Intrusion (12 page)

“Dr. Sand says you take dangerous shortcuts to conserve costs.
True or false?”

Meg straightened her charcoal suit skirt, brushing off imaginary lint. “Look. Lucian is very talented, but like many scientists, he’s a zealot with no head for business. If we employed every safeguard he proposed, we’d be bankrupt in six months.” She beckoned to
Rao
and headed out the door. “You check the financials. Our profit margin is razor thin right now. We’re doing a hell of a job balancing patient care with fiscal prudence. That’s a tribute to your friend Thomas. The man was amazing.”

When I glanced up, the office was empty except for me and the spirit of the man who inhabited it. Meg was right. Tommy was amazing. A wave of grief washed over me like a tsunami. How would I ever survive without Tommy and Kai? Did I want to survive without them? Lucian’s words echoed in my brain. How come the man felt so familiar to me? I resolved to avoid him until this business with CYBER-MED was over. If only Kai were here, we would analyze the situation point by point and come to a conclusion. Feeling alone and hopelessly inadequate, I sat down at Tommy’s desk. For some weird reason, Andrews and company hadn’t taken his computer. Cahill and
Rao
had probably threatened him with a slew of injunctions. I tapped the Enter key, knowing that the password protection would defeat me. The computer was denuded of all traces of CYBER-MED. That information was probably contained in the disks
Rao
left for me.

I spent ten minutes idly trying a variety of passwords.
Della, nope.
Sweet Nothings, no luck. Then I recalled a conversation about childhood nicknames. He had whooped about mine, realizing that he’d hit a sensitive spot. Giraffe was something I’d rather forget. Candy’s had been Sugar Plum. Leave it to her to have a sweet, sexy moniker. Kai’s was another great one: Pan, the same mountain god who took him away. Tears stung me as I thought about that one. Then I recalled Tommy’s childhood nickname, Topper. It was an allusion to a character in an old television series and his annoying habit of losing tops and lids. I input the word and waited. Suddenly, I was in. Tommy’s directory lit up, giving me access to his private world.

Ten

His personal
things were stored in files with vanilla, non-threatening names. I opened one entitled Black Book and quickly scanned the list. My God, Tommy was a veritable satyr. Next to each woman’s name and address was a list of preferences, sexual and material, as well as any editorial comments he cared to add. None registered with me until I hit the letter C. Dear Lord, Candy was right. He’d done his perky partner Meg in ways I didn’t even want to consider. According to this, Dr. Cahill was a woman with lusty, unconventional tastes in apparel and sexual positions. Ugh.

A knock at the door spared me. I quickly saved the file and exited from the computer before Rand Lindsay came wandering in.

“Hey, Ms. Buckley,” he said in his soft Alabama drawl. “Here I am, ready to help again.” He pointed to the sofa. “May I? I’ve been chasing around half the night. Midterms, you know.” He lowered his bulk into the soft, yielding furniture and exhaled. “Well. I see you’ve survived the first day of the inquisition. Whatever you told them, it must have been a
doozy
.
Rao
was spitting nails, and Dr. M. had that fire-breathing dragon stare on her face.” He rubbed his palms together. “Not so bad for day one.”

I liked this guy. If only I knew enough about him to trust him with my concerns. Caution won over neediness. I summoned my inner waif and shrugged.

“I hope I wasn’t too blunt. After all, it wasn’t a client meeting. They’re my partners.”

Rand waved his meaty arm. “Ah, don’t sweat it. They’ll get over it. Just for fun, tell me what you asked.”

His baby blues weren’t quite so guileless anymore. Rand was an old soul, full of wisdom and a healthy dose of mischief.

“OK,” I said. “I asked about Ian Cotter.”

He spilled a slug of Coke on his shirt, coughing.
“Holy Cow!
Dr. Cahill never talks about Ian. I mean never. I’m surprised you even know about him, his connection with us, I mean.”

