Between Black and White (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #2)(70)

The two men nodded at each other, and Ray Ray began to descend the stairs.

“Hey, Ray Ray,” Tom called after him.

“Yeah.”

“Be careful.”





51


George Curtis jumped to his feet when he heard the knocking. He had been asleep on the couch with Matilda in his lap, and the cat screeched as she tumbled off of George and onto the floor. The doctor paid her no mind.

He looked at his watch. It was 9:30 p.m. Who the hell would be knocking on my door at this time of night? George walked to the front door and peeked through the blinds. Sheriff Ennis Petrie was standing on the stoop, dressed in full uniform. He held what appeared to be a folder in his hand. This can’t be good, George knew, but there was no use in delay. He undid the dead bolt and opened the door.

“Evenin’, Ennis,” he said, eyeing the sheriff. “What can I do for you?”

“George, we need to talk.”



Two minutes later they were holding mugs of instant Folgers. Ennis sipped his with both hands. “Thank you. This hits the spot.”

“Long day?” George asked, still unsure of why Ennis wanted to talk to him.

“Yeah. In court all day with the General on Bo’s case. Listen, George . . . who is Martha Booher?”

“Who?” George asked, feeling a cold tickle on the back of his neck. Jesus Christ, Dabsey . . .

“Martha Booher,” the sheriff repeated. “She signed in for an appointment with you last Friday. According to Dabsey, she was a new patient, and you don’t normally take on new patients.” He paused. “But you saw Ms. Booher.”

Behind his glasses, George’s mind was a jumbled mess of emotions. He knew he needed to handle this carefully. “Ennis, I vaguely remember talking to a lady that wanted to be my patient during my lunch break last Friday, but I told her I didn’t have any additional space.”

“Dabsey said she normally tells patients you’re full up, but you instructed her that you wanted to see Booher.”

George shrugged. “So what if I did? Look, Ennis, all I remember about last Friday is that I had a full slate of patients. I’m almost seventy, and I can barely remember what happened yesterday. I keep patient charts so I can remember their diagnoses, and since I didn’t treat this woman you’re talking about, I don’t have any recollection of her other than telling her I didn’t have room. Why is this lady so important to you?”

Ennis pulled a blown-up photograph out of the folder he had with him. “Because Martha Booher is believed to be an important witness in a three-state manhunt for a man named James Robert Wheeler, a.k.a. JimBoneWheeler. Wheeler is the prime suspect in a murder case in Alabama, an attempted murder charge in Florida, and he was seen at the Sundowners Club as early as fourteen months ago. My office has been passing this photograph of Martha Booher around town for the past month, and I gave one to Dabsey in your office. Dabsey recognized the woman’s name from the sign-in sheet at your office, and she said the woman looked very similar to the photograph in the picture.”

George inspected the photograph. “I’m sorry, Ennis. I had no idea. I’m in my own little world treating patients, and Dabsey screens a lot of this kind of stuff from me.”

“So you had no idea we were looking for her when you spoke with her at lunch last Friday?”

George shook his head. “But I remember her now,” he said, smiling. “She’s . . . a pretty girl. That’s why I told Dabsey to let me talk to her.”

“Because she was pretty?”

George held out his palms. “Guilty as charged. I handled it myself, because I wanted to talk to a pretty lady.”

Ennis nodded, giving no indication whether he believed George’s response or not. “How long did you talk with her?”

George shrugged. “Maybe five minutes. I remember I gave her a few recommendations of other doctors in the area.”

“Did she say she was from Pulaski?”

Damnit, George thought. He was laying it on too thick. “Uh . . . no,” he said. “I guess I just assumed that she was.” He stopped, satisfied with his answer. Who wouldn’t assume that?

“Did she drive a car to the appointment?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Dabsey said she didn’t remember seeing a car. Her desk is situated so she can see when cars pull in the driveway to park in the back of your office, and she knows the make and model of most of your patients. She said she would’ve remembered seeing a strange car, and there wasn’t one. She also said she saw no cars parked out in front of your office when she walked to lunch.”

“So she didn’t drive,” George offered, holding out his palms again. “A lot of my in-town patients like to walk to the office if it’s a pretty day.”

“George, we’ve checked, and Martha Booher does not live at any house within a three-mile radius of your office, nor was she staying as a guest at any of those homes.”

George shrugged. “Then maybe she had a friend drop her off. Or maybe she took a cab.”

“Not many cabs in the area that would be running that early in the morning,” Ennis said.

George knew that Martha Booher had ridden the bus into Pulaski, so he didn’t want to offer that as a suggestion. He held out his palms. “I don’t know how I can help you, Ennis. I don’t remember anything about my encounter with Ms. Booher other than she was an attractive woman.”