DOCTOR OF DEATH By Marcia Kiser The dark-haired woman ignored her reflection as she pressed her forehead against the cold plate glass window and stared at the street below. She peeked at the clock on the wall. 3:00 on Tuesday. Right on time. She stared at the street and saw him. An older, heavy-set gentleman in a red plaid jacket. Her reflection mocked the Mona Lisa smile she wore and turned it into something evil. Her dark hair swirled around her pale face and her obscenely red lips made her look like a modern day Vampira. Her tongue crept from her mouth to moisten her lips as she watched the man. The man walked along the street and stopped, staring around him as though bewildered. Stumbling, hesitating steps took him to the middle of the block. The woman breathed faster and her hand joined her face pressed against the glass. The man stumbled forward, between two parked cars, and stopped. He shook his head. On the glass, the woman's hand curled into a fist, leaving gray phantom clouds outlining her fingers. The man looked both ways. And stepped into traffic. The bus never had a chance to stop. The woman pounded her fist against the glass, her mouth open in a soundless cry. *** "I need to talk to a homicide detective." "Excuse me, sir, I said I need to talk to a homicide detective." The older woman rapped her knuckles on the desk. "Yeah? A homicide detective? What for?" The bored desk sergeant stifled a yawn, barely. "Are you a homicide detective?" "No, ma'am, I'm not." "Well, then, I'll wait and talk to a homicide detective." The woman clutched her alligator bag to her chest, her fingers caressing the gold clasp. "Okay, lady, whatever you say. Have a seat over there and I'll get somebody up here," the sergeant said as he swung toward the phone and punched a button. *** "Ma'am, the desk sergeant said you wanted to talk to a detective? Can I help? I'm Detective Salida Sanchez." Salida tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. Technically, she wasn't on duty, so she had not bound her mane of hair in her usual French braid or bun. "Oh, my! You're Hispanic, aren't you? How wonderful. I think it's wonderful what the Women's Movement has done for women, don't you? Are you a homicide detective?" Salida blinked at the woman's rapid, breathless speech. "Yes, ma'am. I'm with the Serious Crimes Division. We investigate murders." "Thank goodness. Is there somewhere we can talk?" "Why don't you come to my office?" Salida offered, puzzled why this middle-aged, gray-haired, bird of a woman would want to talk to the police. *** Salida got the woman settled and handed her a Styrofoam cup of coffee. "Oh, my! Police coffee is as bad as they pretend on TV, isn't it?" the woman gasped as her first sip. "My dear, I don't think I would drink any more it, if I were you. Anything that tastes that bad can't be good for you." Salida bit back a smile at the woman's fluttering. Clearing her throat, Salida asked, "Now, ma'am, why do you need to talk to the police? And homicide in particular?" "I'm sure this is going to sound very strange, but I believe my employer is killing her patients." Salida set back in her chair. She stared at the woman. "Let me get this straight. You think your boss is killing people?" "Yes, I do. I don't have any proof, but I believe she's killed seven people in the past two years." "Seven people? That would make her a serial killer." "To be perfectly honest, I don't think she's doing it on purpose. I think it's an accident." Salida wished she were anywhere but at her desk as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to straighten her hair and her thoughts. "You think your boss has "accidentally" killed seven people in the past two years? And you don't have any proof?" "Captain Sanchez. . ." "It's Detective, ma'am." "Oh, thank you. Detective Sanchez, maybe I should start at the beginning. I didn't realize how preposterous it would sound until I started telling you. But, I think, if I tell you the story in order, it will make sense." "Please, ma'am. You're leveling some very serious charges against your employer." "I realize that, Detective. And, believe me, I've spent several sleepless nights trying to decide what to do, especially since I have no proof. I think proof can be found, which is what finally made my decision for me. The police can find proof." The older woman beamed at Salida, who nodded, feeling dazed. "Okay. Now, why don't you tell me who you are and then start at the beginning." "How rude of me. I apologize, Detective. This is just such a momentous task for me, I'm all a-flutter. I'm not usually a flake, I think the new term is. My name is Mrs. Almira Mason. I'm 58 years old and I have worked for Dr. Louise Green as a secretary/receptionist/bookkeeper/nurse for the past ten years. I greet all the patients, schedule appointments, file