Petra repeated. “Yes. Anything. Anything.”
The woman kissed the girl deeply once again, then told her what was required of her.
When she had seen Petra safely away, she called Arakel Sarkassian and told him everything was in place.
Twenty-five
Short, with a wispy head of steel-gray hair, Dr. Abraham Goldfine was a sprightly man a year or two past his seventy-fifth birthday. He was the most popular pediatrician in town. He had seen one generation of Paradise kids grow into parents themselves. Now those second-generation kids were almost grown and there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t get to see the beginnings of a third generation. Goldfine was one of Jesse’s favorite people in town. The doctor, who’d been widowed for many years, loved baseball. When he’d get tickets from a patient’s family, he would always invite Jesse to come along. The free tickets were great, but what Jesse really enjoyed was Goldfine’s deep understanding of the game.
“Used to be a pretty fair second baseman, Jesse,” the doctor would say. “We would’ve made a hell of a double-play combo, you and me.”
But Jesse hadn’t come to the office to talk baseball. The doctor lived in a grand Victorian in Pilgrim Cove, with his practice around back of his house. His neighbors were often a little less than pleased with him, because his house, while a lovely specimen of the Queen Anne style, was never kept in the pristine condition of the surrounding homes.
The doctor once confided in Jesse, “I think they would try to sue me, but since I saw to all their children, they make allowances.”
When Jesse came into the office that day, he was greeted by a young woman who looked vaguely familiar. He guessed she caught him trying to figure it out.
“Morning, Chief Stone,” she said, pointing to her chest. “Anna Marantz. You know, my dad owns the card shop.”
“Sure. Good morning, Anna. How’s your family?”
Anna, a petite blond woman with coppery eyes, said, “They’re good.”
“I thought you were at school.”
“Amherst, yeah,” she said, shrugged. “I did a year there, but I didn’t like it or it didn’t like me. I’m taking some time off and I figured I’d make a little money for when I go back to another school.”
“Doc in?”
“He’s just finishing up with a patient. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Anna went into the back. When she returned, she told Jesse the doctor would be out in a few minutes. While they waited, Jesse thought he would use the time to see if Anna, a fairly recent graduate of the high school, knew Heather Mackey.
“No, I didn’t know her at all, really,” Anna said. “We were two years apart.” But Anna didn’t leave it there. “I mean, I guess we passed each other in the hall sometimes, and everybody knows her father because he’s a selectman and all.”
Jesse supposed she would have gone on, but the door to the office opened and out came a young Hispanic couple, the mother holding a very young baby in her arms. Doc Goldfine trailed behind them, a reassuring hand on the mother’s shoulder.
“Rosa will be perfectly fine. It’s nothing more than a cold. If she’s not better in a few days, give us a call and bring her back in.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” the husband said, and shook Goldfine’s hand. “I will mail you the check on Friday.”
The doctor smiled. “That will be good. Whenever you can. You just take care of these two.”
He walked the family to the door and saw them out. He turned to Anna and told her to fit the Ramirezes in if the mother called for another appointment. Then he shook Jesse’s hand and said hello.
“First-time parents...” Goldfine laughed and shook his head. “With the first one, the bottle falls on the floor, they make a new one. By the time the second one comes around, the bottle falls, they wipe it off on their nightshirt and stick it in the baby’s mouth. So, you wanna talk baseball? No, I guess not. Come on in. I don’t have another appointment for about fifteen minutes.”
Jesse trailed the old man into his office. As he followed, Jesse marveled at the hop in Goldfine’s step and the sparkle in his eyes.
“You know, Doc,” Jesse said, sitting in one of the old chairs across the desk, “I think we might draft you for the PPD softball team. I don’t know about your range at second, but you could be our designated runner.”
“Please, Jesse, I’m old enough to carbon-date. So, what’s up? How’s that boy of yours?”
“Good.”
“Molly and the girls?”
“Good.”
“Oy, Jesse, with baseball, I can’t shut you up. With everything else, one-word answers. So, what’s doing?”
“Heather Mackey.”
The sparkle went right out of Goldfine’s eyes. He bowed and shook his head. “I delivered her. I held her in my hands before her own mother. Did you know that?”
“No.”
“This was when Steve and Patti still lived in Old Man Mackey’s house around the corner from here. The baby decided to come in the middle of a nor’easter. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face and it was impossible to drive or for ambulances to get through. Steve called me in a panic. My Bea was still alive then. We walked around the corner. Got there just in time, too. But what can I tell you? How can I help?”
“Patti says when Heather got hurt last year, they came to see you first.”
Goldfine held up his right index finger. “Wait.” He called Anna into the office and asked her to get Heather Mackey’s file.
“Good kid, Anna,” the doctor said when she left. “John Marantz came to me last spring when he heard I was looking for some help. Said Anna was a little lost and could I think about her for the job. What could I say? I’ve known her also since she was like this.” He held his upturned hands close together.
Anna came back, handed him the file, and left. Goldfine looked it over.
“Yeah, bad fall. Wrenched her back. She was in a lot of pain. There wasn’t anything I could do but refer her to the back and spine specialist at the hospital, Dr. Nour.”
“You didn’t prescribe anything for her?”
Goldfine shook his head. “Prescribe? No. I suggested she use Motrin or Tylenol for the pain until she saw the specialist. Backs are quirky things, and you know my first duty is to do no harm. I was going to leave Heather’s treatment to Dr. Nour. Good at her job.”
Jesse stood up. Thanked the doctor and asked if he was sure he didn’t want to play for the PPD softball team. Goldfine laughed, but not for long.
“You find out what really happened with Heather, let me know. Opioid addiction is going to kill off a generation if we don’t watch out. I care for these kids too much to see that happen.”
Jesse promised he would do everything he could and left, saying goodbye to Anna as he went.
“Take care,” he said. “And give my regards to your folks.”
Jesse sat outside in his Explorer, remembering the two babies he had delivered while in uniform in L.A. He wondered about what happened to those kids. He didn’t wonder too long.
Twenty-six
Dr. Nour wasn’t anything like Doc Goldfine, neither in temperament nor demeanor. Five-foot-six, with shoulder-length jet black hair, eyes nearly as dark, rich brown skin, and a downturned mouth, she was more the type of doctor Jesse had known at hospitals in L.A. — terse, impatient, and preoccupied. No matter what they said to him, it always seemed to Jesse that it translated into “What? What? I’m busy. Go away.” He didn’t judge them for it. He knew there wasn’t much glory in the profession. As with police work, the public’s perception of the medical arts was television-based.