Dying for a Date by Cindy Sample

Author:Cindy Sample [Sample, Cindy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: LEBOOK_PUBLISHERL Dreamspell
Published: 2011-09-07T10:48:44+00:00

SIXTEEN

I waited a full minute before jumping off the examining table. Purse in hand, I stepped into the corridor, cautious as I approached the reception area. Both nurses seemed enraptured by a magazine Liz had spread open on the front counter. By the time we left the office, my pal would undoubtedly have arranged a spa day for at least one of them.

Since both women were occupied, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to examine Jeremy's office. I scooted past the doorway to the reception area and race limped to the end of the hallway. One door was closed. Probably Radovich's office. He seemed the secretive type.

Across the hall was an office furnished with a large polished mahogany desk and a navy blue leather executive chair. My head swiveled back toward the reception area. The coast was still clear.

Bookshelves lined with leather tomes covered two walls. Diplomas and licenses hung on the third wall. I remembered that Jeremy received his BS at the University of California at Davis, one of many things we had in common. I graduated from UCD a couple of years after him with a completely useless degree in history. His diploma from medical school hung on the wall. Stanford. Impressive. But not helpful.

Photos in matching silver frames rested on the shelves. One photo was of an attractive man, his arms around a pretty blonde woman and a very young girl. The man bore a slight resemblance to Jeremy. I picked up a picture of some young men dressed in caps and gowns. Could be either high school or college. I tried to locate Jeremy. There he was. The skinny kid at the end of the last row. A few of his curls had managed to escape from the tight fitting mortarboard cap.

I turned to the scrupulously neat desk. Nothing that shouted out “clue.” I left Jeremy's office and tiptoed back down the corridor. The muted sound of voices indicated that Liz and the nurses were still chatting.

I opened the closed door of the other office. Diplomas hung lopsided on the walls. Files were stacked in haphazard piles on the floor and papers were scattered all over the desk. How did a man this sloppy end up practicing medicine? I certainly wasn't coming back to him for my annual pap. Who knows what tortuous metal instruments he might leave behind?

I brushed against a stack of documents and the paper on top floated down to the floor. The sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor warned of an impending visitor. I snatched the paper and quickly glanced at it. The first page of a real estate contract for a property on Ski Run Blvd. in Lake Tahoe. The purchaser. Jeremy Slater.

Carol walked in just as I shoved the document back on top the messy pile. “Ms. McKay, what are you doing in here?” She gave me another one of those suspicious looks. At least I think it was a suspicious look. I had a feeling Carol used that look a lot.

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