insurance claims, pull files, and basically run the office for Dr. Green. It's a one-doctor office. Since I greet the patients, I get to know them. Some better than others, if they continue seeing the doctor for a few years. I don't discuss anything I see in the file with the patient, but one gentleman mentioned something about hypnosis two or three months back. I didn't think anything of it at the time, however. . ." Mrs. Mason unfastened her purse and pulled out a tissue. She dabbed her eyes and nose and wadded the tissue in her hand. Clutching her purse like a lifeline, she looked at Salida with moist eyes. "I'm sorry, Detective, this is harder than I thought it would be. Please bear with me." Mrs. Mason sniffed delicately and slowly inhaled and exhaled, forcing her fingers to relax. Salida watched, both fascinated and repelled, as the woman recovered her composure. "All right, I'm better now. Where was I? Oh, yes, one of the patients, Mr. Chet Harvey, that's his name, mentioned hypnosis. As I said, I didn't think anything of it at the time, even though I know a little bit about hypnosis myself. I used to be a hypnotist's assistant and he taught me how to hypnotize someone. But that's neither here nor there. Anyway, Chet, er, Mr. Harvey has been seeing Dr. Green for several years now, and we've become friends. I even invited him to my home for coffee. So, when he turned up dead on Tuesday after his Monday appointment, his remark about hypnosis came back to him. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but I had to know, so I pulled his file. There was nothing in there about hypnosis. In fact, I don't believe Dr. Green is licensed to perform hypnotherapy. She's a medical doctor. After I read Mr. Harvey's file, I realized six other patients of Dr. Green's have committed suicide in the past two years. I pulled all the files. All six walked into traffic. In particular, in front of a cross-town bus. Which is exactly what Mr. Harvey did." Salida studied the small, birdlike woman, fascinated by the matter-of-fact manner and the grisly tale the woman related. "Dr. Green had made notes in them that could possibly relate to hypnosis. The funny thing is. . . well, you make think I'm a silly old woman, but I don't remember those notes being there when I terminated the file after the patient's death. I think Dr. Green added them when she knew I wouldn't be using the files anymore." "Didn't any of the family members suspect something? I mean, there's been seven deaths. You'd think someone would question a relative walking in front of a bus," Salida said. "That's another thing I noticed, Detective Sanchez. All these people were alone in the world. No family members are listed in their files." Salida tapped a pencil against her coffee cup. "Well, I guess if these occurrences all looked like accidents, the police wouldn't get involved. And since there's no family, nobody would be looking to sue the city because of the bus. I guess she could get away with it. What kind of doctor is Dr. Green, anyway?" "She's just a regular GP--general practitioner, that is. All the patients that committed suicide had terminal cancer of some type and she had referred them to oncologists for continued treatment, but she still had them come in every so often. She'd talk to them and try to cheer them up. As I said, they were all terminal and were looking at a long, unpleasant death." "So, maybe Dr. Green sees herself as some kind of avenging angel, huh?" "That may be, Detective Sanchez. I just know that seven people are dead and Dr. Green is getting stranger and stranger. I'm worried for the other patients. If she is giving patients some kind of hypnotic suggestion, what's to stop her from giving the patients with a chance of survival the same suggestion?" Salida shook her head at the depth of human depravity. "Does Dr. Green take new patients?" "Some. Usually she takes referrals from doctors with an overflow. She's doesn't have a big practice, which is why I'm able to handle the few patients we have. She doesn't seem to want to be successful. Although, she seems to have plenty of money to spend. After seven years, you would think I'd know her a little better than I do. I've just realized how little I actually know about her. She does have a tendency to keep one at arm's length." Salida gnawed her lower lip. With the lack of evidence Mrs. Mason described, it would be an uphill battle to convict Dr. Green. Her stomach churned at the thought of lonely, defenseless people being killed on a whim by a doctor, though. She remembered her grandmother's battle with cancer. Even toward the end, when pain wracked her grandmother's body, the old woman had welcomed her family at her bedside. Salida had been in awe of her grandmother's strength and purpose. Her grandmother visited with every