ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are many people who made this book possible and I wish to thank each of them.
Lee Goldberg, who suggested me as the author for this series and introduced me to the world of tie-in novels.
Andrew Lenchewski and John P. Rogers for creating the Royal Pains TV show and the wonderful characters that populate the series.
My wonderful agent, Kimberley Cameron of Kimberley Cameron and Associates.
My equally wonderful editors, Sandra Harding and Elizabeth Bistrow, who offered needed advice and criticism.
All the great folks at Penguin, including the publisher of New American Library, Kara Welsh.
Other Books by D. P. Lyle
NONFICTION
Murder and Mayhem: A Doctor Answers Medical and Forensic Questions for Mystery Writers
Forensics for Dummies
Forensics and Fiction: Clever, Intriguing, and Downright Odd Questions from Crime Writers
Howdunnit: Forensics: A Guide for Writers
FICTION
Stress Fracture
(A Dub Walker Thriller)
Hot Lights, Cold Steel
(A Dub Walker Thriller)
Devils Playground
(A Samantha Cody Thriller)
Double Blind
(A Samantha Cody Thriller)
Other Books by D. P. Lyle
NONFICTION
Murder and Mayhem: A Doctor Answers Medical and Forensic Questions for Mystery Writers
Forensics for Dummies
Forensics and Fiction: Clever, Intriguing, and Downright Odd Questions from Crime Writers
Howdunnit: Forensics: A Guide for Writers
FICTION
Stress Fracture
(A Dub Walker Thriller)
Hot Lights, Cold Steel
(A Dub Walker Thriller)
Devils Playground
(A Samantha Cody Thriller)
Double Blind
(A Samantha Cody Thriller)
Chapter 1
The Wentworth estate, a castle among castles, had three gray stone stories and too many rooms to count beneath its copper mansard roof, patinaed to a rich green by age and weather. It overlooked a tranquil cove and beyond to the Atlantic, today churned into whitecaps by a stiff breeze. Typical June in the Hamptons. Could be hot and sweltering or cold and drizzly. Today it was warm and breezy.
The estate, also known as Westwood Manorseemed all the estates in the Hamptons had nameshoused a dozen people: Mrs. Eleanor Louise Parker Wentworth and her staff of eleven. Mrs. Wentworthor Ellie, as she demanded everyone, including me, call heralong with her husband, the late Walter Wentworth, had purchased the property some two decades earlier, when they hauled all their oil, land, and cattle money north from Texas. Walter died two years later, leaving Ellie the matriarch of the estate.
I wheeled my trusty aged green Saab convertible up the gentle S of Westwood Manors treelined drive and parked in the circular parking area that fronted the humble abode of Ellie Wentworth.
As I was retrieving my portable EKG machine and medical bag from the trunk of my car, one of the two massive oak front doors swung open, revealing Sam, Ellies butler. It was as if he had been standing by the door waiting. He probably had been since Ellie had called twenty minutes earlier.
Sam was maybe sixty, short, and round, with a trimmed collar of white hair circling his bald crown. He wore his usual pinstripe gray suit, crisp white shirt, navy vest, and red bow tie.
Sam, I said as I approached.
Sam and I were on a first-name basis. At least I was. Sam was much too formal for that. I had been here dozens of times. Sometimes twice a week. Sam and I went way back. A year anyway.
Dr. Lawson. He gave a half bow. Thanks for coming.
Hows Ellie doing? I asked.
The usual, sir. Worried about everything. I made her tea, but it helped very little. So here you are. He smiled.
Though Ellie had legitimate medical problems, her typical complaints were stress, anxiety, and panic attacks, often more imagined than real.
Where is she?
In the parlor. He held the door until I passed, and eased it closed soundlessly. Would you care for coffee or tea?
No, thanks.
The parlor dwarfed most homes. Non-Hampton homes anyway. High ceilings, ankle-deep custom-sculpted carpets, and Louis-the-whatever furnishings. I wouldnt be surprised if one of the real Louises had actually planted his silk-covered butt in one or more of the chairs and sofas. The room also had a wall of glass that overlooked Ellies prized garden and the gray Atlantic waters beyond.
Hank, she said as I came in. Please, sit. She patted the sofa next to her.
I placed my bag and the EKG machine on the floor and sat, wondering which Louis had rested there before me.
Ellie didnt look ill. Or stressed. Or even concerned. She wore a silk robe and slippers, and a gold necklace and bracelet gorged with stones worth more than my entire family had earned in a lifetime.
Here is the thing about a concierge practice: Your patients hire you to be available to them and to give them that personal service. That includes house calls, hand-holding, reassurance, and occasionally a real medical problem.
Ellie was one of my favorite patients. The fact that this visit would be more social than medical didnt bother me at all. Concierge medicine is filled with such visits.
Whats the problem? I asked.
She sighed. This wedding is going to do me in. Ill be glad when its over.
Ellies blood relatives were down to two. A daughter, Jackie, and a granddaughter, Nicole. Id never met either but had seen pictures of them. Blond, blue-eyed, and gorgeous, they each resembled the photos Id seen of Ellie when she was a young woman.
Ellie had told me a month or so ago that Nicole was getting married at the estate. Since that time, her stress had mounted and my visits had become more frequent. With the event now looming only two weeks away, she was having almost daily symptoms. Most I could handle with a reassuring phone call; others required that I visit. Like today.
Ellie never did anything halfway and the wedding promised to be one of her famous productions. I had nursed her through two other such events in the last year. One for her friends in the equestrian world and the other for one of the many international charities she supported. Both events were over-the-top.
Cracking the Hamptons social nut was no easy task. Only old money, New York money, maybe Newport money, sometimes Connecticut or New Jersey money, need apply. Ellie and Walter had arrived with Texas money. Gazillions from what I heard. If the gazillions were big enough, the door could be pried open, but it was Ellies theme parties that sealed the deal for the Wentworths. Always the talk of the town. A Renaissance Faire, a Texas BBQ, a masquerade ball, and even Camelot had been themes. The latter required dismantling the elaborate gazebo that sat along one side of the garden so that a jousting track could be constructed. After the party, the track disappeared and the gazebo was reborn.
You said your heart was acting up? I asked.
Those awful flutters. Theyve been rattling around in there all morning. Worse than last week when you were here.
I took her hand and felt for her pulse. Mostly regular and strong, a few skips.
There, she said. That was another one.
I smiled. Probably PVCs from your mitral prolapse.
