Dick sat on the living room sofa in his bathrobe, taking in the view from Ursula’s apartment. Not too shabby, Dick thought. Actually much nicer than Dick had expected when Ursula had announced she was tired of her old place in Manhattan and wanted to move. At first, Dick had foolishly assumed that Ursula could be talked into relocating to Philadelphia so they could be closer. As much as he enjoyed his weekends with Ursula, the Acela was wearing on him. He was tired of sitting on crowded trains next to rude strangers, who insisted on consuming large, fragrant, and juicy meals, while Dick was forced to suppress his hunger until he arrived at Ursula’s apartment and dinner was prepared at “Ursula speed.” The trips home were no better; Dick always was unhappy to leave the woman he had come to cherish, knowing that their next rendezvous might be weeks away.
But Ursula had other ideas. Her plan wasn’t to leave the Big Apple but to upgrade her New York digs. A wealthy aunt had died and left her enough money to buy an apartment overlooking Central Park, complete with a balcony and large picture windows that afforded a spectacular view. Dick’s consolation prize was to rise before Ursula, prepare French press coffee, and take in the park scene while he mentally processed his latest cases. People-watching at its very best, Dick thought. No end to the diversity of people and their activities, each enjoying the sunny, cool morning at the city’s oasis.
Not surprisingly, his musings this morning were about the Springer/Gilbert case. He had returned home from his trip to northern Pennsylvania more convinced than ever that the couple’s deaths had not been in retaliation for Tiffany’s exposé. There simply was no one he had identified or interviewed who had the juice or a reason to plan and execute such a dastardly crime and leave no evidence. Tiffany’s story affected hospitals, physicians, and medical device companies, none of which was regularly in the business of killing people who pissed them off or of hiring hitmen to do the job for them. And if Dick’s interviewees were correct, the downturn in business that Tiffany’s stories had caused was just a temporary nuisance that would get better quickly, as long as all parties kept their mouths shut. Killing the story’s reporter would only throw gasoline on the fire. It was not the smart move, and stupidity was not an attribute Dick had yet discovered in his people of interest.
Dick’s flight of ideas was abruptly interrupted when Ursula plopped herself down on the sofa next to him, cup of tea in hand. “That was one of the best night’s sleep I’ve had in weeks,” she announced. “I always rest better when you’re here, my dear.”
Dick smiled. “Glad I have that effect on you.”
“You were pretty lost in thought there, sailor. What’s making the wheels spin?”
“The Springer/Gilbert case.”
“Right. You told me about that one. You were going to do some interviews on-site, as I recall. What happened with that?”
Dick summarized whom he had talked to and what they had told him, before asking Ursula what she would conclude.
“Sounds to me like Tiffany was an airhead and that her exposé was ultimately a dud. Sound and fury, signifying nothing, as Shakespeare would have said.”
“That’s my take as well, Ursula. Not only was the exposé a bust, but I can’t see any of the accused marshaling the resources to kill her and her dupe. Assassins are paid well because they don’t get caught, and we didn’t find a money stream.”
“So your next move is obvious, right?” Ursula asked.
“You mean back off?”
“You certainly could do that, and no one would fault you. Except maybe Philip. Or you could change the focus of your investigation.”
“To Gilbert.”
“Precisely. Is it possible he was the target, and Tiffany was collateral damage?”
“I thought about that back at the beginning but dismissed it. Other than the targets of the Springer stories, who would have been motivated to take him out?”
“Beats me. But isn’t that what you do for a living? Find a motive and then drill down on possible doers?”
“Sometimes. Depends on the case,” Dick answered.
“Well, it seems to me that this could be one such case. You need more information about Ray Gilbert before you can begin to look for people who might have wanted to kill him.”
Dick nodded. “I knew there was a reason I fell for you. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re smart as hell. I will definitely pursue that thread on Monday when I’m back at the office.”
“Beautiful and smart, eh? Did you forget another important attribute?”
“Sexy?”
“Before we get dressed and do brunch, how about if we examine that aspect of my persona? I have just the thing.”
“And what might that ‘thing’ be, Ursula?” Dick teased.
“You mind is always in the gutter, Dick Deaver. I guess that’s why I enjoy your company so much.”
Each Monday morning, Dick called a meeting of his senior managers and detectives to review the status of their active cases. It was his way to keep hands-on without micromanaging, a fault to which he was prone but one that he realized could demoralize good workers. After his weekend with Ursula, he moved through the agenda, saving the Springer/Gilbert case for last. He summarized what he had learned during his trip and then solicited opinions from some of his most trusted people. He was surprised that all but one had basically shrugged and recommended backing away from the case. The sole exception was Al Kenworthy, who went last.
“I’m not surprised, Dick. When I researched this case, I wasn’t able to identify anyone who was likely to commit murder.”
