MALPRACTICE - A JEAN BELL MYSTERY CH. 19

**Read Chapter 18 here**

Jean had always done her best to avoid Dr. Carnegie but his actions the other night had her rattled. Not only was the man a creep and a lech, now he was acting violent as well. Be that as it may, he still wasn't a likely suspect for Arnold Barnes's murder. If he had been guilty, why would he go through the trouble of covering up for someone he thought was the real murderer? Burning Arnold's records, if that's what the ashes in his trash bin were, was part of his attempt to shield Barbara from the law. Why did he suspect Arnold's wife of the crime? Was there friction in their relationship that didn't end with Arnold's gambling? Or was she just the closest to the victim?

The doctor spent most of the evening in his office, which suited Jean just fine. Jean went about her duties with more speed than usual, limiting her time in the hallways where she might encounter him. She did spot Dr. Davers knocking on his door, but he went away without talking to Carnegie. He and Jean made brief eye contact, but knew better than to socialize on the ward. The latter part of her evening was spent in semi-darkness, reading aloud from The Unfortunate Traveler. An elderly man sat propped upright in his bed and chuckled at Jack Wilton's exploits. Jean had intended to help the man rest, but he seemed to find the book and Jean's company too energizing.

The book distracted Jean from her itch to see Detective Richards again. She was intensely curious about what he'd turned up in the course of his investigation so far and if he'd come to any conclusions. The police, however, were unlikely to volunteer the information and she couldn't think of an excuse to drop by the station. There had to be a way to get the information without seeming like a busybody. There must be somebody who was expert at wheedling details from the cops. This was different from overhearing idle gossip in the salon or through the Rotary Club Wives. No, getting the information she wanted would take a special set of skills.

As she finished another chapter in the book, she marked her place with a narrow strip of newspaper before closing the cover. The feel of the newsprint in her hand sparked an idea. What she needed was a reporter. Who else could ask a string of questions without seeming suspicious? The best part of this idea was that she already knew someone in the newspaper business — Margie. The only problem was that Margie wasn't a reporter, not yet anyway. She ran errands, took notes, and made coffee. But she had plans to follow her idol, Dorothy Thompson, and write for a major paper. Maybe the Barnes story could help. In exchange, Jean would get the information she wanted. She decided she'd call her sister-in-law when she got home.

Jean worked a double shift that night, covering for another nurse who was out. In between, she caught a quick nap on a folding cot the nurses used. It wasn't until just after dawn that she returned home to see an unfamiliar car in her driveway. She parked her Cabriolet on the street and stopped to empty her mailbox before heading to the front door. That's when she saw, lounging in the doorframe, Det. Dane Richards. His hat was cocked forward, shielding his eyes from the morning sun.

"This is a surprise, detective."

"Do you usually get home this early, Mrs. Bell?"

"Do you usually make house calls?

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Not all witnesses waltz willingly into the station."

Jean unlocked the front door and invited the detective inside. She left the stack of mail she'd retrieved on the kitchen table before setting about making coffee. As the water boiled, she excused herself to change. The starch white of her uniform had collected several small stains and she was eager to get into something clean. She shut the door to her bedroom before it occurred to her that changing clothes with a strange man in the house wasn't exactly proper. He was a detective, however. Surely, he could be trusted if anyone could.

Wearing a clean dress, patterned with small green flowers on a field of bone white, she stopped the pot just as it finished percolating. Det. Richards permitted her to pour two cups before he started talking.

"I came because I have a few follow-up questions about Arnold Barnes. I'm sure you know I've been to the hospital," he said.

"Were you able to get the medical records from Dr. Carnegie," Jean asked, trying not to sound too curious.

"No. Your doctor assured us that Barnes died of a heart attack and that he hadn't run toxicology tests on the body."

Jean shuddered at the thought of Carnegie being "her" doctor. "You have to know that's not true, detective. I saw the test results myself."

"I do, as it happens. You see, I don't usually believe everything I hear, Mrs. Bell. That helps when you're the type of guy people lie to."

Jean simply sipped her coffee and waited for him to continue.

"The department works closely with Dr. Davers, your medical examiner. He's probably the only man in this county who sees more cold bodies than we do. Davers had the records and you were right about the results. What I want to know is, how well are you acquainted with Carnegie?"

"Carnegie is one of the two physicians on my ward. He was there before I started a few years ago. I don't know much about him outside of work. Mrs. Hyde, the head nurse, would know more than I would. However, I have heard rumors."

"Rumors? What kind of rumors, exactly?"

Richards wasn't writing anything down. He'd had the good manners to remove his hat when he came into the house and it was sitting on top of her pile of mail. In one hand, he held his coffee, but he hadn't yet taken a sip. Jean wondered if he'd had a look around while she was in the other room.

