Rachel Alexander 09 - Without a Word

finished it, to tell her that, to say she didn’t have to have the second injection.”
    “What is it you want from me, Ms. Alexander?”
    “If whoever murdered Dr. Bechman also murdered Celia, the likelihood is that Celia was killed because she knew something, something someone didn’t want me to find out.” There were benches in the entranceway of Two Fifth Avenue, low bushes behind them, a place to wait for a friend who was coming down. “Can we sit a moment?” I asked her. “There’s something else I’d like to show you.”
    Dr. Edelstein hesitated, then walked to the closest bench and sat. I sat near her, turning so that I could face her, pulling the copy of Madison’s records out of my jacket pocket.
    “I asked Mr. Spector to obtain a copy of Madison’s medical records for me, something I could show her mother if I located her.”
    “Even with that... ?”
    “She wouldn’t look at them. But I’m hoping you will.“
    “She wouldn’t look at them? At her own daughter’s—“
    “That’s done and gone, Doctor. There’s no use discussing
    it because all the talk in the world is not going to make Sally come back,” picturing her cabin, empty now, perhaps Roy’s water bowl forgotten in the comer, a single shoe lying on its side in the closet.
    She reached for the papers. “Of course I’m aware of her condition because of the—”
    “It’s not the diagnosis I want you to see. It’s the form in which the notes are written.”
    “The form? You mean you can’t read his handwriting?“
    “No. It’s not that. It’s the spaces.” I handed her the sheets. “As if something had been removed, whited out, and then the copy recopied.”
    “You mean a problem with the copying machine, part of the records missing?”
    “Yes and no. I believe parts of the records are missing, but I don’t think it’s a problem with the copying machine.“
    “And what is it you think I can do for you, Ms. Alexander? Surely you don’t think I can give a private investigator access to the medical records of one of the children who come to our practice.” Stopping, shaking her head, one hand on her shoulder bag as if she suddenly thought I was planning to snatch it, that that’s what this was all about.
    “I’m aware that you can’t do that. It would be against the law. But you could look at them, couldn’t you? You could see if they’ve been altered.”
    Laura Edelstein held my eyes for what seemed like a very long time. Then she reached for the envelope with Madison’s records in it, pulling the sheets out, opening them on her lap and beginning to read.
    When she’d finished reading Madison’s records, she folded them and put them back in the envelope. “If you’ll just give me a moment to call home, we can go back to the office.” Her face grim.
    “No, we can’t. I’m afraid that’s not a good idea. The office—someone might be watching the office. I don’t want to put you in danger.”
    “Then what do you have in mind?”
    “Is there any way you can look at them tomorrow, by going in early or by somehow getting Ms. Peach out of the way?“
    “Are you saying Louise Peach has something to do with Dr. Bechman’s murder?”
    “All I know is that Ms. Peach gave the records you have in your hand to Madison’s father when he asked for a complete copy of her medical history with Dr. Bechman. Perhaps I’m wrong, Doctor. Perhaps they’re accurate. But if they aren’t. . .“
    She shook her head. “I’m in the hospital before office hours, so I can’t get there early. But I can get rid of Louise. I can send her out to fill a prescription for me. She won’t be happy, but she’ll go.”
    “Would that be an unusual thing to do, sending her out on an errand?”
    “No, not really.”
    “And wouldn’t you have the medication you need in the office? I thought doctors get free samples of everything.“
    “I’ll be sure to come up with something we don’t have on hand. I’m sure I can figure that out. Meanwhile, can I hold on to this?” Holding up the envelope I’d given her.
    “Of course.” I took out a business card and added my cell phone number. “You’ll call me as soon as you know?”
    “I will.”
    “Doctor, can you make a private call from the office, one no one else can listen in on?”
    She stood but she didn’t walk away. “I can,” she said. “I can use my cell phone.” Serious as a bad diagnosis, something you never want to hear, even for your worst enemy.