Free FLASHBACK by Gary Braver Page B

boss.”
    Carr looked a bit nonplussed. “You’re very clever, Ms. Ballard. And may I call you René?”

    “Dr. Carr, I’m responsible for the accuracy of all patients’ medical records on that ward as I am at all the homes I visit—”
    Carr flapped his hand as if her words were gnats. “Yes, yes, of course.” Then he scanned the crowd, looking like a Serengeti gazelle testing the air for cheetahs. And while he did she noticed his outfit—tan hand-stitched boots that probably cost more than her Honda and a blue blazer with a breast-pocket shield of a black rearing stallion in a field of gold. Some designer’s logo she didn’t recognize.
    “Ms. Ballard, I’m wondering if we might discuss this some other time.”
    “Dr. Carr, I’ve been getting stonewalled on this since yesterday and possibly since I’ve been on the job. And given that this has become a police matter, I think I have a right to know what’s going on with residents in my homes.”
    “Nobody is questioning your right to know. It’s just not the proper place.” He smiled widely and waved at someone in the crowd. “And now I’m being paged. Do you have a business card?”
    She was being dismissed. She dug into her bag and pulled one out.
    He produced a gold pen. “No, your home number and address, if you don’t mind.”
    She looked up at him for an explanation.
    “Chateau Dominique at eight tomorrow. Are you free?”
    Christ, he’s making a damn date with me. “I guess,” she could hear the thinness of her voice. “But this is not a social matter.”
    “No, but a much better venue.”
    Go with it, she told herself, and wrote down her number and address.
    “Is seven-thirty good?” But before she could file that away, Carr took her elbow. “Here’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said, and took her to Gavin Moy.
    Moy smiled and shook her hand. It was soft and warm, like a fine glove left in the sun. He had a weathered, tanned face that looked as if it had spent time on a yacht or a golf course. What was striking about his appearance was his brilliant green eyes, which made her wonder if he wore colored contacts. His head was a perfectly tanned dome with a mixture of white and auburn on the sides. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Blanchard.”
    “Ballard.”
    He nodded and scanned her up and down. “Nice pin,” he said looking at her lapel cat pin fashioned in black and white.
    “It’s supposed to be my cat,” she said, feeling foolish.
    Moy nodded and began searching the crowd. She could have announced
that she had eaten the cat for breakfast and he could not have cared less. So why Dr. Carr’s insistence on their meeting?
    “Nice to meet you,” he said, and pulled away with Carr.
    Apparently Nick had taken in the scene, because he sauntered over with a fresh glass of champagne and took her arm. “Having a good time?”
    “A blast.” She swallowed half her glass of wine. “Why do I feel like I’m stuck in a conspiracy movie and I’m the only one who doesn’t get it?”
    “Maybe you are. What time is your date?”
    “How do you know I have a date?”
    “Because I know Jordan Carr. I also knew his ex-wife.”
    “If first impressions mean anything, I’m on her side.”
    Nick smiled broadly. “Well, maybe you should give him a chance. He’s a brilliant physician and someone who’s going places.”
    “So, what should I know?”
    “That you’re in for a lovely meal and some good wine.”
    “Want to chaperone? Please?”
    He laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”
    “What about the fifty questions I want answered?”
    “I’m sure you’ll be satisfied.” He looked around for the waiter for a refill.
    “And I think it’s time for Pellegrino.” And she plucked the fluted glass out of Nick’s hand and headed over to the bar feeling like Alice at the Mad Hatter’s jubilee.
    When she returned Nick had removed from his jacket a magazine ad for a camera. “Not exactly a new Harley,” he said, and