who he should be introduced to. There must be someone who can address going through puberty as a Type One diabetic.”

  She looked up, her relief palpable. “That would be wonderful.”

  “How can I reach you?” Jim asked.

  She wrote her contact information on the back of the appointment book sheets. “I cannot thank you enough, Dr. Mackenzie. I’ve been so worried. One hears things.”

  Jim smiled at her. Maturation was hazardous enough without the complication of a metabolic disorder. “I’m happy to help. Just give me a few days. I’ll have to track down the right person.”

  “Of course. Was there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Not right now. I’ll let you get back to your housecleaning.”

  She made a face. “It’s a good thing Professor Craig was organized. Otherwise we would never be able to match these files to the clients.” She smiled at him. “I’ll send the staffing schedule as soon as I can locate it.”

  Jim made his way down to the garage, his mind turning over this new bit of information. Diabetics had access to lancets. A brittle diabetic’s mother would, too, and she worked in the genealogy library. Jim wondered if she had been on duty last Wednesday afternoon, and, if so, would her name be on the list she had promised to supply to him.

  * * *

  Chapter 17

  Tuesday

  Jim glanced at the clock. Three free hours. What could he do in that amount of time? He pulled into his parking space at the apartment and let himself in, threw his keys on the side table, and got out his phone. Ten minutes later, he had a promise from Chip Galloway to send a copy of the genealogy sign-in sheet.

  “I have another question I was wondering if I can get your help on.” Jim said.

  “Yes, sir. What can we do for you?”

  “You’re running the DNA profiles, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “Can you send me the analyses when you’re finished or is it classified?”

  Chip’s voice shrugged. “Not classified, just not part of what we routinely release to the locals. What are you looking for?”

  “I’m wondering if I’ve seen this bug before. There’s something niggling in the back of my brain, as if I should recognize it, but I can’t pin it down. Anything you can give me might help.”

  “Sure. I don’t see a problem with that, but it’s going to be the end of the week. I’ll e-mail them to you when I get them.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jim hung up the phone and turned to his computer. He inserted the flash drive Ginny had given him and scrolled through the files. He pulled the Suspects file into his spreadsheet program and considered how to use what he had learned.

  The column headings were clear enough; means, motive, and opportunity, and she’d devoted the rows to her unidentified suspects, but the design wouldn’t work. He already had more than one suspect for Professor Craig’s murder. It was likely there were other candidates for the first two deaths as well. So he needed a table for each victim. He made the change, copying the data onto new sheets.

  That was better. Setting the two earlier victims aside, he could now focus on Professor Craig.

  Being a physician and a diagnostician, Jim tended to think in terms of causation. He reviewed Ginny’s list of motives for murder, added qui bono (who benefits?) and set about filling in the chart.

  Jim typed Elaine Larson into the first row. Under Means he typed “access to lancet pen through diabetic son” and under Opportunity he typed “in the genealogy section of the library at the time of the attack? (check this)”. Under Motive he typed “got Professor Craig’s job as a result of his death”. Hmm. All three columns filled, but there was the problem of the virus. Did she have access to that, as well? And was a job promotion a good enough motive for murder? Jim made a further modification to the table, inserting a second Means column and subtitling it Virus and renaming the first Lancet.

  So far, so good. Who else? The man with a grudge was a possibility. Jim tried to remember what he’d heard about the process server and the angry client. Had he even heard the man’s name? Did it matter? He typed Angry Client in the second row and put “felt cheated” under Motive. He’d had opportunity, too, since they were faced off in the library during the possible time of the attack. On the other hand, would Professor Craig have turned his back on a man who was loudly threatening him? Jim typed in “present but unlikely he could have gotten close enough” under Opportunity. What about means? Did the client have access to either a lancet or the virus? He’d have to see if he could find out. Jim added another column and labeled it “To Do.”

  Next. The heir. Always a staple of the WhoDunIts list of murder suspects. He typed Mark Craig into the third row. Means? No idea. Motive? The inheritance, of course, or possibly a life insurance policy. Something to look into. Opportunity? Okay, that was a stumbling block. He was in Tennessee when Professor Craig was admitted to the ICU. He and his wife had flown to Dallas after the hospital called them. Jim had spoken to Mark at the fundraiser and heard that much from his own lips. So where was he when the attack happened? Presumably Tennessee.

  Jim sighed. Not a very impressive list. He’d need to run it past Ginny to see if she could fill in any more of the blanks. He glanced at the clock. An hour and a half left.

  Ginny. Jim leaned back in the chair, his eyes no longer seeing the computer screen. He hadn’t forgotten she was Hal’s girlfriend had he? There was something he hadn’t confessed to his grandfather. He didn’t believe in love at first sight. That was nonsense, romance novel stuff. Good relationships were built over time and he’d known her fewer than five days.

