“We should get going,” Susan said. “In an hour I have some varicose veins to make magically disappear. Hey, Cyrano, knees slightly bent, head more erect, and keep your tip up.”
“Since when did you become interested in my tip, lass?”
“Come on, Will, this is Cyrano de Pigsty.”
With a flourish Will thrust a phantom sword deep into Cameron’s gut.
“Keep your tip up, Gordo,” he said.
Over the short drive to the Excelsius Cancer Center, Susan had Will fill in the rest of last night’s story, including more about the unsettling call from Patty to Augie Micelli.
“If you’re worried, then I’m worried,” she said, “but I certainly sense that this is a very capable woman who almost surely can take care of herself. If she hasn’t called, it’s probably because whatever operation she was involved in simply isn’t over yet.”
“I hope you’re right, and I appreciate your listening to me.”
“Hey, I’m all for young love. Like The Boss sang at the Fleet Center last night: ‘I wanna die with you Wendy on the streets tonight in an everlasting kiss.’ ”
“‘Born to Run.’ ”
“Exactly.”
“So he did get to you.”
“Just don’t let Yo-Yo find out.”
The parking lot of the mammography unit of the Excelsius Cancer Center was largely deserted.
“How should we do this?” Susan asked.
“Carefully, that’s how. Very carefully. The man’s sanity seemed to be hanging by a thread. I know it would probably go smoother if just you went in, but the truth is, Newcomber and I have some unfinished business, and I really do want to face him again. I didn’t leave his office easily or without comment, even with that gun waving at me. It was clear that something was terrifying him. The man was screaming at me like a banshee. When I first called him about changing his referral from you to me, he sounded angry way out of proportion to the situation. Same deal yesterday. The thing is, even though I was the one who was there, I’m not at all sure it was me he was frightened of. I tried to calm him down, to convince him I wasn’t a threat. I told him Grace’s story-how she made it all the way back from the gutter. I begged him to get in touch with me, to let me help him with whatever was wrong, but he just got more and more agitated until it really did seem as if he might pull the trigger.”
“And you want me to be the first one through his office door?”
Will turned her to him by the shoulders and perched her chin up on his fingertips.
“Maybe that’s not such a good idea after all.”
“No, it’s okay,” Susan said. “I’ve met him before, remember? Besides, who could shoot someone with such an angelic face as this?”
The entrance to the mammography wing of the Excelsius Cancer Center was on the south side. The waiting room was empty save for two women in their fifties and the silver-haired receptionist who had let Will visit Newcomber on his last visit.
“Dr. Davidson,” she said, “nice to see you again.”
Will nearly corrected her, then remembered making up the name. He made a major upward revision of his initial impression of the woman’s sharpness. Susan’s expression said that she had caught on immediately.
“Thank you for remembering me, Mrs. . ”
“Medeiros. Martha Medeiros. I have a thing about remembering names and faces. Sort of a hobby.”
She tried for a coquettish smile that missed by about four decades.
“This is-”
“I know, I know, Dr. Hollister,” she said proudly. “Sandra?”
“Susan,” Susan said. “That’s remarkable. Absolutely amazing. It’s been about a year since I was here.”
“Thank you. I enjoy shocking people.”
“Consider me shocked.”
“Mrs. Medeiros, we’re here to see Dr. Newcomber.”
“Was he expecting you?”
“No, but we just need to pick up a set of mammograms from him.”
“Well, Dr. Newcomber isn’t here.” Will and Susan exchanged disappointed glances. “He never comes in on Thursdays until after one. It’s like his day off, only it’s just half a day. Dr. Debra Grossbaum is here. Can she help you?”
Susan stepped forward and handed over the release signed by Grace Davis and notarized by Attorney Jill Leary.
“All we need are these films. Can you help us out there?”
“I can try. I think our film copier’s broken, though, so you’ll have to look at them here.”
Again disappointment.
“We can’t take them out?”
Martha shook her head. “It’s a strict policy.”
“Any idea when the copier will be fixed?”
“None. Dr. Grossbaum just made a call about it a little while ago. Let me call Daphna in the film library and see what she can do.”
Martha retrieved Grace’s X-ray number from the database, then called the librarian.
After almost five minutes with the phone tucked under her chin, during which she registered two new patients, Martha set the receiver down, a puzzled expression darkening her face.
“Mrs. Shemesh in the library says the copier isn’t expected to be fixed until at least tomorrow. No one seems to even know what’s wrong with it.”
“That’s okay,” Will said, frustrated, “we can view the films here.”
“Well, that’s a problem, too,” Martha replied. “She can’t find them. They’re not signed out, so she thinks they’ve just been misfiled. She’s going to keep looking.”
“What about a computerized storage service?” Susan asked.
Martha made another call, then shook her head. “Daphna says they’re talking about getting a service like that, but not yet. Apparently they’re quite expensive.”
“Always the bottom line,” Will muttered.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. We’re just a bit disappointed.”
“Daphna is upset, too. She apologizes and says she’ll keep looking. Do you want to wait or should I call you?”
Will glanced over at Susan and shook his head apologetically. At the same time, he could tell she was wondering, as was he, if the disappearance of Grace Davis’s mammograms was something more than a clerical error and coincidence.
What in the hell is going on? he could almost hear her thinking.
He wrote their office number down and then, remembering that their receptionist would be quite certain she knew nothing of a Dr. Davidson, he scratched it out and replaced it with his home phone. It was doubtful Martha Medeiros would be calling anyhow. If Grace Davis’s films were gone, they were gone for good.
Will passed the number over and then hesitated, hoping against hope that the film librarian would ring in with good news.
“I guess we should have called first,” he said finally.
“I can certainly leave a message for Dr. Newcomber that you were here. Or maybe you can try calling him or stopping by this afternoon.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Susan said. “Meanwhile, feel free to leave him a note that we were here, and tell your records-room person that we’d appreciate her doing everything possible to find those films.”
“I’ll do that,” Martha said, coming out from behind the reception counter to bring a clipboard with some forms over to one of the new arrivals. As she turned back, she stopped, staring out the window. “Now, that’s funny,” she said to Will and Susan.
“What?”
“That’s Dr. Newcomber’s car in the parking lot-that silver Lexus sports car over there. It’s his pride and joy. Maybe it broke down and someone drove him home. I didn’t notice it when I came in to work at seven-thirty, because my husband dropped me off at the main entrance, but it must have been there.”
Will had noticed the exquisite SC model when they arrived.
“Those cars don’t break down,” he said. “Maybe he got here before you came and he’s stayed in his office.”