financial services firm. Just a regular guy.
He knows, I was thinking. He knows everything. How will I be able to play the part? I thought back to what Clegg said to me. Here’s your living proof that crime doesn’t pay. Your proof is a balding guy with glasses, waiting with bated breath to bring down the hammer of justice upon your stupid, stupid head. Happy days, John Bodine. You’ve really made a mess out of things.
Truth is, I’d be fine with a prison sentence for what I’d done. Maybe the national media attention would guarantee Ruby enough donations to fund her Verbilifide treatments. Maybe Uretsky knew all that, which was why he vowed to kill another woman if I failed to play the part. Win or lose at Uretsky’s game, I was certain of one thing: if Uretsky didn’t kill me, the guilt eventually would.
I unconsciously straightened my posture while extending my hand to Dobson. He set down his well-worn, black leather flap-over portfolio to shake hello. The man’s smile seemed genuine and congenial, though his teeth were noticeably coffee-stained yellow.
“Elliot Uretsky?” he asked.
I nodded. My stomach churned at the sound of my stolen name. Uretsky.
He spoke from his throat, not his gut, so his voice came out muffled and a bit nasal. If asked, I’d place his upbringing somewhere in the Midwest.
Maybe near where Rhonda Jennings’s family lives.
My stomach clenched and released spasmodically as I said, “That’s me.”
“Henry Dobson,” the man said, strengthening his already firm grip on my hand.
He let go of my hand and removed from his rear pants pocket a brown leather wallet, well worn, too. He flipped the leather billfold open, showing me his UniSol Health investigator’s identification, which he kept protected behind a clear plastic shield. He held the wallet close enough for me to read the name, Henry Dobson, and see that his face matched the picture on the ID.
“I didn’t realize this was the building where that murder took place,” Dobson said, still standing in the hallway.
“Last night,” I said, somehow summoning up a convincingly calm composure.
“I got stopped by the police on my way in,” Dobson said. “That’s when I found out.”
“Horrible, isn’t it?” I said.
“You hear about murders on the news all the time,” Dobson said.
“But I never thought about the people who live in the buildings where a murder takes place. Until now, that is. And here I am, adding to your troubles.”
I kept blocking the door to our apartment. I wasn’t ready to let him inside just yet.
“Do you mind telling me what this is all about? My wife isn’t feeling very well.”
The real Elliot would be a bit indignant at the intrusion, I had decided. To play the part meant needing to find the right balance between anger and cooperation. In actuality, Ruby was in the bedroom, hiding out until she had to make an appearance, not that Dobson needed to know all that.
“Of course she’s not,” Dobson said. “And I do apologize for the intrusion. I just have to do some quick verification work. You see, somebody called our fraud line and reported you.”
“Fraud line?” I asked.
“We have an anonymous tip line for folks to report medical fraud. You ask me, it’s been a mixed blessing so far. We’ve uncovered some fraud, but we’ve also got our fair share of angry exes or envious coworkers wanting to stir up trouble. Regardless, we’ve got to investigate all reports.”
So that was it—Uretsky had called the UniSol tip line to report our crime.
Play the part.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Know what?” Dobson replied.
“If someone is committing fraud.”
Dobson smiled, pushing his mustache up against his nose. “I’m really good at my job,” he said.
If Dobson brushed the back of my neck, he would wonder if I suffered from hyperhidrosis, excessive sweating, and perhaps would ask why I never filed any medical claims for treatment. Dobson indicated with a nod toward the living room that he wished to come inside, and not wanting to be truculent, I opted to let him in.
Ruby emerged from the bedroom, her skin so white, it appeared almost translucent. Her hands were trembling, too. It was a subtle waver, but I could see it easily because I knew Ruby. Dobson did not, so if he happened to notice and think it out of the ordinary, he’d probably assume it was a condition of her cancer. Meanwhile, Ruby looked at me with these benumbed, wide eyes and a defeated expression that broke my heart. My guilt revved