Chapter 23
Stacy’s face contorted with terror when I gave her the bad news. “Oh, my God. She’s dead?”
I nodded.
Stacy was an attractive sandy-blonde with a round face and chubby cheeks. She wore royal blue scrubs.
The patients in the waiting room looked on in shock.
A guy in his early 20s stood up and said, "That blows. I guess my appointment is canceled. Can you refer me to another doctor?”
The receptionist grew annoyed. "You'll have to call the office later."
The patient walked out, followed by another older woman.
"I'll be in touch, Mrs. Thompson," Stacy called after her. Still in a daze, the receptionist asked, "Do you have any idea who did this?"
I shook my head. "Dr. Halford mentioned Miriam was having a problem with a particular patient who had developed a fixation. You wouldn’t happen to know who that might be?”
The receptionist’s brow knitted. "I can't disclose patient information."
"Of course. But anything you could do would be helpful."
Stacy thought hard for a moment. I had put her in a difficult position, asking her to do something unethical.
"I realize you can't disclose protected health information,” I said in a whisper. “I would never ask you to do something like that. I certainly wouldn't ask you to write a name on a Post-it note then leave your desk for a moment."
Stacy thought long and hard.
Then she grabbed a pen and scribbled a name on a pink Post-it pad. "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the ladies' room for a moment.”
She pushed away from the desk and walked into the back.
I peeled the top sheet of the Post-it note off. The name read Tabatha Benson. I folded it up and stuffed it into my pocket.
Stacy returned a moment later.
We never mentioned it again.
"Can you think of anyone else that Miriam might have had issues with—colleagues, personal relationships, disgruntled employees?"
"Well, considering I’m the only employee, and we got along great, I don't think you'll find anything here. I’ve been in this office since 8:00 AM this morning. Miriam said she’d bring me back lunch.
” Stacy frowned. “Miriam got along well with her other colleagues.” She paused, then added, “You do know she's going through a divorce right now, don't you? "
I nodded.
Stacy hesitated. In a hushed voice, she said, "You know, sometimes she would talk to me about him.” She paused. “He would do things to her.” Her eyes flared, and she let that hang there a moment.
Stacy had my curiosity piqued. "What kind of things?”
"Well, he was verbally and, I think, at times, physically abusive. On more than one occasion, she showed up with bruises on her arms—one time with a black eye." She hesitated, then said, "And that's not all."
She drew out the moment. I don't know if she was doing it for dramatic effect or if she was hesitant to delve into a private area.
"I'm listening," I said, urging her on.
"Well, she told me she liked it a little on the rough side, if you know what I mean."
I knew what she meant.
"Nothing wrong with that, mind you, as long as it's between consenting adults. But she told me a few times her husband tied her up, beat her, then… Well, I don't even really want to say.”
“It could be helpful to the case,” I said.
“He let other men come in and… well, you know.”
JD and I both lifted an astonished brow.
"She told me she didn't consent to that. He let them have their way with her over a weekend.”
"Did she file a police report?"
"Not that I am aware of. I don't think she wanted her personal life exposed like that. Can you imagine your personal business flashed all across the news?” Stacy shivered at the thought. “Patients would never look at you the same way again.” Then she added, “And this wasn’t an isolated incident, either.”
"Her husband sounds like a real scumbag," Jack said.
Stacy replied, "Now this is all secondhand. Just what Miriam told me. What really happened, I don't know. But she had no reason to lie to me. It sounds horrible, unless you're into that kind of thing, which she claimed she wasn't.”
"We’ll have a talk with her husband," I said.
"The guy just gives me the ick. I don't know what she ever saw in him. Steve is a total douchebag. You'll see when you meet him."
I took her contact information, then gave her a card and told her to get in touch if anything else came to mind.
She sighed. "I guess I need to start calling patients and canceling their appointments. I can't believe this happened."
JD and I expressed our condolences, then started for the door.
Stacy called after us. “Do you think…" She stopped herself, then started again. "Do you think maybe Steve got afraid she was going to file charges? And that's what this is all about?”
I shrugged. "Sounds like as good a theory as any."
A prideful smile tugged the corners of her lips. "If that's true, I hope you nail the son-of-a-bitch to the wall."
This case just took a dark, twisted turn.
We set out to find Steve Renick and have a few words with him.