The Cradle Will Fall (9 page)
Read The Cradle Will Fall Online
Authors: Mary Higgins Clark
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Thrillers, #Suspense
AT EIGHT a.m. Thursday morning the Investigative Squad of the
Homicide Division of Valley County pulled up to the Lewis home.
The six-man team was headed by Phil Cunningham and Charley
Nugent. The detectives in charge of fingerprinting were told to
concentrate on the master bedroom and bath and the kitchen.
According to the lab report, Vangie's fingerprints had been
found on the tumbler that had been lying next to her. She had
been right-handed. When she poured the cyanide crystals into
the glass, it would have been natural for her to hold the glass with
her left hand and pour with her right. Yet only her right prints
were on the tumbler. This further discredited the suicide theory.
Every bottle in the medicine chest was opened, sniffed. But the
bitter-almond scent they were looking for was not to be found.
The bedroom was carefully vacuumed in the hope of finding
human hair. As Phil put it: "Any house can have hairs from delivery
people, neighbors, anybody. We're all shedding hair all the
time. But most people don't bring even good friends into the bedroom.
So if you find human hair that doesn't belong to the people
who sleep in the bedroom, you might have something."
Close attention was given to the shelves in the garage. The usual
garden tools, hoses, insecticides and weed killer were there in
abundance. Phil grunted in annoyance as a prong of a gardening
fork pulled at his jacket. The prongs had been protruding over
the edge of the shelf, the handle wedged in by a heavy paint can.
Bending to free his sleeve, he noticed a sliver of printed cotton
hooked on the prong.
That flowered print. He'd seen it recently. It was the dress
Vangie Lewis was wearing when she died.
He called the police photographer out to the garage. "Get a
picture of that," he said, pointing to the tool. When the picture
was taken, he removed the material and sealed it in an envelope.
In the house, Charley was going through the desk. When Phil
came in, Charley said, "We've come up with a big zero. Wait a
minute. They had an answering service. We'd better check it for
messages."
He got the number of the answering service from a file in the
desk, then dialed and identified himself. "Give me any messages
left for either Captain or Mrs. Lewis starting with Monday."
Taking out his pen, he began to write: "Monday, February 15,
4:00 p.m. Northwest Orient reservations phoned. Mrs. Lewis is
confirmed on Flight 235 at 4:10 p.m. from La Guardia Airport to
Minneapolis/St. Paul on Tuesday, February 16."
Charley asked, "Did Mrs. Lewis receive that message?"
"Oh, yes," the operator said. "I gave it to her myself at about
seven thirty Monday evening. She sounded very relieved."
"All right," Charley said. "What else have you got?"
"Also on Monday a Miss Edna Burns called at ten p.m. She
wanted Mrs. Lewis to phone her no matter how late it was. But
Mrs. Lewis never contacted us again that night."
There were no further messages on the service, but the operator
knew a call had come through Tuesday evening and had been
picked up by Captain Lewis. "I was just starting to answer when
he came on," she explained. "I got right off."
Charley thanked the operator, then hung up the receiver and
looked at Phil. "Let's go. Scott's going to want to hear about this."
"How do you read it?" Phil asked.
Charley snorted. "How else can I read it? As of seven thirty
Monday evening Vangie Lewis was planning to go to Minneapolis.
A couple of hours later she's dead. As of ten o'clock Monday night,
Edna Burns had an important message for Vangie. The next night
Edna's dead, and the last person who saw her alive heard her
telling Chris Lewis she had information for the police."
FOR Katie, Wednesday night had seemed endless. She'd gone
to bed as soon as she returned from Edna's apartment, first taking
one of the pills Dr. Highley had given her. She'd awakened feeling
vaguely troubled. Her grandmother's old black hat. Why was she
thinking about that hat? Of course. Because of that shabby old
shoe Edna obviously prized. But why just one shoe?
Grimacing, she got out of bed. The soreness throughout her
body had intensified during the night. Hoping that a hot bath
might soak some of the achiness away, she went into the bathroom
and turned on the taps in the tub. A wave of dizziness made her
sway, and she grabbed the side of the tub to keep from falling. The
bathroom mirror revealed the deathly pallor of her skin. It's this
bleeding, she thought. If I weren't going into the hospital tomorrow
night, I'd probably end up being carried in.
The bath did reduce some of the stiffness, and foundation makeup
minimized the paleness. With her orange juice Katie swallowed
another of Dr. Highley's pills. Then she grabbed a coat and her
handbag and went out to the car.
Charley and Phil were searching the Lewis house this morning.
Scott was drawing a web around Chris Lewis. If only she could
find another avenue to explore before Chris was indicted.
She arrived at the office just before eight and found Maureen
Crowley already there. "Maureen," Katie said, "I've got a job.
Could you come in when you have a minute?"
The girl got up quickly. She had a narrow-waisted, graceful-
young body. The green sweater she was wearing accentuated the
vivid green of her eyes. "How about coffee, Katie?"
"Great. But no ham on rye—at least not yet."
Maureen looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry I said that yesterday.