“Not in their DNA?”
“Something like that. And if this was a double murder, it was professional and would have cost a bundle, right? And when I researched Tiffany, it was pretty clear she was a loser who finally had found a bone to chew, but I didn’t find any skeletons in her closet that would have led to this.”
“So what are you saying, Al?”
“Double murder. Check out the other victim.”
“Bingo. And for agreeing with me, you get the privilege of not only doing the background stuff but heading up to Allentown to lead your first investigation.”
“Thanks, Dick,” Al said. And to his surprise, the remaining twelve people in the room gave him a round of applause.
“Looks like you have some fans here, Al,” Dick said when the hubbub died down. “Start the ball rolling, and talk to me when you have all of your ducks lined up. You can set up interview appointments and pick your partner for the trip. How long do you think you’ll need to put this all together?”
“I should be ready to travel by the end of this week and have all of the interviews in hand within ten days,” Al replied.
“That would be fine,” Dick said before adjourning the meeting, already feeling better about the approach that Ursula had suggested and Al had ratified.
As usual, Al was punctual. By midweek he had prepared a case synopsis, sent a copy to Dick for his review, and scheduled an appointment to discuss his findings. He requested that Doug Eisenberg be allowed to attend. Doug already knew a lot about the case and was going to be Al’s partner selection for the next set of Allentown interviews. Dick greeted his men and seated them around a small conference table in his office, with notepads, pens, and bottled water at the ready. Al quickly started in.
“First of all, Dick, I went back and looked through my notes to make sure I didn’t miss anything about Tiffany that might be relevant. And I didn’t. She was a mediocre reporter and hadn’t been involved with any high-profile, high-risk cases before this device thing. She was a party girl and slept around a fair amount but had no long-term relationships before Gilbert. She used recreational drugs but in smallish quantities and had no outstanding debts to dealers that we could find. Most of her family is in Pittsburgh, and her visits there, or theirs to Allentown, were infrequent.”
Dick only nodded.
“Doug and I spent most of our time on Gilbert. I’ll skip over college and medical school because it was a big fat nothing. Squeaked into medical school, where he was in the middle of the class. Internship, residency, and then cardiology fellowships at reasonable places. He never intended to do anything other than practice and make money. Met and married Linda Vespucci when he was in training. She was a nice Italian girl from Wilkes-Barre, an only child, who went to nursing school here in Philly and then took a job at Gladwyne Memorial, where Gilbert met her. Quite attractive; they made a handsome couple. They got married, and she moved with Gilbert to Allentown, when he took his first job. She worked as an OR nurse for a couple of years but then quit to take care of her sick parents. She brought them down from Wilkes-Barre to a nursing home in Allentown. Not exactly a five-star place, so Linda spent tons of time taking care of them. She wanted to move them to the house she and Gilbert had bought, but he nixed that idea. Pissed her off pretty good.”
“What was Gilbert up to while she was taking care of Mama and Papa?”
“Mostly chasing skirts. Not sure if Linda knew it before he put a ring on her finger, but the guy was a sexaholic.”
“Huh?”
“That’s right. And his problem started in high school, apparently. Got a couple of girls pregnant and was almost lynched before his daddy bailed him out with payments to the angry families. I guess he eventually learned how to use a condom because I couldn’t find another baby trail or evidence he was treated for STDs.”
“STDs?” Dick asked.
“Sexually transmitted diseases. And that’s not because he was abstaining. He was going after almost everything in every hospital he worked in. Boyish good looks with lots of charm. And marriage didn’t make a dent. In fact, it might have increased his sexual appetite.”
“Any clues from that activity?”
“Not much. Gilbert was careful not to screw married women—or at least not married women who would rat him out. And he generally didn’t linger. A couple rolls in the hay and onward to the next conquest. Except for one.”
“Who was …?”
“Elizabeth Gold, his nurse practitioner.”
“Seriously?”
“That was obviously a colossal mistake, and for some reason, it took him a fairly long time to realize it. Liz not only worked with him, but she’s married to a jealous nutcase named Noah. Gilbert had to know that Noah was going to find out, and Liz should have been able to warn him that Noah would go off the chain when he did. And it all happened just that way. Lots of screaming and yelling and crashing outside their house. As far as I can tell, it never came to blows.”
“Someone you and Doug will be visiting?”
“For sure. Number one on our list.”
“Did Gilbert and the nurse finally break up?”
“Tiffany took care of that. Whether it was the drugs, the sex, or some spell she cast over him, Tiffany totally turned Gilbert’s head. He abandoned his other sexual escapades once he got involved with Springer. Liz was given her walking papers and was none too happy to go into that good night.”
“That will be interview number two.”
“Correct.”
“Gilbert became monogamous with Tiffany. How did he manage to spend so much time with her? Wasn’t his wife suspicious?”
