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“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“You slept with her.”

“ What?”

“What if she’s underage?”

“What if she is?”

“You’re forty-two.”

“I never told you that.”

“You didn’t have to. I’ve been reading about you since the moment you told me your name.”

“What difference does it make how old I am?”

“I don’t approve of forty-two year old men sleeping with eighteen-year-old strippers.”

“That’s not your concern. Wait. How did you know she’s a stripper?”

“She’s in an ad on a website for the Firefly Lounge, Cincinnati, Ohio. As in, “Meet the Firefly Girls!”

“That’s her,” I say.

“She’s cute.”

“You think?”

“Sure. Put her in pigtails she could be selling Girl Scout cookies.”

I decide not to respond.

She says, “Does it bother you the ad says girls instead of ladies?”

“No. Why should I care what it says?”

“Seriously, Dr. Box?”

“I don’t see what difference it makes if I slept with an eighteen-year-old stripper,” I say, noticing the cab driver staring at me in the mirror.

Dani says, “I don’t think I like you very much, Dr. Box.”

“If you want to join that parade you’ll have to take a number.”

“That I believe,” she says. “So what am I looking for, specifically?”

“Her birth certificate, parents’ death certificates, proof her father served time in prison, and any information you have on her uncle, her father’s brother.”

“You have his name? Or the parents?”

“Just their last name. Breeland. And the uncle’s wife is May.”

“Also from Nashville?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

“She moved to Cincinnati three years ago. Lived with a lowlife named Bobby Mitchell, recently deceased.”

“Lowlife? Recently deceased? Be yourself, Doc. No need to talk like a TV cop.”

“Willow’s been diagnosed with recurring Hodgkin’s lymphoma. There should be hospital records.”

“I won’t be able to get those for you.”

“I don’t need the actual records. Just names of doctors who might have consulted with or treated her. Also, her best friend died from complications of a gunshot wound. She was a recent patient of Saint Stephen’s hospital in Dayton.”

“Friend’s name?”

“Cameron Mason.”

I notice Dani’s gone quiet.

“Hello? Are you there?”

She says, “Stop me if I get any part of this wrong. You breeze into Nashville, visit a club, meet an eighteen-year-old stripper who happens to be a cancer patient, and pay her for sex. What was she doing, trying to earn money for cancer treatment?”

I sigh. “Maybe you’re not the right person for the job.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve already uncovered information that’ll knock your socks off.”

“What, already? How’s that possible?”

“I’m very good at what I do.”

I grab my notebook and pen from my jacket pocket and prepare to write. “Okay,” I say.

“Okay what?”

“I’m ready. What have you got?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Don’t tell me you expect me to apologize for sleeping with her.”

“That apology belongs to Willow, not me.”

“Then I don’t understand. You’ve uncovered some information. I’ve got my pen and notebook ready. What’s the holdup?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“ What?”

“You want me to take the case, you have to pay.”

“Five thousand dollars? For five minutes work?”

“How much do you get for five minutes of work, Dr. Box?”

“Four thousand, max. And you can’t tell me you get this much from other clients. You pulled that number out of your ass, because you think I’m wealthy, and you don’t approve of my lifestyle.”

“The five thousand isn’t for the bombshell. It’s for the work you’re going to want after I tell you what I’ve learned. And that could take days to uncover.”

“How much for just the bombshell?”

“Well, if we’re going ala carte, let’s say five hundred.”

“That’s more like it. You want my billing address?”

“Your credit card will suffice.”

“I’m in a cab.”

“You don’t want the cab driver to hear. Makes sense. Have him pull over, then climb out and give it to me.”

“I’m in Manhattan, Dani.”

“So?”

“You can’t just pull over in Manhattan. It’ll take forever to get back in traffic.”

“Why do you want to live like that?”

“Again, why do you care how I want to live?”

“We have some wonderful hospitals here in Nashville that could use a skilled surgeon, Dr. Box. Provided you can keep your hands off the candy stripers.”

“They’re called volunteers these days.”

“Whatever. Give me your billing address. But don’t even think about stiffing me.”

I give her my billing address and assure her I won’t stiff her.

“What’s the bombshell?” I say.

“I’ll tell you in an hour.”

“Why not now?”

“I need to be certain. You’re paying me to be accurate.”

“Give me the short version.”

“I want to check her hospital records first.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t access her medical records.”

“I said I wouldn’t get them for you.”

39

Bruce Luce is all smiles when I walk in his office.

“What?” I say.

“You received rave reviews from the new nurses.”

“I did?”

“No one was more surprised to hear it than me.”

“I think Rose has a calming effect on me,” I say.

“She’d have just the opposite effect on me,” he says.

“Can I keep her?”

“Under lock and key if necessary.”

“Why so enthusiastic?”

“She strong-armed Mr. Devereaux to write a check for twenty million, even though Lilly’s still in a coma.”

“Medically induced,” I say.

“Right.”

“Were you aware Rose plans to leave in nine months?”

Bruce frowns. “No way!”

“She told me her stay here is temporary.”

“She can’t leave,” he says. “If I have to, I’ll offer more money.”

“Excellent.”

“Speaking of money,” Bruce says, “I agreed to make changes to accommodate the hiring of Rose and Melba, and help soften the sting from the sweetheart schedule they negotiated.”

“How does that affect me?”

“We’re expanding your role.”

“In what way?”

He picks up a manila folder on his desk and hands it to me. As I open it he says, “You’re going to add one serious case a month, in addition to the more difficult ones you’ve received in the past.”

“You think?”

“If you intend for the board to continue paying Rose and Melba.”

I glance at the patient file.

“Who’s this?”

“The first of your cases.”

“Why this one?”

“I’m told it’s difficult enough to warrant your attention, though it should be a snap for someone with your skills.”

“Nothing’s a snap when it comes to children.”

“Don’t start with me,” he says. “I’ve been told four members of our staff have the expertise to perform this brain stem thing.”

“ Brain stem thing?”

“This is a surgical resection of a brain stem cavernoma.”

He waves his hand. “Whatever it is, I’m told you can handle it.”

“Not that you’d know the difference,” I say, “But the brain is located above the neck.”

“What’s your point?”

“I’ve worked heart, lungs, and internal organs for seven years.”

“You did these brain resections for three years before switching to heart.”

“It’s not like riding a bicycle, Bruce.”

“Well, you’ll have a few days to bone up on the procedure.”

“Will Rose and Melba work these cases with me?”

“They’ve been assigned to you. Doesn’t matter what the case is.”

“Can Rose help me deal with the parents?”

“This is a single mom. And anyway, I’m told you did a fine job with Austin and Dublin.”