Free A Guilty Mind by K.L. Murphy Page B

patients?”
    â€œCould be.”
    â€œThe wife? Someone he worked with?”
    â€œAny”—­he pulled on his faded leather sport coat—­“or all of the above.”
    A desk officer approached the two detectives. “Cancini, a Sandy Watson is on the phone for you. Line four.”
    â€œSpeak of the devil.” He sat down again. “Cancini here.”
    â€œDetective,” she said. “It’s Sandy Watson. I . . . I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.” Near tears, her words were barely audible. “But if it helps you to find out whoever killed Dr. Michael . . .” A choked sob came across the phone line.
    He pressed the phone to his ear, kept his voice low and soothing. “Mrs. Watson, anything you can tell me may be helpful. I know you cared a great deal for the doctor, so if you know anything . . .”
    Her crying slowed then. “It’s about Dr. Michael, but I don’t know if it means anything. He’d been preoccupied, anxious about something this week. I think he was worried.”
    Cancini jotted down the time, the lady’s name, and a line about the doctor’s worries. “What makes you think something was bothering him, Mrs. Watson?”
    â€œWell, when something was on his mind, he would become distant, give one-­word answers. All week he never asked about how I was doing, didn’t thank me like he did each day, barely touched his sandwich. It just wasn’t like him. The doctor was the kindest man.” Her words broke off. A minute went by before she spoke again. “I’m sorry. I still just can’t believe it.”
    â€œIt’s fine, Mrs. Watson. You were saying about the doctor?”
    â€œOh. Right. Well, like I said, he always took an interest in ­people and how they were doing. This week he was different, not rude or anything, just, you know, preoccupied.”
    â€œOkay. Was he worried about a patient maybe?”
    â€œI honestly don’t know. He didn’t talk to me about his cases.”
    â€œBut you knew something was wrong,” the detective asked, pressing. “Did you ask him if everything was all right?”
    â€œOh no, Detective, not this time. I assumed whatever was bothering him was none of my business.”
    â€œThis time? Has he been like this before?”
    â€œOnly once.” She spoke haltingly, the words hanging in the air. “I—­I don’t know if I should say anything more.”
    He took a deep breath. “Mrs. Watson, it could be important to the case.”
    â€œWe-­ell, I guess it would be all right. It was right around when Mrs. Michael’s brother died. The doctor was not himself at all. He was short, even with Mrs. Michael. She even went—­” The woman hesitated, breaking off. “Well, things were, I don’t know how to put this, but I guess they were awkward.”
    â€œThat was about a year ago, right?”
    â€œYes, Detective.”
    He put down his pen. He already knew about the brother’s hit-­and-­run death. “Well, Mrs. Watson, I think it’s understandable they would both be upset after the death of Mrs. Michael’s brother. I’m sure it was a difficult time for everyone.”
    â€œOh no, Detective, it wasn’t after the accident,” she said, then stopped.
    Cancini leaned forward, picking up his pen once again. “Yes?”
    â€œYou might not understand,” she whispered. “Dr. Michael loved her so much. He was devoted.”
    He heard the protective, maternal tone in her voice. “If there’s something I need to know, Mrs. Watson, now is the time.”
    There was silence, followed by a ragged sigh. “The doctor, he was upset, worried, for quite a while. He seemed, well, kind of unhappy.” A moment passed while he waited. “Not after the accident, Detective. Before.”

 
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