Read Online The Cradle Will Fall by Mary Higgins Clark - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Higgins Clark
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be concerned for the baby's life.
But the closer she came to delivery, the more it seemed to me that
she was morbidly fearful of giving birth."
"Did she show any specific depression?"
Dr. Highley shook his head. "I did not see it. But Dr. Fukhito
should answer that. He saw her on Monday night, and he's better
trained than I to recognize the symptoms."
"A last question," Katie said. "Your office is right next to Dr.
Fukhito's. Did you see Mrs. Lewis at any time Monday night?"
"I did not."
"Thank you. You've been very helpful." She slipped her notebook
back into her bag. "Now it's your turn to ask questions."
"You answered them last night. Now, when you've finished talking
with Dr. Fukhito, please go to room 101. You'll be given a trans
fusion. Wait about half, an hour before driving after you've received
it. Also..." He reached into the side drawer of his desk and
selected a bottle containing a number of pills. 'Take one of these
tonight. Then one every four hours tomorrow; the same on Friday.
I must stress that this is very important. If this operation does not
cure your problem, we must consider more radical surgery, perhaps
a hysterectomy."
"I'll take the pills," Katie said.
"Good. You'll be checking in around six o'clock Friday evening.
I'll look in on you." He opened the door for her. "Till Friday, then,
Mrs. DeMaio," he said softly.
THE investigative team of Phil Cunningham and Charley Nugent
returned to the prosecutor's office at four p.m. exuding the
excitement of hounds who have treed their quarry. Rushing into
Scott's office, they proceeded to lay their findings before him.
"The husband's a liar," Phil said crisply. "He wasn't due back till
yesterday morning, but his plane developed engine trouble. The
passengers were off-loaded in Chicago, and he and the crew
deadheaded back to New York. He got in Monday evening."
"Monday evening!" Scott exploded.
"Yeah. We talked to his crew on the Monday flight. Lewis gave
the purser a ride into Manhattan. Told him his wife was away
and he was going to stay in the city overnight and take in a show.
He parked the car and checked in at the Holiday Inn on West
Fifty-seventh Street; then he and the purser had dinner together.
The purser left him at seven twenty. After that, Lewis got his car.
The garage records show he brought it back at ten. And get this.
He took off again at midnight and came back at two."
Scott whistled. "He lied to us about his flight. He lied to the
purser about his wife. He was somewhere in his car between
eight and ten and between midnight and two a.m. And Vangie
Lewis died between eight and ten."
"There's more," Charley Nugent said. "Lewis has a girl friend, a
Pan Am stewardess. Name's Joan Moore. Lives on East Eighty-
seventh Street. Her doorman told us that Captain Lewis drove her
home from the airport yesterday morning. She left her bag with
him and they went for, coffee in the drugstore across the street."
"It's four o'clock," Scott said crisply. "The judges will be leaving
soon. Phil, get one of them on the phone and ask him to wait
around for fifteen minutes. Tell him we'll need a search warrant.
Charley, you find out what funeral director picked up Vangie
Lewis' body in Minneapolis. Get to him. The body is not to be
interred. Did Lewis say when he was coming back?"
Charley nodded. "Tomorrow, after the service."
"Find out what plane he's on and invite him here for questioning.
And I want to talk to Miss Moore. What do you know about her?"
"She shares an apartment with two other stewardesses. She's
planning to switch to Pan Am's Latin American division and fly
out of Miami. She's down there now, signing a lease on an apartment.
She'll be back Friday afternoon."
"Meet her plane too," Scott said. "Bring her here for a few
questions. Where was she Monday night?"
"In flight on her way
But the closer she came to delivery, the more it seemed to me that
she was morbidly fearful of giving birth."
"Did she show any specific depression?"
Dr. Highley shook his head. "I did not see it. But Dr. Fukhito
should answer that. He saw her on Monday night, and he's better
trained than I to recognize the symptoms."
"A last question," Katie said. "Your office is right next to Dr.
Fukhito's. Did you see Mrs. Lewis at any time Monday night?"
"I did not."
"Thank you. You've been very helpful." She slipped her notebook
back into her bag. "Now it's your turn to ask questions."
"You answered them last night. Now, when you've finished talking
with Dr. Fukhito, please go to room 101. You'll be given a trans
fusion. Wait about half, an hour before driving after you've received
it. Also..." He reached into the side drawer of his desk and
selected a bottle containing a number of pills. 'Take one of these
tonight. Then one every four hours tomorrow; the same on Friday.
I must stress that this is very important. If this operation does not
cure your problem, we must consider more radical surgery, perhaps
a hysterectomy."
"I'll take the pills," Katie said.
"Good. You'll be checking in around six o'clock Friday evening.
I'll look in on you." He opened the door for her. "Till Friday, then,
Mrs. DeMaio," he said softly.
THE investigative team of Phil Cunningham and Charley Nugent
returned to the prosecutor's office at four p.m. exuding the
excitement of hounds who have treed their quarry. Rushing into
Scott's office, they proceeded to lay their findings before him.
"The husband's a liar," Phil said crisply. "He wasn't due back till
yesterday morning, but his plane developed engine trouble. The
passengers were off-loaded in Chicago, and he and the crew
deadheaded back to New York. He got in Monday evening."
"Monday evening!" Scott exploded.
"Yeah. We talked to his crew on the Monday flight. Lewis gave
the purser a ride into Manhattan. Told him his wife was away
and he was going to stay in the city overnight and take in a show.
He parked the car and checked in at the Holiday Inn on West
Fifty-seventh Street; then he and the purser had dinner together.
The purser left him at seven twenty. After that, Lewis got his car.
The garage records show he brought it back at ten. And get this.
He took off again at midnight and came back at two."
Scott whistled. "He lied to us about his flight. He lied to the
purser about his wife. He was somewhere in his car between
eight and ten and between midnight and two a.m. And Vangie
Lewis died between eight and ten."
"There's more," Charley Nugent said. "Lewis has a girl friend, a
Pan Am stewardess. Name's Joan Moore. Lives on East Eighty-
seventh Street. Her doorman told us that Captain Lewis drove her
home from the airport yesterday morning. She left her bag with
him and they went for, coffee in the drugstore across the street."
"It's four o'clock," Scott said crisply. "The judges will be leaving
soon. Phil, get one of them on the phone and ask him to wait
around for fifteen minutes. Tell him we'll need a search warrant.
Charley, you find out what funeral director picked up Vangie
Lewis' body in Minneapolis. Get to him. The body is not to be
interred. Did Lewis say when he was coming back?"
Charley nodded. "Tomorrow, after the service."
"Find out what plane he's on and invite him here for questioning.
And I want to talk to Miss Moore. What do you know about her?"
"She shares an apartment with two other stewardesses. She's
planning to switch to Pan Am's Latin American division and fly
out of Miami. She's down there now, signing a lease on an apartment.
She'll be back Friday afternoon."
"Meet her plane too," Scott said. "Bring her here for a few
questions. Where was she Monday night?"
"In flight on her way
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