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Chapter 16

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Michaela and Dottie enjoyed a late breakfast in the captain’s dining room when Ian Pennington rushed in, obviously agitated, a look of fear on his face.

“Ian, whatever is the matter?” Dottie asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Do... Do you know if they recovered the body from last night?” Ian’s face was pale with either fear or fatigue. He looked ill.

Mic’s heart rate picked up, “Dottie and I talked to one of the executive officers a couple of hours ago, and he told us that the body hasn’t been recovered yet.”

“Oh, oh no. That’s not good,” Ian said as he slid wearily into a seat at the table. “That’s not good at all,” he murmured more to himself than to Mic and Dottie.

“He did say,” Dottie continued, “that another ship and a Coast Guard vessel were en route to pick up someone stranded on an island.” She looked at her watch and added, “They should be able to tell us who it is by now.”

Ian was preoccupied with his own thoughts and didn’t seem to hear her.

Mic continued to look at him. Beads of sweat framed his face and his breathing was irregular. Something was wrong. “Take a deep breath, Ian. Something’s wrong. I can see it in your face.”

Ian’s face was bloodless, his eyes watery, and his hands were shaking. “I... I can’t find James- Jamie O’Leary. He didn’t show up at our lecture this morning. He was  keynote speaker with plans to present the data on Quelpro.”

Mic’s stomach formed a hard knot and an uneasy feeling consumed her. She felt blood rush into her head.

“Now, now, Ian,” Dottie soothed. “There are over three thousand people on this cruise ship. Perhaps your friend overslept.” She looked at Michaela and said, “Mic and I certainly did, after being up half the night with the man overboard.”

Ian shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve had the ship’s receptionist call him a dozen times and I’ve beaten on his door three times. I don’t think he’s in there,” he said, his eyes fraught with concern.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Michaela said. “I know you’re worried, but there may be a logical reason for his absence.”

“Yeah,” Ian said in a soft voice. “I think they killed him. I think they threw him overboard so he wouldn’t screw up the marketing of their killer drug...” Ian said as he covered his face with his hands.

“I’m gonna call up to the Bridge,” Dottie said. “If they haven’t identified the man on the island they believe might be our man overboard, I’m sure the captain will order a muster.”

“A what? Order what?” Ian asked as Mic signaled the waiter for a cup for Ian.

Dottie nodded. “A muster. Yes, a muster. Everyone will be required to check in with the security so they can identify who, if anyone is missing.”

Ian nodded. “It’s James. It must be James. I know he would never miss a keynote address; especially about something that concerns him as much as Quelpro. He’s been working on that presentation for months.”

“Dottie, can you have the ship’s security check James’s stateroom? That may give us some idea of his whereabouts.”

Dottie nodded and signaled for the waiter. She asked him to have someone put her in contact with either the captain or the first mate.

The waiter placed a cup on the table in front of Ian, who looked at it stupidly.

“Ian, would you like some coffee? Have you eaten? It may help you feel better,” Mic said.

“Perhaps some coffee,” Ian said. “I had breakfast early this morning. James and I had planned to meet upstairs in the public dining area and take a last look at our presentation.” He looked down at his feet and said in a soft, strained voice, “He never showed up.”

“Did you present at the conference this morning?” Dottie asked, with her eyebrows raised. “Did you have access to James’s notes and slides?”

Ian thanked the waiter for his coffee and said, “Yeah, I presented, but I wasn’t able to present all of his statistical data.”

“But why not? You seemed to be quite up on it yesterday,” Dottie said, a quizzical look on her face.

“Mainly because I’m not a statistician. I don’t know exactly how James analyzed the data. I knew I’d get dozens of questions relating to data analysis and I knew I wouldn’t be able to answer them as well as James.”

Ian paused as the waiter handed the phone to Dottie and said, “It’s the captain, Countess Borghase.”

Dottie nodded and accepted the phone. “Captain, did the Coast Guard complete the rescue of the passenger on the island you mentioned?”

Michaela could hear the captain’s voice, but couldn’t understand the words. She studied Dottie’s face and realized the man wasn’t the man overboard from last night.

Dottie clicked off the phone, handed it to the waiter, and said, “The man the Coast Guard rescued was not the man overboard from last night.” She saw Ian Pennington’s face fall. His glimmer of hope was gone and he buried his face into his hands.

Michaela touched his shoulder and said, “Ian, you seem sure that our man overboard is James O’Leary. Why are you so sure?”

Ian’s face was pale and he was listless. “Because... Because he told me last night he received a note on his stateroom door late yesterday afternoon.”

“A note? What kind of a note?” Dottie asked, a sound of fear in her voice.

Ian looked into Dottie’s eyes and said, “A threat. It was a written threat. The note told James to back down on his speech or...”

“Or what?” Dottie pushed as she stared at him. “Or what? Ian, tell me. We can’t help you if you don’t tell us what you know.”

Ian buried his head in his hands again. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Michaela’s eyes met Dottie’s and could tell she’d become impatient. Mic shook her head slightly and spoke in a soft voice, “Let us help you, Ian. What else did the note say?”

Ian took a deep breath and said, “The note said for him to back down on his presentation or he’d be fish food by this morning.”

The enormity of the threat staggered Michaela. She knew then someone had murdered Dr. O’Leary. He was, in her mind, the man overboard. “Dottie, we need to see the captain and we need to search Dr. O’Leary’s room, or at least have it cordoned off as a crime scene.”

