had a thought. “Are you free for lunch? I have a hypothetical question about someone else. I’ll pay you a consulting fee.”
Dr. Kemp laughed. “You don’t have to bribe me to get me to have lunch with you, Miss Sakai. Sounds like fun. By the way, my name is Alice.”
“I’m Cynthia.”
***
I waited for Alice outside the medical building. I made two phone calls on my cell phone. I called Jason and cancelled the lunch appointment I’d made with him. I told him I was trying to get some information that might be helpful to us. I agreed to meet him at three o’clock at his motel.
Next, I called Rigo at work. I asked him if he had a rash or an itch.
“Nothing so far. Mom told me you have a problem. Did you see a doctor?”
“I’ve got poison oak—from Nojoqui Falls.”
“Well I’ll be filleted and broiled in oil. Is it bad?”
“Bad enough so you can’t touch me for two weeks.”
“Ouch. It doesn’t get any worse than that. What are your plans for tonight? Are you eating dinner with us?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll call you later.”
“The secret life of Carol Golden, aka God knows how many other names.”
“Sorry. Don’t have time to chat.” Rigo was trying to lay a guilt trip on me.
Alice walked out of the building as I disconnected. She looked even better without her lab coat. She was petite—shorter than I was—but with a good figure not hidden by her skirt and light jacket. She still had her hair up. I suspected it was quite long.
“Do you like Italian?” Alice gestured down the street. “There’s a good lunch place about three blocks from here—easy walking distance. I’m always telling my patients to get some exercise. I guess I have to set an example.”
As we walked, I told Alice I was in California to attend my cousin’s memorial service, but I didn’t say anything about murder. The hostess at the restaurant recognized Alice—she called her Dr. K—and seated us in a booth with a checkered tablecloth beside a window with the sun lighting up the curtains but not getting in our eyes.
Alice ordered a seafood salad, which I guessed had fewer calories than the angel hair pasta and sausage I was eating, but I was still thin from my injuries and stay in the hospital after I’d been found unconscious, even after many months. I had trouble gaining weight because of all my running.
I briefly outlined the way Mrs. Horton had been scammed, trying not to sound too dramatic, but Alice reacted with shock. I came to the point, describing what the Western Union clerk said about the hands of the man who picked up the money.
“He said it looked as if the man had the creeping crud on his hands.”
Alice laughed. “He must have a medical background.”
“I was wondering if you had any ideas about what it might be.”
“It could be chronic hand eczema or it might be an allergic reaction to something he’s been handling. I’ve known people to be allergic to liquid soap or cleaners of various kinds. It could even be poison oak.”
“If it’s poison oak, it will go away. That won’t help to identify him.”
“Did the clerk say anything more specific about what this crud looked like?”
“He mentioned sores shaped like coins.”
“Coin-shaped lesions could be caused by secondary syphilis. Keratosis—lesions on the hands—are a common symptom. Penicillin helps to get rid of them.”
“If it’s syphilis, wouldn’t he have to seek treatment?”
“You’d think. The symptoms can be rather awful, especially with the unsightly rash, and if not treated it can lead to tertiary syphilis, which can ultimately be fatal.”
We talked some more about skin conditions. I found Alice to be knowledgeable and easy to talk with. When the waitress brought the check, I grabbed it. I took a hundred dollar bill out of my wallet and slid it over to Alice.
“This is for your help.”
Alice looked horrified and gave it back to me. “I can’t take your money.”
“I don’t want to
Dr. Kemp laughed. “You don’t have to bribe me to get me to have lunch with you, Miss Sakai. Sounds like fun. By the way, my name is Alice.”
“I’m Cynthia.”
***
I waited for Alice outside the medical building. I made two phone calls on my cell phone. I called Jason and cancelled the lunch appointment I’d made with him. I told him I was trying to get some information that might be helpful to us. I agreed to meet him at three o’clock at his motel.
Next, I called Rigo at work. I asked him if he had a rash or an itch.
“Nothing so far. Mom told me you have a problem. Did you see a doctor?”
“I’ve got poison oak—from Nojoqui Falls.”
“Well I’ll be filleted and broiled in oil. Is it bad?”
“Bad enough so you can’t touch me for two weeks.”
“Ouch. It doesn’t get any worse than that. What are your plans for tonight? Are you eating dinner with us?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll call you later.”
“The secret life of Carol Golden, aka God knows how many other names.”
“Sorry. Don’t have time to chat.” Rigo was trying to lay a guilt trip on me.
Alice walked out of the building as I disconnected. She looked even better without her lab coat. She was petite—shorter than I was—but with a good figure not hidden by her skirt and light jacket. She still had her hair up. I suspected it was quite long.
“Do you like Italian?” Alice gestured down the street. “There’s a good lunch place about three blocks from here—easy walking distance. I’m always telling my patients to get some exercise. I guess I have to set an example.”
As we walked, I told Alice I was in California to attend my cousin’s memorial service, but I didn’t say anything about murder. The hostess at the restaurant recognized Alice—she called her Dr. K—and seated us in a booth with a checkered tablecloth beside a window with the sun lighting up the curtains but not getting in our eyes.
Alice ordered a seafood salad, which I guessed had fewer calories than the angel hair pasta and sausage I was eating, but I was still thin from my injuries and stay in the hospital after I’d been found unconscious, even after many months. I had trouble gaining weight because of all my running.
I briefly outlined the way Mrs. Horton had been scammed, trying not to sound too dramatic, but Alice reacted with shock. I came to the point, describing what the Western Union clerk said about the hands of the man who picked up the money.
“He said it looked as if the man had the creeping crud on his hands.”
Alice laughed. “He must have a medical background.”
“I was wondering if you had any ideas about what it might be.”
“It could be chronic hand eczema or it might be an allergic reaction to something he’s been handling. I’ve known people to be allergic to liquid soap or cleaners of various kinds. It could even be poison oak.”
“If it’s poison oak, it will go away. That won’t help to identify him.”
“Did the clerk say anything more specific about what this crud looked like?”
“He mentioned sores shaped like coins.”
“Coin-shaped lesions could be caused by secondary syphilis. Keratosis—lesions on the hands—are a common symptom. Penicillin helps to get rid of them.”
“If it’s syphilis, wouldn’t he have to seek treatment?”
“You’d think. The symptoms can be rather awful, especially with the unsightly rash, and if not treated it can lead to tertiary syphilis, which can ultimately be fatal.”
We talked some more about skin conditions. I found Alice to be knowledgeable and easy to talk with. When the waitress brought the check, I grabbed it. I took a hundred dollar bill out of my wallet and slid it over to Alice.
“This is for your help.”
Alice looked horrified and gave it back to me. “I can’t take your money.”
“I don’t want to
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