their status at the University of Lausanne seems a bit sketchy. While copies of their admission applications could be found, there is no record of their having actually enrolled, much less graduated.” She looked up at Charles, anticipating additional information from him.
“Avery concurs that there is no documentation about their actually undertaking studies in Switzerland, but, as we know, the Swiss are very tight lipped when it comes to sharing information.” Charles continued, “The other odd thing is the existence of a big gap between graduating from Ross and applying to Lausanne. About ten years. We have not yet been able to fill in that blank. Nor can we establish that they ever enrolled, not to mention attended classes, at Lausanne.”
“What about when they supposedly left Lausanne?” Myra queried.
“That seems to be a big piece of this puzzle, as well, but Avery and his people are digging deeper.”
Back to Nikki, who let out a sigh. “And neither Alexis nor I could find any evidence that either of the two practicing in the US are licensed to practice in Colorado or New York or that Dr. Marcus is licensed to practice in England, much less London. All three may be guilty of practicing medicine without a license, even if they have medical degrees.”
“How does that happen? A doctor who isn’t licensed?” Annie was incredulous.
“Have you ever looked up any of your physicians’ credentials?” Charles asked pointedly. “We look at the certificates on the walls, but do we actually question their qualifications further? Especially if they have taken over someone else’s practice or been referred by a friend or family member.”
They looked around the table and shrugged in unison.
“My point exactly.” The tone of Charles’s voice indicated how he felt. “What we have been able to ascertain is that these three men met at some point—most likely at Ross. We need to find out what they were doing during those missing ten years.”
Myra interjected, “I think it’s time we brought everyone into this and took a vote, although I know how I am going to vote already. We need to get to the bottom of this! God knows who else they are preying on.” Each of those present raised a hand in agreement. “Excellent. Let’s call a meeting for tomorrow afternoon. I’ll arrange for a mini spa day for Charlotte, so she’ll be out of the house while the meeting takes place.” Myra fingered her pearls, this time with less anxiety and more resolve.
Charles was the first one to stand. “All right, everyone, we shall reconvene tomorrow at noon. It will give us a ‘lunch appointment’ excuse.”
Annie agreed to contact the available sisters, and it was understood that Charles would prepare lunch, with Fergus as his able assistant. Fergus didn’t mind playing second fiddle to Charles in the kitchen. He claimed it helped him to relax. Once he had made a joke about “relaxing and Annie never being in the same sentence,” for which he had got a pinch on the ass that turned black and blue.
* * *
The following morning, before Myra checked in on Charlotte, she and Charles debated whether Charles should prepare a traditional London fry-up or bangers and mash.
Myra groaned. “Dear, we’re all going to gain ten pounds over the next two days.”
“Myra, we cannot allow our guest to wake up to an Egg McMuffin, now, can we?”
Myra chuckled at Charles’s jest. An Egg McMuffin in that house was never going to happen unless Charles prepared it himself. In his own kitchen. With his own ingredients.
Myra suggested, “How about eggs, sausage, home fries, and toast? A little more American. You can wow her with your British bangers over the weekend.”
“Only if you let me include back bacon,” Charles pretended to protest.
“If you insist.” Myra glanced at the large grandfather clock in the foyer. Seven o’clock. “If I do my math—”
Charles interrupted, intuitively knowing Myra was calculating the time in London and how much jet lag Charlotte would have endured. “It’s noon, old girl.”
She nodded. “Daylight saving time. I never understood why we had to change the clocks. Arizona doesn’t do it.”
“Because the day is long and hot enough,” Fergus chimed in as he rounded the corner from the kitchen.
“Good morning, mate!” Charles clapped him on the back. “Ready to crack some eggs?”
Fergus laughed. “Why am I thinking it’s going to end up more in line with cracking some heads?”
Charles gave him a wry grin and raised his eyebrows in agreement.