Murder by Prescription

by Breakell Richard

  With as little fanfare as possible, he settled himself in his seat and smiled to his table companions. Everyone nodded as the introductions began.

  To his relief, Pam had not noticed his arrival. They were about eight feet apart, with his back to the Congressman. He kept his voice as low as possible.

  The servers, looking like an army, marched single file from the kitchen and began to deliver the first course. As Monk did his best to ‘chitchat,’ he was thankful when the food arrived at the table and he could focus on keeping his head down and eating with his left hand. He had learned a long time ago that little things, like being observed as left-handed, could cause a misdirection in any investigation.

  Meanwhile, at the other table, having seated himself, the Dr. immediately launched into a diatribe of the difficulties to which he had been subjected in traveling to Venice.

  “I honestly don’t know how these airlines stay in business,” he lamented, “in my world of medicine, we don’t have room for this kind of inefficiency. The rude attitudes and inept training would not be tolerated and these people would be immediately, summarily dismissed.”

  Marty glanced around the table, seeing the downcast eyes and the obvious annoyance on the faces of his fellow guests. It was time to redirect the conversation.

  “So, Mr. Congressman, are we going to be privy to some secret legislation that no one else has learned or are you going to hold back.”

  The table erupted in polite laughter except for the disgruntled Dr. Kenmore, looking bereft that he had lost his audience.

  “Marty, I think, in view of the disparate opinions at this table, security would be seriously jeopardized,” he admonished, causing another ripple of laughter.

  Marty was feeling an increasingly uneasy feeling as the atmosphere seemed to thicken. There were some powerful ‘guns’ staring him in the face and the Dr.’s alienation was palpable. He felt as though he were on an island.

  His friend, Norm Arthur, came to the rescue and looked to the Congressman.

  “Chet! For the sake of a collegial atmosphere, let’s all recognize that everyone at this table agree that our motives are honorable and that any variance in our opinions is born of good intentions.”

  “You’re right, Norm, and thank you,” offered Chet, “I did not mean to ‘poison the water’ before we dive in.”

  Dr. Kenmore was reddened in the face. “Excuse me,” he initiated, “it is my understanding that our discussions were going to be mainly between the congressman and myself.”

  Myra put her hand on Marty’s arm as he stiffened.

  Surprising everyone, Pam leveled her gaze on Dr. Kenmore, “Dr. Kenmore, I was asked by Mr. Chiles to come on this cruise, among other things, to help facilitate discussions between Mr. Cooper, Congressman Barnes, Mr. Arthur and yourself. I think that it would be to everyone’s advantage if we just enjoyed the entertainment tonight and, perhaps, had breakfast in the morning.”

  There was dead silence as everyone stared openmouthed at Pam. She turned to Chet, “Shall we eat.”

  Dr. Kenmore was totally confounded. With his status, he was unaccustomed to this kind of treatment, particularly from a mere secretary. He was still smarting from the earlier admonishment and threat from Tom Chiles and so withheld the impulse to lash out, but instead, snorted arrogantly. Rising from his chair, he pleaded a bathroom break and departed.

  Chet maneuvered his chair slightly to face Pam and his left leg was fully exposed.

  ***

  Monk had not heard all the words of the exchange, but recognized an unexpected opportunity.

  He slowly slipped his hand into his pocket, slid his hand under the holding strap of the delivery device, secured it firmly in the palm of his hand, pulled it out, and uncapped the needle.

  He started to rise, putting his weight on the cane. The purposely weakened cane snapped in his left hand and pitched Monk forward, with his arms outstretched. His right hand made hard contact with the congressman’s right leg, triggering the injector. Immediately, the Congressman reached for Monk to help him up, ignoring the sharp, short pain that he had felt.

  “Are you all right, sir?” asked Chet.

  “Yes… yes,” sputtered Monk, “I am so sorry; my cane gave way. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  “No. I am fine,” offered Chet. The rest of the table had stood up to see what had happened. Monk rose grabbing his broken cane and apologized again and started to limp away.