  Jim shifted uneasily. What, exactly, had they said in medical school about attraction? Chemically mediated, brain-based, pheromones. What else? He hadn’t been paying attention. He’d had a girlfriend at the time. Missed her, too. Was that all this was? Something like hunger, a need that could be filled by food, generic, no specific meal required? Maybe he should look around at the hospital tonight. There might be other offerings on the menu.

  Jim snorted, then exited the computer program and retrieved the flash drive. He hadn’t touched her, if you didn’t count the first aid at the park, and pulling her up off the floor at the library, and giving her a hand in and out of doors and cars and the like. Basic courtesy. No one could misread that.

  So why Hal’s reaction today? Jim’s eyes narrowed as he recalled the expression on Hal William’s face. Hostile, yes. Protective, of course. But there had been something else. Jim’s brow wrinkled as he tried to recall what Hal had said. No. It wasn’t what he’d said. It was the look in his eye, as if he�
��d seen something that scared him. Worried? No, scared, and that was interesting.

  If he saw Jim as a rival, the normal male response would be attack. Human history was full of what one of his female colleagues called “testosterone poisoning.” Hal was handsome, in a slick sort of way, tall, well built, and rich. He was also in possession. If he was scared of competition, that argued there was a reason to be.

  Jim frowned. Scared people could be dangerous. He would need to tread carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was put Ginny in a position in which Hal might do something everyone would regret.

  * * *

  Ginny worked full time nights, which meant she worked two in a row, then was off for either two or three days, depending on where her weekends fell in the schedule, unless she had to cover another nurse’s shift, of course, or they were short staffed for some reason, or it was one of her mandatory holiday shifts. The good news was that the ICU nurses were all capable of stepping into each other’s shoes. The bad news was that this made them fungible goods, interchangeable. No nurse had to worry about being the only one who could do the job, but neither could they count on job security. Not that she was worried. After all, the Homestead owned Hillcrest.

  On this particular late afternoon, she sat at her kitchen table and lifted her first cup of coffee to her lips, breathing in the aroma and savoring the rich creaminess of the liquid. She was not a coffee snob. There would be no point. The caffeine-infused fluids night nurses drank grew less and less like coffee as the night wore on. But the first one, the one she made at home, just the way she liked it, that was a pleasure. The phone interrupted her reverie.

  “Ginny? It’s Hal.”

  Ginny smiled into the phone. “Hello.”

  He got straight to the point. “There’s something missing from the file you picked up for me on Sunday, the proofs Professor Craig said he’d found. So I went to his office.”

  He sounded upset and Ginny’s face wrinkled in sympathy. “Oh, dear. Were you able to find them?”

  “No, and we took that office apart. They just aren’t there.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. I was hoping you could tell me how to reach Professor Craig’s nephew. I want to describe the documents and see if he’s seen them.”

  “Sure, but wouldn’t it be better if you went yourself? I got the impression those two know nothing about genealogy.”

  He sighed down the line. “I can’t take any more time off work this week. I was away all morning and the boss was none too happy with me.”

  “When are you going to buy that company and fire him?”

  “Next year, but I won’t fire him. He’s too good at what he does.”

  Ginny nodded. Business was business, after all. “I have a counter-proposal. Let me go ask them.”

  “You?”

  Ginny could hear the doubt in his voice. “I’m pretty sure I would recognize any primary source documents I came across. That is what we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Professor Craig told me there were two of them. A medical doctor’s day book and a letter from one sister to another, Rev War era.”

  “I’ll brush up on my fair-hand skills.”

  There was a barely perceptible pause. “I don’t need them translated. Just found. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. I’m glad to help. Is there anything else I should be looking for?”

  “He said he was writing an article, so there might be a computer file, or even a hard copy somewhere. I’d be interested in that, too. Anything with my name on it, I suppose.”

  Ginny nodded. “Okay. It will have to be Thursday. I’ll call and make an appointment.”

  “That would be great and the address is?”

  “Hang on a minute.” Ginny pulled out her contacts list and scrolled to the genealogy section. “Here it is.” She read the information to him.

  “Got it. You’re a brick! Maybe we can get together Thursday night?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “How about we eat-in that night? I’ll have Mrs. Mason make pilaf.”

  “I would love that! What time?”

  “Seven-ish. I’ll have to check with her.”

  “Good. Something to look forward to.”

  “Other than my company, you mean.”

  “Yes. That is exactly what I mean.” Ginny grinned into the phone.

  “So what’s this I hear about you and Jim working together?”

  The sudden change of topic caught Ginny off guard. “Working together? You mean at the hospital?”

