said. “Let’s give it a rest.”
He put his fork down. “There’s a basic flaw with all of it, Alex. If
Grandpa knew about Junior andlor Mrs. Junior killing Chad, and cared
enough about hushing it up to pay blackmail money and hire a killer,
why would he allow Cassie to be brought back to the same hospital?”
“Maybe he didn’t know, until Herbert andlor Ashmore put the arm on
him.”
“Even so. Why not send Cassie somewhere else for treatment?
Why run the risk of dealing with the exact same doctors who’d treated
Chad and having them make the same connection the blackmailers had
made? It’s not like the family wouldn’t have been justified. Cassie
isn’t getting any better-you yourself said Jones Junior’s talking about
medical errors. No one would blame them for getting a second
opinion.
Also, it’s one thing to say the parents are abusers and Grandpa’s
protecting them, even to the point of eliminating a blackmailer. But
if Grandpa knew Cassie was being poisoned, wouldn’t he want to step in
and stop it?”
“Maybe he’s no better than they are,” I said.
“Family of psychos?”
“Where do you think it starts?”
“I don’t know-” “Maybe Chuck Jones was an abusive father and that’s
where Chip learned it. The way he’s tearing down the hospital sure
doesn’t make him Mr. Compassionate.”
“Corporate greed is one thing, Alex. Watching your granddaughter get
messed with to the point of epileptic seizures is another.”
“Yeah,” I said, “it’s probably all fantasy getting far afield.
Would you please eat? Your pickiness is making me nervous.”
He smiled for my benefit and took fork in hand. Both of us faked
fascination with our food.
“Huenengarth,” he said. “Don’t imagine there’d be too many of that
name on file. What’s the first name?”
“Presley.”
He smiled. “Even better. Speaking of which, I ran Ashmore and
Steph.
He’s clean except for a couple of traffic tickets that he didn’t get
around to paying before he died. She’s been clean for a long time, but
a few years ago she had a DUI.”
“Drunk driving?”
“Uh-huh. Caused a collision, no injuries. First offense, she got
probation. Probably got sent to AA or a treatment center.”
“So maybe that’s why she’s changed.”
“Changed how?”
“Got thin, started putting on makeup, got into fashion. Image of the
young professional. She has a designer coffee maker in her office.
Real espresso.”
“Could be,” he said. “Strong coffee’s part of the reformed alkie
thing-to replace the booze.”
Thinking of his off-and-on flirtation with the bottle, I said, “You
think it means anything?”
“What, the DUI? You see any evidence she’s still boozing?”
“No, but I haven’t been looking for any.”
Any clear relationship between alcoholism and Munchausen?”
“No. But whatever problem you’ve got, booze makes it worse.
And if she had the typical Munchausen background abuse, incest,
illness-I could understand her hitting the bottle.”
He shrugged. “So you answer your own question. At the very least it
means she’s got something she’d like to forget. Which makes her like
most of us.” As we left the restaurant Milo said, “I’ll try to find
out what I can about Dawn Herbert, for what it’s worth. What’s your
next step?”
“Home visit. Maybe seeing them in their natural habitat will give me
some kind of insight.”
“Makes sense. Hell, while you’re out there you can do a little
snooping-you’ve got the perfect cover.”
“That’s exactly what Stephanie said. She suggested I nose around in
their medicine cabinet. Half-joking.”
“Why not? You shrinks get paid to poke and probe. Don’t even need a
search warrant.”
On the way home I stopped off at the Ashmore house-still curious about
Huenengarth and wanting to see how the widow was doing.
A black wreath hung on the front door and no one answered my ring.
I got back in the car, cranked up the stereo, and made it all the way
home without thinking about death and disease. I checked in with my
service. Robin had left word she’d be back around six. The morning
paper was still on the dining room table, neatly folded, the way she
always left it.
Recalling Dan Kornblatt’s peevish comment in the cafeteria, I paged