You, of all people, are not in a rut."
"I'm not sure about that." Katie hung up her coat and settled
down with her notebook. Maureen brought in the coffee, pulled
up a chair and waited silently, her steno pad on her lap.
Katie said slowly, "We're not satisfied that the Vangie Lewis
death is a suicide. Yesterday I talked with her doctors, Dr. Highley
and Dr. Fukhito, at Westlake Hospital."
She heard a sharp intake of breath and looked up quickly. The
girl's face had gone dead white.
"Maureen, is anything the matter?"
"No. No. I'm sorry."
Unconvinced, Katie looked back at her notes. "As far as we
know, Dr. Fukhito was the last person to see Vangie Lewis alive.
I want to find out as much as I can about him. Find out where
he came from, where he went to school, other hospitals he's been
connected with, his personal background."
"You don't want me to talk to anyone at Westlake Hospital?"
"No. I don't want them to know we're checking on him."
For some reason the younger woman seemed relieved. "I'll get
right on it."
"You'd be a good lawyer," Katie said, meaning it. "I'm surprised
you didn't go to college."
"I was insane enough to get engaged the summer I finished
high school. My folks persuaded me to take a secretarial course
before I got married so at least I'd have some kind of skill. How
right they were. The engagement didn't stand the year's wait."
She looked unhappy, and Katie decided she must have been
pretty hurt about the breakup.
Maureen went out of the room. The telephone rang. It was
Richard. "Katie, I've just been talking to Dave Broad, the head of
prenatal research at Mount Sinai. On a hunch, I sent him the fetus
Vangie Lewis was carrying. My hunch was right. Vangie was not
pregnant with Lewis' child. The baby was distinctly Oriental!"
THE funeral service for Vangie Lewis was held on Thursday
morning in the chapel of a Minneapolis funeral home. Chris stood
beside Vangie's parents, their muffled sobs assaulting him like
hammerblows. They had been outraged to hear that Vangie could
not be buried, that her body was to be shipped back east, then
returned later for burial. "Why?"
"I simply don't know." There was no use saying more—not now.
He thought of Edna's call. Could she throw some light on Vangie's
death? Before he left Minneapolis, he had to call Dr. Salem. What
did he know about Vangie that had made him react with such
shock last night? Why had Vangie wanted to see him?
There had been someone else in Vangie's life. He was sure of
it now. Suppose Vangie had killed herself in front of someone
and that person had brought her home?
The minister was saying the final prayer. "When every tear shall
be dried . . ." Chris led Vangie's parents into the anteroom to accept
the sympathy of their friends.
When he was able to get away to a phone, Chris called Dr.
Salem's office. "This is Vangie Lewis' husband," he said. "It's
urgent I speak with the doctor immediately."
"I'm sorry," the nurse told him. "Dr. Salem left a short time ago
for the American Medical Association convention in New York.
He will not be back until next week."
"New York! Can you tell me where he's staying, please?"
The nurse hesitated. "I suppose it's all right. I know Dr. Salem
intends to get in touch with you. He took your wife's medical
records with him. You can reach him at the Essex House Hotel on
Central Park South."
SCOTT Myerson had called a noon meeting to discuss Vangie
Lewis' death. When Katie arrived, Maureen was there with a pen
and paper.
"We're bringing sandwiches in," Scott said. "I'm due in court
again at one thirty. We've got to move fast on Captain Lewis."
As Katie had expected, Scott was zeroing in on Chris. She
looked at Maureen. The girl had an aura of nervousness around
her. "Any results on Dr. Fukhito?"
"So far not much. He's not a member of the AMA or the Valley
County Medical Society. But I have a call in to the University of
Massachusetts. He attended medical school there."
"Who told you that?" Katie asked.
"I remember hearing it somewhere."
Katie sensed that Maureen was being evasive.
At that moment Richard, Charley and Phil came into the office.
Quickly they gave Maureen their lunch choices. Scott began to
speak. "By now you all know that the Lewis baby had Oriental
characteristics. So that opens two possibilities. One: with the
birth imminent, Vangie panicked and killed herself because she
knew she could never pass the baby off as her husband's. Two:
Chris Lewis found out that his wife had been having an affair and
killed her. She could have been rushing home to Minneapolis because
she was afraid of him. From what Katie tells us, the psychiatrist
claims she ran out of his office nearly hysterical."
"The Japanese psychiatrist," Katie said.
"Are you suggesting there was something between him and
Vangie?"
"I'm not suggesting anything yet. Vangie could have known
another Oriental man. But he was nervous when I spoke with
him yesterday. He carefully chose every word he said to me, and
I certainly did not get the whole truth from him."
"Which brings us to Edna Burns," Scott said. "What about it,
Richard? Did she fall, or was she pushed?"
"It's possible that she fell. The alcohol level in her blood was
point two five. She was blotto."
"But it is possible she was murdered?" Scott persisted.
"Absolutely."
"And Edna was heard talking to Chris Lewis about Prince
Charming." Katie thought of the handsome psychiatrist. Would
Edna refer to him as Prince Charming?
