Loving Time by Leslie Glass Page A

drew himself up to the position. “I would have to know …” He smiled engagingly, imploring them to tell.
    Mike glanced at April. “Thanks, we’ll get back to you.”
    When they left, Dickey followed them out into the hallway. For a second, it almost seemed as if he intended to go upstairs with them to visit the Director. Then abruptly he turned back into his office and softly closed the door.
    April made a face. “Why bother to lie? We’ll only find outanyway.” She punched the up button for the elevator. They waited for it.
    “Oh,
querida
, everybody lies. Don’t you know that yet?”
    At two P.M . the two cops stepped out of the elevator on the twentieth floor. They studied the empty hall. In only minutes, they’d traveled a long way from the unadorned academic offices on the nineteenth floor. Here, an expensive patterned carpet covered the floor, a warm beige paint job and horsey prints decorated the walls. Straight ahead, oversized mahogany doors marked the entrance to the executive suite.
    Uneasily, Mike and April walked through the doors. Inside, the reception desk was vacant. So were the upholstered chairs and sofa. The reception area looked like a living room. Around it a number of smaller mahogany doors were open or closed on more living room-like offices.
    Before Mike and April had time to consider making a move, a thin dapper man in an expensive-looking gray suit and a red-and-white polka-dot bow tie appeared in one of the doorways and sauntered toward them. A small inquisitive smile was painted on his sculpted, upper-class face.
    “Is there some way I may be of assistance?” He spoke with the assurance of a man who was sure he could.
    Mike took out his ID. “We’re here to see Dr. Treadwell.”
    The man’s small smile did not waver as he examined the ID. “I’m Dr. Goodrich, Vice Chairman of the hospital. You may tell me what your business is here. I’m sure I can help you.” A look of concern replaced the smile.
    “This is something that concerns Dr. Treadwell personally.”
    “Anything relating to the hospital also concerns me.” After a few seconds of awkward silence, Goodrich smiled again.
    “We have no reason to believe at this time that the matter we’ve come about is related to the hospital.” Mike smiled, too.
    April hated standing there with her mouth shut while two men acted like jerks. She cleared her throat. “Would you tell Dr. Treadwell we need to inform her of a death? I think shewould agree that it would be better for her to discuss it with us now than read about it in the newspaper tomorrow.”
    Dr. Goodrich’s pale face reddened. “Can you tell me who it is, so I can warn Dr. Treadwell?”
    “No. I’m sorry.”
    “Wait here. I’ll see if I can interrupt Dr. Treadwell.”
    Goodrich turned and rushed headlong to the central closed door. In a moment he was back, closing the door silently behind him. “She’ll be with you very shortly. Come this way.” He led them to the closed door on the right, opened it, and ushered them into a large corner office with striking views of the Hudson River and the New Jersey Palisades.
    He indicated two chairs in front of a huge desk with drawers on the wrong side. “You may sit down.”
    “Thank you.”
    Mike and April remained standing. April noted that Dr. Treadwell’s office was about double the size of the detective squad room in the Two-O, which contained nine desks and a holding cell.
    Almost instantly, the connecting door to the next room opened. No one would mistake the dark-haired woman who entered for a secretary. She wore a close-fitting navy suit that was striking in its simplicity. The skirt was cut just above the knee. A printed chiffon scarf of subtle earth and winey tones was tucked into the space where two buttons were open at the neck. Her stockings and high-heeled shoes were a subtle match to one of the burgundies in the scarf.
    But the suit told only half the story. The other half was projected in the