The Cradle Will Fall

CHAPTER TWENTY

IN HIGHLEY'S driveway, the two detectives who were in the front seat of the squad car jumped out. As he and Scott followed, Richard noticed the movement of a drapery in a window at the far right of the house.

They had parked behind a black car with MD plates. Scott touched the hood. "It's still warm. He hasn't been here long."

The younger detective rapped sharply on the front door. They waited. The door opened. Edgar Highley was standing in the foyer. Scott spoke first. "Dr. Highley?"

"Yes?" The tone was cold and questioning.

"Dr. Highley, I'm Scott Myerson, the Valley County prosecutor. We have a search Warrant for these premises, and it is my duty to inform you that you have become a suspect in the deaths of Vangie Lewis, Edna Burns and Dr. Emmet Salem. You have the right to consult a lawyer. You can refuse to answer questions. Anything you say may be used against you."

Suspect. They weren't sure. They hadn't found Katie. With controlled fury he said, "Come in, gentlemen. I will answer any questions you have, and you are welcome to search my home. However, when I consult a lawyer, it will be to bring suit against Valley County and against each one of you personally."

He led them into the library. He knew he looked imposing sitting behind the massive Jacobean desk. It was vital that he unnerve them, make them afraid to question too closely. With a gesture of contempt, he waved them to the leather couch and chairs. Scott Myerson handed him the printed Miranda warning. Scornfully he signed it Myerson and Dr. Carroll sat down; the other two did not.

"We'll proceed with the search," the older detective said politely. "Where do you keep your medical records, Dr. Highley?"

"At my office, of course," he snapped. "However, please satisfy yourselves." He stood up, walked to the bar and poured Scotch and water into a crystal tumbler. Then he sat down in the high-backed striped velvet chair near the fireplace, sipped the Scotch and eyed them coldly.

The questions began. "Did Mrs. Lewis enter your office after leaving Dr. Fukhito last Monday night?"

"As I told Mrs. DeMaio…" They had absolutely no proof.

"Where were you that night, Doctor?"

"Home. I came home directly after my office hours."

"Were you in Edna Burns's apartment on Tuesday night?"

His smile, contemptuous. "Hardly."

"We'll want some hair samples from you."

Hair samples. Had some been found in Edna's apartment? But he'd been there with the police on Wednesday night. And Vangie always wore that black coat to the office. If strands of his hair had been found near the dead women, they could be explained.

"Were you in the Essex House last night after five o'clock?"

"Absolutely not."

"We have a witness who is prepared to swear that he saw you get off the elevator there at approximately five thirty."

Who had seen him? He had glanced around the lobby as he got off the elevator. He was certain that no one he knew was there. Maybe they were bluffing.

"I was not in the Essex House last night. I was at the Carlyle! I dine there frequently; in fact, my medical bag was stolen while I was dining there."

He'd make it seem that he was cooperating.

"What was in your bag?" The question seemed perfunctory.

"A basic emergency kit, a few drugs. Hardly worth a thief's effort." Should he mention that it contained files? No. The prosecutor beckoned to the younger investigator. "Get that package out of the car."

What package? Highley gripped the glass.

They sat in silence, waiting. The detective returned and handed

Scott a small parcel. He pulled off the wrapping paper. "Do you recognize this moccasin, Doctor?" Careful. Careful. He leaned over, examined it. The left shoe, the one from Edna's apartment. They had not found his bag.

"Certainly not. Should I recognize it?"

"Your patient Vangie Lewis wore this shoe for weeks. Didn't you ever notice?"

"Mrs. Lewis wore a pair of rather shabby shoes. I certainly would not recognize one particular shoe." "Did you ever hear of a Dr. Emmet Salem?" "The name seems familiar. I'd have to check my records." "Wasn't he on staff with you at Christ Hospital in Devon?" "Of course. Yes. He was visiting staff. Indeed, I do remember him." How much did they know about Christ Hospital?

"Were you aware Mrs. Lewis was carrying an Oriental baby?"

So that was it. He said, "That explains why Mrs. Lewis was becoming terrified of giving birth. She knew that she could never make anyone believe her husband was the father." Now they were asking about Anna Horan and Maureen Crowley. They were coming close, too close.

"Those two young women are typical of many who demand abortions and then blame the physician when they experience emotional reactions."

Richard listened bleakly. Highley was so composed, so sure. Unless they could prove wrongful death in the maternity cases, it would be impossible to charge him with anything and make it stick. He felt certain they'd never find anything incriminating in Highley's records. He was far too clever for that.

Scott was asking about the Berkeley baby. "Doctor, you are aware that Elizabeth Berkeley gave birth to a baby who has green eyes. Isn't that a medical improbability when both parents and all four grandparents have brown eyes?"

"Clearly Mr. Berkeley is not the baby's father," Highley said.

Neither Scott nor Richard had expected the admission. "I don't know who the father is," Highley continued smoothly, "but it is hardly the obstetrician's business to delve into such matters."

