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Gelson’s food delivery arrived at exactly seven-thirty. Cameron’s dining room table had rapidly become the official conference table for the sleuthing operation. The Colonel fed Clarence a big carrot, then cleared his throat and said in a surprisingly strong tone, “Here’s what I remembered. Even though we didn’t like each other very much, this happened way before our encounters about Clarence. I was limping more than normal one night as we took our walk on Shady’s side of the canal. He was standing out in the front and greeted me. Like I said, that was before friendliness grew into confrontation.”
Everyone around the table waited for him to continue.
“I guessed maybe it was second nature for him to comment on my limp because he was an orthopedist. That led to my telling him about my war injury and the ongoing problems from it. Now, bear in mind, this guy barely knew me. The next thing I knew, he told me about OxyContin doing wonders for pain like mine. Then, he said if I wanted to wait for a minute, he would get his prescription pad and write me a prescription. He even said my insurance would probably okay it. However, he added that he always kept a good supply of the actual eighty milligram pills on hand in case I ran out.”
The comments around the table varied from it sounding like very unprofessional behavior for someone who barely knew the Colonel, to Margaret commenting that as far as she knew writing a prescription for a drug like Oxy with no examination or even any knowledge whether the complaint was real sounded very suspicious. Garrett added that eighty milligrams was street drug strength.
“I thought it sounded weird, too, so I thanked him, said I’d think about it because I don’t like taking drugs, and cut the conversation short. I’d just about forgotten the whole incident. But everything that’s happened recently made me think back to that night and wonder if it was just a kind neighborly gesture from a doctor who saw an old guy limping, or something more. Considering the kind of guy Shady turned out to be, I think it likely was the latter. There’s been so much in the news about these doctors who overprescribe opioids and get you hooked. Some of them actually get kickbacks from the manufacturer or the distributor. At first I thought he might have been trying to drum up a little side cash, but then I learned how wealthy he was. If his offer to write a prescription led to him planning to have me buy pills right from him, I’m sure they would have been pricey. Anyway, I’ve heard they’re like street heroin. Do you think he might have been one of those doctors?”
After listening to more comments about the Colonel’s strange encounter with Shady, Garrett spoke up.
“Definitely sounds like he might have been. Your story has more significance than you know. It feeds right into a call I got from Barrington.”
“The detective? He called you?” Matt asked.
“The very same. Matt, you’re no stranger to the power of celebrity. This guy really wants to get my take on certain aspects of the case. He’s read all my books, saw my movies and regards me as a Superman when it comes to crime solving. He called to give me some information even though he could have gotten in trouble for that call.”
Matt nodded. “Yep, that’s what fans will do. Throw away the rule book. So why is what the Colonel just told us important, other than the fact that he might have been indulging in a side business of supplying drugs?”
Without further delay, Garrett said, “Mike, your encounter with Shady is important because Oxy might figure into his death somehow. From what Barrington shared, the autopsy revealed a large amount in the good doctor’s system. Injected. Not enough to kill him, but enough to put him out of commission. The only thing I can think of is whoever did it was looking for something or some information and he wasn’t talking. It doesn’t explain the beating, though. I suspect that happened later.”
Kate said, “Here’s another thought. If he kept a supply of pills in the house, it could have been someone who knew that and was looking for them. Addicts will resort to violence if they need a fix. Or if they want to sell them. But injecting it wouldn’t fit into that picture. I think he knew the person who did that.”
“On the other hand,” Matt added, “Danny did mention they could have been trying to get information out of him. So, when he wasn’t talking, maybe whoever it was lost it and injected what they thought was enough OxyContin to kill him. But perhaps it didn’t do that. The blood points to him being shot in the house, but did the shots kill him? We don’t know what the Medical Examiner has determined as time of death. Only that he was dead. He was the only one home and if they were looking for drugs, they would have had plenty of time to search the house. My guess is they tried to beat whatever they were after out of him.”
Garrett chuckled. “Matt, you’ve outlined a case of real overkill. Beat him, drug him and also shoot him?”
“Don’t laugh. I’ve seen enough hokey TV screenplays where the writer really goes into scenarios like that.”
