intensified during the night. Hoping that a hot bath
might soak some of the achiness away, she went into the bathroom
and turned on the taps in the tub. A wave of dizziness made her
sway, and she grabbed the side of the tub to keep from falling. The
bathroom mirror revealed the deathly pallor of her skin. It's this
bleeding, she thought. If I weren't going into the hospital tomorrow
night, I'd probably end up being carried in.
The bath did reduce some of the stiffness, and foundation makeup
minimized the paleness. With her orange juice Katie swallowed
another of Dr. Highley's pills. Then she grabbed a coat and her
handbag and went out to the car.
Charley and Phil were searching the Lewis house this morning.
Scott was drawing a web around Chris Lewis. If only she could
find another avenue to explore before Chris was indicted.
She arrived at the office just before eight and found Maureen
Crowley already there. "Maureen," Katie said, "I've got a job.
Could you come in when you have a minute?"
The girl got up quickly. She had a narrow-waisted, graceful-
young body. The green sweater she was wearing accentuated the
vivid green of her eyes. "How about coffee, Katie?"
"Great. But no ham on rye—at least not yet."
Maureen looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry I said that yesterday.
You, of all people, are not in a rut."
"I'm not sure about that." Katie hung up her coat and settled
down with her notebook. Maureen brought in the coffee, pulled
up a chair and waited silently, her steno pad on her lap.
Katie said slowly, "We're not satisfied that the Vangie Lewis
death is a suicide. Yesterday I talked with her doctors, Dr. Highley
and Dr. Fukhito, at Westlake Hospital."
She heard a sharp intake of breath and looked up quickly. The
girl's face had gone dead white.
"Maureen, is anything the matter?"
"No. No. I'm sorry."
Unconvinced, Katie looked back at her notes. "As far as we
know, Dr. Fukhito was the last person to see Vangie Lewis alive.
I want to find out as much as I can about him. Find out where
he came from, where he went to school, other hospitals he's been
connected with, his personal background."
"You don't want me to talk to anyone at Westlake Hospital?"
"No. I don't want them to know we're checking on him."
For some reason the younger woman seemed relieved. "I'll get
right on it."
"You'd be a good lawyer," Katie said, meaning it. "I'm surprised
you didn't go to college."
"I was insane enough to get engaged the summer I finished
high school. My folks persuaded me to take a secretarial course
before I got married so at least I'd have some kind of skill. How
right they were. The engagement didn't stand the year's wait."
She looked unhappy, and Katie decided she must have been
pretty hurt about the breakup.
Maureen went out of the room. The telephone rang. It was
Richard. "Katie, I've just been talking to Dave Broad, the head of
prenatal research at Mount Sinai. On a hunch, I sent him the fetus
Vangie Lewis was carrying. My hunch was right. Vangie was not
pregnant with Lewis' child. The baby was distinctly Oriental!"
CHAPTER TEN
THE funeral service for Vangie Lewis was held on Thursday
morning in the chapel of a Minneapolis funeral home. Chris stood
beside Vangie's parents, their muffled sobs assaulting him like
hammerblows. They had been outraged to hear that Vangie could
not be buried, that her body was to be shipped back east, then
returned later for burial. "Why?"
"I simply don't know." There was no use saying more—not now.
He thought of Edna's call. Could she throw some light on Vangie's
death? Before he left Minneapolis, he had to call Dr. Salem. What
did he know about Vangie that had made him react with such
shock last night? Why had Vangie wanted to see him?
There had been someone else in Vangie's life. He was sure of
it now. Suppose Vangie had
Sarah M. Ross
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