A shame, he thought. He would have to defer fame a little longer. He'd never be able to admit the success of the Berkeley baby now.

Scott looked at Richard, sighed and stood up. "Dr. Highley, when you go to your office, you will learn that we have seized your records. We are concerned at the number of maternity deaths at Westlake, and that matter is under intensive investigation."

He was on safe ground. "I invite minute scrutiny of my patients' records. I can assure you that the death ratio is remarkably low in consideration of the kinds of cases we handle."

The smell of the fondue was filling the house. Unless it was stirred, it would surely burn. Just a few minutes more.

The phone rang. Undoubtedly it would be the hospital saying that Mrs. DeMaio had not yet returned home and her sister was frantic. He picked up the phone. "Dr. Highley here."

"Doctor, this is Lieutenant Weingarden of the Seventeenth Precinct in New York. We've just arrested a man who answers the description of the person who stole a bag from the trunk of your car last night."

The bag. "Has it been recovered?" Something in his voice was giving him away. Scott Myerson stalked over to the desk and reached for the extension.

"Yes. And several items in it may lead to far more serious charges than theft Doctor, will you describe the contents of your bag?"

"Some medicine-a few basic drugs. An emergency kit." "What about a patient's file from the office of a Dr. Emmet Salem, a bloodstained paperweight and an old shoe?" Highley closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was remarkably controlled. "Are you joking?"

"I thought you'd say that, sir. We're cooperating with the Valley County prosecutor's office concerning the suspicious death of Dr. Salem. I'll call the prosecutor now. It looks as though the suspect might have killed Dr. Salem during a theft. Thank you, sir."

He heard Scott Myerson say on the extension, "Don't hang up!"

Slowly Highley replaced the receiver. It was all over.

Dr. Carroll was looking at him curiously. Somehow Edgar High-ley was sure that Richard Carroll was the man who had become suspicious of him. But he had his revenge. Katie DeMaio's death was his revenge on Richard Carroll. Highley smiled. "I have just remembered that I do have some medical records that might interest you," he said. He walked over to the bookcase, released the spring. The panel swung out. Mechanically he opened the wall safe. Let them know his genius. Let them mourn it.

He lifted out the files, stacked them on the desk. The prosecutor had hung up the phone. They were all staring at him now.

"Oh, there is another case you'll want to have." He reached for his drink and sipped it casually as he walked over to the safe. The vial was there, right in the back. He'd put it away Monday night for possible future use. The future was now.

At the safe, he quickly flipped the vial open and dumped the cyanide crystals into his glass. As understanding swept over Richard's face, Highley held up the glass in a mocking toast.

Richard leaped across the room as Highley raised the glass to his lips and gulped down the contents. Richard knocked the glass away as Highley fell, but it was too late. The four men watched helplessly as Highley's screams and groans died into silence.

The younger detective bolted from the room, his face green.

Richard bent over the body. Highley's face was contorted; the protruding gray eyes were open and staring. "Why'd he do it?" the other detective asked. "He knew he couldn't murder his way out anymore," Scott said.

Straightening up, Richard went over to the desk and scanned the names on the files. Berkeley. Lewis. "These are the records we're looking for." He opened the Berkeley file. The first page began, "Elizabeth Berkeley, age 39, became my patient today. She will never conceive her own child. I have decided that she will be the next extraordinary patient."

"There's medical history here," Richard said quietly, and thought, He could have done so much good. Scott was standing over the body. "And when you think that this nut was Katie's doctor," he muttered.

Richard looked up. "What? Highley was treating Katie?"

"She happened to mention it when-" The phone interrupted him. Scott picked it up. "Yes," he said, then, Tm sorry, this is not Dr. Highley. Who is calling?" His expression changed. "Molly! This is Scott Myerson. What's the matter?" He listened, then covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Highley admitted Katie to Westlake tonight and she's missing."

Richard yanked the phone from him. "Molly, what do you mean she's missing?" He listened. "Come on, Molly. Katie would never walk out of a hospital. You know that. Wait."

Dropping the phone, he frantically scattered the files on the desk. Near the bottom of the pile he found the one he dreaded: DeMaio, Kathleen. He raced through it, his face paling as he read. He came to the last paragraph. He picked up the phone. "Molly, put Bill on," he ordered. "Bill, Katie is hemorrhaging somewhere in Westlake Hospital. Call the lab. We'll need to hang a bottle of O negative the minute we find her. Have them ready to analyze a blood sample and cross-match for four units of whole blood. Tell them to have an operating room ready. I'll meet you there." He broke the connection and turned to the detective at the desk. "Call the hospital and have them start looking for Katie. Tell them to look everywhere-every room, every closet. Get all available hospital personnel to help. Every second counts."

"Come on, Richard," Scott snapped.

Richard grabbed Katie's file. "We have to know what he's done to her." They'd been seconds too late preventing Edgar Highley's death. Would they be too late for Katie?

