Paige studied him, puzzled. “Yes.”
He entered the apartment.
“What did you want to see me about?”
She watched him open the briefcase and take out some papers.
“You are aware, of course, that you are the principal beneficiary of John Cronin’s will?”
Paige looked at him blankly. “What are you talking about? There must be some mistake.”
“Oh, there’s no mistake. Mr. Cronin has left you the sum of one million dollars.”
Paige sank into a chair, overwhelmed, remembering.
You have to go to Europe. Do me a favor. Go to Paris…stay at the Crillon, have dinner at Maxim’s, order a big, thick steak and a bottle of champagne, and when you eat that steak and drink that champagne, I want you to think of me.
“If you’ll just sign here, we’ll take care of all the necessary paperwork.”
Paige looked up. “I…I don’t know what to say. I…he had a family.”
“According to the terms of his will, they get only the remainder of his estate, not a large amount.”
“I can’t accept this,” Paige told him.
Pelham looked at her in surprise. “Why not?”
She had no answer. John Cronin had wanted her to have this money. “I don’t know. It…it seems unethical, somehow. He was my patient.”
“Well, I’ll leave the check here with you. You can decide what you want to do with it. Just sign here.”
Paige signed the paper in a daze.
“Goodbye, doctor.”
She watched him leave and sat there thinking of John Cronin.
The news of Paige’s inheritance was the talk of the hospital. Somehow, Paige had hoped it could be kept quiet. She still had not made up her mind about what to do with the money. It doesn’t belong to me, Paige thought. He has a family.
Paige was not emotionally ready to go back to work, but her patients had to be taken care of. An operation was scheduled for that morning. Arthur Kane was waiting for Paige in the corridor. They had not spoken to each other since the incident of the reversed X-rays. Although Paige had no proof it was Kane, the tire-slashing episode had scared her.
“Hello, Paige. Let’s let bygones be bygones. What do you say?”
Paige shrugged. “Fine.”
“Wasn’t that a terrible thing about Ken Mallory?” he asked.
“Yes,” Paige said.
Kane was looking at her slyly. “Can you imagine a doctor deliberately killing a human being? It’s horrible, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“By the way,” he said, “congratulations. I hear that you’re a millionairess.”
“I can’t see…”
“I have tickets for the theater tonight, Paige. I thought that the two of us could go.”
“Thanks,” Paige said. “I’m engaged to someone.”
“Then I suggest you get unengaged.”
She looked at him, surprised. “I beg your pardon?”
Kane moved closer to her. “I ordered an autopsy on John Cronin.”
Paige found her heart beginning to beat faster. “Yes?”
“He didn’t die of heart failure. Someone gave him an overdose of insulin. I guess that particular someone never figured on an autopsy.”
Paige’s mouth was suddenly dry.
“You were with him when he died, weren’t you?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
“I’m the only one who knows that, and I’m the only one who has the report.” He patted her arm. “And my lips are sealed. Now, about those tickets tonight…”
Paige pulled away from him. “No!”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. Now, if you’ll excuse me…
And she walked away. Kane looked after her, and his face hardened. He turned and headed toward Dr. Benjamin Wallace’s office.
The telephone awakened her at 1:00 A.M. at her apartment.
“You have been a naughty girl again.”
It was the same raspy voice disguised in a breathy whisper, but this time Paige recognized it. My God, she thought, I was right to be scared.
The following morning, when Paige arrived at the hospital, two men were waiting for her.
“Dr. Paige Taylor?”
“Yes.”
‘You’ll have to come with us. You’re under arrest for the murder of John Cronin.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
It was the final day of the trial. Alan Penn, the defense attorney, was making his summation to the jury.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard a lot of testimony about Dr. Taylor’s competence or incompetence. Well, Judge Young will instruct you that that’s not what this trial is about. I’m sure that for every doctor who did not approve of her work, we could produce a dozen doctors who did. But that is not the issue.