A TRIAL OF ONE— the third in The Osgoode Trilogy [to be published and available everywhere online this September]

Meet Dr. Robert Hawke—lawyer, Harry Jenkins, next adversary. Perhaps you’ve met the Florist in Conduct in Question, the elegant and refined sadistic killer with an artistic flair. Or, maybe George Pappas, the brutal thug in Final Paradox who kills on a whim.

In the third novel, A Trial of One, in The Osgoode Trilogy Harry must outwit his most charming, intelligent and just plain weird opponent to date. The doctor believes he has a cure for Alzheimer’s—but…

Right in the first pages of Chapter 2 of A Trial of One, we meet the mad doctor, who is attempting to wrest certain very valuable shares from Harry’s client, Norma Dinnick. 

Dr. Robert Hawke sank into his bath at the King Edward Hotel. Although briefly amused by the pulsating jets of water, he soon turned them off to concentrate on the problems at hand.

Mildly annoyed, he called out, “Ronnie!” His voice rebounded within the confines of the huge tub. Gently swirling the mountains of suds about, he waited. No answer. Where can that woman be?

“Mrs. Deal?” he called, in a more formal tone.

The door opened, and a dark-haired woman looked in.

“What took you so long?” the doctor asked peevishly. “I waited, and then I had to run the bath myself.”

“Surely you want privacy, Robert.” Veronica Deal said from around the half-open door. She was a mature and highly capable personal assistant who anticipated the needs and catered to the whims of her employer. However, running baths for the able-bodied hardly seemed appropriate. Entering the bathroom, she studied herself in the mirror.

Hawke sat up straighter in the tub. Veronica averted her eyes.

“I was waiting for your report. Have you got a lead on Norma Dinnick?”

Veronica tensed. Her employer could become enraged, like a caged panther at the smell blood. “Not too much, yet. But Garth is—”

“You’re leaving this important matter to your brother, Garth?”

“He was at her apartment building this morning. It’s vacant and there’s a “for sale” sign on the lawn.”

As Hawke sank further into the tub, his flaccid jowls bobbed above the soapsuds. She avoided his penetrating blue eyes. She knew her attraction, which, although definitely not sexual, was completely ridiculous. The man was physically repulsive, yet even naked in his bath, power radiated from him. Some force—it was not love or desire—drew her inexorably to his very core. His scientific work was supremely important. Hope for a cure for Alzheimer’s disease rested upon his clinical trials. Sometimes, she felt like a deer frozen in the headlights.

Hawke swirled the washcloth in the water above his chest and spoke mildly. “Perhaps Garth should start looking for her in nursing homes.”

“He already has, Robert.”

“Good! Then, while you’re at it, you might call the real estate office and find out if a lawyer is handling the sale.”

“Already done.”

Hawke blew a handful of suds in the air. “Ah, very good, Mrs. Deal. And who might he be?”

“Harold Jenkins. He’s on the listing agreement as her legal guardian.”

“Aha! Excellent. Full marks!” He smiled up at her. “Hand me the soap, will you?”

Veronica grimaced. “Where is it?”

“Somewhere in the tub, near my foot.”

Pulling up her sleeve, she dove her hand into the water. “Actually, Garth is very good at tracking people down.”

Hawke smiled slyly. “Loyalty is a fine trait, my dear. Your brother needs all the encouragement he can get.” Paddling his fingers on the surface of the water, he continued, “By the way, Ronnie, was there any trouble at the Dinnick house?”

She handed him the soap. “Certainly not! I’ve discussed the job thoroughly with him.”

“Good, my dear.” His face darkened. “You know, Ronnie, I tolerate Garth’s limited abilities simply for your sake. I know what a burden he must be.”

“Thank you, Robert,” she said quietly.

Soaping his arms and chest, the doctor spoke irritably. “Norma Dinnick is the obstacle.” Then his bowlike mouth pursed and then tightened into a hard, straight line. “That wretched miscreant! She stands in the way of money desperately needed for medical research.” Angrily, he kicked at the soap, making the water slosh over the edge of the tub.

“I know, Robert.” Veronica spoke soothingly. “Stealing the money from Mr. Pappas proves she has no conscience or moral fiber whatsoever.”

In disgust, the doctor slapped the washcloth on the water. “Just think, Ronnie! If we’d had that money from the start, millions of minds would have been saved. At the very least, Alzheimer’s would be just another chronic, controllable condition.” He struggled to stand. Swiftly, Veronica turned away.

COME BACK TOMORROW FOR ANOTHER EXCERPT FROM A TRIAL OF ONE  AND MORE ABOUT DR. ROBERT HAWKE AND ALZHEIMER’S TOMORROW.