No Cure for Murder Read Free Page A

the calendar and the years of heavy smoking. Her brown-stained second and index fingers said that in spite of Jacob’s admonitions, she remained a slave to the deadly habit.
    “If it hasn’t killed me yet, it never will.”
    Jacob sagged into his kitchen chair and rolled to his place before the east-facing window. The rising sun finally broke through the morning fog and shined brightly through white sheer curtains.
    Lola pushed the button on their Senseo coffee maker for a second cup. The machine growled, forcing pressurized hot water through the Colombia Supremo blend.
    As she zipped across the room, Jacob smiled. Lola still had the graceful movement of a much younger woman, a talent hard earned in the ballet she studied in Vienna so long ago.
    “Shannon Hogan’s gone.”
    Lola froze for a moment, then carried Jacob’s mug to the table and added three teaspoons of raw sugar.
    “What happened?”
    Jacob yawned. “We don’t know.”
    “Come on, Jacob. You must have some idea.”
    “She went through so much. I could have accepted her death at any time during the initial part of her hospital stay, especially in the ICU when she was so sick, but to die suddenly when she was getting better, when she was getting ready for discharge, I’m getting too old for that kind of disappointment.”
    “Maybe it was her time.”
    “Her time?”
    “It amazes me that after all we’ve seen, all we’ve endured, you still see the world in black and white.”
    Jacob placed his mug heavily on the table, splashing coffee on the crossword puzzle. “The camps left no room for God, Lola. Where was He when so many suffered and died?”
    “I’m not talking God or religion. I can’t remember the last time we went to temple...a wedding, I think. I believe we survive for some purpose, and maybe we die for reasons we can’t understand.”
    “You’re getting spiritual in your old age.”
    “Maybe. Our survival is a miracle. Perhaps we’re still here for a reason.”
    “Stubbornness.”
    Jacob inhaled the sweet scone scent, and then took a bite, washing it down with coffee. “If you’re looking for miracles, start with your coffee and scones.”
    “That poor woman, and Pete. I can’t imagine how he’s going to cope with her loss. They had a great marriage.”
    “What choice does he have?”
    Jacob took another sip then looked up. “You’re going to court today?”
    Lola studied her feet. “Yes, Jacob, love of my life.”
    “It’s not funny, Lola. They’ll pull your license one of these days. It’s your third speeding ticket this year.”
    “I’m not counting.”
    “This isn’t Florida, where senior power prevails. In California, they’ll pull the license of any octogenarian for looking the wrong way. With you, they don’t have to look so far.”
    Lola drove a bright red Honda S2000, literally a red flag for the CHP who knew Lola by name and by reputation as the car with its headless driver sped along.
    “Don’t worry, sweetheart, if they convict me again, I’ll go back to traffic school.”
    “They won’t let you get away with that forever.”
    “Don’t be concerned, Jacob.” She winked. “I have a way with judges.”
    After breakfast, Jacob put aside the papers and incomplete puzzle. “I’ll stop at the Zimmerman’s on my way to the office. Got to check on Hazel Pincus.”
    “Eighty-eight years old and still making house calls. The medical staff’s going to put out a contract on you.”
    “I should worry.” He smiled and kissed Lola on the lips.
    She held him tight for a moment. “I love you, Jacob.”
    “I love you too, old woman. See you tonight.” He hesitated and grasped her hand. “And, do me a favor.”
    She caressed his cheek. “Anything for my sweetheart.”
    “Don’t get a speeding ticket on the way to court.”

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    For the first twenty years of medical practice, Jacob Weizman used the small office attached to their home. He enjoyed stepping from his