Pulling on her robe, she went down to the guest room and peered inside. The bed was empty and unmade. Going to the top of the stairs, she called down for Robert. If he was there, he didn’t reply.
Descending the stairs, Marissa made a quick tour of the kitchen, eventually checking the garage. Robert’s car was gone.
Going back inside, she looked on the planning desk for a message.
There was none. Robert had just left for work without so much as a note. Every time she’d thought their relationship had reached its nadir, it sank a little lower.
“Thanks for nothing,” Marissa said aloud as she fought back tears. Then she shook herself.
“God, I’ve only been awake for ten minutes and already I’m crying.” She made a cup of instant coffee and carried it upstairs to drink while she got dressed.
“A note wouldn’t have been asking too much,” she said as she stepped into the bathroom to shower.
While she was dressing and applying her makeup, Marissa decided she had to try to get her life back to some semblance of normality. For one thing, she conceded that Robert was right: her practice was in a shambles. Maybe she should start going to work on a more regular basis. Maybe then her relationship with Robert would improve. With that idea in mind, Marissa decided to head straight for her clinic.
Checking herself in the full-length hall mirror before going to her car, Marissa muttered, “I’ll even start exercising again. It would be great to get back to my old weight.”
With a new sense of resolve, Marissa strode down the main corridor on her floor and turned into her office. In contrast to the other waiting rooms, hers was empty. She found Mindy Valdanus at the reception desk, opening the mail.
“Dr. Blumenthal!” Mindy exclaimed.
“Don’t act so surprised,” Marissa said.
“Bring the scheduling book in. We have some planning to do.”
“You just had a call from the intensive care unit at the Memorial,”
Wendy said. She handed Marissa a phone message slip.
“Dr. Ben Goldman asked you to return his call.”
There was a stab in Marissa’s heart. Her first thought was that Evelyn Welles had died.
“Hold up on the scheduling book,” Marissa said. She opened the door to her office and went inside.
After hanging up her coat, Marissa rang Dr. Goldman. One of the intensive care unit nurses answered and put her on hold while she went to get the man. Marissa played with a paper clip while she waited.
A minute later, Dr. Goldman came on the line.
“I called about Evelyn Welles,” he said, wasting no time.
“How is she doing?” Marissa asked, afraid to hear the answer.
“Clinically, not much change,” Dr. Goldman said.
“But we did some smears of her vaginal secretions like you suggested, and they were loaded with acid-fast bacilli. I mean, loaded with TB.
My chief was impressed, but I didn’t take credit for it. I have to admit I was tempted. How did you guess they’d be there?”
“It would take me an hour to explain,” Marissa said.
“What about the Women’s Clinic? Did you remember to ask the husband?”
“Sure did,” Dr. Goldman said.
“The answer was yes. She’d been a patient there for several years.”
“What about the record?” Marissa asked.
“That I don’t know,” Dr. Goldman admitted.
“But I asked the husband to try to get us a copy. I’ll let you know if anything turns
UP.”
“The record could be key,” Marissa said.
“I’d be very interested to have a look at it. Please call me back if you get it.”
“Sure will,” Dr. Goldman said.
“And thanks for the tip about looking for TB in the vagina. I’ve got a GYN consult coming in sometime today.”
It was getting to the point where Marissa wasn’t surprised to see her suspicions borne out. It was almost gratifying to have the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall so neatly into place. If Goldman didn’t come through with that record, she resolved to contact Evelyn Welles’ husband herself.
There was a knock on her door, then her secretary appeared.
She had Marissa’s scheduling book in hand.