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Chapter 15

Doctor Jeffrey Goodman was a comely man in his late thirties.  His smile consisted of slender lips beneath a platinum mustache that matched his well-groomed platinum hair and slightly imperfect, pearly white teeth.  It was so warm and friendly that I found it infectious.

Grey, twinkling eyes that sat in just the right position on either side of a nose that could only be described as the perfect size and shape for his strong jaw and ruddy, high cheekbones assessed me from a few feet away. “So, Miss Sleuth, I understand that you’ve had quite an adventure.”

“Esmerelda,” I said, softly.  “Call me Esmerelda.”

He nodded.  “Alright.  Esmerelda, can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

I hesitated going into detail with someone in the medical profession.  It was such a crazy story.  What if he thought me just that?  What if he thought me crazy?  Sure, he was a me

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