has been examined from every possible angle-clean as a whistle-and my
Swedish friend and everyone else is back on Munchausen. So I guess I’m
back to square one, too.”
“How long are you planning to keep her in?”
“Two or three days, then back home if nothing else comes up.
I know it’s dangerous letting her out, but what can I do, turn the
hospital into her foster home? Unless you’ve got some suggestions.”
“Noneyet.”
“You know,” she said, “I really let myself go with that sugar thing.
Thinking it was real.”
“Don’t bludgeon yourself. It’s a crazy case. How did Cindy and Chip
react to the continuing uncertainty?”
“I only saw Cindy. The usual quiet resignation.”
Remembering Al Macauley’s comment, I said, Any smiles?”
“Smiles? No. Oh, you mean those spacey ones she sometimes gives?
No.
Not this morning. Alex, I’m worried sick over this. By discharging
Cassie, what am I sentencing her to?”
Having no balm, I offered a Band-Aid. At least discharging her will
give me the chance to make a home visit.”
“While you’re there, why don’t you sneak around and look for hot
clues?”
“Such as?”
“Needles in bureau drawers, insulin spansules in the fridge. I’m
kidding-no, actually I’m only half-kidding. I’m this close to
confronting Cindy, let the chips fall. The next time that little girl
gets sick, I just may do it, and if they get mad and go elsewhere, at
least I’ll know I did everything I could- Oops, that’s me on
pageNeonatology, one of my preemies. Gotta go, Alex. Call me if you
learn anything, okay?”
I phoned Milo back. “Working weekends?”
“Did a trade with Charlie. Saturdays on in exchange for some
flexibility in my moonlighting. How’s old Steph?”
“Off organic disease, back on Munchausen. No one can find an organic
reason for the hypoglycemia.”
“Too bad,” he said. “Meantime, I’ve got the lowdown on Reggie
Bottomley, the nurse’s bad seed. Guy’s been dead for a couple of
years.
For some reason his name never got off the files. Suicide.”
“How?”
“He went into the bathroom, got naked, sat on the toilet, smoked crack,
jacked off, then turned his head into bad fruit with a shotgun. Very
messy. The Tujunga detecti”e-a gal, actually, named Dunn-said Vicki
was home when it happened, watching TV in the next room.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. The two of them had just had some kind of spat over Reggie’s
dissolute life-style and Reggie stomped off, got his works out of his
dresser drawer and the gun, locked himself in the can, and kaboom. Mom
heard the shot, couldn’t get the door open, tried to use a hatchet and
still couldn’t do it. The paramedics found her sitting on the floor,
crying and screaming for him to please come out, talk it over. They
broke the door down and when they saw what he looked like, tried to
hold her back. But she got a look at some ofit. So that could explain
her sour disposition.
“Oh, man,” I said. “What a thing to go through. Anything on the
family history that led up to the suicide?”
“Dunn said there was no history of child abuse-she saw it as basically
a nice mom with a rotten kid. And she busted Reggie lots of times,
knew him well.”
“What about dad?”
“Died when Reggie was little. Heavy drinker, like you said.
Reggie was in trouble right out of the chute, smoking dope and moving
on up the pharmaceutical ladder. Dunn describes him as a little skinny
jerk, learning disabilities, not too bright, couldn’t hold a job.
Incompetent criminal, too-got caught all the time, but he was so
pitiful-looking, judges usually went easy on him. He didn’t get
violent until near the end-the assault rap. And even that was
relatively dinky-bar fight, he used a pool cue on some other scrote’s
head. Dunn said he was getting feistier because of the crack, it was
just a matter of time before he ended up prematurely muerto. According
to her, mom was the long-suffering type, tried her best. End of
story.
It tell you anything about mom as a suspect?”
“Not really. Thanks anyway.”
“What’s your next step?”
“lacking anything else, I guess a visit with Dawn Herbert. I spoke to