The Hands Meant To Heal Were The Hands For Murder
From the back:
It was a damned shame she killed herself. He had had such a perfect setup and all the equipment for it—a devastating bedside manner, a whole array of sharp, shining instruments and the brooding handsomeness white jackets were made for.
The only thing he didn’t have was a medical degree.
Young Dr. Webb ignored this. Most of his patients were women, anyway—rich women who asked no questions.
Then one of them killed herself. And another died suddenly and then the murder happened and it became a dream of horror from which he could not wake— not even the night on the back country road when he stood sweating with a shovel knee deep in a fresh grave