P Is for Peril

hand certainly didn't tremble as she raised the glass to her lips. She set her wineglass on the deck and pressed her flattened hands between her knees as though to warm them.
    I changed tactics, not wanting her to disconnect from the conversation. "Would you be willing to go back and talk about what it's been like for you the past nine weeks?"
    She let out a breath. "It's been awful. Horrendous. At this point I'm numb, but the first two or three days, I was running on pure adrenaline and it really wore me down. The house was teeming with people-my friends, Dow's daughters, his friends and colleagues. I didn't want to see anyone, but I couldn't refuse. I didn't have enough energy to resist, so they swarmed right over me. I was barely holding on. All I wanted to do was sit and stare at the phone, pace to the door and back, scream, or get drunk. For days I'd get in the car and drive between the clinic and home, checking every possible route. I'd find myself on the road and then I'd realize how dumb it was. Dow could be anywhere and the chances of my spotting him were astronomically low."
    "Was there anything unusual about the day he disappeared? Any behavior-anything he said-that seems different in retrospect?"
    Crystal shook her head. "It was like any other Friday. He was looking forward to the weekend. Saturday, he was playing in a tennis tournament at the country club. Nothing special, but he enjoyed it. Saturday we were going out to dinner with friends- this was a couple who'd recently moved here from Colorado, where they owned some restaurants."
    "Can you give me those names?"
    "Sure. I'll give you a list before you leave."
    "No one else reported anything unusual?"
    "Not as far as I know. You can talk to his colleagues and the nursing home staff. I've spoken to most of them myself and asked the same question. The police have done informal interviews as well. People have tried to be helpful, but no one seems to know anything, or if they do, they haven't said."
    "Was he having problems at work?"
    "There are always problems at work. Dow takes his job very seriously. He's involved with patients and staff, management issues. He also handles all the hiring and firing and the annual salary reviews. There's always something going on. It's just the nature of the beast. Recently, he's spent a lot of time going over the books. The fiscal year at the clinic ends November 30 and Dow likes to be on top of it."
    "I take it most of his time is devoted to the clinic?"
    "That's right. He retired from private practice about five years ago. Aside from a few charities still dear to his heart, he spends his time at Pacific Meadows, keeping that up and running."
    "Were-are-his responsibilities medical or administrative?"
    "I guess I'd say both. He's very involved with the residents-not treating them, of course, they have their own personal physicians for their medical needs, but Dow's there every day keeping an eye on things. I have to tell you, it's not always easy. When your specialty's geriatrics, you're going to lose the very people you've grown most attached to."
    "Anyone in particular?"
    "Well, no. I wasn't speaking of anyone specific," she said, "and I'm not saying he couldn't cope. Of course he could. He's been working with the elderly for many years. I'm just saying it took a toll on him emotionally."
    "Is it possible he walked off?"
    "No."
    "You're sure of that?"
    "Absolutely. And you want to know why? Because of Griff. That boy is the light of Dowan's eyes. If Dow got home late, he went to Griff's room first. He'd lie down on the bed with him and just watch him breathe. Sometimes I'd find him fast asleep in there. He'd never leave Griffith voluntarily."
    "I understand," I said. There's something else as well. Dow's writing a book. This is a project he's been wanting to do for years. He's seen so many changes in medicine. He really has wonderful stories to tell. He wouldn't abandon that."
    "What about the two of you? Are you doing okay?"
    "We're very close. In fact, we've been talking about another baby now that Griffith is two."
    "So you're convinced something's wrong."
    "Very wrong. I just can't think what. If he'd been injured or abducted, surely we'd have heard by now."
    "What about his employers? What can you tell me about them?"
    "I really don't know much. I've only met Joel Glazer twice and one of those occasions was the groundbreaking for the new Pacific Meadows annex, and we didn't have time to chat. As I understand