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To his surprise, Garrett received a call from Detective Barrington the following morning. Apparently, his ardent fan had a piece of information to share off the record. He proceeded to update Garrett with the information revealed in the autopsy. Al Shady had been injected with OxyContin. Either it had been against his will, or he had been an addict. Barrington added it appeared to be a substantial amount. There was a controversy around the station. Some thought he was injected to subdue him, others assumed that since he was a doctor who could still write prescriptions, maybe he was an addict.
Garrett was tempted to tell him what they had uncovered about Barbara Shady’s past and the fact that she was a nurse practitioner, but because of the team agreement the night before, he decided to withhold that information. As it turned out, Barrington was anxious to hear all about the former FBI agent’s thoughts on the discovery of the drug in Shady’s system.
He said, “So, what do you think Danny? Did the Oxy kill him or the gun shots and the beating?”
“Come on, Man. You expect me to render an opinion on just what you’ve told me? Sorry, Pal, no can do. I’d need to see the medical examiner’s report, maybe have an opportunity to discuss it with him, and lots more. I might be a former agent, and write thrillers and true crime, but I’m not a magician. Contrary to what you think, there’s hardly enough for me to offer an opinion. For example, was he able to determine if the Oxy shots were pre or postmortem? That’s important. Where were the gun shots—random around the body or taps to the head? What about the bruising? See what I mean. Not enough information. Update me when you have more.”
Barrington said he would try to get more information but would be breaking protocol if he shared it. Still, he indicated, what someone doesn’t know doesn’t hurt them. He was very clear that he really wanted input from his hero.
This turn of events could be a good opportunity to get more information about what happened before Al Shady met his violent demise. The team would surely engage in a little gloating that the police, while refusing to give them any credibility or information, might unknowingly contribute to their investigation. He smiled to himself, picturing the reaction of the others.
The rest of the day was uneventful.
CAMERON TRIED TO CONCENTRATE on business, but images of Barbara Shady, or Briana Hanley, or whatever name she might be using now if she was alive, drifted in and out of her mind. She tried to picture anything that might add to what they already knew, but the truth was she simply had avoided getting to know the missing woman. So she allowed herself to indulge in fantasizing possible scenarios.
Right in the middle of one where she imagined Barbara hiring a hitman to get rid of the old goat and staging the whole scene at the HOA meeting, she was jolted back into the present by the buzz of her intercom.
“Hey, Boss, I know you said not to disturb you, but this is a call I think you want to take. It’s Stephanie Metcalf from Sexy Seniors. I think it’s a good call. She sounds happy.”
At full attention, Cameron said, “Put it through. Let’s see if I hit a home run yesterday.”
A moment later she heard, “Cami? This is Stephanie Metcalf. How are you today?”
“Oh, busy as usual. What can I do for you?”
A little laughter. “This call is what I can do for you. We loved what you showed us yesterday. Of course, those seniors with bellies out to here and droopy boobs won’t look like your beautiful model, but they will see what they want to see. As for the male, he was great, too. You were so right. We did need attractive mature models and I really have to compliment you on the ones you chose.”
Cameron smiled to herself. Stephanie was one of those ambitious thirty-something overachievers who had risen to the position of CEO of a big corporation. Her flaw was that she was probably the one who had okayed the young model chosen by their current ad agency. Cameron was sure she did that without a clue that an attractive young model wearing plain-looking disposable panties, would be a turnoff for the older woman. How could they relate to someone who looked like a college coed?
“Anyway, we discussed it yesterday, and we really like your approach and your ideas.” She paused and Cameron thought she heard a suppressed giggle. “Um, I had some ideas of my own. Maybe going with the older is still sexy theme, what about a screen print that looked like crotchless bikinis? You know. To remind them of being young. Or, oh, I don’t know. I have lots of suggestions, but we can get to that.”
“Does that mean you’re going with the campaign I presented? If so, we need to set up a meeting to hammer out details and then we can review your ideas. I’d love to work with you Stephanie, but frankly, I can’t have any further design discussions until your company is under contract. You understand, don’t you? I have to protect my concept.”
Secretly she thought it would be very challenging to work with a young woman who had no idea how the minds of incontinent elderly women operated. But she was up to the challenge and loved the idea that it meant a very lucrative contract. The call ended with Stephanie Metcalf saying their contract with the other agency expired at the end of the month, and their attorney would be in touch to work out a new one with Harsen Advertising.
After the call ended, Cameron let out a sigh, then let her secretary know they had snagged the account.
She kept her office door closed and went back to brainstorming. In her heart, she didn’t really want Barbara to be dead. If she was a killer celebrating the addition of the sixth notch to her belt—one that signaled the elimination of one more wealthy husband and another inheritance—it would be so satisfying to bring her down. Of course, if she was alive, they would also have a much better chance of recovering the stolen HOA money. That is, if it wasn’t all gone. Cameron enjoyed a fleeting sense of revenge as she pictured her using the alias Briana Hanley—wanted as a suspect in a murder—in cuffs, unable to spend the money she cheated them out of. Oh, the headlines she envisioned. Barbara in prison wearing a standard-issue orange jumpsuit, TV crime shows exposing the notorious Black Widow. Delicious thoughts. How superior would she be able to act then?
Then she began to wonder where the accounting expertise came from. Certainly not from her training as a nurse practitioner. Maybe she did a quick course or two at some point to be able to manipulate the money she conned. Maybe there were additional instances in her history of appropriating money that wasn’t hers to take.
They knew she had successfully scammed enough money from five prior, now moribund, husbands to never have to work again before she met Shady. Thanks to Margaret, they also knew she was still being hunted by the San Francisco police relative to the Hanley death which was finally ruled a murder. Shady was a worthy target for her—a fairly famous doctor to the stars and a recent widower with no children. That meant no pesky sons or daughters to cause the problem she’d had with Hanley. She used connections among friends or acquaintances in Beverly Hills in a clever and calculated way to facilitate their meeting
Before Cameron knew it, most of the day had passed. She hadn’t gotten much work done and decided to leave a little early to beat any possible traffic. Ever since this whole thing began, she found herself looking forward to the nightly meetings. She couldn’t wait to find out what her colleagues might have uncovered.