member of the family and when the last visit was done, her grandmother died in the night -- at peace. At least, Salida believed she had been at peace. "Why don't I drop in tomorrow and have a chat with this Dr. Green? Maybe being visited by the police will shake her up enough to make her slip." "Oh, would you, Detective Sanchez? That would be wonderful." "Okay, give me the address and I'll see you tomorrow." Mrs. Mason dutifully recited the address, then looked embarrassed. "I should have told you, Detective, but I quit my job today. I just couldn't stand the idea of working for a murderer." "I can understand, Mrs. Mason. Give me your address and I'll drop by your place after I visit the good doctor." *** Salida stared at the unpretentious wooden and glass door with "Dr. Sarah Green, M.D." stenciled in black on the glass. She took a deep breath, girding herself for the alleged monster she was about to meet. The office was more old-fashioned than Salida expected. Dark green shag carpeting covered the floor. Standard-issue waiting room chairs upholstered in avocado lined one wall and parts of two more. At one end, a counter with a door next to it indicated offices behind. Salida assumed Mrs. Mason had sat at the counter to greet patients. A faint medicinal smell floated on the air making Salida's nose twitch. The shutting door sounded loud in the funereal silence. Hearing no noise, Salida approached the counter. Seeing a small bell, she pressed it and waited. She heard the snick of a door being opened or closed, she couldn't tell which, followed by a lilting, "I'll be out in a minute." Salida resisted the urge to drum her fingers on the desk and made herself wait patiently. A few minutes later, a young, dark haired woman, with pale skin and vivid red lips appeared around the corner. Salida judged her to be in her early 30s. "May I help you?" The voice matched the earlier one, Salida noted. "I'm here to see Dr. Green." "I'm Dr. Sarah Green. Do you have an appointment? I'm afraid I had to fire my receptionist yesterday, so things are a little confused." "You fired your receptionist?" "Well, yes. And without a replacement lined up. But the woman was hopelessly disorganized and constantly prying into the patients medical files." "I see." Salida felt her stomach twist into a knot. Mrs. Mason had said she quit, but Dr. Green could have concocted a cover story for the other patients. "I didn't mean to blurt out my problems like that. That wasn't very professional of me. I apologize. Now, let's see. I didn't think anyone was scheduled until late, but I can see you now, if you'd like. Your name was. . .?" Dr. Green trailed off, smiling pleasantly at Salida. "I'm Detective Salida Sanchez of the Serious Crimes Division. I need to talk to you about the death of Mr. Chet Harvey." "Mr. Harvey? Oh, my! That was awful. But. . . . I thought it was an accident." "We just have a few routine questions to ask, Dr. Green." Dr. Green's professional smile slipped a little. "Why don't you come back to my office, then, Detective? I managed to find the coffee and the pot just finished, if you'd like a cup." "No, thank you." Dr. Green's pale face seemed a little paler to Salida. Good, she thought, maybe she's scared. Salida followed the doctor to her office and was again surprised by the lack of ostentation. Dr. Green dressed well. In fact, Salida loved the green silk dress the doctor had on and figured it would cost two months salary. The solid gold hoop earrings Dr. Green wore were the perfect accessory along with the diamond solitare on her right hand. "Engaged?" Salida asked, nodding at the ring as they settled in. "Oh, no. My goodness, I haven't had a date since pre-med. I was too bright for most of the male interns and then, well, let's just say, life got complicated and I haven't met anyone. This was my mother's ring. I wear it to remember her by." "Your mother's dead?" "Yes. She and my father. They were killed before I finished school. Not that anything I learned would have helped them. They were killed in a car crash, returning from a dinner. Two drunk drivers swerved into their lane and the cars collided head on. My parents had just learned my mother had cancer. Very advanced. In a way, it was a blessing. She avoided a long, fruitless battle and my father was saved having to learn to live without her. They had a wonderful marriage and loved each other very much. So much, in fact, that at times, I felt left out. Isn't that silly?" "Not at all. I hear that more than you think, Dr. Green." "I can't believe I'm running off at the mouth like this, Detective. You have a wonderful bedside manner. I must be more upset about letting Mrs. Mason go than I thought. I don't usually confide in strangers." Salida bent to retrieve her pad and pen from her purse. She tugged at the hem of her navy