“No, of course not.”
I jot the word ‘defensive’, then move on. “Have you ever misplaced a baby, even for just a few minutes?”
“No, never,” Dr. Patell says, glancing from me to Tessa.
Tessa tries to peer over my arm at the sheet in front of me, but I manage to block her view, knowing she’ll hate most of these questions.
I write ‘very’ in front of the word ‘defensive’. “Have you ever dropped a baby on his or her head or otherwise?”
“Dropped a...no, not once.”
“I noticed on your Facebook page that you collect rare wines.”
“Yes, it’s a hobby my wife and I share.” He smiles again.
“Isn’t that nice?” Tessa says. “What do you consider the best bottle in your collection?”
“I managed to get my hands on a ‘91 Richebourg Domaine Leroy,” he tells Tessa. “I had a glass of it once at an event. Pure magic. We’re saving it for our twentieth anniversary next year.”
“Oh, sounds lovely. That’s a Burgundy, right?” Tessa asks.
“It is.”
I relax back in my chair a bit. “So, I imagine you must drink wine on a fairly regular basis, then?”
“One or two glasses with dinner, but never when I’m on call.”
“Really? Never?”
“Never.”
“So you’ve never gotten drunk and or high when you were on call?”
“No,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Not even once, say, on New Year’s Eve?”
‘Not once, nor would I.”
“Hmm. Okay.” I jot down ‘request lie detector test’, then keep going. “Have you ever misdiagnosed an extreme case of indigestion for pregnancy?”
Dr. Patell laughs suddenly and shakes his head. “Oh, I get it. You two are putting me on, aren’t you?”
Tessa laughs uneasily while I raise one eyebrow. “I take that as another no.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you have mistaken indigestion for pregnancy?”
“Yes, that the answer was no.” He gives me a confused look for a moment. “So, youareserious right now?”
“Very.” I flip to page two of my questionnaire. “We’ve now reached the demonstration phase of our interview.” I reach into my bag and take out a fetal heart rate monitor. “Can you name this item?”
Dr. Patell folds his arms across his chest. “It’s a Doppler Fetal Heart Monitor.”
“Righto,” I say, checking off that item on my sheet. “I’m going to start my stopwatch, hand you the device and time you to see how quickly you’re able to obtain a heartbeat from my wife’s belly.”
I find the stopwatch app on my phone and start to count. “On three, two—”
