Pleasuria

by John J. Jessop

  CHAPTER 8

  Harden was in his early fifties, six-foot, with a medium build at about 180 pounds. If Jason had met the man on the street, he would have thought him a drug dealer, or old hippie, or maybe even homeless person. Dr. Harden had a pleasant enough face, with hazy brown eyes and a sort of goofy smile, but his full head of long brown hair was unkempt, not particularly clean, and had grown well over the ears; the man was in desperate need of a shave. He wore small, round, gold earrings in both ears and a smaller one in his left nostril.

  Dr. Harden walked from behind a cheap-looking metal desk and shook Jason’s hand. He was wearing well-worn blue jeans, a wrinkled black T-shirt with large white peace sign on the front, and sneakers. Jason was surprised at the man’s appearance since pharmaceutical company employees generally dressed more conservatively. Dr. Lance Harden was definitely not your everyday pharmaceutical executive, emphasized by the pleasant smile that seemed to be unusually mellow for someone facing the high pressures of the industry. Then, Jason caught the faint, sweet odor of what was unmistakably weed.

  This man has been smoking marijuana in his office, and not too long ago. Why would two professional women be interested in this scruffy-looking character? Does he share his supply of weed with them? Is he a dealer? Maybe he has an endless supply of little blue pills. The pharmaceutical world is a wonderful place.

  Carol continued, “Dad, this is Dr. Jason Longfellow, or I should say Detective Longfellow. He’s a private eye here to look into a recent attempt on Joanne Shipley’s life up there in Northern Virginia. Strangely enough, Jason is also a drug reviewer for the FDA, works with Joanne, and carpools with her to work. He would like to ask you some questions about Joanne, and he’s also interested in what happened to Wendy Thompkins a few weeks ago. He seems to feel that the two things are connected.”

  The two men exchanged pleasantries, and then Harden said, “Have a seat.” He gestured to a small couch positioned against one of the walls. Jason and Carol sat on the couch, and Harden sat on the corner of his desk.

  “So, you work for the FDA, and you’re a private detective? How does that work? Can you really come to CureStuff, a drug and biotech company, and investigate an alleged attempted murder without it being a conflict of interest with your job as a drug reviewer? Seems a little odd. That must have driven Littlething nuts.” He flashed a devilish smile.

  “As I told Dick Littlething, I’m on annual leave from the government and am here solely for the purpose of finding out what happened to my fellow carpooler, Joanne Shipley. It was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. I was driving us to work and all of a sudden she started getting what appeared to be sexually aroused. She was having orgasms all by herself in the passenger seat of my SUV, and she couldn’t seem to stop, so I had to take her to the ER. She had no idea what happened, and the ER couldn’t find anything specific, so they gave her a strong sedative, which stopped her strange reaction and probably saved her life. Can you tell me anything about Joanne Shipley? I know she worked here. Actually, Dick Littlething told me that he dated her, bedded her, and then dumped her. He told me a similar story about Wendy Thompkins. But doctors Chang and Grayson explained to me that this was all, how did they put it . . . ‘bullshit.’ They don’t seem to have a very high opinion of their boss. What can you tell me?”

  “Orgasms all by herself, in your SUV? That’s quite a story. In the interest of full disclosure, I actually dated Joanne Shipley when she first joined the company, before she married. She was a young scientist that was hired to work in my lab, although when we broke it off she moved to a different lab and was later dismissed from the company. As you probably know by now, I’m currently dating Wendy Thompkins and have been for a couple of months, or at least I was. I haven’t seen her since her bizarre reaction during the senior managers’ meeting a while back. It’s interesting. Her reaction was somewhat similar to what you described with Joanne, some sort of hypersexual response, and it happened in front of most of the CureStuff senior management. I think the poor thing’s too embarrassed to see me or to come back to work. No one knows what happened to her, and the ER docs apparently couldn’t figure it out. It’s very frustrating; she won’t answer my calls.”

  He paused, stared off into space for a few moments. “So, I have had relationships with both of these women, although I can assure you that I had nothing to do with whatever happened to either of them. It’s a shame, because Wendy and I were getting along so well before that incident.”