Dottie nodded and said, “I’m going to request the captain’s presence here in the dining room.” She turned to Ian and asked, “Can you stay here for a few moments and talk with the captain, Ian? It would be better for him to hear your concerns face-to-face.”

Ian nodded, his face wan. Dottie rose from the table, went to the reception area of the dining room, and instructed the waiter to call the captain.

Mic talked softly to Ian Pennington, “Ian, do you know that I’m a retired homicide detective? I don’t know if I told you that at dinner last night. Also, Dottie and I have been known to solve a few crimes. We’ll work on this for you if you’d like us to.”

Ian nodded and Mic was pleased his face had a bit more color, “Yes, please help me. James is... was one of my best friends. I owe him this much. In some ways, I’ll feel responsible if something has happened to him,” he said, his speech broken.

Dottie returned to the table and said, “I overheard that. You? How are you responsible?”

“I... I pushed him to re-run the Quelpro data. I’d had two patients die from what I believe to be complications of Quelpro. I have two other patients ill with agranulocytosis...”

“What is agranulocytosis?” Dottie asked sharply. “I’ve heard of it, but I can’t remember now.”

Ian took a big breath and began to explain. “It’s a blood disease, a hematologic disease, caused by Quelpro. At least, that’s what I believe and what James’s data proves. If agranulocytosis is untreated, the risk of dying is high. Death results from uncontrolled sepsis.”

“Can these people be saved?” Michaela asked.

James nodded. “Yes. The condition can be reversed with treatment. Antibiotic and antifungal medications can cure the infection if the disease is properly recognized, diagnosed, and treated,” Ian said as a little more color returned to his face. “Many of these people get infections that may appear superficial, involving mainly the oral mucosa, gums, skin, and sinuses. Some infections are worse and may be systemic and spread throughout the bloodstream. Those patients generally die from a massive blood infection.

Dottie nodded. “But, why do you think this is your fault? Why do you think you caused Dr. O’Leary’s death?”

“Because I asked for the additional statistical testing,” he blurted out as his voice broke. “Perhaps if I hadn’t...” he said as he turned his head away from Dottie and Michaela and focused on his coffee cup.

“This is definitely not your fault, Ian, so don’t go down that rickety road. Your work... You’re doing your job as a physician, nothing else, just as James did his.” Michaela paused for a moment and then continued, “I have to ask you this, and I’ll be first of many to ask you this question. Of that I’m sure.”

Ian picked up his coffee cup and said, “What’s that?”

“Is there any chance that James O’Leary was suicidal? Is there any possibility he would take his own life?”

Ian’s face flushed with anger and he shook his head vehemently and said, “Hell no, not a chance.”

Mic watched as anger raged on Ian’s face. “James O’Leary would never commit suicide. In addition to being an astute researcher and one of the best psychiatrists I’ve ever known, he was Catholic and loyal to the church to this day. The last thing he would ever do is throw himself over the railing of a cruise ship,” he ended in a bitter voice.

Michaela nodded. “I understand, Ian, and I believe you. But, I had to ask,” she said in an apologetic tone. “Did you see the note, the note that threatened him?”

Ian shook his head and in a cracked voice said, “No, no, I didn’t see it. He just told me about it, Michaela. You don’t understand.” He waved his hands wildly in the air. “They killed him. Blake Pharmaceutical killed my friend. They knew his research findings would cost the company millions of dollars.”

Michaela touched his hand and held it for a minute. “I know you believe that, Ian, but we have to collect the evidence. We’ve got to prove it. Build a case. Do you think the other physicians who agreed with Dr. O’Leary will talk with us?”

Ian nodded. “Of course, they will. They know Quelpro is a dirty drug. They’ve stopped prescribing it. I’m sure they’ll come forward,” he said with confidence.

“Do you think they’ll come forward if indeed Dr. O’Leary is our man overboard?” Dottie asked. “Isn’t it possible they’ll think – like you – that they’ll be new targets for Blake Pharmaceutical?”

Ian opened his mouth to speak and a whoosh came out. He closed it again and Mic could see the feelings and fear of uncertainty flicker across his face. He cleared his throat. “Well, I hope they will,” he said, this time in an uncertain voice.

“Time will tell,” Mic said. “Did James seem upset or frightened by the note?”

Ian shook his head. “No, not at all. He said it proved what we had always thought. That Blake knew... and knows... the drug is dirty... harmful and dangerous. But he also felt confident the Feds would recall it based on his data.”

“Obviously,” Dottie snorted. “Obviously, Blake Pharmaceutical was concerned.” She shot a look at Mic who nodded slightly. Dottie knew Mic agreed with her.

“There are few people in this world that commanded the skill sets that James O’Leary possessed. I don’t know of anyone else in the United States who could have put together such a scientific argument against Blake.” He put his coffee cup down forcefully and coffee spilled and saturated the white tablecloth. “Those bastards killed my friend.”

The waiter appeared and slipped Dottie a note. She said, “The captain’s just ordered a muster exercise. Everyone must check in with security in the next several hours.” She looked over at Ian and said, “If your friend doesn’t check in, Ian, his room will be designated as a crime scene and the FBI will be notified.”

Ian nodded his head and stared into Dottie’s vivid blue eyes. “I understand, Countess. But, James won’t check in. His death...” he sighed and continued, “His death is about corporate greed and big money. Blake Pharmaceutical is sending a message to physicians and providers who challenge their medicines. It’s about ethics and the practice of safe psychiatry.”

Michaela’s green eyes met Dottie’s blue ones and she nodded. “Well, Countess, I think we have ourselves a case.”