The Doctor's Choice (12 page)

“Suspicious?” Cami jumped to her feet. “How could he rule
that it was suspicious? Did he think it suspicious that she fell on something that wasn’t in evidence when they located her body out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Take it easy,” he said. “This is a rural community without all the bells and whistles you’re used to. He’s not through with his
investigation.”

“Oh, great!
The cause of death should only be ruled natural, accidental or homicide. Some country bumpkin ME thinks Aunt Silky’s death might be suspicious?” She expelled an emphatic growl of frustration. Spreading her arms, she leaned against the mantle, her mouth forming an intractable line.

“
Cami, I…” He reached out to her but drew back when she shrugged him off.

“I’m not in the mood for company right now,” she said.

“Maybe your old pal Frank Sullivan can provide some more agreeable fellowship.”

She
turned, her eyes blazing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Breck took a breath. “Sorry. When I saw you ride up with Frank, I
was… jealous.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Her voice sounded sh
arp.

“You think I’m an idiot.” Breck returned to the entry hall and took his Stetson off the rack.

“No, I…”

“Cami, I just like you too much.” He shoved the hat on his head and left.

She stood in the doorway, watching him climb in his truck and drive away without looking back.
What was that about?
Yesterday he’d revealed that Silky had been matchmaking. They’d kissed passionately. Now he was in a huff because she’d gone for a ride with Frank.

She turned and closed the door
, angry that Breck was acting like a teen-ager and angry that some Medical Examiner, who obviously didn’t know which end was up, couldn’t make an accurate ruling as to the cause of Silky’s death.

S
he paced around until she reached a decision. Doctor Camryn Carmichael would request that another coroner examine the evidence in her aunt’s death. She could have someone with greater knowledge review the available information. Perhaps someone with more competence could tell her how Silky had been murdered.

CHAPTER TEN

“Well, Doctor Carmichael,” Breck said. “I didn’t know you got out of bed this early.”

She’d accosted him as he entered his office the next morning. “Don’t be an ass.” She noted with some satisfaction the look of surprise on his secretary’s face. “I’ve worked sixteen and twenty-four hour shifts at the hospital. You have no right to judge anything I do.”

A dark look crossed his face.
“You’re correct. I don’t have any right at all. Won’t you step into my office, Doctor?”

The
glint in his eyes made Cami shiver.

“To what do I owe the honor of your presence?” He gestured to the armchair and took a seat behind his desk.

“I need money. I have to pay for my apartment in Houston.”

“By all means
.” He pulled out a checkbook and wrote her a check for five thousand dollars. “Will this cover your immediate expenses?”

“Yes, but I want to write my own checks.” She gazed at him across the expanse of his mahogany desk.

“I’ll arrange for you to have access to your aunt’s funds, but I write checks for the ranch.”

“What does that entail?” she asked.

“I pay the ranch accounts and write the payroll checks for the hands. I keep the tax records for the CPA.”

“Fine, but I’d like to see those records sometime.”

Breck frowned at her. “Are you telling me you don’t trust me? You think I’d misuse my position?”

“Did I say that?” She tried to match his frown. “I think it’s reasonable that I understand the inner workings of the ranch.”

His brow cleared. He shuffled papers on his desk. “I’d be happy to go over everything with you at your convenience.” He showed her to the door.

Cami took the check to the bank and cashed it. She got a cashier’s check for her rent and mailed it from the small post office.
She drove the candy-apple red Lincoln from one end of town to the other.
How do people live here? Where’s the mall?

She parked in front of the
combination hardware store and lumber yard and walked inside. Apparently this was no woman’s land, because every man inside stared at her with a slack-jawed expression.

“Do you have paint s
amples?” she asked the clerk.

Wordlessly, h
e pointed her toward a rack against the back wall.

She
browsed the dusty paint chips and finally chose a color called ‘tea rose’. It was a lovely peachy pink. She had two gallons mixed and while the cans were shaking, she selected a drop cloth, a paint tray and roller set and a good quality brush to cut in the edges. She added a gallon of semi-gloss white to touch up the woodwork and a step stool. The clerk helped her take her purchases to the car and waved as she drove away.

The grocery store was her la
st stop. She stocked up on fruit and fresh salad ingredients. As she pushed her cart into the line she saw a familiar face in front of her.

“Milita,” she said, smiling.

“Hi Doctor.” She glanced in Cami’s basket. “You drove all the way into town for a little produce?”

“It looks like you’re buying the same thing.”

“This is for the restaurant,” she said. “Pop won’t buy from the commercial grocer because he says it’s not as fresh. And,” she smiled, “he thinks it’s important for local business owners to support each other.”

“Good policy,” she said.

“Why don’t you come over to the restaurant and have a cup of coffee with me?”

“I’d love to.”
She realized that Milita was the only woman her age who hadn’t been hissing at her when she was in Breck’s company.”

She followed Milita to the restaurant, parking beside her ten-year-old truck. Cami helped he
r carry in the bags of produce.

“Let me take these back to the kitchen,” Milita said.

Cami watched her disappear behind the double swinging doors and seated herself at the counter.

Milita reappeared a few minutes later with a glass coffee pot and two white
ceramic cups. She filled the cups and lifted a glass dome to offer Cami a pastry.

Cami chose a flaky
cinnamon-scented empanada. She bit into it and the juicy apple filling ran down her chin. “This is delicious,” she said.