  “Just one more question. It’s my understanding that there’s a new potential blockbuster antidepressant drug, or biologic, that has been developed here at CureStuff and is currently in clinical trials, and that it was developed in your lab. Is that true?”

  “Yes, that’s a fact. It’s in clinical trials, and we are hearing good things. Actually, Wendy planned those clinical trials, and she’s still monitoring the latest study, working from home. We’re very hopeful that the study will prove the drug is effective. The earlier clinical studies showed that it’s safe, and the behavioral animal study results suggested that it should work for treating depression.”

  “So, Dr. Thompkins planned the clinical studies for this new blockbuster drug? What about Pleasuria? I understand that earlier in your career you developed a drug called Pleasuria, also for the treatment of depression, and it failed in clinical trials. Did Wendy Thompkins put together the clinical studies for that drug too?”

  “So you know about Pleasuria. I see you did your homework, although aren’t we supposed to be talking about an attempt on Joanne Shipley’s life and not CureStuff’s drug development program?”

  “I’m just looking for a motive for someone to try to harm Joanne or Wendy. So, what about Pleasuria? Why did that one fail?”

  “All right. I get your point. In my opinion, those clinical trials failed because Wendy didn’t include a high enough dose in the studies. We argued about it at the time, and I tried to get her to include a higher dose, but she insisted that the risks were too great. The drug did show some promise with depression, but the data were not convincing enough for the FDA. If she had done what I asked, I believe it would have worked. The FDA turned down the application on the first try, the project ran way over budget and CureStuff’s board shut it down. I realize this doesn’t sound good for me. I admit that I was upset with Wendy for refusing to follow my recommendation, but we discussed it, got through it, and we were fine. I would never hurt her. As I said, Wendy also planned the clinical studies for the current drug for depression, and things are looking much better this time.”

  Jason noticed that a young blonde woman in her late twenties had taken a seat in the waiting area outside of Lance Harden’s office. She wore a white lab coat, and Jason figured she must be one of Harden’s lab techs, or perhaps a young scientist. She appeared to be paying attention to their conversation, and he realized that she probably heard much of what they had said since Harden’s office door was open. When she noticed that Jason was looking in her direction, she became obviously nervous, and after a couple of minutes stood up and bolted. Harden didn’t appear to have noticed her.

  Jason turned his attention back to Harden. “I’m glad to hear that your new drug is showing promise. I wish you the best. I don’t have any more questions, so perhaps I should leave you to your work. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”

  Jason stood up and shook Harden’s hand again. Carol also stood and said, “Thanks for taking the time to meet with us, Dad. I appreciate it. I’ll show Detective Longfellow out of the building. This way, Detective.”

  She led Jason out of the office and started down the hallway. After a few steps, Jason said, “Carol, could you please direct me to a men’s room? It seems that all the coffee has gone through my system, and I need some relief before heading out.”

  She said, “Sure, no problem. The men’s room is just down this hallway. Turn right and it should be just on the left. I’ll wait here for you.”

  Jason t
hanked her and headed toward the men’s room at a quick pace. All the coffee he drank while speaking with Littlething had indeed gone through him. When he exited the men’s room, he was all turned around.

  He walked for a couple of minutes and then thought, Crap. I must have taken a wrong turn out of the bathroom, and this place is an impossible maze of hallways. I’m hopelessly lost, and I don’t have any way of contacting Ms. Harden since I don’t have her cell phone number. Maybe if I just keep walking, I’ll find an exit eventually. Better than stopping to ask for directions and looking like an idiot.

  He turned yet another corner and ran directly into the young blonde woman that he’d seen outside of Dr. Harden’s office. At first, he thought that it was a chance collision—a not totally unexpected event in a crazy building with so many intersecting hallways. She took him by the arm, led him into a nearby empty conference room and said quietly, “I’m Shelly Carson, a lab tech in Dr. Lance Harden’s lab. I know you saw me outside Lance’s office, and I overheard most of your conversation. So, are you really a private detective or are you with the FDA? I’m confused on that point. I have wanted to speak with someone from the FDA for quite some time, but I’m not sure if you are the right person to hear what I have to say.”