“I saw a picture of him with Dr. Cahill on the Internet.
Funny that the
Globe
never made the connection.”

Rand wagged his finger at me. “Not so surprising when you figure that Carter Cahill is one of its major advertisers. He put big-time pressure on them not to mention us.”

That made sense. Why
have a bulging bank account
if you never flex the wealth muscle? I wondered what other things Carter Cahill had swept under his
Sarouk
.

“Meg said he had a family. Ian, I mean.
His poor wife.
Bad enough to lose your husband, but finding him in some other woman’s bed would be devastating.”

Rand lurched up and closed the door. He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “You know what was really bad? Guess whose bed he died in?”

I shrugged. Candy knew everything in the society pages, but I was clueless. Fortunately, Rand was dying to spill the beans. His genial face split into a jack-o-lantern grin.

“
Tatania
Lake.
You
know,
the fashion designer.” He edged closer. “Ah, come on, Mrs. B. She’s married to the most famous athlete in Boston, Todd Brantley.”

“How come I never heard that either? I must be hopelessly out of the loop.”

His meaty paw patted my shoulder. “You focus on important stuff, not tabloid fodder. But I can tell you it was a big damn deal with cops buzzing around, the sports media digging up dirt.” Rand lowered his voice to a whisper. “Supposedly, Todd Brantley is connected.” He touched the tip of his nose. “Everyone swore it was a hit. Either one of the aggrieved spouses had motive.”

“Really?”
Ian Cotter had died within days of Kai’s accident. I’d been too absorbed in my own loss to process other people’s tragedies.
Didn’t touch a newspaper for weeks.

“Yeah,” Rand grinned. “You know how it is when all the conspiracy nuts get going.
Nonsense, of course.
Somehow that device went rogue, and Ian Cotter paid the price.” He paused. “I’m taking a risk even talking about it. Dr. Meg would have my hide.”

I remembered what Lucian Sand had told me. “You don’t mind risk taking, do you Rand? Dr. Sand told me about that experiment you helped him with.”

Rand slapped his forehead in mock horror. “Good Lord. You know Lucian Sand? You do get around, Mrs. B.” His eyes twinkled. “Luc is a hell of a guy.
Kind of prickly, but fearless.”

“Cahill and
Rao
went ballistic when I mentioned his name. It sounded more personal than professional.”

“God, I hope this room isn’t bugged.” Rand pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed the corners of his mouth. “You see, Dr. Cahill wanted things with Luc to be personal.” He raised his brows suggestively. “Luc wasn’t buying whatever she was selling. His only interest was business.”

Gossiping with employees is a poor business practice that erodes a manager’s moral authority. So what? I’d gladly barter that for the lowdown on Lucian Sand. I continued our tête-à-tête. “I suppose Lucian’s wife was upset, too.”

Rand cocked his head to one side.
“Wife?
Luc doesn’t have a wife.”

“He’s gay?” I asked. That stab of disappointment probably meant nothing. Lots of phenomenal guys were either bi or gay. It was none of my concern.

Rand’s hearty laugh startled me. “Gay?
Luc?
Don’t I
wish.
No, my dear Mrs. B., Dr. Lucian Sand is disgustingly heterosexual. He was focused on a mission. No time for dallying with an office siren.”

The information dump overwhelmed me. “Meg Cahill, a
siren?
” It didn’t compute until I recalled Tommy’s black book. Rand was the purveyor of more gossip than I dared hope.
Might as well prime the pump.

For a moment Rand hesitated. He seemed torn between his loyalty to Lucian Sand and a natural propensity to dish. I placed a mental bet on the latter.

“He’s very motivated.”

I flipped to the interrogation page in my memory and said nothing.

Rand crumbled faster than a day old roll. “Don’t ever tell him I told you about this. Luc is intensely private. His brother, his identical twin, actually, died tragically after some
dufus
screwed up his pacemaker.
Marcus, that
was his name.
The brother, not the
dufus
.
Anyhow, he had rheumatic fever as a kid and got a weak heart.
Something about an untreated strep infection.”

