Free Eye Sleuth by Hazel Dawkins Page B

they added to the egg salad but it was deliciously different from anything I’d ever had so I could put up with Allan. The food would be delivered at mid-day, so I went in to my office and sat down at the desk. To my annoyance, Allan followed me.
    “How’s the work with Fred Anders going?” he said, and brazenly started to shuffle through the papers in my out box.
    “Hands off,” I said and he retreated, holding his hands high in mock deference.
    “Reason I ask is that you haven’t had a computer crash recently,” Allan said.
    He was right. Too often, when I was trying to make coherent notes from Dr. Anders’ scrawl, my computer would freeze or crash, which meant I’d need to call on Allan’s expertise.
    “I’m catching up, lots to do.” I kept my answer noncommital.
    “See you at lunch,” and Allan sauntered out.
    Not if I could help it. I’d sit next to Matt. He was a good buffer if Allan tried to get too friendly. Not that I hesitated to throw cold water on Allan in public. It just took more time and energy than it was worth, particularly since nothing I ever said slowed Allan down.

 
     

    Four
     
    Strange how hindsight’s a perfect 20/20. The next day, the morning at the clinic was typical, one patient a no show, one cancelling minutes before the appointment, and most of the others arriving late. I hadn’t fallen asleep until late the night before, worried about Lanny, and when I woke, I wasn’t hungry and made do with a cup of miso. By lunchtime, I was ravenous and devoured a messy meatball sub at my desk, sorting through files as I munched, catching most of the drips before they landed on paperwork. Late afternoon, my phone rang. News of Lanny? I grabbed it
    “Yoko, how’s your schedule tonight?”
    It was Dr. Forrest, my boss.
    “Nothing planned, Elliot. Do you need help at an evening class?”
    “It’s not that simple. I was scheduled to go hear Dr. Forkiotis lecture at the Connecticut Police Academy but I’ve got a nasty cold, all I want to do is go home to bed. You helped review the journal paper about the work Gus has done on DUI. Would you go in my place?”
    I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
    “Good. I’ll call and tell Gus. You can take a Metro North train from Grand Central, Gus’ll meet you at Bridgeport. Dinner’s his treat.”
    “Thanks, Elliot. I hope you feel better tomorrow.”
    I hung up. I’d heard Gus Forkiotis read his papers at conferences and I never missed reading his cutting edge work, for he was one of the pioneers in marrying forensics to optometry. He and another Connecticut practitioner, Bob Bertolli, had lectured at the Connecticut State Police Academy for decades, bringing the police up to speed on the optometric science behind the ways drugs or alcohol affect our vision, so important in DUI cases. This visit was my chance to quiz Gus on what optometrists needed to know in the way of identifying and profiling techniques when called in to help at crime scenes or disaster sites, something that was happening more and more frequently. The sudden prospect of a trip to Connecticut even helped distract me from my concern for Lanny. How was I to know that later, I’d wish I’d said no. Said I had the flu. Typhoid, maybe.
    I scooped up the papers covering my desk and took them over to the filing cabinet, planning to sort them the next day. I had time to finish writing one last memo and still squeeze in a visit to Lanny at St. Vincent’s before heading to the train station.
    “A question for you, Dr. Kamimura.”
    I jumped and the papers spilled. My back was to the door and I hadn’t heard anyone come in. Guess my nerves aren’t in the best shape these days. I bent to pick up the mess.
    “Have you had time to read the memo I sent about reorganizing the Infants’ Clinic to save costs? Do you think my suggestions will work?”
    I caught the familiar undertones of a Southern accent and didn’t have to turn around to know it was Matt Wahr. Sure enough, when I