"Kiser, Marcia - Doctor Of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kiser Marcia)

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."