“Wasn’t married while he was with Tiffany. Let’s back up. Linda’s parents both died in the nursing home within a couple of weeks of each other. Linda then turned her attention to creating her own family. Gilbert obliged and got her pregnant. She was twelve weeks into her pregnancy when she died suddenly. They did an autopsy, but the results were never made public. Gilbert hired a lawyer and got them sealed. Since Linda had no immediate relatives, he said he didn’t see the point in releasing the information that her friends might find distressing. The argument worked. Nobody asked. So I got nothing.”
“Come on, Al. You never have nothing. And even if you did throw snake eyes, you wouldn’t admit it.”
“OK, you got me. I do have a way in, but it needs to be handled delicately.”
“Shoot.”
“Linda didn’t make many friends, but there was one person she played tennis with, in whom she may have confided. I want to talk to her to see if she knows what happened to Linda.”
“Interview number three.”
“Right.”
“So you’re ready to go?”
“Yes, and if it all works out, I should have something for you in a couple of days.”
“Have you guys planned an alias?”
“How about life insurance company investigators trying to determine if Gilbert’s policy should be paid off.”
“Pretty good, especially given the suicide possibility,” Dick pointed out.
“It may be a little flimsy, but who will we be talking to here? A teacher, a nurse, and a housewife. I doubt any of them will question this approach. And the beauty of my idea is that ID is a snap. Practically off the shelf.”
“OK. Just be careful. As I keep telling everybody, this is not a life-or-death case. I’m doing it to appease my faux son-in-law.”
“But now you’re hooked, aren’t you, Dick? You need to know.”
Dick looked down at his hands, knowing he was caught. “Get the hell out of here, and go to work.”
Al and Doug rose and left the office smiling, knowing they had hit the Deaver target.
Al and Doug felt like they had the road trip thing sorted out. They understood each other’s preferences and habits and shared a number of important attitudes; most important was getting the work done efficiently and quickly so they could get out of town before they were discovered. The longer they lingered, the more likely that targets might connect. If people put the dots together, they could nab the duo and ruin the investigation.
They decided to talk to Liz first. Noah was the more volatile and most likely to go to the authorities. If Liz had any smarts, she might be able to keep him from going crazy, a higher probability than if they approached him cold. Al called Liz from the car to let her know why they needed to talk to her and to arrange a time. Getting Liz on the phone was not as easy as Al had hoped. She was paged multiple times before she finally answered and didn’t sound pleased to be disturbed.
After lying about the reason for their interview, Al asked the most sensitive question. “Ms. Gold, we know that you and Dr. Gilbert were having an affair. What we’ll want to know from you and your husband is if he might have harmed himself because of your relationship.”
“Or been harmed?” Liz countered.
“Yes, that too.”
“I can answer both questions for you right now. And it’s an emphatic no! Ray was well over me when he died, and I was over him. I had made peace with my husband, and we moved on. There was no reason for revenge or recrimination. Ray never would have killed himself because of me. Never!”
“That’s good to hear, Ms. Gold. Would you have a problem if we stopped by and talked to your husband directly to get his take on this?”
“Is that really necessary? I’ve hurt my husband enough.”
“We understand,” Al said. “The interview will be brief. We are just trying to cover all bases.”
“I guess it’s all right, as long as you don’t dwell on the affair.”
“Would you mind calling him to let him know we’re on our way and what we need?”
“That’s a good idea. Noah has a temper, as you probably already know.”
“Exactly what we wish to avoid,” Al replied. “Most grateful for your help.”
As he hung up, he looked over at Doug, who could only take a big breath and grit his teeth. This was going to be uncomfortable.
The Gold residence was a pleasant surprise. Instead of the poorly cared-for shack they had envisioned, they found a neat, two-story colonial on a quiet, tree-lined street in neighboring Bethlehem. And they were greeted at the door by a diminutive, well-kept man in khakis, a cardigan, and a neatly trimmed moustache, looking exactly like the college professor he was supposed to be.
“Liz told me you were on your way. Please come in.”
After seating his guests in the living room, Noah asked, “Can I offer you a beverage?”
“No thanks,” Al answered. “We won’t take much of your time. We just wanted to get your perspective on the Ray Gilbert matter.”
“I’m in the middle of grading papers, and marks are due in the dean’s office tomorrow morning. Liz and I want to get this behind us so we can get on with our lives, so I’ll be brief. Ray Gilbert was a bad person. He seduced my wife and many other women and thought nothing of using them like sex toys. Most of them he discarded quickly, but he kept Liz on the hook longer than most for his convenience—until I found out about it. I would like to think that my temper tantrum in front of our house had something to do with cooling his ardor, or maybe it snapped Liz to her senses, but as far as I can tell, that was the end of the shenanigans. Liz and I have made our peace, and I’m content.”
