She was Dying Anyway

by P. D. Workman

  “No one is allowed past—”

  “Oh, Zachary!” Jonathan Bailey spotted him and intervened. “You’re here. Come on through.”

  The policeman who had stopped Zachary scowled in irritation, but he let Zachary past and focused on the observers that he could keep back. Zachary didn’t have time to smooth over bad feelings. He allowed Bailey to escort him to the door and announce him to the crime scene investigators who were busy inside the house.

  “This is Zachary Goldman. Get him in to see Lashman right away.”

  One of the investigators instructed Zachary to glove up and put paper booties over his shoes, and then escorted him in a circuitous route that avoided the main walking paths through the rooms, to Bridget’s study. It was a bright room, lush with green plants in planters and cut flowers in a vase on the desk. That was where he found Detective Lashman and Gordon Drake. They too were wearing protective gear, and a tech was paging through her appointment calendar in front of them with gloved fingers.

  “Zachary. Thanks so much for coming,” Gordon welcomed him.

  The investigator escorting Zachary directed him around the perimeter of the room, and Zachary joined Gordon and Lashman.

  “Have you found anything?”

  “So far, just eliminating possibilities,” Lashman said, with a wave at the calendar. “It looks like you were the last person to talk to her. She didn’t take any other calls or attend to any other responsibilities.”

  “She hung up on me to take another call.”

  “Just her maid service. Nothing there.”

  Zachary’s hope that the call that had interrupted them would guide the direction of the investigation vanished. He felt a stab of anger that Bridget would hang up on him and his news that Robin had died because of a medical error to deal with something so routine and unimportant. He had hoped it would be a clue to what had happened to her.

  “Tell me about this case you were investigating for her,” Lashman said. “Mr. Drake said you had found something?”

  “The coroner found something,” Zachary corrected. “It turns out that Robin Salter didn’t die of cancer, as her physician had believed. She died of an iron overdose.”

  Lashman’s bushy black eyebrows furrowed. “Murder?”

  “Medical error. Someone at the hospital gave her the wrong dosage for her anemia.”

  “And you had just informed Miss Downy of that fact.”

  “Yes. I had just told her, and she said she had to answer the other call coming in. Said she’d call me back. But then she never did. I called her back several times, but couldn’t get through to her.”

  “You weren’t concerned about her sudden unavailability?”

  Zachary looked at Gordon and then looked down. He looked around the room, trying to focus on any clues it might provide as to Bridget’s whereabouts instead of his own guilt and embarrassment.

  “Well… no. I didn’t think that anything had happened to her. She’s my ex-wife, and I figured… she had the information she needed from me and didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

  “How would you characterize your relationship with your ex-wife?”

  Zachary’s stomach tied in knots. He knew his answer would make him a suspect, but lying would only make it worse.

  “Well… rocky. She had been pretty angry and bitter toward me. But she still helped me out sometimes. She asked me to take this case. I thought maybe she was softening toward me.” Zachary’s cheeks burned at having to admit this in front of Gordon. “It wasn’t a… an amicable divorce.”

  Lashman looked at Zachary for a long moment, then looked at Gordon for confirmation. Gordon nodded, looking as uncomfortable as Zachary felt. “Bridget’s relationship with Zachary was… complicated. There were a lot of resentments. On both sides, I think.”

  “And you thought you would invite him to the crime scene?” Lashman challenged. “He shouldn’t be in here.”

  “I know it sounds like the height of stupidity, but I trust Zachary. I don’t believe he had anything to do with Bridget’s disappearance.”

  “Did she ever have a protective order against him?”

  Gordon cleared his throat and didn’t look at Zachary. “It was discussed. But no, she never officially pursued one. And there were never any allegations of abuse.”

  “Then why would she want a protective order?”

  “Zachary was following her. Tracking her car. Generally being obsessive about where she was and what she was doing. Bridget wanted it to stop.”

