Bad Doctor

37

In the cab on the way to the hospital, I call my secretary, Lola.

“I’ve got a meeting with one of my new nurses at ten,” I say.

“Mr. Luce would like to visit with you at nine-thirty.”

“Great. Anything else?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Devereaux would like you to stop by the ICU and check on Lilly.”

“That’s a no. Anything else?”

“The rest can wait till later.”

“Good. I need you to do something for me.”

“Is it legal?”

“Funny. I need you to find a private investigator in Nashville, Tennessee.”

“No problem. What’s his name?”

“I don’t have one yet. I need you to call around. Get me someone really good.”

“Are you delusional?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a medical secretary. What do I know about finding a private detective?”

“Lola?”

“What?”

“Don’t start with me.”

I hang up. Ten minutes later she calls back.

“I’ve got a name,” she says, “but it’s a woman. Is that okay?”

“Is she any good?”

“How would I know?”

“Who recommended her?”

“The Nashville police department.”

“I thought the police hated private eyes.”

“I thought so too, but Detective Polomo said I’ve been watching too much TV. Then he asked me out on a date.”

“And did you happen to mention you’re married?”

“Not exactly.”

“What did you say, exactly?”

“I asked him to send me a photo.”

My secretary’s a bimbo.

“Who’s the detective?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but…are you sitting down? Dani Ripper!”

“You say that like I’m supposed to know who that is.”

“Dani Ripper? The little girl who got away?”

“Sorry.”

“You’re one of a kind, Gideon.”

“Thanks. You got a phone number for me?”

“You’re planning to call her from your cab?”

“Might as well, I’m stuck in traffic.”