“So …”
“If it was murder and not suicide, it wasn’t me. I’m not the killing kind. And I seriously doubt that Liz’s leaving him unseated him to the point of killing himself and his latest girlfriend.”
“Mr. Gold—”
“I hate to cut you off, but I’m not going to answer any more questions for you or for anyone else. You’re just going to have to take what I said and believe it.”
Noah rose from his armchair, signaling the end of the meeting, and Al and Doug dutifully followed his lead and made their way to the front door.
“Here’s my card, Mr. Gold,” Al said as he presented his bogus business card. “Call me if anything else occurs to you, OK?”
“Fine,” said Noah as he closed the door with a bang.
Doug and Al walked to their car, holding comments until they were on the road.
“Hard to argue with either of them, Al,” Doug observed.
“To be honest, I didn’t think we needed to worry too much about them. Our next interview is the most important, but that’s not until tomorrow morning. What do you say we find ourselves some grub and then head over to our luxurious motel accommodations?”
The food they found at a local eatery was plentiful, if not delicious, and was washed down well with a couple of sixteen-ounce drafts that helped sleep arrive just a little faster. They rose early, had a light breakfast at a nearby diner, and arrived at the home of Trudy McMoody at the stroke of nine.
Trudy arrived at the door in exercise clothing, showing off an athletic body topped by a pretty face. “Just got the kids off to school, and I have a tennis appointment at ten, so let’s get to it, shall we?” she said. She led them into her kitchen and seated them at the table. They agreed to black coffee that she served in cups that didn’t match; then she scurried about, putting dirty plates and utensils into the dishwasher. “You guys have questions about Ray Gilbert’s death, right?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Yes,” Al said.
“I hardly knew Ray, but Linda told me a lot about him.”
“We’re interested in anything you can tell us,” Al said.
“I only knew Linda for a year or so. After her parents died, she joined my gym, and we started working out and playing tennis together. Sometimes we’d go out for breakfast or lunch, and we became friends.”
“She confided in you.”
“Yes. She didn’t have anyone else. Just that asshole husband of hers.”
“Asshole? Why?” Al asked, trying to sound naïve.
“He cheated on her all the time, and she knew it. After her parents died, she had no one else in the world, so she clung to him and put up with his nonsense.”
“Must have torn her up,” Doug offered.
“That’s an understatement. She was depressed as hell but couldn’t figure a way out. She got pregnant because she thought she could get his attention or maybe grow her own friends, but it only made things worse. He was super-pissed off about having children, so when he wasn’t screaming at her, he left her alone more than ever.”
“Was she getting professional help?” Al asked.
“Off and on. She couldn’t stick with it, so she would go long periods with no one to talk to, except me. Plus, she didn’t want to take antidepressants while she was pregnant.”
“Were you around when she died?”
“No, damn it. We were away on vacation. First one we’d taken in years. She called me a few times, obviously very unhappy, and I talked to her, but I couldn’t be there for her.”
“Was there a history of heart disease in her family?”
Silence, then, “Why do you ask?”
“Her death was sudden and was called a heart attack.”
“Her heart was under attack all right but not the way you think.”
“Are you saying she died of a broken heart?”
“You could say that.”
“How does that work?”
“Are you guys on the level? Do you really not know what happened?”
“That’s why we’re here.”
“This interview isn’t being taped, right?”
“Absolutely not. You can search us if you like. We don’t have a recording device.”
“I really need to get this off my chest. It’s tearing me apart. But I’ll deny telling you what I’m about to tell you.”
“Please. We’ll be discreet.”
“My husband works in IT at the hospital and has access to medical records. If he got caught looking at patient records without permission, he would not only be fired but could be prosecuted. This is a big deal. He and I decided that we needed to know what happened to Linda. Don’t ask me why; we just did. The autopsy records were sealed but were placed in her electronic medical record.”
“Why?”
“It was a mistake. The report wasn’t supposed to be in the chart, but it was, buried in an obscure section where only my husband would have looked. Just another in a long list of things that the electronic medical record has done for medicine. Makes whatever you want to find damn near impossible. But I can tell you with confidence that Linda didn’t die of a heart attack.”
“What was it?” Al asked, barely able to hide his curiosity.
“Wait here,” she said as she left the kitchen. They could hear her climb the stairs and then descend a minute or two later. “Here. Take this, and use it any way you need to. Just never, ever tell anyone where you got it, or my husband will kill me.” Trudy handed over a copy of Linda’s autopsy report.
Al and Doug looked at each other and then at Trudy, who had tears in her eyes.
“Read it, and you’ll see. She took an overdose of sleeping pills and killed herself and took her twelve-week-old fetus with her.”
Trudy started to sob; emotions overwhelmed all of them. She didn’t need to tell Doug and Al that the interview was over and it was time for them to leave.