  Lashman looked at Zachary. “And did it?”

  Zachary nodded. “I’ve been getting counseling. Changed my meds. I knew… if I kept it up, she was going to charge me. I was doing my best…”

  “Doing your best. That sounds like maybe you weren’t quite as pure and innocent as you suggest.”

  “I…” Zachary swallowed. He looked at Gordon. “I sometimes drove past the house. Or other places she liked to go. I didn’t make contact and I didn’t track her, but…”

  Gordon shook his head. “Right now, I’m wishing you had put another tracker on her car. Then we’d know where she was.”

  “How did these trackers work?” Lashman asked.

  Zachary explained about the app on his phone, and Lashman held his hand out.

  “I want to see it. Unlocked.”

  Zachary complied, pulling his phone out and unlocking it. He handed it to Lashman and watched as he first reviewed the call history and texts sent and received. Lashman found the tracker app and found that access was locked. Zachary told him the password. Lashman looked at the flashing triangles on the map.

  “Does it say which triangle is whom?”

  Zachary nodded. “Just tap them. You can label them whatever you like. You’ll want… independent confirmation that none of them are her.”

  Lashman looked up at Zachary briefly and agreed. “Does it keep a history?”

  “In my online account. I’ll give you the login. You can erase information, though. I don’t know if their server keeps a backup of what’s been deleted somewhere.”

  Lashman nodded.

  “I can tell you her usual routines,” Zachary said. “Where she usually went and when.” He glanced at Gordon. “I haven’t been tracking her lately, I just know from before.”

  “Empty your pockets,” Lashman directed.

  Zachary looked at Lashman as if he might not have heard properly. But of course he had. If he’d been a police detective, he would have asked for the same thing.

  “Detective, please don’t arrest Zachary,” Gordon begged. “I know it looks bad, but he didn’t do anything to her. He couldn’t. If anyone can find her, it’s Zachary. Please.”

  “I’m not arresting him yet. But time is of the essence here and I’m not going to be that guy. The stupid official who didn’t see what was right in front of his own nose and didn’t take all of the proper evidence. I want the contents of your pockets, Mr. Goldman. Now.”

  Zachary didn’t like it. “Can we go to another room? Maybe the kitchen? I don’t want to contaminate this scene.”

  Lashman scowled, looking down at Bridget’s desk. Then he nodded. They moved to the kitchen, as Zachary had suggested, and laid a plastic sheet over the table so that he had somewhere clean to put the contents of his pockets without compromising any prints or evidence that might be on the table itself.

  As Zachary knew he would, Lashman picked up Zachary’s keys. “We have your permission to search your car?”

  Gordon started to protest, but Zachary held up his hand. “No. He has to. We don’t want to waste time while he gets a warrant.”

  Lashman gave a curt nod and took the car keys off of the ring. He handed them to another officer. “We need a search of Mr. Goldman’s car. Check the interior and trunk first, then get it towed to the lab for full forensics. What is it and where is it parked, Mr. Goldman?”

  Zachary told them where to find it. Lashman looked down at the rest of the items that had been in Zachary’s
pockets.

  “What are the pills?”

  “They’re prescription.” Zachary indicated each in turn and told Lashman what they were.

  “You know better than to be carrying pills around without the prescription bottle. You could be arrested for possession of controlled substances.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lashman could undoubtedly see how ridiculous it would be for Zachary to carry that many bottles of pills around with him. He apparently didn’t see anything else suspicious in the miscellany that had been in Zachary’s pockets. He opened Zachary’s wallet with his gloved hands.

  “Is this your current address?” He indicated Zachary’s driver’s license.

  “No. I’ve just moved.”

  “You know you’re required to update your records with DMV.”

  “Yes. I will.”

  “You’ll consent to a search of your house? What’s the address?”

  Zachary sighed and gave it. Gordon was red-faced with outrage.

  “I called Zachary for help because he knows Bridget and is a good investigator. He is not a suspect!”