wool skirt and thought longingly of Dr. Green's elegant heels as she looked at her own serviceable black pumps. "Think of me as a professional, Dr. Green. I'm used to hearing confessions." Dr. Green gave a nervous laugh. "But, I'm sure those confessions are from killers." "What makes you say that?" "From killers? You said you were with the Serious Crimes Division. And that you wanted to talk about Mr. Harvey's death. I assumed that meant you think his death wasn't an accident." "Now that you mention it, we don't. We have reason to believe Mr. Harvey may have been pushed." "Pushed? That's ridiculous. There was no one near him." "Excuse me? Are you saying you saw Mr. Harvey walk in front of that bus?" "Yes. I assumed that's why you're here to see me. My window faces the street. Aren't you talking to everyone in the building?" "No, ma'am, we're not." "Oh, I see." "And what might that be, ma'am?" "What?" "What do you see?" "Oh, well, that's just an expression, Detective. Maybe you'd better explain just why you're here.” Salida almost grinned. Dr. Green's left hand trembled slightly as she raised her coffee mug to her mouth. Salida noticed Dr. Green didn't take a sip. Buying time, Salida thought. I've as good as got a confession. "How long was Mr. Harvey a patient of yours?" "Several years. I'm not sure how many. I could check the file, if you'd like." "Maybe in a minute. What was Mr. Harvey seeing you for?" "I'm a general practitioner, Detective. Originally, Mr. Harvey would come in when he had the flu or a cold. When he started getting sick, I ran some tests and determined that he had cancer. I referred him to an oncologist for treatment. Mr. Harvey was alone in the world. No family left at all. No one to take an interest in whether he lived or died. I know that feeling. I have several patients in the same state. I invite them all to come back whenever they want--to talk about their disease, their treatment, their fears.... anything at all. I don't try to be a substitute family, but its important to keep your spirits up when battling a disease like cancer. That's difficult enough to do with a loving and supportive family, but when there's no one, its practically impossible, so I try to help." "Like the six patients that have committed suicide in the past two years by walking in front of busses, doctor?" Salida's voice cracked through the quiet office. Dr. Green looked startled. What an actress, Salida thought. Academy Award caliber. "Suicide? What on earth are you talking about? Those people were killed in accidents. They were all elderly people and most likely were in a great deal of pain. They should not have been walking the streets alone. Pain can dull the senses and one's thinking. They misstepped and tragically were hit by traffic. But, they did not commit suicide. I can assure you of that. I spoke with each one the day before they were killed. I would have known if they were suicidal." "Hmmm. You spoke to each one the day before their "supposed" accidents." "What do you mean, "supposed"? They were accidents. Just like Mr. Harvey's. He was on his way to see me. He had called late the afternoon before and wanted to talk to me about something. He seemed disturbed, but not suicidal. I saw him coming down the street. He appeared dazed and confused even at this distance. I saw him stumble into the street. There was no way the bus could stop in time. For Mr. Harvey, it was a blessing. The oncologist had given him less than six weeks. And that six weeks would have been a living hell. There comes a point when no pain medication helps.” Salida tapped her pen against her pad. "So, what you're telling me, Doctor, is that you spoke with seven individuals. Individuals who had no family at all. Individuals who had no family support, except you. That you spoke with these seven individuals the day before they each had their accident and you don't find something strange in that." This time, coffee sloshed over the side of the elegant china coffee cup Dr. Green held. "Are you accusing me of something, Detective Sanchez?" Just the right touch of indignation, Salida thought. Definitely Academy Award. "Actually, Dr. Green, I am. Mrs. Mason came by the station yesterday and told me about these seven deaths. She remembered Mr. Harvey saying something about hypnosis and since you're a medical doctor, she got curious and dug through some files. And guess what? There's not one mention of hypnosis in Mr. Harvey's file. Does that surprise you?" "Of course not," Dr. Green snapped. "There's no mention of hypnosis because I don't perform hypnosis. Why would I? I'm a medical doctor. I'm not a psychiatrist or a psychologist." "Maybe you can explain why Mrs. Mason found notes concerning hypnosis in the other six patients' files?" Dr. Green looked bewildered. Move over Helen Hunt, Salida