NYPD Red

Chapter 47

Kylie and I followed the receptionist down a wide hallway that might once have been painted a cheery yellow, but was now a sorry shade of jaundice.

The door to Dr. Ben-David’s office was open, and the three of us stormed in. The director was not at all what we had expected.

Laura Ben-David was in her midthirties, strikingly attractive, and lying there, sprawled out on a sofa, strikingly pregnant.

“Dr. Ben-David,” the receptionist said. “You awl right?”

Ben-David sat up. “I’m fine, Doris. I’m so sorry about that scream, but this little bugger seems to want to get out two weeks ahead of schedule,” she said, putting both hands on her belly. “He just gave me a doozy of a contraction.”

“You’re in labor?” Kylie said.

“Full blown.”

“We’re with NYPD. Can we drive you to the hospital?”

“No, thanks. I called my husband. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“They were asking for Gabriel Benoit,” Doris said.

“I’ve been worried about him,” Ben-David said. “Is he okay?”

“We don’t know,” Kylie said. “I’m Detective MacDonald, and this is my partner, Detective Jordan. Are you up to answering a few questions?”

“I can probably handle a couple of true or false. But I’m not sure this kid is going to stay put long enough for me to answer the essay questions.” She winced. “Doris, go back to the front desk, and send Lawrence back as soon as he gets here.”

Doris left and Kylie sat down next to the doc.

“Your receptionist said Mr. Benoit is no longer a resident,” Kylie said. “What was he in here for?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“Can you tell us when he left?”

“A few months ago.”

“And could you give us the name of the doctor who checked him out?”

“He checked himself out,” Ben-David said.

“These people can just walk out on their own?” Kylie said.

“These people?” Ben-David said. “Most of them can’t, but Gabriel came in voluntarily, so he could discharge himself at any time.”

“Did he leave a forwarding address?”

Ben-David laughed. “Ouch,” she said, grabbing her belly again. “Don’t make me laugh. People in Gabriel Benoit’s mental state never leave forwarding addresses. They’re always afraid somebody is out to get them.”

“In his case,” Kylie said, “he’d be right.”

A man opened the door without knocking and knelt down beside the doc.

“Laura, you all right?” he said.

As if on cue, she let out a yelp, not nearly as loud as the scream we’d heard a few minutes before, and dug her fingers into his back as she powered through a thirty-second contraction.

“I’m fine,” she said, coming out of it. “Detectives, this is my husband, Lawrence.”

“Honey, whatever this is, it can wait. The car’s outside. Let’s go.” He helped her off the sofa.

Our best link to Benoit was about to rush off to a maternity ward. We needed a Hail Mary.

“Dr. Ben-David,” Kylie said. “Gabriel Benoit is a suspect in a string of violent homicides.”

Ben-David stopped in her tracks.

“Homicides,” she said. “Oh, my Lord. That’s terrible.”

“We know about HIPAA, we know about doctor-patient confidentiality, but more people-a lot of innocent people-are at risk,” Kylie said. “Is there anything-anything-you can say that will help us?”

Ben-David turned to her husband. “Lawrence, give me a minute. Please. Wait outside. I’ll be right there.”

“Laura, are you…? All right. You got one minute and then I’m coming back in and dragging you to the hospital.”

He walked out and shut the door behind him.

“Detective MacDonald,” Ben-David said. “I am bound by law not to divulge any patient information without a court order.”

“That’s not helping,” Kylie said.

“You’re not listening. Let me finish. I-repeat, I-am bound by law not to divulge any patient information without a court order. My staff is bound by the same law. Our job is not to help you catch a murderer. Our job is to take care of the one hundred and eighteen other people who live in this facility who are not-repeat, are not-bound by any such law. Are you with me so far?”

Kylie nodded.

“Most of our residents are very inquisitive,” Ben-David said. “In fact, a lot of them are downright nosy. And they’re talkative. Especially J.J. But they are also fragile, delicate, and easily frightened. Do not-repeat, do not-scare them. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kylie said. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Ben-David said. “Unfortunately, it’s also the most I could do.”

Kylie hugged her gently. “Have a wonderful baby.”

I opened the door, and Lawrence led her down the hall.

“Nice lady,” I said to my partner. “Hardly the smarmy little weasel I was told to expect.”