Chapter Eleven
“Charlie!” Kate exclaimed as they walked through the nondescript door of a nondescript office in a nondescript building in a part of town that was so nondescript it looked like a low-budget movie set.
Juliette hadn’t realized that weirdo Seattle could be so boringly suburban, but she was hardly surprised to find a guy like Charlie Hawkins in a place like this.
“Kate,” said Charlie in surprise, rising to stand behind his nondescript desk that looked like it came from an office supply company advertisement.
He wore a white lab coat with the name of his practice stitched over the breast pocket, and a pair of plain black slacks and a dark red polo beneath it.
He towered over Kate, and even Juliette had to admit he struck a nice figure at six foot one with his finely chiseled features and dark swoop of hair gelled to within an inch of its life.
But when he gave Kate a look of worry that formed two deep lines between his brows, he looked exactly like a disappointed TV dad in a Very Special Episode with that pseudo-golf getup he was wearing.
Not the kind of daddy Juliette was looking for.
“What are you doing here?” Charlie asked. Even his Australian accent sounded reproving, which was hard to do, considering most Australians sounded like surfers and zookeepers to Juliette. “Is everything okay? Is Jake all right?”
“He’s fine,” Kate said with a wave, stepping aside to let Juliette through the door. “I’m—we’re—here to ask a favor of your genius, super-interesting brain.”
Juliette rolled her eyes and gave Kate a look that said not gonna happen. But Kate was nothing if not determined.
“You remember Juliette Winters?”
“Ah, yes, of course,” Charlie said, his posture stiffening and his voice taking on that flat tone he used whenever he talked to Juliette. Honestly, he could at least pretend not to be repulsed by her. Jackass. “Juliette, hello again.”
“Charlie,” she said, giving him a wan smile. “Read any good biographies lately?”
“Ahh,” Kate said with a nervous laugh, “she’s kidding. I think. We—well, Juliette, really—need your help. Because you’re a big smart doctor. Right, Juliette?”
Kate looked at her expectantly, as if reminding her that she had to play nice to get what she wanted. So she did her best to put on a smile that was more genuine, but not too sexy—which was frankly harder than it looked when you were naturally so attractive. But nonetheless, Juliette persevered.
“Right,” Juliette said. “We were wondering if you could look at an autopsy report for us.”
“An autopsy?” Charlie said with a frown. “Why? I’m not a medical examiner.”
“No, but you are a heart surgeon,” Juliette said, slapping down a copy of the photo they printed before coming to meet Charlie and sliding it across the desk toward him. “And surprisingly the only doctor we know.”
“You do seem like someone who would know a lot of surgeons.”
Juliette pressed a hand to her chest. “Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment,” Charlie murmured, taking the photo and sliding it toward him. “Hang on, is this a photo of an autopsy report?”
“That’s not important,” Juliette said, dropping into the seat across from him.
“Feels like it’s the only thing that’s important,” Charlie said. “Where did you get this?”
Juliette sighed in annoyance. “It doesn’t matter, okay? We just need you to take a look and tell us if you see anything suspicious in the report. Anything that would point to … unnatural causes of death.”
“I don’t think I should be looking at this,” Charlie said, passing the paper back across the desk resolutely.
He gave Kate a look that had big Disappointed Dad Energy.
“Ethically, this is definitely not allowed. And I don’t know how or where you got this photo, but I’d recommend destroying it immediately. ”
Juliette gave Kate an annoyed look, lowering her voice to an irritated whisper. “I told you Doctor Dud would be a bust. This was a waste of our time.”
“What did you call me?” Charlie asked, his frown deepening.
“Charlie, hang on,” Kate cut in before Juliette could reiterate her nickname for him, taking the seat beside Juliette and leaning in imploringly.
“Look, we really need your help. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t basically an emergency.
Someone has died, and we think it might not have been from natural causes like the police have said.
But we can’t do anything about it without some proof.
