As Winston left Sweet Breeze, he couldn’t help but feel unsettled by the information he had received about the Harrison family. First, Anastasia had held onto a cease and desist letter against Jacqueline, and then Pete had talked about the argument between Joe and Mike. He decided to visit Jacqueline’s home once more to get the story straight.
He took the freeway down to Gilroy. In front of the Harrison house, a classic buggy style car was parked in the driveway. He could see Mike Harrison tinkering away at its engine, a wrench in one hand. He would talk to the husband first to get his version of the fight. “Mr. Harrison, do you have a moment?”
“I don’t know you, and I don’t have anything to say to you.” Mike straightened up and dangled the wrench in front of Winston’s face. It glittered in the setting sun’s rays. Winston wondered how it would feel to have the object “accidentally” drop on his head and gulped.
Mike peered at the house across the street, and Winston followed his gaze. In the border of the kitchen window, Tom the muscled neighbor held something shiny in his hand, too. Winston looked back and forth between the two men, debating where to turn, when Jacqueline’s voice rang out in the twilight. “Mike, are you almost done out there?”
“Another ten minutes, honey.”
Winston saw Jacqueline’s figure silhouetted against the porch. “Is somebody with you, Mike? Oh, is that you, Winston? Come on in.” Winston entered the Harrison home with speedy steps.
“What brings you to Gilroy?” Jacqueline asked as she settled a cup of Earl Grey before him.
Winston showed her the cease and desist order from the lawyer, and her face blanched. “I didn’t ask for this. Mike must have requested it.”
She put her face in her hands. “I shouldn’t have used the checkbook, but I didn’t want to mail the cash.”
“You gave Joe money?”
“He would have never used his own savings. I wanted to help him pay for EXTRANEAL, the dialysis solution. Kristy told me his medicine changed to a more generic version about a month ago. In the clinical trials runs, EXTRANEAL works really well, and I’d rather Joe get a quality product.”
“So you paid for the better solution?”
“Yes, and Mike must have found out.”
“That’s a really kind gesture, Jacqueline. So it sounds like Joe’s insurance stopped paying, and you decided to help him out.”
“It’s a bit weird, really. I finally called the insurance company, and they said they still covered it, but Kristy told me the supply company only gave Sweet Breeze the generic solution. I’m not sure why it stopped.” She fiddled with her tea cup, sloshing some of the liquid over its gold-rimmed edge. “Could you be a dear and check that out for me?”
* * *
Winston couldn’t say no to Jacqueline’s sweet face, so he found himself driving back to San Jose, hunting down A+ Health Supplies. He found the storefront from its neon lettering, a glaring beacon in the dusk. The building itself was about an eighth of the size of the giant drugstore chains he was used to. Winston almost had to hurdle over the wheelchairs near the entrance to make his way in. The pharmacy counter was located in the back, the better for customers to walk through aisles of medical equipment and snatch impulse items. Maybe a donut pillow to ease hemorrhoid pain? Or a leopard-spotted cane to show off around town?
He neared the pharmacist’s counter and saw a tiny silver bell on the countertop. He felt like he was at a butcher’s shop as he gave a sharp tap against the metal. A piercing ring split the air. A shuffling of feet, and a man popped out from around the corner. Instead of the customary white pharmacist shirt, he wore a ribbed tank top with jeans. “Sorry, the pharmacist will be right with you. She’s in the ladies’ room.”
“Well, what’s your name? Maybe you can help me.”
“I don’t give out meds.” He straightened some pharmacy bags in the filing system behind the counter. “I’m Frank. I just keep things neat and tidy here.”
Frank. The name flashed across his brain. “Do you make deliveries, too?”
“Yes, but I’m planning on becoming a bona fide pharmacist one day. Why?”
“Did you happen to deliver some supplies to Sweet Breeze this past week?”
Frank pulled out a clean cotton rag and started wiping fingerprint smudges off the counter. “I had nothing to do with that scandal.”