"I don't know they're much more than gossip, detective, but I've heard that he has a relationship with Mr. Barnes's wife. Or, he had a relationship with her long ago. They went to school together, along with half the town as far as I can tell. I don't get the impression Mrs. Barnes is interested, but it could be that the doctor is."

Richards raised an eyebrow. "And where did you come by this information?"

Jean shrugged, "Wherever people hear gossip."

The detective seemed to think about that for a moment. "On the day Barnes died, did you see anyone slip him anything? Was he showing symptoms, as far as you could tell, of distress in any way?"

"I'm sure I mentioned before, but I had my back to them. He drew my attention when he and Mr. Bloomfield were arguing. I didn't pay much mind until Arnold Barnes bumped into me as he was collapsing. The only two people I know of who came to that table were Bloomfield and Doris."

"Doris. You mean the waitress at Pinkey's. Apparently, the two men didn't order any food that day, just coffee."

Jean shrugged again, "I wouldn't know, detective."

"And that's when you helped him to the ground, is that right? After he bumped into you?"

Jean nodded her head.

"And how did you come to be in possession of Mr. Barnes's wallet?"

She was surprised. Of all the details of that day, that one seemed the least important. Jean had nearly forgotten about Margie's strange behavior. But she wasn't about to turn her sister-in-law over to the police.

"It was handed to me after the paramedics took Mr. Barnes away. Apparently it had fallen out onto the seat when he slumped over. I was asked to take it to the hospital with me."

He nodded thoughtfully and finally took a sip from his mug, but his pale blue eyes never left her face. What was he looking for, she wondered.

"And you were under the impression at the time that Mr. Barnes was having a heart attack, is that right?"

"Yes. I asked Doris for some Aspirin, thinking that might help, but he'd lost consciousness by the time she was able to bring it to me. I couldn't risk him choking on it, so I didn't give him any. Then, the paramedics arrived and I moved aside to let them work."

"Your sister-in-law, she was facing the table where Barnes and Bartholomew sat, is that right?"

"Margie, yes. She noticed them first."

"And what was she doing while you were trying to revive Barnes?"

Jean thought for a moment. She had been focused on helping the man on the floor, not on their audience. As far as she knew, Margie stood and watched with the rest of them. Since she didn't have any medical training, it wouldn't have made sense for her to do much else anyway, Jean told Det. Richards. He asked for Margie's information. When she recited it, he took it down in his notepad and excused himself from the table. Jean stood with him and walked him to the door. As soon as he left, she called her sister-in-law.

Ruth answered. Margie was at work and wouldn't be home until evening. After spending a few moments catching up with Teddy's mother, Jean hung up the phone. She considered visiting Margie at work, just to tell her about Det. Richards. Maybe she could get Margie to find out what else the detective knew. Two shifts at the hospital had worn her out, however, and she decided to get some sleep instead. She'd have to return to the hospital that night and would never make it through her shift if she wasn't rested.

Dr. Carnegie wasn't in the hospital that evening and she was able to complete her rounds in relative peace. She read another chapter of The Unfortunate Traveler, had dinner in the cafeteria, and tried to avoid thinking about Arnold Barnes. But whenever she succeeded with that, her thoughts were drawn to the war in Europe. The paper that morning said London had declared war on Finland, Romania, and Hungary for failing to end hostilities with Russia. Things were escalating overseas. Meanwhile, the Navy was crashing its own planes in test flights.

Her patient, the old man she read Thomas Nashe's book to, was from Bavaria and he was deeply concerned for his family, who were not supporters of the Nazi regime. They were Catholics going back for generations, something Heinrich Himmler openly condemned because he felt patriotism should be superior over all other beliefs. Compared with what his family was going through, Jean couldn't help but feel silly for being wrapped up in domestic affairs.

She would feel much better with her husband safely back home, however. Not for the first time, she wished Teddy had spoken to her first instead of springing his enlistment on her the way he did. She wasn't ready to forgive him for that just yet, but didn't outweigh her love for him. He was still a good man, trying to do what was right, even if she didn't always agree with his decisions.

Outside of Teddy, the only other family she had was Uncle Arthur. He was always a hard man to pin down. Despite his old age, he was still traveling and still performing his duties as a missionary doctor. Last she knew, he was in Sierra Leone, on the coast of West Africa. As yet, there weren't any battles fought on that soil, but he told her about the British soldiers transferring there in his last letter. Since he was never in one place for long, there was always the possibility he was no longer in Sierra Leone, but had moved on to some other part of the world. Jean included him in her prayers every morning, right alongside Teddy.

Jean suddenly felt very alone. Nearly everyone she loved was overseas somewhere, possibly in danger. She tried to cheer herself up by thinking of the family she and Teddy would have when he returned. As she completed her shift, she toyed with baby names for their future children.

**photo: Digital Library @ Villanova University