thought. "I can't explain it because it's not there. I'll show you the files." Dr. Green stood and strode from the office. When Salida followed, Dr. Green glanced around. "Just want to make sure there's no tampering." Salida allowed herself a wolfish grin. "Detective, I assure you I would not tamper with my patients' files." "Well, this way, we're safe, aren't we?" Dr. Green looked ready to explode, but turned and continued to the reception area. Jerking open a battered file cabinet, Dr. Green rifled through the files, pulling out seven in rapid succession. "Here. Look for yourself. There is absolutely no mention of hypnosis in any of them." Salida sat at Mrs. Mason's desk and opened the first file. A Mrs. Selma Whitney. Salida scanned the medical jargon, feeling out of her element. Between the scrawling handwriting and the unfamiliar terms, she hoped she wasn't missing anything. Turning pages rapidly, she came to the last page. Typewritten, the word "hypnosis" jumped out at her. Salida flipped through the remaining files and found a similar typewritten sheet in each one, except Mr. Harvey's. Dr. Green leaned against the counter and stared into space. As Salida turned, Dr. Green looked at her. "Satisfied?" "Oh, yes, Dr. Green. You've been very helpful. In fact, you have the right to remain silent." "What?" "I'm placing you under arrest for the deaths of seven innocent people, Dr. Green. It's all here. In black and white. It was very thoughtful of you to type these reports, I might add. I might have missed it otherwise. Your handwriting is atrocious, you know. I can barely make out your signature on these reports." "What are you talking about?” Salida held up one of the typewritten reports. "This. I'm talking about this, Dr. Green. In black and white. Where you talk about hypnotizing your patients and giving them the suggestion to walk into traffic. Evidently, each one was more than ready to die and didn't want to face their last few months when all they had to look forward to was pain. You may be a doctor, but that doesn't give you the right to play God." "Let me see." Dr. Green jerked the report out of Salida's hand. "Oh, my God!" Dr. Green's hand covered her mouth. Her face was horror-struck. "Oh, my God! I thought she was just being nosy." Dr. Green sagged against the wall. "Detective, I know you're going to think I'm trying to deflect the blame from myself, but I did not and would not practice hypnosis. I did not hypnotize any patient. I don't know how to hypnotize anyone. And, besides, if, and I said if, I were to want to help my patients end their lives, don't you think I'd write them a prescription so they could die in their own home, in their own bed? Rather than in front of a bus? There's nothing sure about a traffic accident. But an overdose? With no one to check on them? It would almost certainly be a sure thing. As well as being less painful." Salida's elation dimmed. What the doctor said made sense. A traffic accident wasn't a sure thing whereas an overdose would be, especially in these peoples' case. Salida felt a twinge in her stomach; the same twinge that alerted her when someone was telling the truth. Stubborn, Salida persisted. "Maybe that's exactly why you did the hypnosis, doctor? So no one would suspect you." "Detective, there is one thing I know about hyponsis and that is you can not give a person a suggestion to hurt themselves. You can not hypnotize a person to kill themselves or do grievious bodily harm." "How do you know that?" Dr. Green's faced pinked becomingly. "Because I underwent hyponotherapy after my parents' accident. I had terrible feelings of unresolved guilt because of a disagreement the three of us had that day. Before I agreed to be hypnotized, I throroughly researched the subject." "So, you know more about hypnosis that you said earlier, then, don't you?" "Please, come back to my office. We need to talk." "It's going to take a lot to convince me," Salida warned. "I realize that. But, I have to try," Dr. Green said wearily. Seated back in her office, Dr. Green no longer look smooth and chic. Lines etched themselves around her mouth. Her brilliant green eyes looked haunted. "I told you earlier I had to fire Mrs. Mason." "Mrs. Mason stated that she quit," Salida countered. Dr. Green smiled wanly. "She would say that. But I did fire her. She became quite excited, as a matter of fact." Dr. Green shook her head and looked dejected. "I suppose I should have seen something like this coming, but I didn't. It's as simple as that." Dr. Green leaned forward and propped her elbows on the desktop. She steepled her fingers together and looked directly at Salida. "I came in yesterday morning, Detective, and Mrs. Mason was screaming. At no one! There was no one here at all and no one was expected. She was tossing files all around the room. The