  “Everybody is a suspect,” Zachary told him. “But especially me. And you.”

  “Me?”

  “The spouse or significant other is always the prime suspect. And the ex-spouse.”

  “But I’m the one who called the police!”

  Zachary shrugged. “You had to. It would look pretty suspicious if you didn’t.”

  Lashman nodded his agreement. “This doesn’t mean that I think either one of you did it,” he assured them. “But I would be negligent if I didn’t treat you as suspects. We can’t afford to let any evidence fall through the cracks. She’s already been missing more than twenty-four hours. If we don’t get a lead pretty quickly…”

  The florid color drained out of Gordon’s face. Zachary grasped his arm and steered him into one of the kitchen chairs.

  “It will be okay,” he told Gordon. “We’ll find her. It’s going to be okay.”

  Gordon’s bearing, previously stoic, was breaking down. He put his hands over his eyes, trying to hold himself together.

  “It doesn’t make any sense, Zachary. She wouldn’t just leave. Somebody must have taken her.”

  “I know,” Zachary agreed. “We need to work through this. We need to figure out who took her and why. The police can collect all of the evidence, but you and I are the ones who know her.”

  Gordon nodded. He wiped moisture from his eyes. “She would think it’s hilarious that I’m the one who broke down instead of you.”

  Zachary took a long breath in and let it out. “I’m just trying to focus on what needs to be done. Can’t afford to be emotional right now.”

  “You’re right. So. What do you need? I already showed Detective Lashman her schedule. He’ll follow up with everyone she’s talked to the last few days.”

  “Is there… anyone she’s had trouble with lately? Arguments? Strange phone calls?”

  Gordon shook his head. “Nothing I’m aware of. But she didn’t tell me everything. As you probably gathered the other day… she hadn’t even told me about Robin’s death. That was a pretty big deal and she didn’t even mention it.”

  “Did she talk to you during the day yesterday? When is the last time you heard from her?”

  “Tuesday when I left. I tried her a couple of times yesterday, between meetings, but I thought I was just calling at the wrong times. While she was having her hair done or was in a meeting.”

  “No bedtime call?”

  Gordon rubbed his forehead. “Er… no. I had clients to entertain until late. She goes to bed pretty early. She needs a lot of sleep.” He looked at Lashman. “She had cancer. Did I tell you that? It’s in remission and she is building up her strength, but she still needs a lot of rest. I wouldn’t call her after eight and risk disrupting her sleep for the night. If I woke her up, she might not get back to sleep again.”

  Zachary nodded.

  Lashman spoke up. “So, we don’t know whether she disappeared Tuesday after Mr. Goldman’s call with her, or sometime Wednesday or even early today. We know she didn’t show up for any appointments yesterday, so that suggests yesterday, but we can’t be sure. She might simply have felt under the weather…”

  “She wasn’t here yesterday,” Zachary told him flatly.

  “How would you know that? You know she didn’t answer your calls, but you said yourself she might just be avoiding your calls.”

  Zachary shook his head adamantly. “The flowers in her office.”

  “What about them?”

  “The water in the vases is low and murky. Some of the flowers are starting to wilt. She didn’t look after them yesterday morning and she certainly didn’t change the water today.”

  “She might have forgotten. Been too busy.”

  “No. She wouldn’t have neglected them.”

  “She might have been too sick or tired.”

  It was Gordon’s turn to disagree. “We have a girl. She comes in and covers anything Bridget can’t manage. If Bridget was too tired, all she had to do was make a phone call. Zachary’s right. She wouldn’t have neglected the flowers.”

  “It was that important to her?” Lashman was skeptical.

  “They’re a symbol of life and growth. Of her recovery. Neglecting them would be like…” Gordon struggled for the words.

  “Like letting death into the house,” Zachary suggested.

  “Yes.” Gordon agreed. “Like that. She would not let death into the house.” He looked at Zachary. “Not knowingly.”

