Decker smiled slyly. “You and my daughter can keep secrets—so can I.” He picked up the phone and, as soon as the line connected, asked for Dr. Meecham, telling the receptionist his call was an emergency. Meecham picked up the call within minutes.

“What’s up, Sergeant?”

“I’m about to ask you to compromise your ethics again.”

“Sergeant—”

“It’s less painful if you remember a baby’s life may be at stake. Listen, let’s just play it theoretical….”

“Sergeant, I thought you said this was an emergency. C’mon! I’m a busy man!”

“A missing infant is an emergency.”

“Get on with it, Sergeant.”

Decker knew he was putting Meecham in a precarious position and felt bad about it. But not too bad.

“Suppose I assume that about maybe two years ago, your patient, Marie Bellson, brought you a young, distressed obese woman who had a problem.”

Meecham paused. “Go on.”

“Let’s just suppose that this young obese woman was in the family way and came to you for a possible termination of pregnancy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good supposition at all, Sergeant.”

Decker waited a beat. “Okay, perhaps this girl may have had her pregnancy terminated by someone else. Maybe he even did a botched job, and Marie brought the girl in to you to fix up someone else’s butchery.”

“Interesting theory. Unfortunately, it’s fiction.”

Decker tried to organize his thoughts. “Okay, suppose this obese woman miscarried—”

“I don’t like that supposition, either.”

Decker thought. Tandy didn’t miscarry; she didn’t abort. That left just one more option. “Perhaps you became this imaginary young woman’s obstetrician and delivered her child at term.”

“Perhaps I didn’t.”

“Maybe someone else did?”

“No.”

Confused, Decker was silent. Then he said, “Thanks for your forbearance, Doc.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with your dilemma. Now I really must go.” Meecham paused a moment. “On a conversational note, Sergeant, did I tell you I attended a very interesting lecture last month as part of my continuing education? It was on Pseudocyesis.”

“Pseudo—what?” Decker took out his notebook. “How do you spell that?”

“Look it up, Sergeant,” Meecham said.

And with Meecham’s parting line, Decker was on the receiving end of a dial tone.

31

“Pseudocarp, pseudocarpous, pseudoclassic, pseudomorph, pseudonym…” Decker bit his lower lip. “Pseudonymous, pseudopod, pshaw, psi…what is this bullshit Stan’s giving me? How can I look it up if I can’t find or spell it?” He picked up another dictionary and flung it open, flipping through the pages until he came to the P’s. “Pseudocyesis…Do you think cyesis is with an s or a c?”

Cindy and her friend Lisa came into the living room. “It’s with a c, Dad.”

Decker looked up. “You know what pseudocyesis means?”

“It’s false pregnancy.”

Decker put down the dictionary. “Where’d you learn about that?”