Chapter Thirty-Six

She had been with the doctor for going on twenty years. Eleanor Day had always been there for him, had watched the changes in personnel over the years and, more disturbingly, the changes in Dr. Long himself. Those changes, it seemed, had happened quite dramatically. Each week he had looked more and more unhealthy, his skin growing sallow as the air outside chilled and prepared itself for winter. He had lost weight until, eventually, the tailor-made suits and jackets just hung on him, his frame becoming closer to a skeleton than a healthy, virile man in his late forties.

And now Eleanor was feeling guilty. Why had she given the man who phoned minutes ago the doctor’s home address? It wasn’t like her. She had always been protective of the doctor—in fact, had often felt it was she who ran the practice.

It was just that the man had been so insistent. She could hear it in his voice as much as she could his words. And things had been so hectic. What with the doctor out sick, the calls just never seemed to stop. Dr. Michaels, Dr. Long’s young partner, was making a valiant effort to see the overflow of patients Dr. Long’s illness was causing. They were at her desk, wondering how long it would be before they were admitted. They were on the phone, asking when Dr. Long would return.

The man on the phone was not about to give up until he had what he wanted. The easiest thing to do, Eleanor thought in her agitation, was to just cave in and give out the address.

After all, he had claimed he was working for Helene Bright and that the situation was urgent.

Eleanor had known Helene Bright almost as long as she had known the doctor. Had watched, with jealous dismay, their romance spark and ignite, and then watched with relief as it died a sudden quick death.

She never knew why.

Eleanor picked up the phone, figuring she would use the time productively while there was a lull in the action. If this Comparetto fellow was telling the truth, she had nothing to worry about. But if he was lying, and Dr. Long didn’t want to see him, she realized with a pang of guilt, she could be in big trouble. Even though she had told Comparetto he didn’t get the address from her, she figured there might be a way the information leak could be traced back to her. So, as she pushed in the buttons of Helene Bright’s phone number, she thought she could at least cover her ass.

The phone rang three times before someone picked it up. The voice of a woman came through the line, and Eleanor was fairly certain this was not the voice of Helene Bright. It was higher and seemed to have more of the harshness of a Chicago accent than Helene’s. This woman was from somewhere on the South Side; that much Eleanor could be sure of.

“Yes, this is Dr. Long’s office calling. Could I speak to Miss Bright, please?” Since Eleanor had called this number on a regular basis years ago, she wondered how Helene would react to the sound of her voice.

“I’m sorry, but Miss Bright isn’t available right now. Can I take a message?”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“Not for a couple of days.”

“Oh. So she’s out of town?”

“Not exactly. Miss Bright is in the hospital.”

“Oh?”

“Who did you say you were again?”

“My name’s Eleanor, Eleanor Day. I’m with Dr. David Long’s practice.”

The pause on the line told Eleanor the woman had no idea who Dr. Long was. Not so surprising, since it had probably been years since the two had seen one another.

“Well, Miss Bright is at St. Francis. Maybe you could try there.”

“In Evanston?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Eleanor hung up the phone and wondered what was wrong with Helene. She looked up the number for St. Francis and punched it in quickly. After being connected to the main desk, she asked to speak to Helene Bright.

Her voice was a surprise, not the voice Eleanor remembered at all. This woman, her voice little above a croak, sounded much older than Helene Bright would have been. She sounded weak and very, very tired.

“Helene? This is Eleanor Day, from David Long’s office?”

“Yes? Eleanor, how are you?”

“I’m fine. I hope everything’s all right with you?”

“Well, I’ve been better. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I had a call a little while ago from a detective. He told me his name was Ed Comparetto and that he was working for you. He wanted David’s home address, said it was important.” There was a pause. “So I gave it to him.” Another pause. “I hope that’s all right.”

“I really couldn’t care less, Eleanor, if you did that.”

“Is he working for you?”

Eleanor listened to silence for a moment or two. “Yes, Eleanor, he is.”

“Would you know why he needed David’s home address?”

“I’m sure I don’t… Well, now, wait a minute. Yes, yes he might have been tracking something down for me and wanted to get it done today.”

“Oh.”

“So”—Helene’s voice suddenly took on a slightly more animated, cheerful tone—“I don’t think you’re in any trouble. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Eleanor sighed; this was all she needed to hear. “Thanks a lot, Helene. It was good talking to you again. And best wishes for a speedy recovery.”

*

Helene hung up the phone. Strange. Why would Ed Comparetto be calling David Long’s office? She hadn’t spoken to the man in years. Not since… Well, she’d rather not think about it.

Then a chill gripped her, wrapping its icy fingers around her heart and squeezing. Timothy, oh God, Timothy.

Even though it made her ribs hurt, Helene reached over and dialed the number she still remembered.

After four rings, Helene heard David Long’s voice. The sound of it filled her with revulsion; she had never hated someone so much. Remorse rose up in her like a physical pain. She should have done more…

“You’ve reached the residence of Dr. David Long. I’m not available to take your call right now, but if you’d leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you right away. If this is an emergency, please call 555-8790 and my answering service will page me. Thank you.”

Helene didn’t hang up. She disconnected from David Long’s number and punched in zero for the switchboard.

Her heart was pounding.