  “Should you see a doctor?” offered Myra.

  “No… no” …mumbled Monk. “I am fine. Again, my apologies.”

  Chet was rubbing the side of his leg.

  “Are you OK?” inquired Pam.

  “Yes, I think I got a bruise or something. Nothing serious. Let’s finish our soup.”

  Monk continued limping out of the dining room to his cabin. All in all, it had gone very well. The injector had worked as planned when his hand had made the hard contact with Chet’s leg, instantly injecting the Aconite into the blood stream. If Chet decided to look at his leg, the only thing he would see, if at all, would be a very small reddish spot. Soon, he would begin to suffer arrhythmic heart function, leading to suffocation.

  Monk limped out of eyesight and then sped down the stairs to his deck. He entered his room and walked to the balcony.

  It was a dark sky. After checking that no one could see him, he ripped the ‘tear away’ outfit off, shoved it into a bag together with the dispenser, broken cane, and all personal effects, and dropped it overboard.

  Carefully walking around the entire cabin, wiping every surface for fingerprints, he surveyed his work one more time, then picked up his valise containing some jeans, a checkered wool shirt, a new folding cane, and a new beard and wig. Looking carefully out the door, he proceeded to the departure area, arriving just as the ship was arriving at Split Croatia. Standing at the rail, he watched the frantic activity to secure the vessel.

  He had passed the two critical points in his escape – the table and the cabin, and this was the final one.

  His heart rate was still accelerated as he tried not to appear interested in the preparations at the gate. Being first would not be wise, so he concentrated on the docking activities, ignoring the gate agents as they organized the security. He saw no sign of any abnormal movement or cell activity.

  ***

  Monk’s table was abuzz about the accident, but soon quieted down to a conversational hum as everyone enjoyed their meal.

  Having missed the excitement, the Dr. returned with a subdued attitude and quietly meshed with the table talk. The table was cleared and the coffee and dessert were served as a boisterous MC introduced the entertainment.

  Pam noticed that Chet seemed to be rather quiet and leaned over to ask if he was OK.

  “Yes… I’m fine. Maybe a touch of sea sickness.” As the entertainment continued, Pam looked over at Chet with alarm. He seemed to be having some difficulty breathing.

  “Chet… What’s wrong?”

  “… I… I… don’t know,” he gasped.

  His security man was instantly at his elbow, “Call a doctor.”

  Everyone turned to look at Chet. His face was red and he was heaving. Other tables had begun to look at the activity as the Maître’ D’ walked over.

  Chet, grabbing at his chest, fell off his chair just as a man called out from the crowd, “I’m a doctor,” and ran over to kneel beside Chet whose head was being cradled by Pam.

  “He needs oxygen, we need some oxygen,” he yelled as an attendant came through the door with a medical bag. The doctor waved him over. “Oxygen” he shouted again as Chet started into spasms.

  Pam screamed, “Chet… Chet… stay with us… Chet,” as his eyed began to roll.

  The doctor started to do CPR just as another attendant ran through the door with a tank of oxygen. The doctor quickly snapped the hose onto the tank and cranked the dial as the attendant pushed the mask onto Chet’s face. A stethoscope appeared and was held to Chet’s chest. �
��Arrhythmic,” the attendant said to the doctor. They both looked at each other, knowing that there was nothing more they could do.

  Chet gave one final gasp and then fell back with a groan. Pam let out a sob just as the Captain came into the room and headed directly to the scene. He immediately ordered some screens to be brought up to block off the rest of the room.

  Marty, Myra, Norm, Lin, and Dr. Kenmore had sat in horrified silence as the tragedy unfolded and now rose from the table to move away and make room for the ship officials.

  Pam still sat on the floor beside Chet, weeping quietly as Myra came over to comfort her along with Chet’s executive assistant, who had been sitting at another table and was now in total panic mode.

  The other passengers were frozen in disbelief, quietly murmuring among themselves. Any thoughts of a fun evening had obviously been dissolved, as some of them slowly, quietly filed out of the room.

