Cat In An Alphabet Soup (Catnap)

“Only if they’ve been mistreated—misdiagnosed or overmedicated or ignored when a genuine problem was present. Otherwise, they’re ready to canonize them.”

“And you? Do you admire doctors also? Is that why you tried to ally yourself with them?”

“No doubt the ever-efficient Lorna has mentioned my medical ‘record.’ ” He paused again, as if to consider a revelation. He spoke more quickly, without the ever-present smile. “My... mother became seriously ill when I was only in my teens. I matriculated in medicine because of it. I became fascinated by the milieu. My pretending to be a doctor was simply a youthful enthusiasm—and proved to be the perfect education for my current career.”

“Why were you compelled to masquerade as a doctor? Why do others do it?”

“I can’t speak for others, Temple.” Analysis rumpled Hunter’s smooth face. “And I don’t characterize my exploits as ‘compelled.’ It was a... hobby of mine. I functioned quite well as a doctor, as well as my peers did. What tripped me up was the constant record-keeping this society is addicted to, not any mistake on my part.”

“What specialties did you practice? Family physician? Pediatrician?”

“No, no! Nothing so pedestrian. Once I was an oncologist. I was a surgeon another time.”

“But people’s lives were at stake! And you knew you were a fraud.”

“I knew I had no medical degree. And how many real M.D.s are frauds? Medicine wouldn’t be any fun if people’s lives weren’t at stake. We wouldn’t worship Dr. Welby and Dr. Christian and Drs. Kildare and Casey without something vital in the balance—our lives.”

“You wouldn’t have enjoyed the masquerade if that same vital something wasn’t at question?”

Hunter’s dove-gray eyes narrowed. “You make me sound quite bloodthirsty, Temple. I was younger then.” His glance softened as his tone sharpened. “Young men like risk. They race cars, they chase other men’s wives, they practice medicine without a license. It is much the same thing. We all thrive on excitement.”

Temple couldn’t miss the throbbing challenge in his voice. This man intended to devour life. To him, living dangerously included pursuing his spur-of-the-moment attractions. And she could be the current one.

“Do you miss it?” she asked quickly.

“The charade, you mean?”

“Yes. The thrill of the deception, the intricate creation of the believable persona and a paper trail to back it up. The innocent stupidity of everyone around you. The feeling of being so secret and so special.”

Hunter set down his fork, forsaking his fillet of sole. “How well you put it.” His gaze grew even more intense. “I’d almost think you had an appetite for that sort of game. You know the rewards well.”

“PR is a game, too, sometimes,” Temple said, attacking her scallops. “You try to find out what people don’t want to tell you, then turn around and try to keep other people from finding out what they most want to know.”

“Is that why you’re playing gumshoe?”

“I’m not.”

“Nonsense. I must say I much prefer you to that overgrown police detective.”

“Lieutenant Molina seems highly competent.”

“I wonder if that’s what it will take to unravel the murder of a complex man like Chester.”

“You’re a complex man,” Temple objected. He smiled again, as if she had just conceded a point in a chess match. “You must be to have done what you did, then make a writing career of it. Chester Royal, from what I’ve learned, was the antithesis of complexity. He had very simple needs: to feel powerful, to make others, particularly women, feel his power. I don’t think I’d have liked him if I’d known him.”

“A mutual distaste, I’d think.” Hunter laughed. “Yes, Chester had a rabid dislike of women. He always felt they were trying to take things from him—his stature both physical and figurative; his sense of superiority; his money. Must have been embittered by all those wives—and divorces.”

“But I understand that his fear of women goes back to his medical days. And he was a gynecologist!”

“Most male gynecologists then were Roman Catholic, did you know that? It makes sense, a very baby-directed religion by virtue of its proscriptions against both birth control and abortion. Chester was not RC, and I understand he was not averse to performing the clandestine abortion now and again, before it was legal in any sense.”

“Surely only doctors compassionate to women would do abortions in those days.”

Hunter smiled sadly. “Do you know what abortions by medical doctors were like then—often sans anesthetic? No time for recovery rooms and other niceties. I suspect Chester did them for money, period, and to thumb his nose at the system... and to rip fetuses untimely from wombs. He and his many wives never had children, you know.”

“You really think he was that kind of monster?”