Page 35 of Letting Go
“No ma’am, but like I’ve told you before, please call me Walker,” I insist. “You didn’t struggle to remember that when we spoke in detail about someone’s desire for mint chocolate chip ice cream.” I can’t help but mention her drunk dial, even if it is crossing the line of flirting. The most adorable pink blush graces Vivian’s cheeks as she clears her throat before responding. A vivacious laugh escapes before she clamps a hand over her mouth with wide eyes.
“Sorry, I know my laugh can be loud at times.” The way she blushed when her laugh was louder than she expected is absolutely adorable. “But how about this—I will call you Walker if you refrain from mentioning that conversation where anyone could overhear any embarrassing details,” she replies, pressing her lips together to fight her smile.
“That sounds more than fair to me, ma’am.” My smile is victorious as I imagine having conversations with her in private where no one would overhear anything we said—or did together. “And you should never apologize for having a great laugh.” My victory sweetens as the blush on her cheeks deepens. “I wasn’t sure what snacks you would be in the mood for, but the barista said these were the local favorites,” I say as I gesture to the platter on the table.
We talk about how her day is going and make small talk before I steer the conversation to the case update. “Four days ago, there was another shooting from a long-range sniper weapon. The ballistics are a match to the bullets from the other cases that my task force is investigating,” I start to explain.
“Including Trent’s murder?” Vivian asks.
“Including Trent’s murder. But this case may be what breaks the other cases open as the victim survived the shooting. At the last minute, the victim moved enough to prevent the gunshot from being immediately fatal. The victim is still in a coma and it could still go either way, but if they wake up, we are hoping for a significant break in the other cases,” I explain without going into graphic detail about the shooting.
“And you think I can help somehow?” Vivian looks down at her fingers as they tap on the table, letting me know she’s anxious about this conversation, which is understandable.
“Potentially. This shooting has exposed possible connections to explore. I’m wondering if you remember your husband ever discussing any patients with you, specifically anyone who had a criminal background.”
“Trent never discussed personal details about his patients, he took his Hippocratic Oath to heart. The only time I knew about a patient unless they were a friend of ours, is if they came up to us out in public like at dinner or an event, but that was only because they would self-identify as one of his patients.” Vivian looks up as she pauses. “Do you think one of his patients is involved in his murder?”
“It’s possible,” I admit. “When you think back to those people that came up to you at dinner or fundraisers, or wherever they may have self-identified as a patient of your husband’s, can you think of anyone that was well-known or famous in any way?”
“There was the teenage son of a local professional athlete that was born with a heart condition that Trent repaired, but his father was incredibly grateful and the surgery was a success.” Vivian looks up and to the left as she tries to think of any other patients that fit my question. “Hmmm, let me think. Well, the mayor’s brother was a patient for a minor procedure, but the mayor was always very complimentary of Trent’s care and the outcome in that situationtoo. It wasn’t a big procedure, but the mayor always made it sound like Trent did open heart surgery in the middle of a battlefield when we would run into him at fundraisers.”
I nod in response. That could be something to look into; Chicago is historically well known for dirty politicians. But the brother of a mayor who had a successful procedure doesn’t sound like much of a motive to me. “Do you know if he made any regular trips to the East Coast, say to New York, DC, or Philadelphia, to consult on a case or maybe attend any conferences?”
“Trent made regular trips to Boston, but we all know what or whom he was really doing there, now don’t we? Let me think … No, I can’t remember any other East Coast trips. I mean, he regularly consulted on cases all over the country, but he did that all virtually. He never had to travel to consult on a case and unless they would bring him in for the surgery, I don’t know why he would ever travel just to consult. Trent was very particular about his OR set up though, so he preferred to do surgeries at his hospital and any patient wanting him to operate would have to travel to him, not the other way around. But that scenario wasn’t all that common because his operating schedule was typically full at the hospital, anyway.”
“It could be someone he knew professionally or personally. Does anyone else stand out to you?” I ask.