place looked like a paper mill had exploded. I was furious. I told her to replace the files and then come to my office. When she did, she looked contrite. I had been debating about letting her go for sometime. She had a tendency to become overly familiar with the patients. Friendliness is one thing, but after his last appointment, I overheard her asking Mr. Harvey to stop by her house for coffee." "At the time, I let it go. She was elderly and so was he. They were both alone in the world. I thought the companionship might be good for both of them. But, the more I thought about it, the more concerned I became, especially in light of Mr. Harvey's death. I assumed it was good natured humanity, but I have to admit that the idea of Mrs. Mason swindling Mr. Harvey out of his estate, if any, did cross my mind. When I questioned her about it, she became quite unhinged and began screaming, almost unintelligibly. I caught a few words here and there, but nothing that made sense. I finally resorted to throwing water in her face to shock her before she could hurt herself, or me, I might add. She seemed to be violent. At first, I thought it was a reaction to Mr. Harvey's death. Sometimes grief can cause people to do things they wouldn't normally do." "After she calmed down, I again asked her about her relationship with Mr. Harvey. She denied it. Rather than push it and have her erupt again, I let it go and asked about the scene I witnessed when I came in that morning. She flatly denied it. And said, quite primly, I might add, that I had imagined the whole thing." "Detective, I simply can not afford to have a receptionist I can not trust. I had no choice but to let her go. When I told her my decision, she again became quite agitated. Screaming and shouting. Tearing at her hair and clothes. I was concerned I would have to call security to have her removed. Then, as suddenly as she started, she stopped." "She faced me and said she understood, but that I couldn't fire her because she quit. That she was tired of working and tired of working for me, in particular." "Did anyone else witness any of this, Dr. Green?" "I'm afraid not. I don't have a large practice, Detective. After my parents were killed, I lost heart. I finished my degree and opened a practice. I work with mainly older patients. That pleases me for some reason. Maybe I see myself ministering to my own parents, I don't know. I'm financially secure; my parents saw to that. So, I don't have to have a large practice to support myself." Salida hardened her heart. "So, there's no one to back up your story, is there, Dr. Green? And it still doesn't explain seven deaths, does it?" "I'm getting to that, Detective." Dr. Green took a deep breath. "As I said, I know it looks as those I'm trying to shift the blame, but I did not kill my patients, Detective. You must believe that." "Go on.” "After Mrs. Mason left, I needed to pull a file. I had patients coming and needed their records. That's when I discovered what I thought was Mrs. Mason's nosiness. Mrs. Mason had placed notes in several files. The notes were, well, let's just say, they were less than complimentary about the patients. It infuriated me. I spent last night here, going through files and finding those notes and destroying them. She had signed my name to them. If a patient had seen one of those notes, what little practice I do have would have been ruined." "Did anyone see you here last night?" "The security guard checked me in and out, but no, he wasn't in the office with me, if that's what you're asking." "What did you do with the notes?" "I shredded them. They were quite inflammatory, Detective. They were not something I wished to leave in the wastepaper basket, I assure you." "You still haven't explained the seven deaths, Doctor." "How can I? I did not hypnotize those people, Detective." Dr. Green drummed her fingers on her desktop. "You can check my calendar. I wasn't in town when the six were killed. Mrs. Mason left their obituaries on my desk for me." "Okay, I'll bite. Where were you?" "I don't remember each one, but I know I was at a medical convention when Mr. Smythe had his accident. I got in late on a Friday and came to the office on Saturday to catch up on mail and found the clipping in the middle of my desk. At the time, I thought it was extremely thoughtful of Mrs. Mason." Salida narrowed her eyes and studied the doctor. The doctor appeared to be telling the truth, but then, so did Mrs. Mason. What the hell is going on, Salida wondered. "But, if those people were hypnotized, then you wouldn't have to be in town, would you? You could've planted one of those post-hypnotic suggestions." "For the last time, I did not, and do not, hypnotize my patients." "Who put those notes in the dead patients' files?" "I honestly don't know, Detective. But it wasn't me. As