so. Levin’s okay to deal with, but I can’t stand the posse, especially that Brett or Brie chick. She acts as if she’s got a stick up her ass—and she looks like it, too.”
“So I’m not the only one she seems to despise?”
“No, and she’s really ticked at me now. When I found out that Levin was going to send the troops home on Friday, I told her she had to stay and handle the phones. I needed her to keep track of all the vultures from the press who called and refer them to the cops. She was totally annoyed and made the receptionist do it.”
“You can hardly blame the press for their interest.”
“I know. But Levin says that since ‘octomom,’ they’re just aching for a negative angle to pursue with these clinics. There’s some TV reporter named Kit Archer that makes him apoplectic, and Levin wants to make sure he doesn’t come anywhere near this mess.”
Archer. That had been the name on the file Levin had grabbed from her.
“Can you keep them at bay?” Lake asked.
There was a pause, and Lake could hear Hayden take a sip of something. Lake could almost see her long fingers, nails painted plum, holding the stem of a wineglass.
“No, not now. That’s why I was about to call. There’s been what you might call a disturbing development, and the shit is gonna hit the proverbial fan.”
Lake’s whole body tensed. “What is it?” she asked.
“Levin called me this morning. Apparently Keaton had given a set of his house keys to one of the nurses a few days before he was killed. They were sitting in an unlocked drawer all week—and anyone could have used them.”
11
“WHO?” LAKE ASKED, her voice nearly strangled.
“Who?” Hayden said. “You mean, who could have used them to get into Keaton’s apartment and kill him? I have no fucking clue, and if Levin does he’s not sharing that info with me.”
“No—what I mean is, who at the clinic had the keys? Whose desk were they in?”
Lake had known that someone from the clinic could have killed Keaton, but this made the idea real, not just her own suspicion.
“Oh. Let’s see.” The sound of rustling papers. “Maggie Donohue.”
“Was she seeing Mark—Dr. Keaton?” Lake asked. Involuntarily her stomach clenched at the thought of Keaton in bed with Maggie.
“No, nothing like that apparently. Levin said she’d agreed to pick up Keaton’s mail and water his plants when he went back to California next week to tie up loose ends. And she’s got an alibi. She was apparently celebrating her brother’s birthday at his house in Queens and spent the night on his couch.”
“But why didn’t she say anything before now?”
“According to Levin, it never crossed her mind that someone at the clinic might have done it. From what I gather now, there was no forced entry—but the police didn’t share that little tidbit last week. Maggie’s brother’s got cop friends. They told him and then he passed it along to her. She called Levin late on Friday hysterical.”
“But the keys aren’t missing?”
“No. Levin went into the office and found them right where she said they’d be. Obviously there’s a chance someone used them to slip into Keaton’s apartment and kill him—and put them back right after the murder. As you can imagine, if the killer works at the clinic, it’s gonna make crisis control a tad more challenging.”
Lake was silent as her mind grappled with the news. If the killer did indeed work at the clinic, there was a good chance he—or she—had also shaved Smokey as some kind of warning.
“I told Levin he had to call the police,” Hayden said, filling the silence, “but I could tell he didn’t like the idea. His bet is that Keaton’s death was an outside job related to the gambling problem—and that’s my hunch, too. But in the end he knew he had no choice. Maggie’s brother was going to spill the beans if he didn’t.”
“And so did he? Did Levin call the police?”
“Yup. Tell me—you know some of the players there. Could one of them actually be a murderer?”
“I really don’t know anyone there very well. Except for Steve Salman, one of the associates—and I can’t imagine him hurting anyone.”
“Well, even if someone there did do it, I’m sure you’re not in any danger. So stop worrying.”
“Worrying?” Lake said defensively. “What do you mean?”
“I can hear it in your voice. If the murderer works at the clinic, it obviously involves some internal conflict. You’re perfectly