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“I’m not sure,” Ted said. “He told me he wants to ask you about Dr. Hood, but I don’t believe him.”
I chewed on my lip. “It’s something else then.”
“Something he doesn’t want me to know.” Ted gave me an oddly worried look. “You don’t have to meet with him, of course. If you want—”
“I’ll do it.”
He looked taken aback. “Are you sure?”
I nodded once. “I’m sure. Where is he?”
Ted hesitated and glanced back over his shoulder. “Look, I don’t do this, but I feel like I should warn you. Robert Tippett is a hard man. He’s not going to be kind.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then you should be prepared, if you’re going to meet with him.”
“What do you want from me exactly?” I asked. “One second, you’re pestering me for information for your client. The next, you’re warning me about him.”
He seemed somewhat shaken. “I’m not sure, honestly. Maybe you remind me of my daughter.”
“Well, I’m not your daughter, and I don’t want your help.” I let that sink in. “I’m ready when you are.”
He grunted once, giving me a strange, almost admiring look, before he turned and began to walk back toward the hospital. We turned down Eighteenth Street, kept going south for a few more blocks, before he stopped outside of a small coffee place with a sleek wooden door and stainless-steel trim.
It was dim inside and crowded. I spotted Robert Tippett immediately. He was a man in his fifties, ruddy cheeks, short cropped hair, immaculate dark business suit, briefcase on the floor beside him. The sound of the espresso machine made me glance toward the counter, and the sound of typing filled the room with a solid wall of ambient noise.
Ted took me to Robert Tippett’s table and gestured. “Mr. Tippett, this is Dr. Court.”
“Pleasure,” he said, standing a bit to shake my hand. “Call me Robert though. Would you sit, please?”
“Of course,” I said, taking the chair opposite. “I’m Lori, by the way.” I glanced over, but Ted was already gone.
Robert gave me a tight smile. “Ted’s good at what he does, but he doesn’t like conflict, which is a very weird thing for a private eye.”
“I didn’t get that impression.”
“No, you wouldn’t at first.” He put his hands flat on the table in front of me. “Would you like something to drink? On the house, of course. My family owns this place.”
I frowned slightly. “I didn’t know you were in the coffee business.”
“Coffee, restaurants, all sorts of ventures.” He gestured vaguely in the air. “The Tippett family has been very busy for the last couple hundred years.” He laughed, like that was a funny joke, and I only smiled politely.
“What can I do for you, Robert?” I asked him, not wanting to extend this visit any longer than necessary.
He gave me an appraising look. “I suppose you want to skip all the small talk.”
“It’s been a long day,” I said. “Twelve hours on my feet. I’m really looking forward to my bed.”
His smile slowly faded. “I assume you know about the problem I have with Dr. Hood.”
“Yes, I’ve been told.”
“And I’m sure you only heard his side of the story.”
I shrugged a little, running my fingers down the fake wood grain in the tabletop. “There’s no other side I could’ve heard.”
“Tell me what you know, if you wouldn’t mind.”
I hesitated, but figured there was no harm in giving him the facts. I told him everything, start to finish, without embellishment or extra detail. Only the facts, as best as I could manage them.
When I finished, he nodded his head slightly, as if he were listening to a symphony on the radio, eyes half closed. He took a breath and gathered himself, squaring his shoulders.
“He left out one an important detail,” Robert said, fingers drumming. “But of course he would. Dr. Hood isn’t interested in the details, especially when those details don’t affect him.”
“What do you mean?”
His gaze turned hard, and I suddenly understood what Ted was trying to warn me about. It was a cold look, like Robert was analyzing me, taking me in and processing me, trying to find a weakness in my existence that he could exploit. Ted must have seen that look many times from his employer, and maybe he pitied me enough to want to spare me this experience.
I held the gaze, and returned it. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by some rich asshole. I didn’t care how much money he gave to the hospital, or how many hospitals he owned, or how many restaurants or coffee spots, none of it mattered. He was only a person, and the facts of the case mattered more than his opinion of them.
“My father was ready to die,” he said, his voice level and cold. “He was ready and knew it was going to happen, sooner rather than later. He was an old man, out of shape, lived a hard existence and pushed himself in every way he wanted. He was ready, but Dr. Hood changed his mind.”
