Thomas Perry - Shadow Woman

He stepped into the cafeteria, and a hand patted his arm. He turned to look down at Marian Fleming. She had managed to confine herself in a beige evening gown with metallic filigree on the front that looked as though its purpose was to protect her from body blows. Her blond hair was sprayed and sculpted into a spun-sugar helmet, and her ice-blue eyes fixed him with a stare that told him he was not about to be offered any choices. “There’s somebody you’ve got to meet,” she said.

Carey understood the words “got to,” so he waited.

“Where’s Jane?” Her eyes flicked around behind him.

“She’s out of town,” he answered. “I’m on my own tonight.”

He did not miss the tiny twitch above her eye as Marian’s mind punched Jane’s card. She was already pivoting to push him along toward someone, still talking. “Here’s the doctor I told you about.”

“You did?” asked Carey.

“Susan Haynes, this is Carey McKinnon. He went to Cornell too.” She gave Carey a perfectly benign empty look. “So did his wife, but she’s not with us tonight, so he’ll have to do.”

Carey looked at the woman and smiled. Her blond hair beside Marian’s was the difference between polished gold and yellow paint. Her eyes were big, a bright green with flecks in them like malachite, and her lips were full, with a natural upturn at the corners. She gave a reserved smile, as though she were bestowing tiny portions of a powerful spice.

“Hello, Dr. McKinnon,” said Linda.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Haynes. I have a feeling you must have shown up in Ithaca after my time. I would have remembered.”

She looked as though she was not surprised by anything men said to her, just mildly disappointed. “I was Sue Preston then.”

“It doesn’t help,” he said. “I’ve been out about ten years, and you’re only twenty …” He squinted at her. “Eight.”

The big green eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

“I’m a specialist in looking at people as bundles of cells. Yours are twenty-eight.”

She looked around her, but nobody was nearby bursting to explain it. “This is some kind of trick.”

He shook his head. “Nope. You weigh one hundred and twenty-two pounds, right?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t weigh myself every day.” She lowered her head and conceded from behind her eyelashes, “That’s close, though.”

He leaned closer, and she turned her ear to listen. “Those guys at carnivals who guess your age and weight?”

“What about them?”

“They’re all old doctors.”

He could tell she was getting used to him now. She just smiled, showing perfect teeth and spilling a prodigal supply of the precious spice into the room, but it was all for him. “Now I know it’s a joke.”

“Some do it to save up for their malpractice insurance, some just hate golf. I think some of them do it just to get away from these.” He showed her his beeper. “Ever have one of these?”

“I’m not the kind of person anybody needs urgently.”

“Good. Don’t ever start.” He put his beeper away. “Well, I should introduce you to more people. Or you should introduce me. Just because I haven’t met you at one of these things doesn’t mean I know more people than you do.”

“This is my first time,” she said.

Marian Fleming drifted up with Harry Rotherberg. “There,” she said. “I knew you two would have something to talk about. But I need to take Carey back for a minute. This is Dr. Rotherberg. He’s the head of pediatrics, so he can answer any questions you have about the new wing.”

Carey flashed a valedictory smile at the young woman and stepped away with Marian. “How am I doing?”

“You’re my paladin,” she said. “Right now I’m going to jump you over a few pawns and get you to work this bunch over here.”

“The captain of industry with the plaid cummerbund?”

“Yep. Know him?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen his cummerbund at these things before, but his name doesn’t leap to mind.”

“He’s Charlie Fraser. That’s his tartan. He comes off as a dope, but he’s not. He’s given about a hundred thousand so far this year. Be nice to him.”

“What a devious plan.”

“Oh, and Carey?”

“What?”

“Since Jane isn’t here, I’ve seated you with Susan Haynes. I’m counting on you to romance her a little for me.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t know anybody,” said Marian. “Harry’s a great pediatrician, but ten minutes with him is an evening in Mister Rogers’ neighborhood. She’s got money and she wants to do good with it.”

“I’ll get it for you if I have to turn her upside down and shake her.”

“I have no doubt. Your reputation precedes you.” There was no trace of a smile as she expertly moved him into the space before Charlie Fraser. “Charlie, this is Dr. McKinnon,” she said.

Carey shook Fraser’s hand and smiled while Marian Fleming said, “And this is Honoria Fraser, his wife.”

“I’m glad you could come,” said Carey. “I had heard you had given us quite a bit of help in the past, and I wanted to thank you.”

Fraser looked shocked. “Who are you, anyway? What do you do?”

“I’m a surgeon.”

Fraser leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek. She laughed, then put her fingers over her mouth as though it were a breach of decorum. Her husband said, “That’s another one for you, Honey.”

Carey said, “I don’t understand.”

“I made a bet with Honey two years ago. Every year I get a printed thank-you note with my name written on it so the I.R.S. will be satisfied. But to this day, no actual human being connected with the hospital ever walked straight up like a regular person and said thanks. I said nobody ever would, or if they did, it would be an administrator from fund-raising. You just won her the bet.”

Carey looked worried. “Uh-oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“If nobody ever did it before, maybe I wasn’t supposed to. I guess this means you’ll stop giving money now?”

“Do I look like an idiot?” asked Fraser. He looked down at his tuxedo. “Well, I suppose I do. But I’m not. I do lose most of my bets with Honey, but so would you.”

Carey looked at Honoria Fraser and smiled. “I can believe it.”

“Let me tell you something about fund-raising, since you seem to be sensible,” said Fraser. “These dinner-dance things are a mistake. When I want to lure investors into my business, I take them to the plant. I let them meet the good people I’ve got working for me. They show them the machinery and computers and trucks. They let them see how we make our products, from the quality of the raw materials to the packing and shipping. They show people what Charlie Fraser’s going to do with their money. Now, if I was an idiot”—he turned his head to survey the room—“I would put on something like this party.”

“Charlie!” said Honoria sharply.

“The doc doesn’t care,” Fraser assured her. “He can tell I mean well.” He turned to Carey. “There’s nothing that makes a person who gives money cringe more than a fancy party. It costs money, and if he’s reasonably intelligent he knows it’s his money. He didn’t give it so he could go to a party. He gave it so some poor kid gets his turn on a kidney machine. He’d like to see that. If it comes down to parties, he knows he could do a pretty good party himself for a few thousand, invite whomever he pleased, and serve better food.”

Honoria said to Carey, “Charlie’s quite the blowhard, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Carey agreed. “You are, Charlie. But you’re absolutely right. I can’t talk Marian out of throwing these parties, but I can do the rest for you.” He wrote a telephone number on his ticket and handed it to Fraser. “This is my office. Call any day, and I’ll have somebody arrange a tour for you, and for anybody you want to bring. If you see where the money goes, and what it does for this city, I think you’ll be proud.”