Now, I know we’re asking a lot, possibly violating patient privacy laws—”
“Definitely violating privacy laws,” Charlie amended. “Not to mention tampering with evidence, depending on how you obtained this photo in the first place.”
“Narc,” Juliette groaned.
“BUT,” Kate said, glaring at her, “it’s for a good cause. We swear. I swear. Please? Just one look.”
Charlie’s gaze swiveled between Kate and Juliette, clearly conflicted, and despite how much she needed his help in the moment, Juliette couldn’t help giving a defiant glare of her own right back.
She knew he would be like this, all rules and proper etiquette and “I have a serious girlfriend, you morally bereft temptress.” She would bet good money that he’d never done a naughty thing in his life.
Though she regretted the thought as soon as she had it, because she suddenly had an insane vision of Charlie doing something very naughty to her.
It involved that ugly, boxy jacket of his, a stethoscope, and not much else.
It rose up so quickly and vividly that her face flamed with heat, and she had to drop her eyes away from his.
Ugh, she’d definitely been putting too much energy into work these last few months and neglecting her physical needs.
That was the only explanation for why even Doctor Dud seemed like a hot potato all of a sudden.
She cleared her throat, staring hard at the carpet and willing her body back into submission as Charlie let out a sigh of capitulation. “Fine. If you’re asking, Kate, I choose to believe it must be for a good reason. Let me see the photo.”
There it was, a bucket of cold water on her overly hyper libido. If Kate was asking, as opposed to her. Doctor Dud strikes again.
“Seventy-year-old man, presented with symptoms of cardiac arrest,” Charlie murmured, reading through the coroner’s summary as he took his seat behind the desk again.
His voice dropped too low for her to hear, but he scanned the document in the photo with an intensity that made Juliette wonder what else he could examine so intensely.
Seriously, what was wrong with her? She needed an ice bath, a ten-mile run, and a hookup ASAP.
Did she still have that bartender’s number in her phone?
Or the gig bassist with the weird ponytail?
Maybe she should call the barista guy, what was his name?
Chad, or Tad, or Vlad. He was on the shorter side, real Napoleon vibes, but he didn’t try calling her “babe” or sleeping over at her place.
The anti-Charlie, definitely the ticket.
Charlie shook his head, bringing her out of her fantasies and back to the present. “I’m not really sure what I’m looking for here.”
“What about the toxicology report?” Kate asked, tapping the wedge of text in the photo. “That paper below, if you turn it sideways. Is there anything there that could have mimicked a natural heart attack?”
Charlie looked at the photo again, tilting it to better read the half of the toxicology report visible below. “Well, I can’t see all of it, but it seems like he was on a lot of supplements.”
That tracked with the pills Clayton had given him the night of the party. “Could any of them cause a heart attack? Especially if he experienced a small electrical shock?”
Charlie glanced up at them. “That’s a very specific question.”
“It’s a very specific circumstance,” Juliette said.
“The coroner ruled natural causes for a reason. The patient was seventy years old, and clearly had an existing heart condition.”
“What makes you say that?” Juliette asked.
Charlie tapped a finger on the toxicology report. “He was on digitalis. It’s a heart medication, usually prescribed for patients with congestive heart failure.”
“But he’d just been to his doctor,” she said. “And he’d had a clean bill of health.”
Charlie shrugged. “Patients lie. Especially seventy-year-old men talking to attractive young women they’re trying to impress.”
Did he just call her attractive? Her gaze shot up to his, which was studiously avoiding her as his ears seemed to turn red.
He stared hard at his desk, which was ridiculous considering the space was practically barren.
He had a computer screen, a keyboard, and a pencil cup with three blue pens.
The only thing remotely personal was a digital photo frame, but even the pictures were collections of stiff white men in similar lab coats standing in groups, Charlie looking ill at ease among them.
But then the frame dissolved into a photo of Charlie and a sporty woman in a cute tennis outfit, both of them grinning with matching rackets slung over their shoulders.
