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Authors: Mary Higgins Clark
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to New York."
"All right." He paused. "Something else. I want the phone records
from the Lewis house, particularly from the last week. See if
they had an answering service, since he's with an airline. And look
again for cyanide. We've got to find out fast where Vangie Lewis
got the stuff that killed her. Or where Captain Lewis got it."
DR. FUKHITO'S office was spacious and bright. There was a long
writing table, graceful cane-backed chairs with upholstered seats,
and a matching chaise. A series of exquisite Japanese woodcuts
decorated the walls.
Dr. Fukhito was conservatively dressed: pin-striped suit, light
blue shirt, blue silk tie. His jet-black hair and small, neat mustache
complemented pale gold skin and brown eyes. He was a strikingly
handsome man, Katie thought as she reached for her notebook.
"Doctor, you saw Vangie Lewis at about eight o'clock Monday
night. How long did she stay?"
"About forty minutes. She phoned Monday afternoon and
asked for an appointment. She sounded quite distressed. I told her
to come in at eight."
"Why was she so distressed, Doctor?"
He chose his words carefully. "She had quarreled with her
husband. She was convinced he did not love her or want the baby.
And, physically, the strain of the pregnancy was beginning to
tell on her. She was quite immature, really—an only child who had
been inordinately spoiled and fussed over. The physical discomfort
was appalling to her, and the prospect of the birth had become
frightening."
His eyes shifted away. This man was nervous, Katie thought.
What advice had he given Vangie that had sent her rushing home
to kill herself? Or had sent her to a killer?
Leaning forward, Katie said, "Doctor, I realize that Mrs. Lewis'
discussions with you are confidential, but we need to know all you
can tell us about the quarrel she had with her husband."
He looked at Katie. "Mrs. Lewis told me that she believed her
husband was in love with someone else. She'd accused him of
that. She'd warned him that when she found out who the woman
was, she'd make her life hell. She was angry, bitter and frightened."
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her that the baby might be the instrument to give her
marriage more time. She began to calm down. But then I felt it
necessary to warn her that if her marriage did not improve, she
should consider the possibility of divorce. She became furious.
She swore that she would never let her husband leave her, that
I was on his side, like everyone else. She got up, grabbed her coat
and left. She used my private entrance to go out the back way."
"And you never heard from her again?"
"No."
"I see." Katie got up and walked over to the wall with the
pictures. Dr. Fukhito was holding something back. "I was a
patient here myself Monday night, Doctor," she said. "I had a
minor automobile accident and was brought here around ten
o'clock. Can you tell me, is there any chance that Vangie Lewis
did not leave the hospital shortly after eight thirty? That after I
was brought in, semiconscious, I might have seen her?"
Dr. Fukhito stared at Katie. "I don't see how," he said. But
Katie noticed that his knuckles were clenched and white, and
something—was it fury or fear?—flashed in his eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AT FIVE o'clock Gertrude Fitzgerald turned the phone over to the
answering service and locked the reception desk. Nervously she
dialed Edna's number. Again there was no answer. There was no
doubt. Edna had been drinking more and more lately. She was
such a good person. They had both worked for Dr. Highley for
several years and often had lunch together. Sometimes Edna
would want to go to a pub for a manhattan. Gertrude understood
her need to drink, understood that hollow feeling when all you do
is go to work and then go home and stare at four walls.
Gertrude was a widow, but at least she had the children
"All right." He paused. "Something else. I want the phone records
from the Lewis house, particularly from the last week. See if
they had an answering service, since he's with an airline. And look
again for cyanide. We've got to find out fast where Vangie Lewis
got the stuff that killed her. Or where Captain Lewis got it."
DR. FUKHITO'S office was spacious and bright. There was a long
writing table, graceful cane-backed chairs with upholstered seats,
and a matching chaise. A series of exquisite Japanese woodcuts
decorated the walls.
Dr. Fukhito was conservatively dressed: pin-striped suit, light
blue shirt, blue silk tie. His jet-black hair and small, neat mustache
complemented pale gold skin and brown eyes. He was a strikingly
handsome man, Katie thought as she reached for her notebook.
"Doctor, you saw Vangie Lewis at about eight o'clock Monday
night. How long did she stay?"
"About forty minutes. She phoned Monday afternoon and
asked for an appointment. She sounded quite distressed. I told her
to come in at eight."
"Why was she so distressed, Doctor?"
He chose his words carefully. "She had quarreled with her
husband. She was convinced he did not love her or want the baby.
And, physically, the strain of the pregnancy was beginning to
tell on her. She was quite immature, really—an only child who had
been inordinately spoiled and fussed over. The physical discomfort
was appalling to her, and the prospect of the birth had become
frightening."
His eyes shifted away. This man was nervous, Katie thought.
What advice had he given Vangie that had sent her rushing home
to kill herself? Or had sent her to a killer?
Leaning forward, Katie said, "Doctor, I realize that Mrs. Lewis'
discussions with you are confidential, but we need to know all you
can tell us about the quarrel she had with her husband."
He looked at Katie. "Mrs. Lewis told me that she believed her
husband was in love with someone else. She'd accused him of
that. She'd warned him that when she found out who the woman
was, she'd make her life hell. She was angry, bitter and frightened."
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her that the baby might be the instrument to give her
marriage more time. She began to calm down. But then I felt it
necessary to warn her that if her marriage did not improve, she
should consider the possibility of divorce. She became furious.
She swore that she would never let her husband leave her, that
I was on his side, like everyone else. She got up, grabbed her coat
and left. She used my private entrance to go out the back way."
"And you never heard from her again?"
"No."
"I see." Katie got up and walked over to the wall with the
pictures. Dr. Fukhito was holding something back. "I was a
patient here myself Monday night, Doctor," she said. "I had a
minor automobile accident and was brought here around ten
o'clock. Can you tell me, is there any chance that Vangie Lewis
did not leave the hospital shortly after eight thirty? That after I
was brought in, semiconscious, I might have seen her?"
Dr. Fukhito stared at Katie. "I don't see how," he said. But
Katie noticed that his knuckles were clenched and white, and
something—was it fury or fear?—flashed in his eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AT FIVE o'clock Gertrude Fitzgerald turned the phone over to the
answering service and locked the reception desk. Nervously she
dialed Edna's number. Again there was no answer. There was no
doubt. Edna had been drinking more and more lately. She was
such a good person. They had both worked for Dr. Highley for
several years and often had lunch together. Sometimes Edna
would want to go to a pub for a manhattan. Gertrude understood
her need to drink, understood that hollow feeling when all you do
is go to work and then go home and stare at four walls.
Gertrude was a widow, but at least she had the children
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