With Scott, he hunched in the back of the squad car as it raced through the night. Katie, he thought, why didn't you tell me? If you'd only trusted me, told me you were seeing Highley. I'd never have let you go near him. Katie, don't die. Let me find you. Katie, hang on…

They were at the hospital. Squad cars were roaring into the parking lot. Scott and Richard dashed up the stairs into the lobby. Phil, his face drawn, was commanding the search.

Bill and Molly came running in. Molly was sobbing. Bill was deadly calm. "They've got a reasonable supply of whole blood on hand here. Have you found her?"

"Not yet," Phil answered.

The door to the fire stairs, partly ajar, burst open. A young policeman ran out. "She's on the floor in the morgue. I think she's gone."

Seconds later Richard was cradling her in his arms. Her skin and lips were ashen. He could not get a pulse. "Katie. Katie." Bill gripped his shoulder. "Let's get her upstairs. We'll have to work fast if there's any chance at all."

SHE was in a tunnel. At the end there was a light. It was warm at the end of the tunnel. It would be so easy to drift there. But someone was keeping her from going. Someone was holding her. A voice. Richard's voice. "Hang on, Katie, hang on." She wanted so not to turn back. It was so hard, so dark. It would be so much easier to slip away.

"Hang on, Katie."

Sighing, she turned and began to make her way back.

ON MONDAY evening Richard tiptoed into Katie's room, a dozen roses in his hand. She'd been out of danger since Sunday morning, but hadn't stayed awake long enough to say anything. Her eyes were closed. He decided to go out and ask the nurse for a vase.

"Just lay them across my chest."

He spun around. "Katie. How do you feel?"

She grimaced at the transfusion apparatus. "I hear the vampires are picketing. I'm putting them out of business."

"You're better." He pulled up a chair. He hoped the sudden moisture in his eyes wasn't noticeable.

She had noticed. She gently reached up and brushed a finger across his eyelids. "Before I fall asleep again, please tell me what happened. Why did Dr. Highley kill Vangie?"

"He was experimenting on his patients, taking fetuses from women who had abortions and implanting them in the wombs of sterile women. In these past eight years he learned how to immunize a host mother to prevent her from rejecting an alien fetus, at least for a few months. Most cases eventually ended in spontaneous abortion, but he did have one complete success.

"After that one success, he wanted to break more new ground. An Oriental woman named Anna Horan, who's married to a Caucasian, claims he knocked her out and took her fetus when she was unconscious. She was right. He had Vangie Lewis in the next room waiting for the implant. Vangie thought she was simply having some treatment to help her become pregnant. Highley never expected Vangie to retain the Oriental fetus so long. When her body did not reject the developing fetus, he decided to bring it to term. Who would blame him if Vangie had a partly Oriental child?"

"He was able to suppress the immune system?"

"Yes, and without harm to the developing fetus. But the danger to the mother was great. He's killed sixteen women. Vangie was getting terribly sick. Unfortunately for her, she ran into Highley last Monday evening just as she left Fukhito. She told him she was going to consult her former doctor in Minneapolis. That would have been a risk because her gynecologist would know that a natural pregnancy for Vangie was a million-to-one shot. And when she mentioned Emmet Salem's name, she was finished. Highley knew that Dr. Salem would guess what had happened. Salem was in England when Highley's first wife died. He knew about the scandal.

"And now," Richard said, "that's enough of that. All the rest can wait. Your eyes are closing again."

"No… You said Highley had one success."

"Yes. And if you had stayed five minutes longer at Molly's last Thursday night and seen the Berkeley baby, you could guess who it is. Liz Berkeley carried Maureen Crawley’s baby to term.”

“Maureen’s baby.” Katie tried to pull herself up.

“Easy, you’ll pull that needle out.” Gently he touched her shoulder, holding her until she leaned back.

“Does Maureen know?” she asked.

“It was only right to tell her and the Berkeley’s. Jim has been living with the belief that his wife lied to him about artificial insemination. You know how Maureen felt about that abortion. It’s been destroying her. She went to see her baby. She’s one happy girl, Katie. She would have given it out for adoption if she had delivered it naturally. Now that she has seen Maryanne, sees how crazy the Berkeleys are about her, she’s in seventh heaven.”

“What about the mother of Vangie’s baby?”

“Anna Horan is heartbroken enough about the abortion. We saw no point in telling her what Highley did with her baby. She’ll have other children.”

Katie bit her lip. “Richard, tell me the truth. When they found me, how far did they have to go to stop the bleeding?”

“You’re okay. You can still have a dozen kids if you want them.”

His hand reached over to cover hers. That hand had been there, had pulled her back when she was so near to death. That voice had made her want to come back.

For a long, quite moment she looked up at Richard. Oh, how I love you, she thought. How very much I love you.

His troubled expression changed suddenly into a broad smile. Obviously he was satisfied at what he saw in her face.

Katie grinned back at him. “pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you Doctor?” she asked him crisply.