They looked like a Benetton ad, relaxed and beautiful.
Juliette hadn’t realized he even knew how to smile.
Charlie reached out and abruptly flipped the frame face down, clearing his throat.
“I don’t know if that was helpful or not,” he said gruffly. “But that’s all I can see from this photo.”
Juliette wanted to know so much more, and not just about the autopsy.
Who was the girl in the photo frame, and why had Charlie suddenly turned it over?
Did he actually find her attractive, and if so, why was he always spouting off about his great girlfriend?
What did he look like under that baggy polo and those shapeless khakis?
Very scientific questions. But none of those would get her closer to her actual goals, so she once again told her libido to get its shit together and focus up.
“If someone didn’t have congestive heart failure, and they were given digitalis, what would it do?” Juliette asked.
“Depends on the amount,” Charlie reasoned, slipping back into a more natural tone when talking shop. “Patients can experience heart palpitations, dizziness, nausea. Sometimes they see halos of color, or get confused.”
“Could it cause a heart attack?”
“It would take a high dose. Much higher than what was found in his tissues here.”
“But if he were to have received some kind of electrical shock? Even a small one?”
Charlie frowned, slowly nodding. “Yeah, that could do it. It’s a really roundabout way to kill someone, though, don’t you think?”
“That’s exactly what I think,” Juliette said.
Here it was, finally. Her first piece of hard evidence that Warren didn’t die of natural causes.
She turned to Kate. “I think someone dosed Warren with digitalis and rigged the microphone to shock him, knowing it would trigger a heart attack. And that same someone tampered with the defibrillator to remove any chance of rescuing Warren on the boat. They orchestrated this whole thing to kill Warren, steal his manuscript, and hide whatever secrets of theirs were going to get out.”
“Now that the police think his death was from natural causes, no one is investigating,” Kate added. “Which means they think they’ve gotten away with it.”
Charlie looked between the two of them for a long moment before speaking. “You have to know I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Juliette said, standing abruptly. “You’ve been surprisingly helpful, despite your initial moral quandaries. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“That’s a very American way of saying thank you,” Charlie said. He stood, hesitating. “You think someone was murdered? If you need me to speak to someone at the coroner’s office, share my own interpretation—”
“That’s not necessary,” Juliette said. “I’ve met the detective in charge, and I don’t think he would tighten his own tie without asking Brad Ellingham if it was okay to do so. He’s not going to bother finding Warren’s killer. Which means someone else will have to.”
“Are you talking about Warren Ellingham?” Charlie said.
“Did you know him?” Kate asked.
Charlie hesitated, his gaze flicking down to the photo frame. “Not exactly. I know of him. And his club.”
Juliette’s gaze brightened. “Are you a member? Can you get me in there?”
“No,” Charlie said, a surprising note of finality in his voice. He cleared his throat, dragging his eyes away from the frame. “I mean, no, I’m not a member. I was in consideration for a while, but I’m far too busy with work. Work which I should get back to. Now.”
“You’ve been a big help, Charlie, really,” Kate said, reaching across his desk and giving him an impulsive hug, which he begrudgingly acquiesced to.
Juliette could hardly blame him; she’d been the recipient of more than one of Kate’s bear hugs.
But as his eyes met hers and she gave him a flippant, ironic smile, his lips quirked up just a little bit as if to say “I know.” And then his gaze slipped lower, snagging along the tight cinch of her waist and the curves of her hips as if they couldn’t help themselves.
It spread a surprising amount of heat through her, her skin blooming like tulips in the first burst of spring.
She certainly knew that look, though she wouldn’t have ever imagined it coming from Charlie Hawkins.
“You should go,” Charlie said stiffly, pulling away from Kate and rigidly avoiding Juliette’s gaze. “And really, please burn that photo. And don’t tell anyone I helped.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Doctor,” Juliette said as they made for the door. But she couldn’t help pausing on the threshold and giving him a wink. “Tell your serious long-term girlfriend I said hi.”