Fertile Ground (3 page)

Matthew tilted his head and squinted in puzzlement. “Does this have anything to do with her murder?”

“Probably not. But I like to be thorough—it prevents duplication of effort and embarrassing questions from my lieutenant.” Barone smiled.

“Of course.” Matthew put his hands in his pockets. “Well, the current rate for donors is around twenty-five hundred dollars per retrieval.”

The detective whistled and wrote down the figure. “A fellow at the station donated sperm several times. But he got only fifty dollars each time.”

“Donating eggs is far more involved. The donor devotes about fifty-six hours to the retrieval process.” Matthew was frowning and had taken on a lecturing tone. “She has to take fertility drugs to increase ovulation. That means daily injections for ten or more days, blood tests, ultrasound screenings.” He’d ticked off the details on his fingers.

Barone nodded. “Not so simple, then.”

“Hardly.” Matthew folded his arms across his chest. “There are possible side effects to the drugs—abdominal pain, rash or swelling at the injection site, headaches, mood swings, weight gain. The harvesting itself involves anesthesia, which can have complications, and there may be discomfort from the procedure, possibly infection.”

“You’ve convinced me. Doctor. I don’t think I’ll volunteer.”

Barone was smiling good-naturedly, but Lisa could see curiosity in the way he was studying Matthew, whose frown had frozen in place. She knew he was sensitive to criticism about the clinic. Edging closer, she pressed his

arm lightly—a gentle warning not to overreact with the detective, who was just doing his job—and wondered again why he was so tense lately, why he couldn’t confide in her. Not that she confided her every concern to him, either. It goes two ways, she told herself.

“So how do you find donors?” Barone asked.

“We work with several donor agencies.” Matthew unfolded his arms and half sat on the desk.

“Which agency referred Chelsea?”

Matthew creased his brow in thought. “Actually, if I remember correctly, Chelsea responded to an ad we placed in one of the local colleges.”

“Right under the “Looking for a roommate’ card on the bulletin board, is that it?” Barone smiled again.

Lisa resumed her pressure on Matthew’s arm. He smiled woodenly and said, “Not exactly, but yes, we do place ads on bulletin boards. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Barone scribbled something indecipherable on his notepad. “Dr. Brockman says she saw Chelsea at the clinic a few weeks ago. Is that when Chelsea donated the eggs?”

Matthew shook his head. “Chelsea donated the eggs long before that. I’d have to check her file to find out exactly when. She came here two weeks ago because she wanted to donate again. I reviewed her records then and noted that the first time, her ovaries had become hyper stimulated from the fertility drugs.”

“Is that a dangerous side effect?”

“It’s a possible side effect,” Matthew corrected. “And yes, if it isn’t controlled, it can be dangerous. Obviously, we monitor our patients carefully. In Chelsea’s case, we controlled the hyper stimulation and successfully retrieved her eggs, but I told her donating again was medically inadvisable.”

“How did she react?”

Matthew sighed. “She was very upset. She begged me to let her do it.” He hesitated. “She told me she needed the money. I told her that wasn’t a good reason to donate.”

“Did she tell you why she needed money?” Again, heightened interest tinged Barone’s voice.

“She didn’t volunteer, and I didn’t press her. It wasn’t exactly my business.”

Poor Matthew. Lisa could tell from his defensiveness that he was feeling guilty, though he had no reason to be. He’d probably be agonizing over Chelsea for a long time.

“Is that why she donated the first time?” Barone asked. “For money?” “When I first interviewed her, she said she wanted to help infertile couples. I thought she was sincere. Now I’m not so sure.” He sounded troubled. “Why would a young woman like her be desperate for money?” The detective’s tone was speculative; his eyes had narrowed. “Was she on drugs, do you think?”

“She definitely wasn’t when we harvested her eggs.” A muscle twitched in his cheek. “We do extensive screenings—physical and psychological—on all egg donors and monitor them throughout the cycle.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.” The detective’s smile and tone were conciliatory. “I’m just reaching. Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just—” Matthew expelled a breath. “Chelsea was so damn nice. Detective. So damn young! I’m shocked and saddened by what happened. If you want to know the truth, I’m pissed.” His hands gripped the rounded edge of the desk.

