Prayers for the Dead by Faye Kellerman Page A

her saucer eyes spilling tears as she yanked. “Who would hurt the doctor? He was the gentlest person on the face of the earth! Why would anyone
hurt
him?”
    “Ms. Manley, why don’t you sit down.” Marge mouthed to Oliver, “Turn the damn thing off!”
    Oliver cut off the newscaster midsentence. Heather was still moaning. He said, “Why don’t you sit, Ms. Manley?”
    She continued to pace.
    Oliver said, “Sit down, ma’am… as in
sit
down in a chair.”
    The secretary stopped treading, stared at Oliver. He pulled out the chair. “Please?”
    She sat, the hem of her dress resting mid-thigh over smooth, white legs. Oliver did a rapid once-over, then said, “We need your help, ma’am. Did you get hold of any of the doctors that were at Sparks’s six o’clock meeting?”
    Heather sniffed loudly. “Dr. Decameron said he’s on his way over here. Dr. Fulton… she can’t come down because she can’t get a baby-sitter. And her husband isn’t home yet. The dirty rat is
never
home. He’s a real jerk, suffers from a Peter Pan complex.”
    Marge took out her notepad. “Now this Dr. Fulton is one of Dr. Sparks’s co-workers?”
    “Yes.” Heather pulled a Kleenex out of her purse, blew her nose, and dried her eyes. “She works with Dr. Sparks on Curedon. They all do.”
    “Who’s all?” Oliver was having trouble following Heather’s train of thought.
    “Dr. Decameron, Dr. Fulton, and Dr. Berger. They work with Dr. Sparks, testing his drug, Curedon.”
    Oliver perked up. “Dr. Sparks discovered a new drug?”
    “He didn’t
discover
a drug,” Heather corrected. “He
developed
one. After years of research in his laboratory. Curedon is an antirejection drug. Fisher/Tyne bought it.”
    “What do you mean bought it?” Marge asked.
    Heather sighed. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask Dr. Decameron and hope for the best.”
    “Hope for the best?” Oliver asked.
    “Reggie is a jerk. Try getting any answers out of him. I don’t know why Dr. Sparks puts up with him.” Heather wiped her eyes again. “Actually, I do know why. The doctor was the best boss I’ve ever had. The most honest, sincere, nicest, gentlemanly… not that he didn’t have his moments. But once you understood his genius…” She exploded into a new wave of sobs.
    “How long had you worked for him, Ms. Manley?” Oliver asked.
    “Five years,” she cried.
    “You were close to him?” asked Marge.
    “I
loved
him!” she wailed.
    Marge and Oliver exchanged glances. Heather caught it. “Not in the way you think. I loved him as in ‘
hopelessly
in love’ with him. He never laid a finger on me.”
    Maybe not a finger, Oliver thought.
    Heather said, “He was a gentleman in every way. Completely devoted to his wife and family. He wouldn’t ever think of touching another woman, much less have an affair. He was deeply religious.”
    Again, Marge and Oliver looked at each other. Oliver said, “You sound like you’re pretty sure about that.”
    “I’m positive!”
    “You know, Heather, if you’re trying to lead us down the wrong path—”
    “I’m not—”
    “I’m not saying you are,” Oliver said. “All I’m saying is that if something was kinky with Sparks, it’s going to come out.”
    “Nothing… and I mean
nothing
… was ever kinky with Dr. Sparks! The only thing he ever got into trouble for was being
too
good.”
    “How’s that?” Marge asked.
    “Like I said, he was deeply religious. He had tremendous faith in God and didn’t understand those who didn’t—”
    “Oh
please
, Heather, spare them the Jesus on the cross routine.” A forty-plus man stuck out his hand to Marge. “Reginald Decameron. This is just horrible! It’s already made the news! I heard it coming over. Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”
    Marge regarded the doctor. Slender, well-coiffed, well-dressed. Thin features, piercing dark eyes. Self-assured to the point of haughtiness. He wore white shirt, gray slacks, and a blue