  Jason repeated his situation. Shelly said, “Detective Longfellow, you sound like a man with an identity crisis, but if you really work for the FDA, you may be my only chance, so I’m going to tell you what I know. I worked on the original animal studies during the development of Lance’s first drug, Pleasuria. There were some animal study results that CureStuff, and mainly Lance, chose to withhold from the FDA. In the rat studies to test for the safety of the drug, there were some strange side effects. When I gave the animals the high dose of the drug and put them back in their cages, they started humping each other frantically. Gender didn’t matter—males humping females, males humping males, females humping males and females. And when I reached into one of the cages to remove an animal for further analysis, some of the rats tried to hump my finger, and one of them jumped on my arm and started humping my wrist. It was very disturbing.

  “This strange behavior continued for several hours. The animals were obviously distraught, suffering, and worn out from all the humping, which they apparently could not stop. A couple of them actually died, from exhaustion or cardiac arrest. Eventually, I was forced to euthanize the entire lot, all of the high-dose animals. I included this reaction in my lab notes, and I even took video of some of the humping on my cell phone. Lance had company security confiscate both my lab books and my cell phone, and I was told that if I ever said anything to anyone about this, I would be fired and would never find another job in the pharmaceutical industry. Lance was so mad, I wasn’t just scared for my job, I was afraid for my life.”

  “So what the hell does this drug do? How is it supposed to treat depression? And why does it make rats hump each other? Do we really need a drug that makes rats do that? Aren’t there already enough rats running around?”

  “The original drug, Pleasuria, was not actually a drug. It was a biologic, a monoclonal antibody, similar to the proteins made by the human immune system. Monoclonal antibodies are targeted therapies, like antibodies made by the immune system that are designed for specific binding to chosen cells in the body. Most people are familiar with monoclonal antibodies designed to kill cancer cells, like trastuzumab for breast cancer, which specifically attacks certain cancer cells.”

  “I get the concept of biologics and a monoclonal antibody, but for the sake of this conversation, let’s just call Pleasuria a drug. Right now I have on my detective’s hat and don’t want to get too lost in the technical stuff.”

  “Okay. In the case of ‘the drug’ Pleasuria, it was designed to specifically stimulate a part of the brain called the amygdala, part of the limbic system that regulates emotions and includes the human pleasure center. The idea was for the antibody to bind to the pleasure center of the brain, causing good feelings in the patient and counteracting the depression. Monoclonal antibodies normally don’t get into the brain; they’re also destroyed in the digestive juices in saliva and the gut, so they can’t be given as a pill. They are typically given intravenously, but Lance developed a special formulation for Pleasuria, a pill that allowed the antibody to be taken orally, cross the blood-brain barrier, and get to the brain without being destroyed in the gut. So Pleasuria was a miracle drug, but in doing this, the antibody’s properties must have been changed to cause this bizarre humping thing. This part of the brain also includes sexual arousal, and Pleasuria not only makes a person feel better, but it has the side effect of somehow inducing hypersexual arousal, like humping-yourself-to-death-type sexual arousal. You know, like ‘the head bone’s connected to the neck bone, and the brain’s connected to the boner bone’; you get the idea.”

  “Very interesting. That would explain why Wendy Thompkins didn’t want to give a higher dose to the patients in the clinical studies, even though your boss tried to convince her to do so. Is it possible that someone is now using this failed drug, Pleasuria, to attempt to murder people, including Wendy and Joanne? It’d have to be someone who knew about the animal data and these bizarre humping side effects at the high dose. It’s likely that Lance, and perhaps Dick Littlething, would have known, and they both have motives for harming these two women.”

  “That’s not all. What most people don’t know is that the new investigational drug, designated PQRST123, also called ‘Happiness,’ the latest potential blockbuster for treatment of depression, is really just a new formulation of the failed drug Pleasuria. Lance believed that if Wendy Thompkins had given the patients a higher dose of that drug, those clinical studies would have been a success. So, he did a minimal amount of work to make a new formulation from the old drug and told everyone that it is a completely new drug. In fact, if she had given the patients a higher dose of Pleasuria, they might have humped themselves to death, or who knows, they might have died from terminal orgasms, way too much of a good thing. It’s my theory that’s what happened to Wendy. Someone slipped her some of the drug.”

