Robin was still looking for ways to be helpful. “While you’re feeding Sophie, walk through the scene in your mind. Maybe you can picture who was outside the room when you left with your phone.”
“I was pretty excited and intent on getting to a place where I could call Mother, but it can’t hurt to try.” While Sophie partook of refreshment, I closed my eyes and tried to re-create the scene. I stepped out of John’s room. There was the orderly who usually bathed and shaved John, a little guy with a lot of tattoos. There were the nurses going in and out of the circular desk area. Most of them were familiar to me by sight. There’d been one I hadn’t seen before, a stout woman with iron-gray hair and a serious overbite. But she’d been talking to a woman I did know, so she must have checked out okay with the other nurses. And she had all the requisite accouterments: aqua scrubs, heavy sneakers, a lanyard around her neck with an ID tag, a chart in her hand. If she wasn’t the real thing, she was a master of camouflage.
There’d been a doctor sitting at the little desk in a cubbyhole designed for doctors to enter their notes and instructions in privacy. Dark-skinned and clean-shaven, that’s all I’d been able to see. He’d been bent over his work like he knew what he was doing. Had he had on a lanyard or a name tag? His back had been to me. I couldn’t have seen one. Aside from that, there was a woman walking away from the room. I listed all the passersby to Robin, who was still hovering. “That woman was maybe in her forties. She had short brown hair. Wearing a skirt and blouse. I’ll bet she was a relative, but none of the people I saw looked like purse thieves.” I scanned my brain a bit more. “Nope, that’s all I got.”
“It’s amazing you can remember that much,” Robin said, obviously surprised that his suggestion had proved so fruitful. “Shouldn’t the hospital have security cameras?”
“They do.” I told Robin about Officer Brad Rodenheiser’s office, trying not to sound too wistful. “The cameras are mostly pointed at the entrances and exits. So there might be some record of someone leaving with my bag.” I felt more cheerful. “Thanks, honey. Good idea.”
“I’m brimming with them,” he said, smiling. “I’ll call the hospital, if that’s okay with you.”
“Ahhh … actually, I have his card. You can call that number.”
Robin gave me a narrow-eyed look, but took the card and called the number. Robin had to leave a message, but within ten minutes Brad Rodenheiser called back.
“I’m Robin Crusoe. My wife’s bag was stolen there just an hour or so ago? She talked to you.” Pause. “Yes, the short woman with all the hair and the pink glasses.” Pause. “Yes, it was a diaper bag, not an actual purse, but it was a valued gift. Plus, you know, it’s hers.” Pause. “I’m absolutely certain you have more serious crimes to investigate,” Robin agreed. “But if this person stole from my wife in the ICU unit, he’ll steal more. Maybe already has. We were wondering if she could watch some security recordings? Oh, you were just about to…” Pause. “That’s great. Please let us know.”
He ended the call. “Roe, he says no one has turned it in at the hospital. He was just about to review the security footage to see if someone was caught on camera leaving with your bag. If he sees something interesting he’ll call you in to look at it.” Robin seemed a little miffed at being anticipated by the policeman.
“That’s the best we could hope for. I guess.” I told Sophie, “Get used to it, little one. You have to be tough in this world.”
I was surprised when Robin’s phone rang fifteen minutes later.
“You’re not going to believe this, but he has someone on camera,” Robin said. “Let’s go.”
The second Sophie finished and we’d changed her diaper, we were on our way back to the hospital with the slightly less-wonderful baby bag, hastily stocked, on my shoulder.
I wasn’t able to take Robin directly to the little office (I took a wrong turn at Radiology), but I only had to repeat a little part of the route. The door was open. Officer Rodenheiser was seated at the console … and Detective Cathy Trumble stood behind him. She wore her usual tailored pants (this time a navy blue), a blue and green floral blouse, and a green jacket, which almost covered the badge and gun she clipped to her belt. Dressed for business as usual.
I was not glad to see her.
“Brad here called me,” she said by way of greeting. “He remembered you were involved in the Tracy Beal case.”
“It happened on our property,” I said. “That’s the extent of our involvement.”
Cathy ignored my protest. “I’ve reviewed the footage very quickly,” she said. “Brad pointed out this one, and I agree this is the most interesting.” She pointed from her position behind the seated Officer Rodenheiser.
We scooted behind the console so we could watch. There were two computer screens, each showing four separate areas in the building. The pictures were black-and-white, but the definition was good. Cathy pointed to the upper right-hand quarter of the left screen.
We were watching a series of people walking in and out of the main entrance. A couple involved in an intense discussion came in. A very old man with a cane made his way out very slowly, followed by a woman in jeans and a plaid shirt pushing a child in a wheelchair. A man in a suit and tie walked into the lobby briskly, obviously deep in his own thoughts. Then two nurses in animated conversation left, followed right on their heels by a tall dark man in scrubs with a bag over his shoulder—a striped bag.
I clutched Robin’s arm. “That may be the man I saw in the ICU unit,” I said. “He was sitting in the carrel where the doctors write their notes, or whatever it is they do.”
“What did he look like?” Cathy was poised to pounce.
“Like the footage. I only saw his back.”
“Well, that’s something. We know the person who took your bag is about an inch over six feet, African American male, and he owns a set of scrubs.”
“And he knows how to blend in,” Robin offered.
“Why would he want my diaper bag?” I was not thinking very swiftly today.
“It was the only bag you had.” I didn’t get Cathy’s implication.
“I’m sure he thought it was your purse,” Robin said.
“No one else in the ICU is missing a bag?” I had a strong feeling I already knew the answer.
“No,” Cathy said. “Only your bag was taken. What was in it?”
“Diapers. Because it’s a diaper bag,” I said, exasperated. “Baby wipes. A shawl to cover me if I have to feed Sophie in public. A spit-up rag. An extra sleeper. A plastic toy. Maybe a bib. And today, worse luck, I put my license in the outer pocket because I didn’t want to carry my purse as well.”
“What was he after?” Cathy asked … apparently herself, because she was looking into space. Then she fixed her eyes on me. “Come down to the station,” she said abruptly.
Chapter Fourteen
“Why?” I was taken aback.
“There’s some pictures you could look at. See if you could spot your fake doctor.”