you saw, all my notes are handwritten. Those particular notes were typewritten." "But, you suspect somebody, don't you, Doctor? That's why you keep mentioning shifting the blame." "Yes, I do, but I know you won't believe me. I think Mrs. Mason is involved with their deaths." Salida laughed. "Now, how could that frail, bird-like lady kill those people? She doesn't weight 90 pounds soaking wet. Besides, you said yourself there was no one around Mr. Harvey when he stepped in front of the bus." "Bird-like? Frail? Whom are you speaking of, Detective?" "Mrs. Mason. Your ex-receptionist. Mid to late 50s. Brown, non-descript hair. Small. Frail. Positively tiny. She couldn't have the strength to push a fly away, let alone a man as large as Mr. Harvey was. I read the report. Even with cancer eating away at him, he was a big, beefy guy." Dr. Green looked puzzled. "My ex-receptionist, Mrs. Mason, is about 50. A large, raw-boned woman, approximately 5'10" and well over 200 pounds, who could have broken me into pieces if she had decided she wanted to, which is why I became alarmed at her outburst." It was Salida's turn to look puzzled. She stared at the petite doctor, whom she guessed weighed around 120, with plenty of muscle tone based on her graceful, controlled movements. Salida leaned over and tucked her pad and pen in her purse. Standing, she pulled the strap over her shoulder. "Don't leave town, Doctor. In fact, I want you to stay right here until you hear from me." "Oh, no. No, you don't. Some woman is impersonating my receptionist and accusing me of murder. I'm coming with you." Dr. Green jerked a drawer opened and pulled out a leather shoulder bag, the exact shade of her dress. Salida sighed with envy. "All right, but I'm asking the questions." *** Both women were quiet on the drive across town. As they reached Mrs. Mason's street, Salida risked a quick glance at Dr. Green. "You're sure she's not like a little bird? Maybe a brown wren?" "Trust me, Detective. There is nothing bird-like about Mrs. Mason. More like a bull with a glandular infection." "I don't understand what's going on here." "Neither do I, Detective, but I'll be damned if I'll let someone accuse me of murder." "You're sure this is the house?" Salida asked as she pulled to the curb in front of the house at which Dr. Green pointed. "I'm sure. I drove her home one day. I have an excellent memory for directions." Salida studied the small house. White clapboard that had seen better days. Paint chipped and peeled along the front and side of the house that were visible from the street. Scraggly bushes of some type had entwined themselves in the screens. More than one screen had popped off the window and become a part of the bushes. A detached garage sat behind the house with a narrow driveway of two narrower tracks of concrete leading to it. A cracked and buckled sidewalk led up to the sagging front porch. Two rusted, weather-beaten metal chairs sat on the front porch. "Doesn't look like much, does it?" Salida asked. "It was dark when I drove her home, but I don't understand why Mrs. Mason doesn't take better care of her home. I actually pay her two salaries-one as a secretary and one as a nurse. It's not as though she couldn't afford a can or two of paint." "Hmm. Let's go in. Remember, I ask the questions." "Of course, Detective," Dr. Green smiled. Salida lead the way up the obstacle course sidewalk. She tested each step as she climbed the porch to the front door. She knocked on the front door and heard the echo inside the house. "That's weird. You don't usually hear echoes," Salida commented. Minutes passed. Salida knocked again, longer and louder. Dr. Green stepped to one of the windows. Cupping her hands around her eyes, Dr. Green peered into the darken interior. "I can't see any furniture." "Curiouser and curiouser," Salida commented. She hesitated on the top step and started down, when a voice drifted to her. "Detective! How nice of you to come!" Salida whipped her head around to the side of the house. Mrs. Mason's head poked through the bushes. "I wasn't expecting company. Let me come around and I'll let you in." Salida exchanged a glance with Dr. Green as the detective mounted the steps. "I don't think she saw you. That may be good. We'll surprise her.” The front door rattled and groaned and swung open. Salida stepped up to the rusty screen. "Mrs. Mason, I need to ask you a few questions." "Oh, of course, dear. Come right in." Mrs. Mason fiddled with the flimsy hook and finally got the screen open. Salida stepped in and held the door for Dr. Green. "Just follow me, dear. I'll fix us a nice glass of tea." Mrs. Mason walked down a long narrow hallway toward the back of the house. Salida and Dr. Green followed, stopping in the kitchen door. Mrs. Mason still had her back to them. With a careless wave