“Do you remember actually doing the autopsy?” Raine asked.
“Yes. It was all just as the report states. Toxicology samples indicate that he'd been drinking heavily. There was a blow to the back of the head, presumably from the boom of the sailboat There was a nasty storm that afternoon, and we've all seen that happen. There was water and air mixed in the lungs, and water in the stomach. Indicating that he did indeed drown, if that’s what you're wondering.”
Raine searched for words. “Was there any reason to think that the death could have been ... anything other than an accident?”
The doctor's lips thinned. “If there was, I certainly would have indicated it in the report.”
“I'm not questioning your professionalism,” Raine assured her. “I'm just, well—is it conceivable that someone could have hit him? Was there a mark on the boom that corresponded to the head wound?”
“I suppose theoretically that someone could have hit him,” the doctor said grudgingly. “But several eyewitnesses saw him leave Stone Island alone, and the blow didn't break the skin. I can't imagine that there would be any corresponding mark on an aluminum boom. Particularly since the boat was capsized for hours afterwards.”
Raine placed her barely nibbled cookie on the saucer, fighting down the clench and roll of impending nausea. She rose to her feet, hanging on to her control. If she were going to have a panic attack, she certainly didn't want an audience. “I appreciate you giving me your time like this, Dr. Fischer,” she said faintly. “I'm sorry if my questions seemed out of place.”
“Quite all right.” Dr. Fischer followed Raine back to the foyer and took her coat out of the closet. She handed the coat to Raine, and started to speak. She stopped herself, shaking her head.
Raine froze, halfway into her coat. “What?”
The doctor twisted her hands in the pockets of her cardigan. “I don't know if this is relevant, or useful to you. But you're not the only one who was interested in the results of that report.”
Raine froze into place, forgetting that her arms were twisted behind her into the sleeves of her coat. Dr. Fischer reached out and took the coat lapels, pulling until the coat sat straight upon Raine's shoulders. She gave Raine a little pat, as if she were a child. “Two FBI agents came to me, asking very much the same questions as you did. They seemed frustrated that Peter Lazar had gotten himself drowned. Convinced that I didn't know my job. Arrogant jerks, both of them.”
Raine tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. “What did they want from Peter Lazar?”
“Well, they weren't sharing any details with me, but there was a good bit of rumor and speculation at the time.”
“About what?”
The doctor's face tightened, as if she regretted opening up the can of worms. “Oh, the wild goings-on out at Stone Island, among other things. The place was aptly named, they say, for the quantity of drugs that went through the place. There were some truly legendary parties out there. Very few local people were ever invited, but everyone loved to tell tales. Most of it sheer nonsense, I'm sure, but you know how people are. And Alix made a splash, with her glamorous wardrobe and her celebrity attitude. Everyone loved to gossip about her.”
“Did you know her?” Raine asked cautiously.
“By sight,” the doctor said with a shrug. “She got her medical care in the city.”
Raine hesitated. “Those agents,” she ventured. “Do you remember their names?”
Dr. Fischer's eyes crinkled up. “You're in luck. The card they gave me got sucked into the void years ago, but I remember one of the names just because it was similar to that of an old college boyfriend of mine. Haley was the older one. Bill Haley.”
Raine reached out and clasped the other woman's hand. “Thank you. You've been very kind.”
The doctor squeezed her hand, but did not let go of it. She held on, staring at Raine's face with focused concentration until Raine began to fidget. “I take it your identity is a deep, dark secret?”
Raine opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
The doctor touched the heavy blond braid that lay on Raine's shoulder. “You really should have cut and dyed your hair, dear.”
“How did you—how—”
“Oh, come now. Who else would take such an interest in Peter Lazar, at this late date?” the doctor said gently. “Besides, you’re the image of your mother. Though you strike me as... warmer, somehow.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Would anyone who knew her notice the resemblance?” “It would depend upon their powers of observation.”
Raine shook her head, appalled at her own idiocy. She had tried a brown wig, at first, but the effect of dark hair with her pale face had been so obviously fake that she'd concluded that it would draw more attention than it would deflect. Besides, the shaggy, layered bronze mane of hair her mother had worn back in '86 was nothing like her own plain twist or simple braid. And her mother had said so often that Raine was so dowdy, no one would ever guess she was Alix’s daughter. With her big horn-rimmed glasses, she'd felt safe enough.
What a cretin. Victor's powers of observation were colossal.
“I examined you once, you know,” Dr. Fischer commented
Raine gaped at her. “You did?”
“The school nurse at Severin Elementary School was a friend of mine. You were always in the infirmary in the afternoons with bad headaches, telling her wild tales about ghosts and goblins and dreams. She was worried about you. She thought you needed to see a psychiatrist, or a neurologist. Or both.”
“Oh,” Raine murmured, struggling to remember the incident.
“She'd already contacted your mother, and had evidently hit a blank wall.” The older woman's eyebrows furrowed at the memory. “So she asked me to drop by and take a look at you.”
Raine waited. “And?”
“My diagnosis was that you were an intelligent, sensitive ten-year-old with a lively imagination and a very high-stress family situation.” Dr. Fischer patted Raine's shoulder and let her hand rest upon it “I was so sorry about your father. And all my sorry was for you. Not for the rest of that rabble out on the island. If you'll excuse my saying so.”
“It's all right.” Raine blinked back a rush of tears. “I would appreciate it if you would not tell anyone about me.”
“Good heavens, no,” Dr. Fischer said emphatically. “I'm pleased to have the opportunity to help you, since I couldn't back then. Good luck, Ms. Cameron. Let me know how things go. And, ah ... do be careful.”
Raine hurried for the taxi. “I will” she called.
She got into the cab, embarrassed. Some pirate queen she was, blubbering at the slightest act of kindness. It didn't mean she was weak, she reminded herself. Just stressed. She swallowed, calming her shaking, vibrating throat.
“Where to?” the cabbie demanded.
“I'll know in a minute,” she told him.
She used the cell phone Seth had given her to call directory assistance, and began the search for Bill Haley. They drove around the residential neighborhood in big circles, waiting on hold, transferred from here to there. At great length, she was informed that he was heading up a task force at a different location. She dialed the number the receptionist gave her, asked the switchboard operator for Bill Haley, and sat back to wait, clenching her stomach against the butterflies.
Her luck was changing. She could feel it. This morning, she had looked Harriet in the face and told a barefaced lie without blinking; she was leaving for a doctor's appointment, so sorry for the inconvenience, bye bye. The scary part was, she'd actually enjoyed the look on Harriet's face. Maybe it was the delicious breakfast Seth had insisted on cooking for her. He had dosed her eggs with pixie dust.