Mitch had rejoined Andrew on the floor. Each had a car now, and they were racing them. Smiling over Andrew’s tire-screeching noises, Mitch looked up at her and must have noted the tension in her expression.
He got Andrew interested in a fire truck, then stood up. “What?”
“No calls to my service except for John Bowie’s early this morning.”
“That’s good. No one is in trouble.”
“But Roland called my cell.”
“When?”
“Shortly after one o’clock this afternoon.”
“He leave a message?”
“No.”
Andrew was running the fire truck up and down Mitch’s thigh. He ruffled Andrew’s hair but never took his eyes off her. “What do you usually do when a patient calls and doesn’t leave a message?”
“Call back to see if everything is all right.”
“So call him.”
She nodded and turned away, but he hooked her elbow. “But I listen in.”
“You will not.”
“If I have to play the cop card, I will.”
She pulled her arm from his grasp. “On what grounds?”
“Malone’s employee took a switchblade to three people last night, including me.”
“He may not have even known about it. I told you he reacted as though he didn’t. That El Paso may have been up to meanness that had nothing to do with Roland.”
“So it’sRolandagain? I can’t believe—” he began in a raised voice. He looked over his shoulder at Andrew, who was now involved with guiding his fire truck along the armrest of the sofa. Mitch came back to her and continued in a moderated but no less truculent tone. “I can’t believe you’re defending him.”
“It’s not about defending him. You have responsibilities and you take them seriously.” She flattened her hand against her chest. “Well, I also have a responsibility to every patient, which I take seriously. That includes Roland Malone, even if he is a criminal.
“Besides, Detective Haskell, think about it. If I don’t follow up, it will make him wonder why. Especially if he knows I lied to him about arriving safely home last night. If you don’t want him suspicious of me,moresuspicious of me, you should let me call.”
In frustration, he placed his hands on his hips, but she could tell that her reasoning had made sense to him. “Make the fucking call,” he said, mouthing the eff word.
She moved to the other side of the room for privacy, but it wasn’t needed. Her call wasn’t answered. After numerous rings, a recording told her there was no mailbox set up for that number. The tightness in her chest eased. Despite her adamant argument, she had hoped she wouldn’t be forced to talk to Roland and tell more lies.
She went back to Mitch and ungraciously returned her phone to him. “He didn’t answer. There was no voice mailbox, so I couldn’t leave a message.” She waited a beat before adding, “And don’t you ever pull that cop card crap with meagain.” She stood there, meeting his eyes, daring him to challenge her.
He didn’t, but asked, “Was this our first fight?”
She turned her back on him, walked to the front door, opened it, and stepped out onto the porch. As she closed the door behind herself, she heard him say, “Guess so.”
Chapter 33
In the alley behind the restaurant, El Paso got in on the passenger side of a rattletrap panel truck. Roland was already in the driver’s seat with the motor running. “You’re late.”
“Only by two lousy minutes.” He looked around the plain and slightly odorous interior of the truck. “Where’s your fancy car with the chauffeur?”
“His night off.”
