THREE
Friday, January 16th
By the time Kim did his rounds and checked Mr. Arnold in the recovery room, another hour had passed. En route to his former wife's house in the University section of town, he pushed his ten-year-old Mercedes and made record time. But it was still going on eight when he pulled up behind a yellow Lamborghini directly in front of Tracy 's house.
Leaping from the car, Kim jogged up the front walk. The house was a modest affair built around the birth of the twentieth century, with a few Victorian gothic touches, like pointed arch windows in the second-floor dormers. Kim took the front steps in twos to reach the columned porch, where he rang the bell. His breath steamed in the wintery chill. While he waited he fanned his arms to keep warm. He wasn't wearing a coat.
Tracy opened the door and immediately put her hands on her hips. She was plainly anxious and irritated. "Kim, it's almost eight. You said you'd be here by six at the latest."
"Sorry," Kim said. "It was unavoidable. The second case took longer than anticipated. We ran into an unexpected problem."
"I suppose I should be used to this by now," Tracy said. She stepped out of the way and motioned for Kim to step inside. She closed the door behind him.
Kim glanced into the living room and saw a smart, casually dressed, mid-forties man in a suede fringe jacket and ostrich cowboy boots. He was sitting on the couch, with a drink in one hand and a cowboy hat in the other.
"I would have fed Becky if I'd had any idea it was going to be this late," Tracy said. "She's starved."
"That's easy to remedy," Kim said, "I mean, we are planning on going out to dinner."
"I wish you would have at least called," Tracy said.
"I was in surgery and didn't get out until five-thirty," Kim said. "It's not like I was out golfing."
"I know," Tracy said with resignation. "It's all very noble. The problem is, you were the one who picked the time, not me. It's a matter of consideration. Every second I thought you were about to arrive. Luckily we're not flying commercial."
"Flying?" Kim questioned. "Where are you going?"
" Aspen," Tracy said. "I've given Becky the number where I can be reached."
" Aspen for two days?"
"I feel it's time for me to have a little fun in my life. Not that you would know what that is, apart from your surgery, of course."
"Well, as long as we're being nasty and sarcastic," Kim said, "thanks for sending Kelly Anderson to the surgical lounge. That was a pleasant surprise!"
"I didn't send her," Tracy said.
"She said you did."
"I just told her I thought you were in surgery," Tracy said.
"Well, it's the same thing," Kim said.
Over Kim's shoulder, Tracy saw her guest stand up. Sensing he was uncomfortable from undoubtedly overhearing her exchange with her former husband, Tracy motioned to Kim to follow her into the living room.
"Enough of this bickering," she said. "Kim, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Carl Stahl."
The two men shook hands and eyed each other warily.
"You two entertain yourselves," Tracy suggested. "I'll run upstairs and make sure Becky has everything she needs. Then we can all go our separate ways."
Kim watched Tracy disappear up the stairs. Then his gaze returned to Tracy 's apparent boyfriend. It was an uncomfortable situation, and Kim couldn't help feel some jealousy, but at least Carl was several inches shorter, with significantly thinning hair. On the other hand, the man was tanned despite its being mid-winter. He also appeared in reasonable physical shape.
"Can I get you a drink?" Carl suggested, motioning toward a bottle of bourbon on a side table.
"Don't mind if I do," Kim said. Kim had never been much of a drinker, although over the last six months a nightly cocktail had become a habit.
Carl put down his cowboy hat and stepped over to the sideboard. Kim noticed he seemed to have a proprietary manner.
"I saw that interview Kelly Anderson did with you a month or so ago," Carl said as he shoveled several ice cubes into an old-fashioned glass.
"I'm sorry," Kim said. "I was hoping most people missed it."
Carl splashed a generous dollop of liquor over the ice and then handed the drink to Kim. He sat back down on the couch next to his cowboy hat. Kim lowered himself into a facing club chair.
"You have a right to be angry about it," Carl said condescendingly. "It wasn't fair. TV news has an irritating way of twisting things."
"Sad, but true," Kim agreed. He took a sip of the fiery fluid and inhaled before swallowing. He felt a comfortable warm feeling course through his body.
"I certainly didn't buy her premise," Carl said. "You guys earn every penny you get. I mean, I personally have a lot of respect for you doctors."
"Thank you," Kim said. "That's very reassuring."
"Seriously," Carl said. "In fact I was premed for a couple of semesters in college."
"Really? What happened? Didn't you like it?"
"It didn't like me," Carl said with a laugh that ended with a peculiar snorting sound. "It was a wee bit too demanding, and it began to cut into my social life." Carl laughed again as if he'd just told a joke.
Kim began to wonder what Tracy saw in the guy.
"What do you do?" Kim asked to make conversation. Besides, he was interested. Considering the lower-middle-class neighborhood, the yellow Lamborghini outside had to belong to Carl. Plus there was Tracy 's comment about not flying commercial. That was even more worrisome.
"I'm CEO of Foodsmart," Carl said. "I'm sure you've heard of us."
"I can't say that I have," Kim said.
"It's a large agricultural business," Carl said. "Really more of a holding company. One of the largest in the state, actually."
"Wholesale or retail?" Kim asked, not that he knew much about business.
"Both," Carl said. "But mainly export wholesale involving grain and beef. But we're also the major stockholder in the Onion Ring burger chain."
"I've heard of them," Kim said. "I even own some stock."
"Good choice," Carl said. Then he leaned forward, and after furtively looking around as if he thought there were a chance of hidden eavesdroppers, he whispered: "Buy some more Onion Ring stock. The company's about to take the chain national. Consider it an insider tip. Just don't tell anyone where you heard it."
"Thanks," Kim said. Then he added sarcastically: "I've been wondering what to do with all my discretionary income."
"You'll be thanking me a thousandfold," Carl added, insensitive to Kim's tone of voice. "The stock is going to go through the roof. In a year's time the Onion Ring will be out there challenging McDonald's, Burger King, and Wendy's."
" Tracy mentioned you two are flying to Aspen on a private plane," Kim said, changing the subject. "What do you fly?"
"Me personally?" Carl questioned. "I don't fly. Hell, no! I'd be the last person to get into a plane with me behind the controls."
Carl laughed again with his peculiar style, making Kim wonder if the guy snored when he slept.
"I've a new Lear jet," Carl added. "Well, technically it's Foodsmart's, at least according to the IRS. Anyway, as you undoubtedly know, for such an aircraft the FAA mandates we have two highly qualified pilots."
"Of course," Kim said as if he were intimately aware of the rule. The last thing he wanted to do was reveal his ignorance of such things. Nor did he want to let on how angry it made him feel that a businessman who did nothing but shuffle paper could have such perks while he, who worked twelve hours a day on people's hearts, was having trouble keeping his decade-old Mercedes on the road.
A clatter of footfalls on the uncarpeted stairs heralded Becky's arrival. She had an overnight bag and her skates thrown over her shoulder. She dumped both onto a chair in the front hall before racing into the living room.