  “No. Investigating Professor Craig’s death.”

  “Oh. Well, yes, I guess we are. Where did you hear that?”

  “From Jim.” Hal outlined the encounter at the genealogy library. “Just how much time have the two of you been spending together?”

  Ginny took a careful breath. There were a lot of ways she could handle the question and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen it coming. She could try to make Hal jealous, but it would be misrepresenting the actual relationship with Jim. She could deny and minimize, which would be only partially true and susceptible to disproof if challenged. Or she could tell the truth.

  “I’ve met with him twice to compare notes about this mystery virus. Once in the medical school library and once here.”

  “Well.” She could hear the disapproval in his voice. “I’m not sure I think having him over to your house is called for.”

  “I was just being polite. He’s new in town.” Ginny could hear the suppressed snort on the other end of the line.

  “Normally, I approve of your social instincts, but in this case I’d rather you confined your meetings to public places.” Hal’s voice was grudging, but accepting.

  Ginny’s lips twitched. “I have no problem with that.”

  “I mean it, Ginny. Don’t make me drag out the dueling pistols!”

  She laughed. “I won’t. I promise.”

  “All right.” His voice smiled down the wire. “See you Thursday.”

  * * *

  Ginny ignored both the murmur of voices at the desk and the soft footsteps in the hall, concentrating on her work. She was in maintenance mode, between the more aggressive routines of settling down for the night and getting ready to face the day; the time when they tried to let the patients sleep. She was listening for breath and heart sounds, making notes, collecting vital signs, and planning what task to tackle next when her eye fell on the man leaning against the doorframe. She smiled at him.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “Looking for you,” he whispered back.

  “Give me a minute.” She finished her two a.m. tasks, charted, and stepped out into the hall.

  “What about the other one?” he asked. The ICU patient-to-nurse ratio was usually two to one.

  “She’s fine. I did her first.”

  “Can you take a break?”

  “Yes.” Ginny walked over to the desk. “Lisa, can you cover for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll be in the break room.”

  Lisa glanced from Ginny to Jim Mackenzie, hovering in the background, and raised a speculative eyebrow. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  The break room was just what it sounded like; a room with a table and chairs, refrigerator and microwave, coffee and ice machines, and a door that could be used to shut out the rest of the world, at least temporarily. Ginny got herself a cup of only moderately poisonous coffee and sat down in one of the chairs. Jim pulled a small computer out of his pocket and settled down beside her.

  “I wanted to show you this.” He pulled up the Suspects list, pointing out his revisions and additions.

  “Nice, but you’ve forgotten someone. Mrs. Campbell.” Ginny added Fiona Campbell on the next line and scrolled over to the Motive column. “Public humiliation at the conference opening on Sunday. He called her a fool in front of everyone. Her motive is revenge
.”

  Jim laughed. “I remember her from the party. I didn’t like her.”

  “Neither did Professor Craig.”

  “Did she have access to the virus?”

  “Not a clue. Was she in the library that afternoon?”

  “I’m still working on that.”

  “So tell me.” Ginny leaned back in her chair, sipping the coffee.

  Jim obligingly went through his progress for her.

  Ginny nodded. “Sounds like you had a good day.”

  “Except that I didn’t make it to the Craigs.”

  “I’ll do that on Thursday.” Ginny explained her promise to Hal. “Oh! And I’ve remembered something else.” She sat up straighter, her eyes alight.

  “What?”

  “There was a shadowy figure at Professor Craig’s bedside around four a.m. that first night. I just caught a glimpse of him. Someone in a lab coat. Gone before I could ask him his business.”

  Jim chuckled. “That was me.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, I came up to check on him.”

  “Darn! And here I was hoping for a sinister stranger to add to our list.”

  “Sorry about that.” He looked over at her. “So where do we go from here?”

  Ginny looked at him, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Hal tells me I’m not allowed to play with you anymore.”

  Jim put his computer away, then turned to face her. “Does he have that kind of authority?”

  “No, but he does have a pair of dueling pistols.”

  Jim burst out laughing. “That sounds just like him.”

  “It’s true,” Ginny insisted, still smiling. “I’ve seen them. And I’d rather neither of you shot the other.”

  Jim leaned toward her, still laughing. “So, how are you going to resolve this problem?”

  “Steal the pistols?”

  “He’d just pull one of those swords off the wall and use that.”

  Ginny nodded. “I suppose the real question is whether you constitute a threat to what he sees as his property.”

  Jim raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re very cool about being considered property.”

  Ginny smiled. “I know a little bit about men.” She tossed her empty coffee cup into the trash, scoring an imaginary two points, then turned back to face Jim, still teasing. “So, do you intend to challenge him?”