P is for Peril

"Which you lost, anyway."

Mrs. Delacorte pressed her lips together, color warming her cheeks. "I felt compelled to resign when Ms. Bart was fired."

I said, "Do you think Dr. Purcell was intentionally cheating the government?"

"I doubt it. I can't see how he'd benefit unless he had some covert arrangement with Genesis or the various providers. The point is, Dr. Purcell was on the premises. Genesis wasn't, and neither were Mr. Glazer or Mr. Broadus. It was his responsibility and ultimately, he's the one who'll be held to answer."

"What do you think happened to him?"

"I can't answer that. I was gone by then."

"I'm still not clear why you didn't file a complaint. If Tina Bart was unlawfully terminated, wouldn't that constitute a legitimate grievance?" She was silent and I could see her struggle with her reply. "I suppose we were both reluctant to get into a public battle."

"With whom?"

"With anyone," she said. "Employment opportunities are limited in Santa Teresa. Talk travels fast, especially in medical circles. Despite the number of doctors, there are only three hospitals. Jobs at my level aren't easy to find. My roots here go deep. I've been in town close to thirty years. I can't afford to be labeled a troublemaker or a malcontent. You might consider that fainthearted, but I'm a widow with an aging mother to support. Now I think I've given you all the information at my disposal so if you'll excuse me . . ." She began to fuss with papers on her desk, lifting a stack and tamping the edges to even them up. Red patches, like moral hives, had begun to appear on her neck.

"Just one more thing. Where did Tina Bart end up?"

"You're the detective. You figure it out."

Chapter 10

When I got back to the office, I picked up a message slip on which Jeniffer had written, "Richard Heaven called. Pleas return his call." I could actually feel my heart begin to thump as I moved down the corridor to my office and unlocked the door. I hadn't expected to hear from him until Wednesday at the earliest. I dumped my shoulder bag on the desk and snatched up the telephone. I got a wrong number twice before I realized that Jeniffer had inverted the last two digits in the number she'd so laboriously copied. I reached Richard on the third try, saying, "Richard. Kinsey Millhone returning your call."

"Oh sure. Thanks for calling me back. How're you?"

"Fine. What can I do for you?"

"Uh, well, listen, I've been through the rest of these applicants and none of them panned out. Bunch of bums out there. The place is yours if you want it."

"Really? That's great. I'm really happy about that. When can I take possession?"

"I'm heading over there now. If you have a few minutes, maybe you could give me a check. That's $1,675 with the cleaning deposit, made out to Hevener Properties."

"Sure, I could do that. I'm just across the alley. The building I'm in now looks right down on yours."

"I didn't realize that. Why don't you join me in a bit and as soon as the lease is signed, I'll give you the key." Like many people, he seemed to be uncomfortable discussing money, and I wondered how much experience he had in landlord-tenant relationships.

"What time?"

"Ten, fifteen minutes?"

"I'll see you shortly. And thanks."

As soon as I hung up I did a little dance of joy, my attention already darting forward to the practicalities of moving. Fortunately, I'd never completely unpacked in the three years since I'd landed at Kingman and Ives, so that would save time. Desk, chair, daybed, phony ficus plant. This was going to be a snap. I could park in my own spot a mere fifteen steps from my office door. I could eat lunches at the table on the redwood deck . . .

I opened my closet door and hauled out the top two boxes, looking for my tape measure, which I found at the bottom of the second box. The tape was one of those heavy-duty metal suckers with a reel-back so fast it would slice off your little finger if you didn't watch yourself. I tucked it in my shoulder bag, grabbed a yellow legal pad and pencil, made sure my message machine was on, then shrugged into my slicker and walked to my brand-new digs. I felt like skipping and then I wondered if kids ever did that these days.

I was already feeling extraordinarily possessive as I trotted along the driveway from the rear of the lot. While I could see the bungalow from Lonnie's office, I had to go halfway around the block and cut down the alleyway to reach the place. There were lights on throughout the bungalow and by hopping up just once, I caught a glimpse of the CPA who occupied the front office. I'd have to take a moment to introduce myself when time allowed. I rounded the corner, noting a sedate-looking dark blue sedan that I assumed belonged to the CPA. Tommy's black pickup was parked two slots down.