be sheer torture for the poor woman.”
Bill said quietly, “It was Norma Blanchard, Gabe.”
The doctor’s face went as white as the sheet of paper that drifted out of his fingers as they went slack. He began breathing hard and fast through his mouth. He blinked rapidly. Thatcher thought he might be on the verge of passing out.
He tried to stand, but his knees buckled, and he dropped back into the seat of his chair. He planted his elbows on the surface of his desk and held his head between his hands.
“Gabe?” Bill said.
For the longest time, he didn’t respond, then, “Who did it?”
“We don’t know yet, but we intend to find out. We thought you might shed some light on that since you were well acquainted with Miss Blanchard.”
Driscoll lowered his hands from his head and looked from Bill to Thatcher and then back to Bill. Their expressions must have been telling. His shoulders slumped. “You know.”
“About your affair with her? Yes.”
“Patsy told you?”
“We spoke with her before she left to accompany Miss Blanchard’s body to Dallas.”
His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed. “What about the baby?”
“Mrs. Kemp arranged for a woman to look after him until further notice.”
Looking dazed, the doctor listened as Bill gave him a summary of what Patsy Kemp had told them. “This morning, one of my deputies checked with the bank. The telephone call appears to have been a ruse to get Mrs. Kemp out of the house. This wasn’t a crime of opportunity.
“Mrs. Kemp arrived home to find the door unlocked, Norma on her bed. The baby, thank God, was unharmed.” Bill leaned forward in his chair and asked softly, “Is the child yours, Gabe?”
His voice was a croak, but his answer was swift, simple, and unequivocal. “Yes.”
Bill let that settle, then asked, “Had you and Miss Blanchard planned to marry?”
He was about to speak, thought better of it, and finally said, “I’m married to Mila.”
“But did Miss Blanchard have expectations of taking her place?”
“I told her that making our affair public would be regarded with scorn.”
“Especially in light of Mrs. Driscoll’s disappearance,” Bill said. “You can understand why folks might jump to judgment.”
He looked at each of them in turn as though pleading for absolution. “I’m not proud of committing adultery. I didn’t go looking for it. I’m not like that.”
“Like what?”
“A skirt chaser. A tomcat. I’d been faithful to Mila. But the moment I saw Norma, she took my breath.”
“How soon before you became lovers?”
“The very next day.” He gave an account that matched Patsy Kemp’s.
“And you kept going back?”
He nodded morosely. “I couldn’t stay away from her. She was like a drug. I couldn’t get enough. She was so exotically beautiful and…” He looked down at the sheet of paper on his desk and made a choking sound. “Who would do that to her?”
“A rival for her affection?”
The doctor blinked several times. “What?”
“Meaning no disrespect to Miss Blanchard,” Bill said. “And I hate to ask so bluntly, Gabe, but even after the two of you became involved, did she see other men?”
“No,” he exclaimed. “No, we are—were—in love. She had a very passionate nature and expressed her affection for me without inhibition. There was no one else.”
“Okay.” Bill looked and sounded unconvinced. “When did you last see her?”
“About ten days ago. She showed up here unexpectedly. She brought Arthur with her. At first I was annoyed. It was the middle of the day.”
“You were afraid of what people would think?”
“Yes. She laughed off my concern, said it would look like she was bringing the baby for treatment.”
“How long did she stay?”
“About an hour. Maybe a little longer.”
“Is that the first time you’d seen her since Mrs. Driscoll disappeared?”
The doctor’s eyes darted furtively between Thatcher and Bill, then he confessed to the late-night visit Thatcher had witnessed. “She came uninvited then, too. I didn’t want to let her in, but Norma could be persuasive. A little pushy, even.”
“A little pushy.” Bill assumed a thoughtful expression. “Did her pushiness ever lead to arguments? Did you part on good terms the last time you saw her?”
There was a noticeable hesitation, before he said, “Yes. I enjoyed having that time with my son.” When Bill didn’t continue, but only steadily watched him, he blurted, “But I told Norma that for appearance’s sake, I would come to her from then on.”
“Did you go to her yesterday afternoon, Gabe?”
Driscoll shot a look toward Thatcher, looking like a creature who’d just realized he’d been cornered.
Going back to Bill, he said,