of her hand, she motioned them to the table. "Sit anywhere. I won't be a minute." Mrs. Mason climbed a small step and reached into a cabinet, retrieving two glasses. As she stepped down, she turned toward Salida. Mrs. Mason's face turned pale and the glasses slipped from her fingers, shattering. "What's she doing here?" Mrs. Mason demanded. "Dr. Green? I brought her along. She's part of the questions I need to ask." "You get that woman out of my house. Right now, do you hear me? I won't have that woman in this house." The back door screeched in protest. "Almira, what are you screeching about? I heard you all the way out by the garage." A somewhat younger, muscular woman stepped into the kitchen. "Dr. Green?" the woman asked, her mouth opening in surprise. "Mrs. Mason, good afternoon. How are you?" Dr. Green said. Salida pointed at the muscular woman. "You're Mrs. Mason?" The younger woman nodded. "I'm Althea Mason." Salida pointed at the smaller woman. "And you're Mrs. Mason, too?" The smaller woman nodded. "I'm Almira Mason." "Okay, this is just too weird. How can you both be Mrs. Mason?" Salida asked. "We were married to brothers," Almira said. "We'd still be married to them if it weren't for her." She sniffed as she pointed at Dr. Green. "Me? I don't know your husbands. I've never had a patient named Mason before. I didn't even know you had a sister-in-law," Dr. Green protested. "Oh, not you specifically," Althea Mason said. Disgust showed on her face. "Believe me, the world does not revolve around you, Dr. Green." "Hold on," Salida said. "What does Dr. Green have to do with your husbands?" "They're dead and it's all because of her," Almira Mason said. "That's a fact," Althea Mason added. "That fancy-pants doctor father of her's killed our husbands.” Salida felt as bewildered as Dr. Green looked. "Why don't you start at the beginning?" Salida suggested, trying to maintain her composure. "I can see how it might be difficult, Detective," Almira said. "Detective? Almira, what have you done?" Althea asked. "I went to the police, like you suggested, dear." "I did not suggest going to the police, Almira," Althea growled. "Of course, you did, dear. It was two or three weeks ago. I remember perfectly. We were trimming the last of the roses in back and you said it would be so nice if someone turned Dr. Green in to the police. So, I did." "Oh, Almira, you didn't?" "Oh, yes, she did," Salida broke in. "And I want to know why she's accusing Dr. Green of murder." Althea sagged against the counter. "Almira, what have you done?" "I'm trying to see that justice is served, Althea, if you must know. I didn't realize you were quite so dense. I thought this is what we both wanted. We wanted her to suffer -- as her father should have." "What does my father have to do with this?" Dr. Green slapped her hand on the table. "Your father killed our husbands," Althea said. "He was drunk and he swerved into the wrong lane and hit the car our husbands were driving head on, killing them instantly." "My parents were killed in that accident. There was an autopsy. My father had not been drinking," Dr. Green shot back. "I saw the accident. Your father's car was over the center line." Almira sniffed. "It's been twenty years, and we still grieve for our husbands. They were good men," Althea said. "Twenty years? My parents have only been dead for ten." "What?" Althea and Almira said in unison. "Wasn't your father Dr. Woodward Green?" Althea managed to ask. "No, my father was Woodrow Green, the plumber." "Oh, no!" The sisters-in-law looked at each other. Salida gave them a moment, then asked, "So, what about these seven deaths that Almira was telling me about?" "Almira, you didn't?" "Of course, I did. I planted, I think that's the correct term, evidence to convict Dr. Green of the murders. But the police never investigated, so after your excellent suggestion, I gave them a little push." "Evidence? What evidence? Almira, what have you done?" Althea asked. "I typed up notes of our conversations. You know, Althea, those people you brought home were so charming and so lonely. I invited them back and hypnotized them. It was only a small suggestion - to give them courage to face their final days. They were so sad. They didn't have anyone. I'm glad I have you, Althea." "You hypnotized them? Is that what you said?" Salida asked. "Did you give them any ... what's it called. Suggestions to do anything?" "After we found out each was terminal, I did give them a suggestion to be courageous and do what they wanted before their time ran out, so they wouldn't have any regrets. My husband and I had so many things planned that we never got done. I wanted those poor dears to enjoy every last minute of their precious lives." Almira tried, and failed, to look modest. "I never understood why they had those accidents.”