Free Eggs Benedict Arnold by Laura Childs Page B

life, but she ’ d tucked it deep inside her heart where it would always remain a part of her, but hopefully mellow.
    Like a sand pebble in an oyster that, over time, acquires a shimmering luster.
    Suzanne grabbed her hobo bag and said, “ Hang tight, Bax. I ’ ll only be a couple of minutes. ” Then she climbed out of her car and scurried through the front door.
    A woman in blue scrubs glanced up from behind the front desk and exclaimed, “ Suzanne! Is that really you? ”
    “ Esther! ” called Suzanne. “ How are you? You look great! ” Esther was the office manager at the clinic.
    Like she ’ d been perched in an ejection seat, Esther popped up and flew around the front desk to greet Suzanne and exchange hugs. “ Hey, sweetie! ” she exclaimed, clearly delighted to see Suzanne.
    “ I mean it, ” said Suzanne. “ You look terrific. What ’ s your secret? Did you lose weight or something? ” Esther was in her early fifties, but had been blessed with a clear complexion, hazel eyes, rich brown hair, and very few wrinkles.
    Esther giggled. “ I ’ ve been on the seafood th a t. I see food, I eat it. ”
    “ Seriously, ” said Suzanne, studying her. “ There ’ s some thing different. ”
    “ Botox, ” whispered Esther. “ There ’ s a dermatologist over in Jessup who ’ s an artist with the syringe. He made two tiny injections right in the lines between my eyes . . . you know, those nasty elevens ... and they were suddenly gone. Vanished! I said, thank you kindly, Doctor, now please make short work of my crow ’ s feet, too. ”
    “ Ah, ” said Suzanne. Might that deft dermatologist also be the secret behind Carmen ’ s slightly plumped-up face? Could be.
    Suzanne was about to pull out a pocket mirror and con template her own elevens when Esther asked, “ What brings you in? We close in ten minutes, you know. ”
    “ Right, ” said Suzanne. “ Sorry. I was wondering if Dr. Hazelet was still around. I have a quick question for him. Nothing concerning health, ” she added hastily. “ Just ... a question. ”
    “ Sure, ” smiled Esther. “ Let me buzz his office. See if we can catch him. ”
    Two minutes later Dr. Sam Hazelet was grinning at Su zanne as they stood outside the clinic ’ s front door. He was tall, early forties, good-looking, with tousled brown hair and blue eyes. Of course he looked adorable in his white coat over a pale blue shirt and slightly loosened Ralph Lau ren tie with its scatter of polo ponies.
    “ It ’ s good to see you again, ” he told her. His words sounded more than genuine and Suzanne blushed slightly. This was a man she wouldn ’ t mind getting to know better.
    “ Great to see you, ” she replied. Okay, a good and a great, she told herself. Now how do I phrase my particular question?
    Sam Hazelet seemed be studying her. “ You feeling okay? ” he asked. “ Because . . . ah . . . well, I heard about what happened yesterday. With Ozzie and with you. ” He looked extremely concerned. “ In fact, why don ’ t we go in and do a quick blood draw? Make sure you ’ re all right. ”
    “ I ’ m fine, really, ” Suzanne told him. “ I just stopped by to ask you a quick question. ”
    He moved a step closer and Suzanne could smell what was either aftershave or a much better grade of hand soap than the clinic used to use. Something faintly peppery.
    “ Yes? ” he said.
    Suzanne didn ’ t hesitate. “ It concerns Ozzie Driesden ’ s murder. ”
    “ Lot of theories going around about that, ” said Sam. He rolled his eyes. “ Thank goodness I ’ m not the duly ap pointed county coroner.
    Although I think I might have to take a turn at it next year. ”
    “ All those theories? ” said Suzanne. “ I have one, too. ”
    “ You want to go somewhere for coffee? ” Sam asked. “ Talk this over? ”
    “ No, ” said Suzanne. “ I mean, no, thanks. This isn ’ t a good night for me. ” She didn ’ t have anything going, but she needed a little