  ***

  The ship had been tied down and Monk wandered toward the gate as it was being finalized to open.

  He joined the line of about thirty passengers lining up to go ashore. The gate agent had started the process to register the vacating passengers and the line slowly crawled forward. Monk, under his hat brim, was watching carefully for any unusual activity.

  As the woman in front of him was registered, the phone rang and Monk was shaken. The woman proceeded down the gangway as the officer in charge answered the phone.

  The agent took Monk’s cruise ID while the officer was listening on the phone. The agent handed him back his documents and waved him through as the officer spoke into the phone, nodding his head.

  Using his new cane and every nerve in his body tensed for flight, it was all he could do to limp slowly down the gangway.

  He heard the officer hang up the phone and give some directions to the agent, followed by a groan from the people in line. He didn’t dare look back, but quickened his pace and reached the end of the gangway. He heard a shout behind him as he slipped into the crowd that usually awaited a cruise arrival. He had made it.

  Just to be safe, he quickly entered a coffee shop rest room and stripped off the wig, glasses, and hat, pulled off his shirt and deposited them, together with the cane, into the garbage along with the now old passport. Opening his valise, he pulled out the new shirt, wig, and beard and quickly exited to catch a cab to the train station.

  Chapter 11

  Antonio DeAngelo had worked the dock for five years. His job was to coordinate onshore activities for passengers of the cruise ships. He liked to sit and have a cappuccino, watching his staff interact with the tourists. As a retired police officer, his training was never far from the surface.

  He noticed a limping man with a cane emerging from the crowd at the gangway heading toward the coffee shop. Antonio didn’t attach any significance to the oddity, but did watch him enter the coffee shop and go immediately into the bathroom.

  In a short time, another man exited the bathroom, heading back out the door and Antonio, always the old cop, noted the cab number he hailed.

  The odd part to Antonio was that he had not seen anyone else enter the bathroom. He mused on this for a moment, then decided to check for the other man.

  He entered the bathroom and looked under the stalls, discovering the room was empty. He stood in the middle of the room with a puzzled look, then walked to the garbage can. He tramped on the foot pedal, revealing the wig, hat, shirt, and cane.

  Reaching for the items, his training kicked in and he stopped… went to the door and called Arsenio, the manager, in Italian

  “Arsenio, could you please get me a pair of your latex gloves.”

  ***

  The death of the congressman was immediately transmitted to Washington. At their direction, the captain informed the patrons that until further notice, all persons were restricted from leaving the ship.

  Being such a public figure, Washington immediately arranged for a secret service investigator to fly to Split, Croatia, even though a heart attack was the consensus.

  The other members of the table had been isolated since the incident and were seated in one of the lounges, waiting for official release. Pam had been inconsolable and sat staring vacantly, unable to fathom the event.

  A couple of media people had appeared and Dr. Kenmore took advantage of the spotlight, holding court with his remembrances of his great relationship with the congressman and his regret that they had not had an opportunity to share their points of view while Norm Arthur and his wife, Lin, sat quietly in the corner, shunning any notice.

  ***

  Marty had immediately called Tom Chiles, who was strangely detached in his hollow sympathetic offerings.

  Kelly was leaving Tom’s office when Tom’s cell chirped. He picked it up and turned to the window. “Yes, Marty,” and paused… “The congressman? What a shame. Was it a heart attack? …He’s dead? Well, this drastically alters the game plan. Just do what you can and enjoy the rest of the cruise,” he said as a cellphone in his desk buzzed.

  “Marty, I have to go… I have another call.”

  Kelly was just closing the door when she heard Tom’s response to Marty. She peeked back into Tom’s office just as another cellphone buzzed and she saw Tom take it out of the drawer. He listened and said, “I just heard. It will be wired shortly,” and he hung up, and threw the cell in the garbage. She quietly closed the door and sat down at the desk with a scowl. She was confused! She breathed deeply and opened her computer, pretending to be working. She heard his office door open but did not look up, pretending absorption in a project. He paused for a moment, then walked to her desk.