  They were both overcome for a moment.

  “She’s not dead,” Zachary said. “I don’t know what happened, but she’s not dead.”

  “Okay.” Gordon cleared his throat. As if by both of them agreeing to the fact, they could keep her alive. “She’s not. She’s okay. We just need to find her.”

  “Was your wife accustomed to taking walks? Or going off on her own to visit… I don’t know… museums or craft fairs or some other interest.”

  “No. Bridget is very social. She isn’t the type who sought out solitude. She liked to have people around her.”

  It had been a whole different world for Zachary. He had enjoyed it at first, having so many friends around. Being with Bridget and a coterie of admirers helped fill the empty space inside him. He’d led such a lonely existence for so many years. But it had also worn on him. Having people constantly around them. Not getting any time to just regenerate on his own. When he turned down invitations, he felt guilty and Bridget would be irritated with him. She would go on her own and he wouldn’t hear the end of how she’d had to be there dateless. Bridget needed someone at her side. She needed people around her.

  “How much do you know about their relationship?” Lashman asked Gordon, with a nod at Zachary. “When they were together?”

  Gordon looked at Zachary uncomfortably. “Well… as much as you can know about someone else’s relationship.”

  “Was their relationship abusive?”

  Gordon’s eyes avoided Zachary’s and Lashman’s.

  “No. Not in the way you mean.”

  “In any way?”

  “Zachary never did anything to harm Bridget…”

  “Verbal or emotional abuse? I don’t like the way you’re avoiding the question, Mr. Drake.”

  “No, there was no verbal or emotional abuse… by Zachary.”

  Lashman stared at Gordon, his eyebrows drawn down, not comprehending.

  “Gordon,” Zachary protested.

  Gordon shook his head unhappily. “If there was verbal abuse, then it was by Bridget, not Zachary.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I

  t hadn’t taken Lashman very long to decide he had reason to take Zachary in to the police station for questioning. Zachary didn’t protest. He knew all of the indicators were there. He was an ex-spouse. They’d had a dysfunctional relationship when they were together and since then. Zachary was the last one to ta
lk to her. All of those things were big red flags.

  He sat alone in an interrogation room for what seemed like a long time. He was impatient to get out of there to investigate. The longer it took the police to let him go, the more time passed with Bridget gone, and the less likely it was that they’d be able to find her alive and well.

  Eventually, Lashman returned to the room to continue the interview. He sat down and thumped a stack of papers down on the table in front of him.

  “We’ve had someone looking at surveillance tapes taken in Bridget’s neighborhood the past few days for any suspicious activity. Cross-checking license plates.”

  Zachary’s stomach coiled as tightly as a spring.

  “Maybe you’d like to guess at what we found.”

  Zachary gulped. “My license plate.” His voice was strangled.

  “Bingo. Your license plate. Your car. You in your car in the wee hours this morning, driving around Bridget’s neighborhood. You want to explain that to me?”

  He could have said it was because he had a surveillance job in the neighborhood. But there were probably enough cameras in the area that both his entrance and exit would have been well-documented, and they’d know that he hadn’t been there for hours watching a certain house. He’d been there just long enough to cruise by her house a couple of times to reassure himself she was okay. Or maybe long enough to let himself in while Bridget slept and to take her away from there. Drug her, stuff her in the trunk, and take her out of there.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I was wound up. I was anxious. After a while, I started to worry about Bridget. If she was okay. So… yeah… I drove by her house.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “There weren’t any inside lights on. Just the usual security lights. I didn’t see anybody hanging around.”

  “Except you.”

  “Only for a few minutes. I never went in. I just… checked.”

  “What made you think she might be in danger? It seems to me to be pretty coincidental that you would go to check on her around the time as she disappeared.”

  “I was worried. After seeing Stanley hanging around my apartment, it got me worrying about Bridget… if he knew who she was or where she lived—”