That explained Lucian Sand’s fervor, but it didn’t explain his attraction to me. I certainly understood the pain of losing someone you loved, someone who was part of you like a twin or Kai. But why put the heavy moves on a dull, dispirited widow who begged to be left alone?

“Why the interest in our Dr. Sand?
Don’t tell me you’re attracted to him.” Rand got that rakish look on his face. “Don’t worry. I totally understand. He is hot, hot,
hot
.
Great body.
That man spends more time at the gym than …”

The look on my face dampened his enthusiasm. “I’m sorry, Mrs. B. Ready to do those financials?”

~

When we met for dinner that night Candace
Ott
was wired. We ordered cocktails, perused the menu and got down to business.
Whenever Candy has something to share, her eyes narrow, and she twists a clump of hair into a braid.
She wonders why I always skewer her at poker.

“I’ve got news,” she chirped, “but you go first.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t dream of it.” I waved her on.

“OK. Get this. I chatted up a few clients and got some great scoop.”

Torture isn’t sanctioned by the ABA, but it sure is fun. I said nothing, showing Candy my stone face.

“Betts, aren’t you curious?” Her cat eyes looked feverish.

By the time the waiter appeared, took our order with a flourish and glided toward the kitchen, Candy’s patience was exhausted. She did a quick check of the area and took the plunge.

“OK. Both of my clients knew Ian Cotter.
Very well.
Her eye roll was a thing of beauty. “Apparently, he provided those extra services to virtually every woman he met, not just Tatiana and her ilk. Several husbands found out, and one actually
duked
it out with him.”

I rewarded Candy with a nod of approval. When I spilled my tale about Meg Cahill, she squealed.

We sat silently while our waiter presented my cucumber and apple soup and her
Salade
Niçoise
. Radius kept its temperature at a perfect sixty-eight degrees, but that didn’t stop me from shivering. Tommy had connected these dots months ago. He was troubled, and he had tried to use me as a sounding board. I’d failed him.

“Oh, Betts, what are we going to do?”

Candy whined like a spoiled schoolgirl. I had no one to cling to anymore, and her dependency grated on me. Why must I always be the strong one?

“Calm down. Let’s take this step by step. Did you learn anything new about Mary Alice Tate?”

She shrugged. “What’s to learn? She
offed
herself. Everyone knows that.”

“Focus, Candy, focus. We know she had heart trouble.
Right?
She had an IMD.”

“IMD?
Isn’t that one of those explosive things they use in Iraq? What’s that got to do with anything?” She was losing interest. Immediacy was the key to keeping the mercurial Candace
Ott
engaged.

“Implantable Medical Device, IMD, get it?
Back to Mary Alice.
In her case someone leaked confidential information. I don’t understand the area enough to gauge the link to CYBER-MED, and I’ve pumped Rand Lindsay to the limit.”

Candy’s eyes sparkled. “How about pumping Lucian Sand? That would be something worth doing.”

Deep breathing exercises didn’t work. To Candy’s delight, I blushed like a Cape Cod sunset. Sensing my vulnerability, she immediately pounced.

“Aha! You have been thinking of him, haven’t you, Betts? Come clean. I hear that no one makes love like a Frenchman.”

“Stop that right now, although I admit Lucian is attractive.”

“Attractive? Honey, he’s downright gorgeous and very into you. I can always tell.”

A good offense always works with Candy, plus it sidetracks her immediately.

“I saw your sweetie,
Arun
Rao
, today. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

We spent the next half-hour reviewing my day at CYBER-MED with special emphasis on
Arun
Rao
.

“He’s very intense, Betts. You know the type. Starts at your forehead and doesn’t miss anything.” She heaved a big sigh. “Not that I couldn’t up his game a bit. More polish and a little finesse, if you get my drift. I got the teensiest hint that he was completing a mental checklist.”