“So am I,” Barone said in a quiet, sad voice that indicated he hadn’t become inured to the brutality he witnessed almost daily. “So who received Chelsea’s eggs?”

Matthew shook his head. “Sorry. Medical ethics prevent me from revealing that information.”

“But you told Chelsea?”

Another shake of the head. “No. The recipient has a right to keep her identity secret. Chelsea understood that. She never asked.”

“I see.” Barone jotted more notes. “Anything else you can tell me about Ms. Wright?”

Matthew locked his hands behind his head. “I can tell you she was a terrific young woman. Detective. She never

complained once during the entire treatment cycle, even with the discomfort of the hyper stimulation She wanted to be a teacher, did you know that? She was bright, full of life …” He dropped his hands to his sides. “Not exactly information that will help you find her killer, is it?”

Barone didn’t answer.

“Maybe I should have spent more time with her, found out what was troubling her,” Matthew said, as if he were speaking to himself.

Lisa covered his hand with hers. “You couldn’t have known what would happen. Matt. You couldn’t have changed anything.” She looked to the detective for confirmation.

“Everything points to a mugging,” Barone said. “Her watch and a small diamond pendant her boyfriend gave her were lifted—her parents told us both were missing. We found her wallet a few blocks away from where she was killed. The credit cards were there, but the cash was gone. The bartender at the restaurant where she worked said she’d made over ninety dollars in tips that night.”

“You see?” Lisa turned back to Matthew. “Nothing you could have told Chelsea would’ve changed that.”

“I guess. How … how was she killed?”

Barone slipped his notepad into his pocket. “She was bludgeoned at the back of her head, then shot in the neck.”

Lisa winced, then swallowed hard.

Matthew winced, too. His face looked pasty. “No one heard anything, saw anything?” His voice was shaking and resonated with impatience and anger at an indifferent world.

“It happened late at night, when she was going home from work. More often than not, you know, people hear things they don’t want to hear and never come forward. Too afraid.” Barone shrugged. “And if it wasn’t a mugging, if it was a planned hit, the killer could have used a silencer.”

“You just told us it was a mugging,” Lisa said more sharply than she’d intended. She knew she was being

silly, but she was annoyed with the detective for bringing back the haunted look to Matthew’s face.

“Either that, or someone was careful to make it look like a mugging. Why bludgeon her, then shoot her? Why shoot her at all, for that matter?”

They were good questions. She realized the detective wouldn’t be here if he thought Chelsea’s murder was the aftermath of a mugging.

Barone reached into his inside jacket pocket, took out two cards, handed one to Matthew, the other to Lisa. “In case you think of anything else.”

“Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong, Matt?”

They were sitting on the taupe-colored leather sleeper sofa in her living room. Matthew had turned on the television but wasn’t watching—he was using the remote control like an electronic toy, switching impatiently from channel to channel.

They’d just returned from their favorite restaurant in Santa Monica, near the pier. She’d offered to cook dinner, but he’d insisted they go out. “We need a break,” he’d said, but she knew the real reason: in a restaurant, he could avoid her questions.

He’d been quiet there, had poked at his salad Nicoise-almost angrily. Lisa thought—taken a few bites, then pushed his plate away. “I’m not really hungry,” he’d said, though she hadn’t asked. “You go ahead.” Lisa hadn’t been all that hungry, either, and when she’d suggested that they leave, Matthew had protested halfheartedly, then agreed.

“Some date, huh?” He’d smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry.” The waitress had hurried over when they rose from their chairs. “Nothing’s wrong, just a change of plans,” he’d assured her, pulling out two twenties from his Gucci wallet and placing them on the table.

He’d slipped his arm around Lisa as they’d left the restaurant, but he’d been silent when they walked to his black BMW. In the car he’d sat for a moment before turning on the ignition, staring at the windshield, his hands gripping the gray-leather-wrapped steering wheel.

It wasn’t just Chelsea Wright, she sensed. He’d been upset about the murder all day, long after Barone had left. That hadn’t surprised her. Matthew was caring, committed to his patients, to his friends, to her. But he’d been preoccupied for weeks. On Saturday night they had seen a Mel Gibson movie in Century City. Afterward, when she’d asked him something about one of the scenes, he’d looked blank, then admitted sheepishly that he hadn’t really watched the film. “What’s on your mind?” she’d asked. “Things,” he’d said. “I’m sure they’ll work themselves out.”

