“I’m fine. Why I stopped in was to find out where Jennifer Hernandez is staying, because I was thinking of calling her. I want to be certain I’ve answered all her questions. When she was here I was very busy, and Nurse Kumar had to interrupt to get me back to my patient.”

“She’s at the Amal,” Kashmira said. “During the time you were talking with her, how did she seem? Was she hostile at all? With me she goes back and forth. I don’t know if it is because she is exhausted or angry.”

“No, not hostile. In fact, the opposite. She acted sympathetic that her grandmother had been my first patient death since my graduation.”

“That seems out of character.”

“But she did specifically say she was unhappy about her grandmother’s death, whatever that meant, and that she was looking into it to a degree. She used those words but quite matter-offactly.”

“If you end up talking with her, please encourage her to decide about her grandmother’s body. It would be an enormous help.”

After promising to put in a good word if the opportunity presented itself about the cremation/embalming issue, Veena bid Shrimati Varini good night and hustled out into the lobby. She found Samira and guided her outside.

“What did you learn?” Samira asked, as they walked down the driveway.

“We have to talk with Cal about this Hernandez woman. She worries me. Even Kashmira Varini is having trouble with her. She said that she believes Jennifer Hernandez suspects the death of her grandmother was either medical error or somehow purposeful. In other words, not natural.”

Samira stopped, suddenly grabbing Veena by the elbow and pulling her up short. “You mean she thinks her grandmother might have been murdered.”

“In so many words,” Veena said.

“I think we better get back to the bungalow.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Despite the pre-rush hour traffic clogging the street, the women were lucky to find a free auto rickshaw. They climbed into the bench backseat, gave the driver the bungalow address, and then held on for dear life.

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

OCTOBER 17, 2007
WEDNESDAY, 4:26 P.M.
NEW DELHI, INDIA

You got a sec?” Durell asked from the library door. Cal looked up from the spreadsheets of Nurses International expenses. The burn rate was impressive, but with things going so well at the moment, he was not as concerned as he’d been just two to three days before.

“Of course,” Cal said. He leaned back and stretched his arms over his head. He watched Durell saunter in and spread several maps on the library table that Cal used as a desk. There were also photos of a number of vehicles, which he carefully positioned with his large, powerful hands. Durell was dressed in one of his signature stretch black T-shirts, which molded over his muscles as if it had been sprayed on.