We talked until Louisa fell into her gasping sleep. She clearly knew nothing of Caroline’s worries. I had to hand it to the little brat—she did protect her mother.

22

The Doctor’s Dilemma

Mr. Contreras was waiting anxiously on the front walk when I came home. The dog, picking up his worried state, yawned nervously at his feet. When they saw me each expressed his joy: the dog leapt around me in little circles while the old man scolded me for not leaving him my day’s route.

I put an arm around him. “You aren’t going to start breathing down my neck, are you? Repeat twenty times a day—she’s a big girl, she can fall on her butt if she wants to.”

“Don’t joke about it, cookie. You know I shouldn’t say this, I shouldn’t even think it, but you’re more family to me than my own family. Every time I look at Ruthie it beats me how Clara and I coulda had a kid like that. When I see you it’s like looking at my own flesh and blood. I mean that, doll. You gotta look after yourself. For me and her royal highness here.”

I gave a wry smile. “I guess I take after you, then—I’m real hardheaded and stubborn.”

He thought it over a minute. “Okay, doll,” he agreed reluctantly. “You gotta do things your way. I don’t like it but I understand.”

When I went in the front door I heard him saying to the dog, “Takes after me. You hear that, princess? She gets it from me.”

Despite my bravado with him, I’d been watching my back off and on all day. I also checked my apartment carefully before sitting down with my mail, but no one had tried getting past the reinforced steel in the front door or the sliding bars on the back.

I couldn’t face another evening of whiskey and peanut butter. Nor did I want my downstairs neighbor feeling he had the right to hover over me. Carefully locking up once more, I headed over to the Treasure Island on Broadway to stock up.

I was sautéeing chicken thighs with garlic and olives when Max Loewenthal phoned. My first thought on hearing from him out of the blue was that something had happened to Lotty.

“No, no, she’s fine, Victoria. But this doctor you asked me about two weeks ago, this Curtis Chigwell-he tried to kill himself. You didn’t know that?”

“No.” I smelled burning olive oil and reached my left hand the length of the cord to turn off the stove. “What happened? How do you know?”

It had been on the six o’clock news. Chigwell’s sister had found him when she went to the garage for some gardening tools at four.

“Victoria, I feel most uncomfortable about this. Most uncomfortable. Two weeks ago you ask for his address and today he tries to commit suicide. What was your role in this?”

I stiffened immediately. “Thanks, Max. I appreciate the compliment. Most days I don’t feel that powerful.”