“Thanks, I make them every morning.”

“And your dad mans the grill. This is really a family operation.”

“Tell me,” Milita asked, “What’s it like to live in Houston? It’s such a big city. How do you find your way around?”

“I think most people have their own little rat maze and they run it every day. There’s a lot of traffic and the freeways are a mess, but my apartment is in the Medical Center so my maze is pretty much contained.”

“You have a boyfriend there?”

“Yes, I have a fiancé. He works downtown and lives in the Heights. His maze is a little more spread out than mine but he takes me out and meets me for lunch several times a week.”

“I thought maybe, you and Breck
…” She let the sentence trail off.

“Breck was my aunt’s attorney and her friend.” Cami
reflected that he was also the man who kissed her like he was going to devour her, but she couldn’t say that.

“He’s a really nice guy,” Milita said. “I was hoping that you were interested in him.”

Cami smiled. “Breck seems to have quite a few local female fans already. I don’t think he needs one more.”

“I’ve known
him a long time. I don’t think you’d have any competition.” Milita grinned. “If he were going to make a move on any of the local women he would have done it before now.”

“You seem to know him well,” Cami said. “What’s his story?”

“He was my boyfriend Hector’s best friend. When Hector died, Breck took over as my watch dog. He thinks he owes it to Hector to look out for me.”

“That’s nice,” Cami said.
“I’m sorry about Hector.”

Milita smiled and cast her eyes down. “Me, too.”

From the kitchen, they heard something heavy and solid hit the floor. Then the unmistakable sound of china impacting a hard surface resounded off the walls.

“Pop? Are you alright?” Milita got off the stool and headed
through the double swinging doors.

“Let me help
.” Cami followed, thinking she could pick up broken dishes. Milita’s gasp brought her up short. A man lay on the floor.

“Oh, Pop
!” Milita knelt beside him.

Cami
squatted and felt for his pulse. It was weak and thready. The man’s eyes had rolled up in his head and his skin was clammy. “Call for an ambulance! Where is the nearest hospital?”

“
Doc Parker’s out of town. There’s an emergency medic in the next town. It’s about twenty miles east. The nearest actual hospital is in Amarillo.”

“Let me talk to the 911 operator,” Cami directed. She loosened the man’s clothing and noted his pallor. She gave him a cursory examination and spoke to the emergency
dispatcher. She asked Milita to bring something to cover him and waited for the life flight helicopter to arrive.

The emergency medical personnel burst through the door as soon as the helicopter landed and Milita
directed them back to the kitchen.

“I’m Doctor Carmichael,” Cami said. “This man is diaphoretic, his pulse is
weak and his stomach is distended. I think he’s bleeding internally. He may need immediate surgery.”

Milita covered her mouth wit
h both hands and moaned softly.

The EMTs spoke to
someone at the hospital while loading Mr. Rios onto a gurney for immediate transport.

“What will I do?” Milita asked. She spread her hands and looked around the restaurant. A few people had wandered
inside.

“Sorry, folks,” Cami said. “The restaurant is closed
.” She put her hand on Militia’s shoulder. “Make sure everything is turned off and let’s go with your father.” When she turned she was surprised to find Breck standing on the sidelines with a concerned look on his face. “Let’s go.” She shepherded Milita to the helicopter and got in with her when Mr. Rios was loaded. The EMT administered oxygen and monitored his vital signs. The helicopter took off, leaving Breckenridge T. Ryan and the rest of Langston behind.

#

Cami shepherded Milita and her father into the hospital from the helipad. The emergency room doctor met them and Cami sent Milita to fill out paperwork while she met with the doctor. He was very young, probably just out of med school himself.

“I’m Doctor Amir, he said. His accent was from the
Middle East, but his command of English was excellent. They conferred as Mr. Rios was examined and sent to be X-rayed. Cami glanced around the emergency room, glad that the hospital was well-equipped.

They learned that, indeed, Mr. Rios had a g
astro-intestinal bleed and would require immediate surgery. Dr. Amir called in a Gastro specialist as Cami tried to calm Milita.

“Oh, no,” she
moaned. “Will my father be alright?”

“He’s
being transfused now. He’s apparently had a slow bleed for some time,” Cami said.” Did he ever complain of pain or fatigue?”

“My pop is always tired
, but he works very hard. He’s never said anything about pain.” Milita wrung her hands together. “We have no health insurance. I don’t know how we’ll afford this operation.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Cami said. “The bleed is in his lower
GI tract so the surgeon will remove the section of bowel that’s damaged and hopefully, he’ll be as good as new.”

“But the money
…” Milita’s voice trailed off in a moan.

“
The hospital will let you pay it out as long as you need. What can they do? Cut him open and replace the damaged bowel?” Cami smiled and gave her a hug. “They’ll be patient as long as you pay a little each month.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Cami sat with Milita until her father was out of surgery. “I better call the ranch,” she said. “They don’t know what happened to me.”

Milita went to the recovery room to sit by her father’s bedside.

Cami realized she didn’t know any other number for the ranch except the phone in the house. There was a phone in the men’s bunkhouse, but she didn’t know it. Reluctantly, she called Breck’s office.”

“Mr. Ryan
isn’t in,” his secretary said.

Cami identified herself and was told that Breck had driven to
Amarillo to check on Mr. Rios. She found herself smiling. It seemed that she could always depend on Breckenridge T. Ryan to do the responsible thing.