  Jason was getting excited. Here he was, a real private detective, finding clues, uncovering information, solving an attempted murder—or two. “Wow! Now we’re getting somewhere. If Lance Harden knew about those animal data, he certainly had a motive for killing Wendy Thompkins. She must have known about the humping side effects, which is why she wouldn’t give the high dose to the patients. He would have wanted to keep her quiet, to keep the side effects a secret. Especially since his new blockbuster drug is pretty much the same as the old one, with the hump, hump, hump. If Littlething knew about those side effects, he would have wanted to keep Wendy quiet too. He also has another motive; both women rejected him when he tried to hit on them. This whole thing’s about humping—humping rats, Littlething trying to hump his employees, Harden humping everyone. Sounds like a motive for murder to me.”

  Shelly interrupted. “If that little perv knew about the humping side effects, he would’ve probably given both women the drug in the hope it would help him get into their pants.”

  “And both Harden and Littlething would have access to a supply of the original Pleasuria and to the new drug as well. But didn’t those same side effects appear in the animal studies for PQRST123? Did CureStuff withhold data from the drug application to the FDA for this drug too?”

  “Worse than that, they only gave lower doses of PQRST123 to the rats in that study, so they would be sure not to see any of those side effects. I don’t know why the FDA didn’t ask for a study with the higher dose, but I know for a fact that the rat study for PQRST123 only included a non-humping dose.”

  “Well, I’m Detective Longfellow right now, not Dr. Drug Reviewer Longfellow, so I’m not going to think about that. Besides, I don’t know who at the FDA is reviewing the submissions for PQRST123, but it’s not me. I now have two good suspects with motive and opportunity, and they could both have gotten their hands on the drug. Now, I ju
st have to figure out how Joanne and Wendy were given the drug without their knowing it. Thank you for sharing this information with me, Shelly. I promise that I won’t reveal my source to anyone. We should probably split up now. We don’t want to be seen together. Please tell me how to find my way out of this crazy building. I feel like a depressed rat in a maze, and I sure as hell don’t want any of CureStuff’s antidepressants, thank you very much.”

  • • •

  Jason drove home, and the next day he visited Joanne Shipley in her office at work. She wasn’t ready to carpool with him yet, so the only way he could speak to her in person was at the office. He knocked on her door and she invited him in, although he noticed that she blushed when she saw him, and their being together felt uncomfortable.

  “Joanne, I visited your ex-colleagues at CureStuff yesterday. I spoke with doctors Littlething, Harden, Grayson, and Chang. From what I could determine, Littlething and Harden both have motives for trying to harm you. Depending on who you talk to, Littlething hit on you and you either rebuked him or had sex with him. He told me that he bedded Wendy Thompkins too, and she is the senior manager at CureStuff that recently had an attack of hypersexual arousal. I also found out that Lance Harden dated you for a while when you worked in his lab, and then you broke up. Can you give me any insight as to which of these two men is the more likely candidate for trying to poison you?”

  “You certainly found out a lot in one day. You must be pretty good at this detective thing. Maybe you should quit the government and do it full-time.”

  He smiled because that was his thought too. Maybe she should talk to my wife.

  “First of all, it might be best if you don’t share any of this information with my husband. He doesn’t need to know about Littlething or Lance Harden. To answer your question, Dick Littlething is all bluster. He’s a tiny little man who feels the need to act tough, but he’s really scared of his own shadow. If you said boo to him he’d hide under his desk. He acted all tough when he hit on me, and I told him to take a hike, but I don’t think he has the balls to actually hurt anyone. On the other hand, Lance Harden is a serious type of guy. I know that he looks like an old hippie from the 60s and he seems laid-back, but he’s extremely passionate about his drug development, and he was really angry when Pleasuria failed the clinical trials. I thought he was going to strangle Wendy Thompkins when she refused to give a higher dose to the patients, and he liked her. I admit to dating him when I first joined the company, and I was the one who broke it off because he was too intense, no fun, and didn’t have a sense of humor. Of the two, I think Lance is the more likely candidate. But I don’t want to believe that either one of them would want to hurt me, or Wendy.”