“I’m telling you, this one’s the one!”
“How could you be so sure?”
Linda grimaced. She wanted to squeeze the hell out of the phone. Or just reach in and grab Kendra by her officious little neck and slap her around. Just a bit.
“You’re just smitten with him.”
Smitten? Great word, Linda thought.
“Still there, sweetie?”
“Yes. He’s giving me his heart tonight.”
“What?”
“I’m in love.”
“In love! Are you serious?”
“Why not? You don’t know. You’re miles away in New York. You don’t care about me.”
“Sweetie, that’s not true.”
“He really wants the best for me. He told me so.”
“I’m sure he does care for you—”
“And listens.” Linda twisted a golden ringlet of hair with her index finger. “He’s so attentive. Oops. Gotta go, sis.”
“Please don’t hang up.”
“Sorry, Kendra. He’s awake.”
“Linda!”
Too late. Linda hung up.
Dr. Walter’s head throbbed from the huge bump he received when Linda had smitten him with the obsidian book end. His shoe was removed. His sock, stuffed in his mouth to muffle his screams. His linen shirt was off, ripped into the strips securing him to the arms and legs of the chair.
Linda picked up the letter opener. She pressed its point into the doctor’s bare chest. Blood oozed, then sprayed when she hit the aorta.
Orderlies furiously pounded on the psychiatrist’s door. The spare key had not yet arrived.