"Maybe Vangie told her something Monday night," Charley
suggested. "Maybe she knew Chris and Vangie had quarreled and
why they'd quarreled. Maybe she was putting the arm on Lewis.
She did threaten to go to the police."
"She said she had something to tell the police," Katie objected.
"That's the way the super's wife put it."
"All right," Scott said. "What turned up at the Lewis house?"
"Not much," said Charley. "There's a phone number with a 612
area code scribbled on the pad beside the kitchen phone. We
thought we'd call it from here. The other thing is that she tore her
dress on a prong sticking out from a shelf in the garage."
Scott picked up the message pad Charley had handed him and
tossed it to Katie. "Why don't you try this number now?"
Katie dialed the number and waited while the phone rang.
"Dr. Salem's office."
"Perhaps you can help me. I'm Kathleen DeMaio from the
Valley County, New Jersey, prosecutor's office. We're conducting
an inquiry into the death of Vangie Lewis last Monday. She had
Dr. Salem's phone number on her pad."
"Oh, that is a coincidence. I was just about to call your medical
examiner. Dr. Salem wants to talk with him. The doctor is on
his way to New York right now for the AMA convention. Can your
medical examiner phone him around five p.m. at the Essex House
Hotel on Central Park South?"
"Yes. I'll give him the message." Then, on a chance, Katie added,
"Do you know anything about Mrs. Lewis' call? Did she speak with
the doctor?"
"No. She spoke to me. She called Monday and was so disappointed
that he wasn't going to be back till Wednesday. I made
an emergency appointment for her for Wednesday."
"One last question. What kind of doctor is Dr. Salem?"
"Oh, he's a prominent obstetrician and gynecologist."
"I see. Thank you. You've been very helpful." Katie hung up
the phone and reported the conversation to the others.
There was a knock at the door and Maureen came in with
coffee and sandwiches. "Katie," she said, "that call from Massa
chusetts about Dr. Fukhito is just coming in. Want to take it?"
Katie nodded and picked up the phone. As she waited for the
call to be switched, she became aware of a slow, persistent head
ache. I'm not operating on all cylinders, she thought. So many
things were teasing her mind. What was she trying to recall?
The personnel director at the University of Massachusetts
Medical School answered guardedly. "Yes, Dr. Fukhito graduated
from U. Mass. He interned at Massachusetts General and later became
affiliated with the hospital. He also had a private practice. He
left the hospital seven years ago."
"Why did he leave?" Katie asked. "You must understand this is
a police investigation. All information will be kept confidential."
There was a pause. "Dr. Fukhito was asked to resign. He was
found guilty of unethical behavior after he unsuccessfully defended
a malpractice suit."
"What was the cause of the suit?" Katie asked.
"A patient sued Dr. Fukhito for inducing her to have a personal
relationship with him. She bore Dr. Fukhito's child."
MOLLY bustled around her kitchen, rejoicing in the fact that
all the children were back in school. Bill was not going into New
York for another half hour. They were enjoying a rare chance to
chat in peace, as Bill sat at the table sipping coffee and Molly
sliced vegetables. "I'm sure Katie and Richard and the Berkeleys
will enjoy each other," Molly was saying. "Now if Liz just doesn't
spend the whole evening talking about the baby . . . When I
phoned to invite her, she spent the first twenty minutes on Maryanne's
latest trick . . . which is to blow her oatmeal all over the
place. Isn't that cute?"
"It is if it's your first baby and you waited fifteen years to have
one," Bill commented.
"Anyhow, even if Liz does rave about the baby tonight, maybe
a little of it will sink in on Katie and Richard."
Bill's eyebrows rose. "Molly, you're not very subtle. You'd better
watch out or they'll start avoiding each other."
"Haven't you noticed the way they act together? There's something
smoldering there. And Richard called me last night and
wanted to know if there was something the matter with Katie."
"Did you tell him about the operation?"
"No. Katie doesn't want me to. But the poor guy is so worried
about her. I don't think it's fair to him."
Bill got up and put his cup and saucer in the dishwasher. "If
Katie doesn't want to tell Richard about this operation, don't fill
him in. That's not fair to her. You've gotten them together. Now—"
"Now bug off." Molly sighed.
"Something like that. And tomorrow night when Katie goes
into the hospital, you and I are going to the opera. You can be at
the recovery room Saturday morning, but it won't hurt to have
her wish she had someone with her Friday evening. Maybe she'll
do a little thinking."
"Let her go into the hospital by herself?" Molly protested.
"By herself," Bill said firmly. "She's a big girl."
The telephone rang. Molly picked it up. "Hello. . . . Liz, hi."
She listened. "Oh, for heaven's sake, bring her along. She can
sleep up in our room. . . . Great. See you at seven. By."
She hung up. "Liz Berkeley's regular baby-sitter had to cancel,
so she's bringing the baby along."
"Fine." Bill looked at the clock. "I'd better go." He kissed Molly's
cheek. "Will you quit worrying about your little sister?"
Molly bit her lip. "I can't. I've got this creepy feeling about
Katie, like something might happen to her."