“Well, maybe that’s something to consider, but I don’t think it’s likely.” Garrett looked around at his cohorts who were all waiting for his next comments. “Here’s something else. You may or may not know that OxyContin comes in pill form. In order to inject it, the pills would have to be crushed and mixed with water, then injected with a syringe. That would involve some preplanning. Barrington said the medical examiner found puncture marks on his arm. So, here’s something else for us to chew on. Someone had to crush those pills and inject him. And, according to you, Mike, he kept a supply in the house. So, I think it’s safe to assume it was someone who knew that, or someone who actually came prepared to inject him. That either leads to an outsider, or the strongest possibility—Barbara, the nurse practitioner. None of us know what went on in that house before she came to the meeting. We only know what she told us. I asked the detective to find out if the beating was pre or postmortem. If it was postmortem that could have been to make it look like something it wasn’t.”
Cameron pushed back her chair and got up. “That’s a lot to digest. If everyone is up for dessert, I’ll just go take the cake out of the fridge. Back in a minute.” She collected some of the dinner dishes from the table and headed for the kitchen. Maggie jumped up and gathered other remnants of the Gelson’s feast in an effort to help.
When Cameron returned, she placed the cake on the table, then cut generous portions and slid them onto the plates that Margaret extended to receive each slice.
“Okay, everyone. Time to take a deep breath. First we’ll have this wonderful dessert, courtesy of the Viktor Bene Bakery via Matt, and then we can continue. It looks like some of the pieces of this puzzle are beginning to fall into place, but we’ve still got such a long way to go to even come close to solving this. How many want coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”
She went back to the kitchen and returned with a tray holding the three requested cups of coffee, a silver sugar bowl and pitcher, plus a little silver bowl filled with pink and blue packets of artificial sweetener for those who wanted it.
Between savoring bites of the cake Margaret said, “This has begun to form quite a picture. We already know that Barbara may have been the accountant she claimed to be, or maybe just someone who was good enough with figures to fake it. More important is the fact that she went from being a registered nurse to becoming a nurse practitioner. With the evidence that Shady was poked in the arm with an Oxy syringe, my money is on Barbara following through with her Angel of Death routine. Pills in the house, her medical expertise, then make it look like he was an addict even if he wasn’t. Husband Number Six overdoses and kicks the bucket, Barbara inherits. Boo hoo.”
“That’s all well and good, but there are too many other loose ends. For example, what about the beating and the gunshots? And the fact that she seems to have vanished off the face of the earth.” Matt’s face wore a confused expression as he scratched his head. “I’m not buying it without more things coming together. We have no idea if she’s a victim or the killer.”
He paused and looked around to see if the others were following him. “Okay, I admit I’m not a writer like you Danny, or you Maggie, but if I was I’d probably write the scene with her injecting him and as he’s lying there on the floor high, but not dead, maybe have her beat him with a bag full of rocks or something hard to make it look like he was beat up by a tough guy and died. That’s a tactic in some TV shows. In this scenario, she stares down at this bastard who won’t die. Miraculously, he’s still alive, so she shoots him and gets out of Dodge knowing she has millions stashed somewhere and possibly a few more fake IDs. The inheritance would have been frosting on the cake, but she really can live very well without it. It’s worth losing the money in exchange for people thinking she’s dead.”
Garrett tried to control his laughter, but it finally spilled out. “No, no. Too convoluted and way too many loose ends. Besides where would she have stashed the body during the days he was missing? Sorry, Pal. This is reality, not TV.”
“Well, sometimes reality parallels fiction, you know.”
“I don’t think that’s the case this time. However, this brainstorming is bringing out stuff I’m sure the cops are probably overlooking, and I really do think we’ll get there eventually. I’ll continue to get more info, Kate has her researcher on the job and Maggie has enlisted several friends who can fill in more about the Shadys. Although it feels great to be working on a case again, even if it’s not in an official sense, I say we wrap it up for tonight. Mike, I see you’re beginning to yawn, and Clarence is snoring over there by the fireplace. If anyone finds something really hot, we can do a group email. Tomorrow is another day. Agreed?”