Robert had told him earlier in the day that he’d be in his office until nine. Then he’d be at home after that. He’d given Paul both numbers.
As the phone rang, Paul turned to keep his eye on the Viceroy Indian Restaurant in Central Square. Marissa had entered with her companion over an hour ago. If she happened to come out, Paul wanted to know.
“Hello,” Robert answered. He was the only one in the office.
“Paul Abrums here,” Paul said.
“Is there a problem?” Robert asked, somewhat alarmed.
“Not a big problem,” Paul said. He spoke slowly and deliberately.
“Your wife is with a short blonde woman who must also be a doctor.”
“That’s Wendy Wilson,” Robert said.
“They’re eating at an Indian restaurant as we speak,” Paul said.
“They drove past the Women’s Clinic. I thought they were about to stop but they didn’t.”
“That’s odd,” Robert said.
“But there is something else,” Paul added.
“Can -you think of any reason why an Asian guy in a gray suit would be following your wife?”
“Heavens no!” Robert said.
“Are you sure?”
“About ninety percent sure,” Paul said.
“He’s been on her tail too long for it to be coincidence. I noticed him when your wife left her pediatric clinic. He’s a young guy, I think. Sometimes I can’t tell with Asians. He’s dressed in a good suit.”
“That’s very odd,” Robert said, already glad he’d taken Donna’s suggestion about hiring Abrums.
“I won’t take any more of your time,” Paul said.
“But it was curious enough for me to ask.”
“Find out who that guy is,” Robert said.
“And why he’s following my wife. God, I’m glad you are there.”
“I don’t mean to upset you,” Paul said.
“Everything is under control. You relax, I’ll find out… Uh oh! Your wife is just coming out of the restaurant. I gotta go.”
Paul hung up the phone and hurried across the street to get into his car. He had positioned it so that he could see the car that the women were in as well as the one the Asian man was driving.
As soon as Marissa and Wendy pulled away from the curb, so did the Asian.
“That confirms it!” Paul muttered, pulling out. As he drove he jotted down the Asian’s license number. Monday he’d call his friend at the motor vehicles bureau and find out who owned the car.
“You’d think we were about to rob a bank,” Wendy said.
“My pulse is racing.” She and Marissa got out of the car. It was a dark, windy night.
So is mine,” Marissa admitted as they slammed the car doors.
“It’s Robert’s fault with all his talk about felonies.”
They had parked in the deserted clinic employee lot at the end of the street. Clutching their collars closed and leaning into the wind, they walked back to the clinic’s courtyard. There they paused. The place was significantly quieter. Except for the lobby lights, most of the windows were dark. No one was entering or exiting. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
“Are you ready?” Marissa asked.
“I’m not sure,” Wendy said.
“What’s our plan?” Besides feeling nervous, Wendy was now shivering with cold. The temperature had dropped into the forties with a biting March wind. The thin white doctor jackets they were wearing afforded no warmth whatsoever.
“We have to find a computer terminal,” Marissa said, shouting over the wind.
“Doesn’t matter where, just as long as we are left alone for a while. Come on, Wendy. We’re going to freeze if we stay here.”
“All right,” Wendy said, taking a deep breath.
“Let’s go.”
Without further delay, they crossed the courtyard and mounted the steps. On their way, both women nervously glanced at the rhododendron planter with its flattened bushes, an all-too vivid reminder of Rebecca Ziegler’s awful fate.
Marissa tried the door only to discover it was locked. She cupped her hands and peered through the glass. Inside, a cleaning crew was busy polishing the marble floor with electric polishers.
She rapped on the glass several times, but the janitorial people didn’t respond.
“Damn,” Marissa said. She scanned the courtyard for another door, but there wasn’t one.