Then Janet had her daughter to worry about. Because of the escalating tension, Diana was a nervous wreck. Worse than that, Diana felt compassion for Madeline, who’d been such a mentor to her, so kind and helpful—those were feelings that Janet had to nip in the bud. Diana was young, vulnerable and compassionate. But now was not the time to align herself with a liability. Janet explained that to Diana over and over again. So far, Diana had listened, quite simply out of fear of the ramifications of standing up for Madeline.
Things had to be brought under control. And Janet had no clue of how to do that. All she knew was that she was about to explode.
So when Casey Woods called and asked her to dinner, Janet was thrilled for the chance to get away from the hospital, the lawsuit and the weight of the burden on her shoulders. She was flattered that Casey had sought her out, rather than the other way around. And she was more than eager to talk about the adventures and procedures of Forensic Instincts rather than the lawsuit threatening Manhattan Memorial’s very existence.
* * *
Casey had another agenda in mind.
The two women met at Lusardi’s, a lovely, gracious Italian restaurant on Second Avenue.
“I’ve never been here before,” Janet said after they’d both checked their coats and been escorted to their seats at a small square table near the back.
“It’s one of my favorite restaurants in this part of Manhattan,” Casey said. “I don’t get here often, but I’m never disappointed when I do.”
Janet nodded, smoothing her hair and looking around. “A combination of elegant and rustic. I really like it.”
“Wait till you taste the food,” Casey replied with a smile. “You’ll be back again before you know it.”
“I hope that’s true.” The upbeat tone of Janet’s voice took a distinctively downward turn. “Right now, I seem to be trapped in the hospital 24/7.”
“Really?” Casey gestured for the waiter. “You’ll have to tell me about it.”
That took a while. Their appetizers came and went. Their main courses arrived and were delicious. All the while, Janet was asking questions about Forensic Instincts—from the cases they’d worked on to the techniques they used to solve their cases. It was almost as if she were going to start her own investigation company.
Casey’s antennae went up. This was no longer the interest of a fan. This was someone probing for information. Had Jacob Casper sent Janet to figure out if FI’s acquaintanceship with Madeline went deeper than that?
If so, he was about to get his answer.
“I’ve done enough talking,” she said. “Tell me more about the lawsuit going on at Manhattan Memorial. Is there any chance of settling, or is Nancy Lexington going for blood?”
As Casey had expected, Janet became immediately guarded, slowly sipping her glass of merlot and watching every word that came out of her mouth.
“I’m not sure how this is going to play out,” she said. “All I’m sure of is that preparations for the legal battle ahead are dominating all the hospital resources, creating a media frenzy and making it increasingly difficult for the staff to do the exemplary jobs they’ve always done.”
“Does that include Madeline Westfield?”
“Pardon me?” Clearly that question caught Janet off guard.
“From what I understand, Madeline is being ostracized to the point where doing her job is a virtual impossibility.”
Janet’s eyes narrowed. “I assume you heard that from Madeline’s friend Marc?”
“Actually, I heard it from Madeline herself.” Casey didn’t even pretend to lie. The only thing she kept carefully hidden was the fact that she knew about the animosity that had developed between Janet and Madeline. That was imperative to what Casey intended to accomplish here.
“We’ve all become very fond of Madeline, and we’re all concerned,” Casey continued. “She’s told us that Conrad is specifically named in the medical malpractice wrongful death suit and that she’s been linked with it, as well. That means, at the very least, that she’ll be deposed. She’s frightened, so she came to us for help. I know how friendly you and Madeline are, so I’m hoping you can assist us with some information we’re trying to get at.”
Janet’s expression was carefully blank. She’d taken Casey’s bait—hook, line and sinker.
“What kind of information?” Janet asked. “I hope you’re not asking me to spy on the hospital, because—”
“No, of course not,” Casey interrupted. “Nothing illegal. Just data that might ring a bell for you, given your long-term affiliation with Ronald Lexington and your steel-trap mind.”
“Ronald? What does he have to do with this?”
“He is the object of the lawsuit. And Madeline and Conrad have to protect themselves in whatever way possible.”
“All right.” Janet sounded as if she were balancing on a tightrope.