“Honestly, I can’t think of anyone but if I do, I’ll be sure to let you know. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. What kind of connection are you looking for, if I may ask? This isn’t the first time you have asked me about traveling to the East Coast.”
“We are specifically exploring any connections to the shootings and anyone involved with organized crime,” I respond. I keep the references broad and won’t specify which family I’m talking about. Unless she brings up the Bianchi or McCarthy family in any context, I don’t want to tell her the names of the mafia families.
“The mafia? You’ve got to be kidding me. Is that even still a thing? And you think my husband was, what? Somehow involved with the mafia?” Vivian looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “No way, he may have been a terrible husband, an adulterer, and a liar, but I don’t see him involved with criminals. He wouldn’t risk the chance to lose control of his life by associating with a criminal. He had a very specific vision for his life and was not willing to let anyone else control the outcome.”
“He may not have had a choice,” I tell her. “Sometimes people get put into a position where they get involved with criminals against their will. Would he have gone to great lengths to keep his affair a secret? Maybe someone found out and had been blackmailing him to get Trent to bend to their will, but like you said, he wouldn’t play ball.”
Vivian shakes her head. “I don’t think he would have cared that much about it getting out, if I’m honest. I suspect some of our friends in Chicago already knew and I know some of their mutual friends from medical school knew. It wasn’t the best kept secret, just one that was kept very well from me,” she admits. She crosses her arms and leans her elbows on the table. “I wish I could say that he was terrified enough of me finding out that he would be willing to get into bed with the mob to prevent that, but I think he would have picked his own needs over mine in most situations.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her sincerely.
“Me too.” She gives me a sad smile in response.
Cedarwood.
The unidentified scent profile in her perfume is cedarwood. The unique mix of her perfume is pear, vanilla, rose, and cedarwood. The delicate, delightfully feminine scent is perfect for her.
“What about lawsuits? Most doctors deal with them at some point in their careers. Did Trent have any angry former patients or patient families that thought he was responsible for maybe a badoutcome or complication during a surgery he performed?” I ask her.
“Lawsuits are unfortunately not uncommon in medicine, but there’s a reason Trent was as well-known as he was in his field; he was a great surgeon. Honestly, he didn’t really care about any lawsuits, unless someone had a personal problem with his work, but nothing really stands out. I’m sure his malpractice insurance would have more information about any past claims,” Vivian explains.
“Yes, we looked through those records. I just wondered if he mentioned any of the cases to you, or if you remember him being particularly upset or worried about a case,” I reply. She shakes her head slightly and gives her shoulders a small shrug. “It’s okay, I know you’re telling us everything you can, and we really appreciate your cooperation. We just have to make sure we look into every possibility until we have a solid lead to chase down.” Vivian picks at a double chocolate muffin. I ask a few more follow-up questions, but I don’t uncover any clear connections between Trent, his murder, and organized crime, let alone specifically the Bianchi family. She drinks half of her blended mint chocolate frappe and I finish my coffee. We wrap up our conversation and walk out of Java Jive together. As I exit and hold the door open for Vivian, I look up and down the street to assess any potential threats out of habit. Main Street seems pretty quiet right now. I extend my arm to guide Vivian to the inside of the sidewalk as I walk her to her SUV parked just up the block.
I shake her hand, and a small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as we both hold on a bit longer than a typical handshake. She climbs into her vehicle, and I notice that magic warm tingle is still there any time our skin touches. I hold the driver door open as she puts her purse on the passenger seat and remind her, “Be sure to buckle up, Ms. Vivian.”
“Thank you, sir, I appreciate your concern for my safety,” she replies with a smile.
I close her door and step back to the curb as Vivian drives off with a small wave. I walk to my parking spot but as I get closer, I notice my truck sitting at a strange angle. Tilting my head, I immediately discover why—both the front and rear tires on my driver’s side are flat.
I don’t believe in coincidences, and I am confident that my tires were full when I parked.
