Montaro Caine A Novel - By Sidney Poitier Page 0,25

phone with Whitney,” she said. “She couldn’t talk long because she was at the airport and had to get on a flight.”

“And?” asked Mozelle.

“And she said she got married,” Anna said.

Howard Mozelle looked momentarily pleased. Then, he looked stunned. And then he looked worried. “When?” he asked. But before Anna could answer, he was on her with more questions, each one more emphatic than the one that preceded it. “Did you speak with Whitney herself? Who did you say she married?”

“She said her husband’s name is Franklyn Walker,” said Anna. “She sounded happy.”

“Well, can she come in for her checkup?” Mozelle asked.

Anna shook her head. “She moved,” she said.

“Moved? Where to?” he asked.

“Atlanta. And she’s traveling anyway.”

“Traveling where?”

“Abroad.”

“How didn’t we know about this?” asked Mozelle. “Why didn’t she tell us?”

“I don’t know what could have happened,” said Anna. “She said that she was in touch with the office and that she sent word.”

“In touch with whom? What does that mean? ‘Sent word’?”

“She said she was in town to pack up her apartment and dropped by to say hello and have her annual checkup, but it was when you were on vacation.”

“Damn it,” said Dr. Mozelle, remembering the most recent trip he and Elsen had taken to Budapest, for one of his wife’s academic conferences. “Who did she say saw her?”

“Dr. Chambers,” said Anna. “I saw the record of the appointment in his files. But here’s the strange thing—I didn’t see any record of it in Whitney’s chart.”

“Shouldn’t you have known she was here?” Mozelle demanded, even as his wife touched him lightly on the arm in an attempt to calm him.

“Must have been on a day when Cordiss was here by herself,” Anna said. She was referring to Cordiss Krinkle, one of Mozelle’s former employees who had left her position abruptly and apparently not long after Whitney had her appointment.

“Cordiss didn’t tell you Whitney was here?” he asked.

“No, she didn’t.”

“And Chambers’s nurse didn’t mention it to you?”

“Neither she nor Dr. Chambers knew that we were monitoring Whitney,” Anna said.

“Well, Cordiss Krinkle sure as hell knew, didn’t she?”

“She must have,” said Anna. “But Cordiss is long gone.”

“Where is she?” Mozelle asked, his face now crimson. “There’s no way Whitney could have had an examination in these offices without Cordiss knowing about it. We need to get in touch with her. Do you know where she is?”

“I have no idea,” said Anna. “She said she was going to California. But she didn’t leave any number or forwarding address. We sent her her final check, but it was returned. Her email address is dead. I tried finding her, but I couldn’t, so I just gave up.”

Elsen Mozelle took a step closer to Anna and spoke to her in a gentle voice. “You’re sure now, Anna? Cordiss never mentioned anything to you about Whitney, you’re absolutely sure?”

“I’ve got arthritis, not Alzheimer’s. I’m sure, Elsen. She never mentioned anything.”

“Married? And we missed it?” Elsen said in disbelief.

“The boy she married, what did she say about him?” asked Dr. Mozelle. And then, as his eyes met Anna Hilburn’s, he felt as if he understood everything, and the knowledge terrified him. “Is she pregnant, Anna? Has she had a child?”

“I don’t know, Dr. Mozelle,” said Anna. “She didn’t say.”

“Get her back on the phone,” the doctor told her. “We need to find out.”

This time, Anna took out her cell phone and redialed Whitney’s number, but the call went straight to voicemail.

“She said she was about to board the plane,” said Anna. “She’s probably already on it.”

“Where’s she going?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Leave her a message. Tell her to call us as soon as she can.”

As Anna left that message on Whitney’s voice mail, Elsen Mozelle stroked the lapel of her husband’s jacket, then took his hand in hers and held it close to her chest.

“Something’s going on here,” Howard Mozelle said after Anna hung up her phone. “Somebody must have found out.”

“But how could they?” asked Anna. “The three of us are the only ones who know what happened. I’ve never spoken to anyone about it. Not one word in twenty-six years. You’re not thinking that Cordiss found out, are you?”

But that was, in fact, exactly what Dr. Mozelle was beginning to think. “Well, Elsen and I haven’t spoken about it to anyone, obviously,” he said. “This Montaro Caine couldn’t know anything. He saw the coin, analyzed it, and made a report. He never had a clue about its background. I didn’t even tell Dr. Chasman. To this day,