“Some people call it the Florence Nightingale Pledge. We all stood up and recited it when I graduated from nursing school. I solemnly swore to ‘hold in confidence all personal matters committed to my keeping and family affairs coming to my knowledge in the practice of my calling.’”
Now Ceepak is nodding like a happy bobble-headed doll.
“So, long story short,” says Nussbaum, “you didn’t do what you were hired to do in Dr. Rosen’s house?”
“Not according to Judith. So, she kept pressuring her sister. Nagging Shona to have me write up reports about Dr. Rosen’s doctor visits. To Xerox any medical records I could find. To feed Judith information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Anything having to do with his health. Physical and-” Christine hesitates. “Mental.”
“What?” says Nussbaum. “You think they wanted him declared mentally incompetent? That way they could ship him off to a nursing home or the nuthouse so they could move into his mansion?”
“Sorry, Mr. Nussbaum,” Christine says with a frown. “I know you’re trying to help me, but I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to speculate about family affairs that came to my knowledge while engaged in the performance of my professional duties.”
“Agreed,” says Ceepak, who is a stickler about obeying the whole code even when it would be easier to chuck the parts that work against you.
“Okay, okay,” says the lawyer. “Fine. Not important. So why did Shona strangle you that night?”
Christine takes in a steadying breath. “I had just caught her rummaging around in my shoulder bag, looking for medical information about Dr. Rosen, I guess.”
“Did she find anything?”
“Of course not. We keep all those kinds of documents at Dr. Rosen’s house in a locked filing cabinet.”
“So all you were doing the night of the altercation was protecting your patient’s right to privacy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay. That’s good. That’s excellent. By the way, how is Arnie doing?”
“Very well. Especially for someone in his nineties.”
“Tell him I said hello.”
“I take it you know Dr. Rosen?” says Ceepak.
Nussbaum smiles. Points to his teeth.
“In this town, who doesn’t? I mean, if you’re a certain age. For years, Dr. Rosen was the dentist in Sea Haven. Capped four of my molars. Even his root canals were painless.” Nussbaum flips through more papers. “This TRO. Who signed this thing, again?”
“Judge Ken Guarnery,” says Ceepak.