“A+ is in the clear.” Winston laid his business card on the now shiny tabletop. “Trust me, I’m in the loop. I just need more details about the dialysis solution delivered to Joe Sawyer.”
“I haven’t gotten my degree yet, man. I don’t know about all that chemical stuff.”
“That’s okay. I know there was a change in the solution provided by your company. You guys switched from a brand name to a generic. Do you know why that happened?”
Frank shrugged. Winston could see the muscles rippling across his sleeveless shirt. “Sometimes families want to save money.”
“I talked to the family, though. The ex-wife paid out of her own pocket to ensure that he received the brand name solution.”
“Well, sometimes the doctor will prescribe both the brand name and a similar generic version. Maybe the physician wanted to help out his patient’s finances.”
“It’s possible. Let me check that out.”
Winston texted Kristy about the solution, receiving a message back a few moments later: “I remember the prescription. MD did not order generics. Jacqueline insisted on brand name. No more texts please. Preparing for interview.”
Winston stared straight into the man’s eyes. “Frank, the doctor didn’t ask for generics. Is there anything else that could have occurred?”
Frank glanced around him and then lowered his voice. “You didn’t hear this from me, okay? But our new pharmacist was very interested in Joe Sawyer.”
“How do you know?”
“Her eyes lit up when she saw his name in the database.”
“So you think she switched out the solution?”
“Beats me, but you can ask her yourself now.”
Winston heard the swish of the white pharmacist robe before he saw Emma Harrison appear. “Emma, I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Part-time. It happened recently. They cut back my hours at the hospital, and I needed to supplement my income.”
“It’s funny to see you because your mom just sent me over here.”
Emma raised an eyebrow at him and then turned to glare at Frank. “Get back to work. This conversation is none of your business.” Frank hung his head and scurried to the back recesses of the pharmacy area.
“Emma, did you switch Joe’s dialysis solution on purpose?”
She propped her hands out in front of her, elbows on the countertop, each palm like a scale. “Brand name. Generic. What’s it matter? My mom didn’t need to waste money on him.”
“You didn’t like Joe.”
“Her old ex who was mooching off Dad’s money? No, I didn’t.”
“Did Joe take money from your dad?”
“Not directly, but Mom always gave him stuff, including this brand-name solution.”
“I think your mom meant it as a kind gesture.”
Emma moved one palm way down, as if loaded by a heavy burden. “She does it out of guilt. If he didn’t cheat my family out of money, he surely stole my mom’s happiness.”
“No wonder you looked so angry at Joe’s funeral, scratching at his coffin.”
Emma blushed a deep red, dark like her polished scarlet fingertips. “I know you’re not supposed to talk ill of the dead, but that’s the way I saw it. Joe was an emotional and financial burden on my family. I’m glad that he’s gone now.”
“Joe was murdered.”
“I heard the rumors. The man was ninety. How much longer was he going to live, anyway?”
The front door whooshed open, and Winston heard a heavy gait tottering down the walkway toward the pharmacy.
“It looks like I have a customer coming. Is there anything else you wanted to say?”
“I think you should tell your mom about this.”
She waved him off. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”
Winston swapped places with the silver-haired gentleman approaching the pharmacy, the old man’s quivering hand holding out a doctor’s prescription. At the sight of the customer, Emma turned all smiles and cheerful greetings.
Winston wasn’t sure what to make of the Harrison family, with the jealous dad and the vengeful daughter. He did owe an answer to Jacqueline, though, but he didn’t want to give it to her in person. It sounded like that whole family needed to work out their psychological issues.
In place of a face-to-face conversation, Winston plucked a postcard from a spinning rack. One of those generic ones with “Welcome to California” in bold print featuring endless tanned bodies and spotless beaches as a backdrop, although he didn’t even live near the ocean. He wrote a brief message to Jacqueline to talk to her daughter about the dialysis solution. He would stamp it and drop it off at the blue mailbox a block away from his home.