Marcus thought his head was going to explode. “We had a deal, damn it.”
“Maybe you and Franny did, but it seems like one of you queered the deal. Like I says, doin’ my job.” Jerry was squirmy, and it made Marcus uncomfortable. One never knew what a drug addict would do. And of all people, Marcus should know.
Trying to think quickly, Marcus suggested, “What if I get something better than cash?”
“What? Are you daft? Nothin’ is better than cash.”
“Ask Franny if he’ll take the dosh in diamonds.” Marcus knew he could pinch one of his wife’s diamond earrings without her ever knowing. Her collection would make Harry Winston blush.
“Eh, I dunno ’bout that, mate.” Jerry continued to shuffle his feet. He wiggled as if he had ants-in-pants syndrome.
Marcus tossed his cell phone to Jerry. “Buzz him. Text him. Do whatever. And make it snappy. I don’t want those nosy biddies out there wondering what’s taking you so long to deliver a coffee.”
“All right . . . all right. But I’m using my phone. I don’t want him freakin’ out from some odd phone number showing up on his mobile. Private, ye know.”
“For cripes’ sake. Get on with it, damn you.” Marcus felt as if there were steam coming out of his ears.
Jerry punched in a few numbers. “Yeah, it’s me. So I’m with the doc, and he wants to trade with diamonds.” Jerry pulled the phone away from his ear because of the yelling on the other end.
“’At’s what he said. Diamonds.” Jerry shrugged at Marcus and handed him the phone.
“What’s this? Diamonds?” The voice from the other end was cold but intrigued.
“Yes. I can get you the equivalent of what I owe you later this afternoon.” Marcus puffed up his chest, feeling a win coming on. A moment later, he handed the phone back to Jerry.
“Franny? Yeah? Well, all right.” Looking at Marcus, Jerry repeated what he had heard. “Five o’clock?”
Marcus nodded in agreement.
“Right you are.” He hit END and turned to Marcus. “I’ll be back at five.” Then he slouched out the door.
Marcus checked his watch again. Norma would be at her club for at least another hour. Depending on when the ladies started drinking, it could be much longer. Pressing the intercom button, he said softly but firmly to Gloria, “I’ll be back in an hour.”
“But, sir, you have two patients waiting.” She rolled her eyes at the nurse.
“Tell them I have an emergency. They can either wait or reschedule.” He grabbed his Stetson, raincoat, and umbrella and moved quickly out the back entrance.
Gloria looked over at the two women sitting in the sparse waiting area. “I’m terribly sorry, but Dr. Marcus had an emergency. He’ll be back in an hour, or you can reschedule.”
The women looked at each other. One got up and left; the other stayed to wait. Both were supposed to be new patients. Patients for the Live-Life-Long trials. Even if Marcus knew he was possibly walking away from another pool of money, his fix was of the utmost importance. There would always be another dupe in search of a miracle rejuvenation.
Chapter 10
Pinewood
Myra arranged for Edward to drive Charlotte to the spa. He was to phone Myra when Charlotte was finished and heading back to the farm. Myra gave Charlotte a big hug. “Enjoy your respite, my dear. We’ll have tea when you get back.”
“You are truly spoiling me.” Charlotte already had a glow about her.
As soon as the car passed through the iron gates that protected the property, Myra made a dash to Charlotte’s room to check her medication bottles. She pulled out a dozen Ziploc bags, a marker, and a pad of Post-it notes from her pocket. She wrote the names of the medications, the dosage, and the frequency for each and took one pill from each bottle. Nikki and Alexis’s law firm used a special lab when they needed to double-check toxicology reports for some of their criminal defense cases. The lab was very discreet and got paid well for its services.
Myra heard the dogs yapping as cars pulled into the driveway. Alexis, Nikki, and Maggie had arrived, followed by Yoko and Isabelle. Kathryn was scheduled to haul something or other to North Carolina and would catch up with them later.
Annie was in the kitchen, inspecting the lunch Charles had prepared: grilled salmon with wilted greens. Simple. Dinner would be a different story.
Hugs all around, lots of dog petting, and the women marched into the kitchen to fix their own plates. Sitting around the large wood-planked kitchen table, which overlooked the terrace, they spoke about some of the more interesting things happening in the world and their lives. Yoko was providing the plants for the landscaper working on the latest building complex Isabelle had designed; Isabelle was continuing to hone her hacking abilities, though she knew she would never be as good as Abner; Maggie was investigating the latest administration scandal while juggling the daily crush of political news; and Alexis and Nikki had just finished suing a fast-food chain for a pattern of discrimination against African Americans. With no big cases on their plate, it was a good time for them to catch up on paperwork. All in all, their lives were moving at an abnormally normal pace. But they knew all that was about to change.
After finishing up their lunch, the girls took their plates to the counter, scraped any leftovers into a bowl, and placed them in the dishwasher. They all had their own assignments, and the kitchen was spick and span in thirteen minutes.
They descended the dimly lit stone steps, entered the war room, and saluted Lady Justice.
Myra began the meeting. “As you know, Charlotte is visiting us for a stay of indeterminate length. Part of the reason, actually most of the reason, is that I received a very disturbing letter from her a little over a week ago. She had been feeling ‘foggy,’ as she put it, and lethargic, almost depressed. She was seeing a doctor in Aspen who runs a clinic called Live-Life-Long. A Dr. Harold Steinwood. Evidently, he and two other doctors run similar clinics, and when Charlotte told Steinwood she was going to London, he insisted she see one of his partners, Dr. Julian Marcus—”
“Live-Life-Long?” Maggie interrupted.
“Yes. You’ve heard of them?”
“About a year ago, a woman in Sagaponack, New York, who had been in their program, died of an overdose. Another woman outside Aspen went into convulsions and slipped into a coma, but no evidence connecting the treatment to the convulsions could be found. And as far as the overdose is concerned, they believe that the woman took it deliberately, that she committed suicide. Family said she had been despondent.”
“Was there a suicide note?” Alexis asked.
“Yes. A scrawled note that said, ‘I can’t do it anymore.’ They also found high levels of phenobarbital in her system. The odd thing was that she had no prescription for it, so they don’t know where it came from. I looked into it briefly but couldn’t come up with any evidence that would prove the clinic culpable,” Maggie explained.
“Well, that’s very interesting. And disconcerting. Nikki did a little research on the three doctors.” Myra nodded toward Nikki.
Nikki said, “They all attended Ross University in Barbados.”
Myra quickly shot a look at Annie, who was going to burst out laughing. She couldn’t get past “Joe’s School of Dentistry.”