  She knew he was staring at her intently. She looked up with a surprised look and said, “Yes, sir.”

  He stared intently for another moment and then said, “Kelly, I have just been informed that there has been a tragic occurrence on the cruise.” He watched for a response.

  It was all Kelly could do to maintain a calm, inquisitive look. “What?”

  “The congressman has had a heart attack and died.” His scrutiny intensified.

  “Oh, my God,” she yelped. The tension finally burst and tears boiled from her eyes.

  The tears apparently satisfied Tom and he reached over and patted her shoulder. “Why don’t you go to the employee lounge and relax for a while. I’ll have the switchboard hold your calls.”

  “Thank you,” she squeaked.

  He walked back in his office and flopped down on one of the lounges. Done! he thought. Now the only remaining ‘fly in the ointment’ was Norm Arthur of COSM. Hopefully, Marty would handle that.

  Now to the next piece of business – wiring the money, thought Tom. He grabbed his jacket and as he exited the office, he caught Kelly just leaving.

  “Kelly, I am going out for about an hour. I will let the switchboard know.”

  “Yes, sir,” answered Kelly.

  In the employee lounge, she sat and stared into her coffee. What have I just heard and seen? How could anyone else know about the congressman at the same time they had just been told…? and what phone was that? Why did he throw it away? What do I do now!

  The limo was waiting as Tom exited his private elevator. Riding along, staring out the window in deep thought, he was about to do the transaction on his cell when it suddenly hit him. Why am I arranging the money so quickly? What if some problems develop? Why not wait until at least tomorrow? He leaned over and told the driver to take him to the club instead. He wanted to have a drink and do some thinking.

  ***

  Pam had finally emerged from shock and gone out to get some fresh air. Standing at the rail, her mind was in turmoil. Something was nagging at her, but she couldn’t ‘pull it up.’ Chet had befriended her and she did not understand the deep sense of loss. When he had taken her elbow to be seated, she felt as though they had known each other forever and when the accident at the table had happened… ‘That was it!’ The accident! Now she remembered. It was the same man that had stared at her when s
he boarded.

  When he fell, his arm swung around, just missing her and she saw something in his hand as it slammed against Chet’s leg. It covered the palm and was secured by a strap around the hand.

  With the remembrance, she was filled with dread. Revulsion flooded her body and she vomited over the railing just as Marty arrived. He grabbed her and led her to a bench.

  “Pam… let me take you down to your cabin and get a doctor.” Myra joined them and she helped lead Pam to her cabin and Marty called for the doctor.

  Upon the doctor’s arrival, Marty and Myra said their goodbyes.

  “You’ve had a bad shock,” offered the doctor as he handed her a pill, “just take this and you will have a good night’s sleep.”

  “Thank you, doctor… I will.”

  Pam laid down on the bed and tried to relax, but her mind would not stop. She shook her head. This was preposterous. Surely, this was just shock? …and yet, she knew the picture in her mind of that hand was real. What had she seen?

  From what she could remember in the aftermath, someone had said he was in perfect health. She was no doctor, so who was she to question the preliminary opinion of a heart attack. And yet…

  ***

  Antonio DeAngelo felt foolish packing the trash can findings into the plastic bag, but old police habits die hard. He was just starting out the door when he heard a commotion at the pier. He walked over to the officer in charge. “What is it, Luige?”

  “We have been informed that a congressman on the cruise has just died of a heart attack and officials have forbidden shore leave.”

  Antonio was confused, “…but I thought I just saw people leaving.”

  “Yes,” said Luige, “but it just happened and they stopped it after a few people got off.”

  “Thank you, Luige, I am going to go on board.”

  He walked up the gangway to be greeted by the officer at the door asking for his boarding pass. “My name is Antonio DeAngelo, the coordinator for receiving passengers. I have just heard about the congressman and I need to speak to the captain. I may have some important information for him.”