Obviously they hadn’t. “Is it the missing money, Matt?” she asked softly now, ignoring the flush that was tinting his neck. She reached for his hand and linked her fingers through his. When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Is it something to do with us?” and held her breath, partly because she’d been here before, partly because she didn’t know what answer she wanted to hear.

He turned and looked at her, puzzled. “With us?

Her face felt uncomfortably warm. “You’ve been different lately, a little distant. I thought, maybe …”

“That I was having second thoughts about marrying you?” He cupped her face in his hands. “I love you. Lisa. You know that, don’t you?” His gaze was intense.

Asher had gazed into her green eyes and told her he loved her, too. Lisa nodded. Matthew kissed her and pulled her close. She rested her head on his shoulder and told herself she was incredibly lucky to have found him and wondered why she couldn’t let things be.

“I have been preoccupied,” he said, stroking her hair. “The stolen money’s part of it. Another fifteen hundred was taken last week, five hundred yesterday, and I have no idea who the hell did it. All cash, of course, so it’s hard to trace.”

Many of their patients, especially those who traveled

to the clinic from South America, made cash payments. Each bill was supposedly photocopied, and the money was deposited in the bank only twice a week. “How much is missing in total. Matt?”

“Over twenty thousand. Not exactly pocket change.”

She was stunned by the amount. Lifting her head, she stared at him. “Matt, don’t you think you should reconsider and call the police?”

“You know I don’t want the publicity. I’m changing the safe combination again. This time only Selena will know it. She’s the only one who’ll put cash in the safe, and I know she’s careful about photocopying the money. And I’ll make sure Victor understands that anyone who comes in before or after regular hours has to sign in and out. He’s lax sometimes.” Matthew switched the channel, and canned laughter filled the room.

“And if there’s another theft, you’ll call the police?”

“Persistent, aren’t you?” He laughed lightly. “Probably.” He switched channels again, finally settling on CNN. “The money’s not the only problem. We need to find a better anesthetic for the retrievals—I’m not happy patients are waking up agitated. And I’m still trying to figure out what went wrong with the protocols. The results looked so promising!”

Aside from treating patients, Matthew was doing research on freezing unfertilized eggs. Two weeks ago he’d told her excitedly that he was on the verge of a breakthrough. Days later he’d been dejected—the data were disheartening.

She squeezed his hand. “The fact that you were so close means that next time you’ll find the answer.” No response. She kicked off her black suede flats, tucked her legs beneath her, and studied him. “What else is bothering you?”

He grunted. “It’s obvious, huh?” He hesitated. “I may have to fire someone—this has nothing to do with the stolen cash.”

Her eyes widened. “Who?”

“I’d rather not say until I’m sure. If I’m wrong, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“Wrong about whatT’ When he didn’t answer, she rose to her knees and massaged the back of his neck, then his shoulders. “You’re so tense. Matt.”

“No kidding.” He was silent for a moment, then swiveled to face her. “You can’t tell anyone, but the clinic could be facing a serious lawsuit.”

His tone was grudging. The clinic was his passion-he’d spent years and endless hours, he’d told her on their second date, convincing investors to share his dream and build one of the most prestigious fertility clinics in the world.

“Have you talked to Edmond about this?” Edmond Fisk was the chairman of the clinic’s board of directors.

“Definitely not!” Color tinged his cheeks. “I haven’t told him that someone’s been stealing cash, either. Edmond doesn’t like to hear about problems—he likes solutions. Promise you won’t say anything to him, Lisa.”

“I promise,” she said, troubled by his vehemence. “Does Sam know?”

“No. You can’t tell him, either.”

“Sam isn’t only on staff, Matthew. He’s your friend.” He was Lisa’s friend, too; they’d met in Downstate Medical School in New York. It was Sam Davidson who had encouraged Lisa to interview for a position at the clinic, Sam who’d put in a good word with Matthew, Sam who’d found her this one-bedroom apartment on Keystone in Palms, not far from Westwood and the clinic.

“You know how easily rumors start. Lisa. A slip of the tongue …” He shook his head. “I’ll tell you everything once I’ve verified what’s going on. Until then, let’s drop it, okay?” “Is that why you were defensive with Barone?”