Then they sat back to wait.
Wednesday was Dr. Michael Paine's day off. No hospital, no office hours, just a day of leisure. Until the cops arrived. They found him in the locker room of the Tarleton Hills Country Club, where he'd just showered and changed into street clothes after four sets of tennis. He was now wearing beige linen slacks and a lime green T-shirt, tan Italian loafers, no socks. He seemed annoyed that the detectives had tracked him down here, but he asked nonetheless if they'd like a cup of coffee or something and then led them to the clubhouse overlooking the swimming pool. They sat at a green metal table shaded with a yellow umbrella.
Paine was a good-looking man in his mid-forties, unfortunately named for a doctor, but then again he'd chosen his own profession, and it was a good thing he wasn't a dentist. He asked if they'd rather have a drink instead, and when they declined, he ordered a gin and tonic for himself and two coffees for the gentlemen, please, Betsy. This was eleven o'clock in the morning.
The pool at this hour was full of mothers and their screaming little kiddies. Both detectives had children of their own. Indulgently, they raised their voices to shout over the shrieking and splashing from the pool. The. yellow umbrella cast a brilliant glow on the green metal tabletop.
"It's nice of you to make time for us on your day off," Carella said.
Paine merely nodded.
"We just have a few questions we want to ask about the evening you spent with Mary Vincent.”
"That would've been the fifteenth," Brown said. "A Saturday night.”
es, Paine said.
"Six days before she was killed," Carella said. Betsy arrived with the gin and the two coffees. Paine poured tonic water from the bottle.
Brown put two teaspoons of sugar in his coffee, spiked it with milk.
Carella drank his black. The kids in the pool were squealing up a symphony.
"Can you tell us what occasioned that meeting?" Carella asked.
"It wasn't a meeting. We had dinner together.”
"I meant ...”
"We met at a restaurant called Il Mediterraneo. We went there often.
Mary liked it a lot.”
"Who paid for the meal?" Brown asked.
"What?”
Nun worried about money, Brown thought, who paid for dinner that night was a pretty good question. "Did she pay? Did you pay? Did you split the ...”
"I paid," Paine said. "Whenever we had dinner together, I paid.”
"Was having dinner with her a usual thing? "We'd see each other ." Paine shrugged. "Once a month? Sometimes more often. We were good friends?”
“How long have you known her?”
Carella asked.
"I met her at St. Margaret's when she first began working there.”
"About six months ago, would that be?”
"Yes. More or less?”
"How'd you happen to ask her out?" Brown asked. "Ask her out?" Paine said. "She was a nun." Brown wondered why the good doctor was getting on his high horse. Man took someone to dinner once a month, sometimes more often, what the hell was it if not taking her out? "I'm sorry, sir," he said. "What would you call it?”
“It's the connotation that bothers me," Paine said, and nodded curtly, and sipped at his drink again, and then put the glass down rather too emphatically. "We were working colleagues and good friends. Taking her to dinner was not taking her out.”
"How'd you first happen to take her to dinner then?" Brown asked.
Paine looked at him.
"Sir?" Brown said.
"One of her patients, a woman with a stomach CA, was dying and in pain.
Mary was having a personal problem with it. We went across the street to the deli, to talk it over.”
"And this became a regular thing, is that right?" Carella said. "Having dinner together?”
"Yes. As I said, once or twice a month. Mary was good company. I enjoyed being with her.”
"Did you ever talk about other things'? Aside from your work?”
"Yes, of course "On the fifteenth, for example, did she happen to mention ... was that the last time you saw her, doctor?”
"Socially, yes. I saw her at the hospital, of course, whenever I was there.”
"Did you see her on the day she was killed?”
“Yes, I did.”
“When was this?”
"The twenty-first, wasn't it? When she was killed?”
"Yes. But I meant, did you see her at any specific time ?”
"Well, several times during the day. Doctors and nurses cross paths all the time.”
"When's the very last time you saw her?" Brown asked.
"Just before the shift ended. She said she was going out for a cup of coffee with Helen, asked if I'd like to join them.”
"Helen Daniels, would that be?”
"Yes. One of the nurses at St. Margaret's.”
"Did she mention where she might be heading after that?”
"No, she didn't.”
"Doctor, if we could, I'd like to get back to that night of the fifteenth. Did Mary say anything about ... ?”
"You know," Paine said, "I hate to ask this ... but am I a suspect in this thing?”
"No, sir, you're not," Carella said.
"Then why all these questions?”
"Well;' Care||a said, it her Mary went or a walk in the park and was a random victim of someone who stole her handbag, or else she deliberately went to that park to meet the person who killed her.
Several people we talked to said she seemed very concerned about...”
"What's any of this got to do with me?”
“Nothing, sir. We're only trying ...”
“I mean, why all these questions ?”
They didn't know why he was so suddenly agitated. They'd probably questioned ten thousand two hundred and eighty-eight people in their joint careers as police officers, and they were used to all sorts of guarded responses, but why had Dr. Paine become so defensive all at once? Both detectives were suddenly alert. Bells didn't go off, whistles didn't shrill over the noise of the shrieking kids in the pool. But though neither of them revealed any change in attitude if anything, they were more solicitous than they had been a moment ago they nonetheless looked at the man differently now.
"We thought you might be able to expand on what we'd heard from other friends of Mary," Carella said. "Well, there it is again," Paine said.
Yes, there it is again, Carella thought. "Sir?" he said.
"The emphasis on the word 'friends'. Is it impossible to believe that a man actually might be friends with a woman who's taken vows of chastity?”
“We think that's entirely possible, sir.”
"I mean, does it have to be turned into some kind of dirty joke ?”
"Sir, no one ...”
"is this still the i--830s?”
"We're only trying ...”
"Are nuns still the butt of bad pornography?”
"Sir, we ...”
"Mary was an attractive woman, there's no denying it. But to suggest ... I mean ... look, forget it.”
The noise from the pool seemed overwhelming in the sudden silence under the bright yellow umbrella.
"We've been told she was concerned about money," Carella said, changing his approach. He caught a small, almost imperceptible nod of approval from Brown. "Did she mention that to you?”
"No," Paine said.
He had drained the glass of gin, and now he was toying with the lime wedge in it, poking it with the plastic straw, his eyes averted.
"Where'd you go after dinner that night?" Brown asked.
"Back to her place.”
"Did she mention anything about money problems while you were there?”
Carella said.