Pleasuria

by John J. Jessop

  When he finally got Littlething on the phone, he said, cleverly lying to convince the president and CEO to meet with him again, “Hello, Dr. Littlething, I’m making considerable progress on this case and need to meet with you again. During my visit to CureStuff, I would also like to interview Lucy Chang. And, while I’m there, I might as well interview Tanya Grayson again, just to be thorough.” He thought, Yes, I’ll have to give her a thorough going-over, just to make sure she really is in the clear. He tried to picture what she might be wearing when he saw her this time. And he tried not to think about his wife, Chelsea, killing him.

  There was a long pause as Jason pictured Grayson in her short skirt and tight top, and Littlething said, “Dr. Longfellow? Are you still there? I seem to have lost our connection.”

  Jason’s fantasy of Tanya Grayson had deteriorated to a nightmarish vision of Chelsea smothering him with his own pillow while he was sleeping, and he abruptly came back to reality.

  “I’m still here, Dr. Littlething. Sorry, I went away there for a moment, but I’m back.”

  Littlething said, “Detective Longfellow, I would be happy to meet with you again to discuss your case. I hope you still don’t consider me a suspect in whatever happened to Wendy and Joanne. And you’re welcome to speak with Lucy and Tanya while you’re here. I’ll leave that to you to figure out.” Littlething was thinking that if he met with this nut job again, he might somehow gain an advantage when it came time for the FDA to review their application for a license for Happiness. Maybe he could even bribe the loon, or convince Tanya to manipulate him; she could be quite persuasive.

  “Excellent. I’ll be down tomorrow, and perhaps we can meet in your office, say two in the afternoon? I’ll probably need a couple of hours for a thorough interrogation . . . I mean interview. Does that work for you?”

  Littlething agreed, and they hung up.

  • • •

  The next day, in Littlething’s office, Jason tried to throw the doctor a curve. He said, “I’m looking for motive and opportunity for someone to have committed these alleged crimes. Can you think of any reason why Joanne might have wanted to harm Wendy Thompkins? If so, when would she have had the opportunity to give her something to try to kill her?”

  Littlething looked puzzled. “How would Joanne have given poison to Wendy Thompkins here in North Carolina when she lives up your way? And wasn’t she a victim of attempted poisoning herself?”

  Jason said, “I thought about that. It’s possible that Joanne took a small dose of the drug, or poison or whatever, giving her some of the symptoms without killing her, to cast suspicion away from herself. Or she might have faked the symptoms, although I gotta say, I was there and it didn’t seem like an act to me. If it was an act, she should be doing porn. But no one would suspect her if it appeared she was one of the victims. I’m more concerned about how she could have administered a drug or poison to Wendy Thompkins.”

  Littlething thought for a moment and then said, “Well, Joanne worked for CureStuff until recently, when she took a job with the FDA in Maryland. She and Wendy were friends, and I suppose it’s possible that she could have given Wendy something that looked innocent but was really intended to kill her. Say, for example, she gave Wendy some aspirin but replaced some of the tablets with something that looked similar. Wendy’s demise would depend on when she got a headache or some other ailment that required her to take aspirin. I doubt this happened, but I suppose it is possible.”

  “Interesting. But what about Lance Harden? Is there any reason why he’d want to harm Joanne and Wendy?”

  “Well, Lance insists he should get full credit for development of the new drug, Happiness, even though Wendy Thompkins also worked on the project with him; she planned the clinical trials. Come to think of it, Joanne Shipley also worked on that project while she was at CureStuff.”

  “Interesting. Joanne didn’t say anything to me about working on Harden’s Happiness project. It’s my understanding that Lance developed another drug, named Pleasuria, also for treatment of depression, and that drug failed in clinical trials. Did Joanne work on that project too?”

  “Well, yes, I believe she did. She may have actually been dating Lance at the time.”

  Jason mumbled softly, “Now I’m getting somewhere. She didn’t tell me that she worked on both of those projects. I wonder why she left that information out of our conversation. I’ll just have to ask her, now won’t I?”

  “What? What did you say?”

  Oh crap, did I say that out loud? “Nothing. I was just about to ask you about Tanya Grayson. Did she work on any of Lance Harden’s projects?”

  “Why yes, I believe she worked on both of them, Pleasuria and Happiness. There’s a toxicology component to all drug development programs, you know, potential safety issues. But Tanya is all about the work. She doesn’t date colleagues at the office. In fact, she seemed totally uninterested in me, which made me think she must be, well, you know, a lesbian. Although, I do remember that she stayed late with Lance on several occasions, and they went out for coffee together a couple of times. I’m sure it was just business for Lance because he was dating either Joanne or Wendy at that time, I don’t remember which. But, come to think of it, I’m not so sure it was all about business for Tanya. She usually dresses nice, but if I remember correctly, back then she was wearing some pretty provocative clothing, you know, low-cut front, short skirts, that sort of thing. But I’m pretty sure Lance Harden didn’t go for it.”

  “Interesting. You’re just full of little tidbits of useless information. Tanya’s a lesbian because she didn’t go for you. But she might have been interested in Lance. Surely you can do better than that. On another subject, are you aware of the recent incidents reported in the news in your area? The first one involved a pilot, a Captain Harold Jennings, who died when his private plane crashed. The second was an elderly woman, a Mary Hutchinson. She’s still alive, but in the hospital in critical condition. Both incidents were reported to involve hallucinations of a sexual nature, or hypersexual responses of orgasmic proportions, similar to what happened to both Joanne and Wendy. There may be no connection, but it’s likely not a coincidence that four people currently or recently living in the same area of North Carolina experienced unusual spontaneous sexual reactions leading to their injury or death. Don’t you think?”

  Littlething looked puzzled and said, “No, I hadn’t heard anything about those two incidents, but I don’t watch the news very often. Too damned depressing. Nothing but politics, politics, politics. Come to think of it, Washington is one place where sexual hallucinations and weird sexual behavior are probably the norm.

  “Dr. Longfellow, or should I say Detective Longfellow? Am I correct in assuming from your line of questioning that one or more of our doctors or scientists are suspects in the attempted murders of Wendy and Joanne? I am shocked that you could suspect such highly educated individuals of violence. Studies have shown that most killers are of low to average intelligence. I’m afraid that you are barking up the wrong tree.”

  “Interesting. Where were you when the attempt was made on Wendy Thompkins’s life? It’s my understanding that you attended that same business meeting. Actually, you ran the meeting, and I’m guessing that you had easy access to any beverages that were served to the attendees. Furthermore, your colleagues have told me that you hit on both Wendy and Joanne, and they shut you down and made fun of you. So, you have both motive and opportunity with Thompkins and motive with Shipley. I don’t know how you would have given Shipley the poison or drug, but your theory about the aspirin is interesting. Maybe that’s how you did it, by giving Joanne Shipley a bottle of aspirin laced with something else, something to improve her sexual satisfaction, to death.”

  Littlething recoiled. “How dare you come into my office and accuse me of trying to kill these women. I’m friends with both of them, and they both worked for me. I would never harm anyone. I don’t think I want to talk to you anymore.”

  Jason
realized that he probably tripped over some invisible line and he wouldn’t get any more information from Littlething. So he said, “Well, thank you, Dr. Littlething, for your time. Now, if you could please show me to Tanya Grayson’s office, I have an appointment to speak with her while I’m here. It’s probably a waste of time because I doubt that any woman that looks as good as she does would need to harm anyone to get what she wants. With most men all she would have to do is ask, and they’d probably give her anything—the keys to their car, their house, whatever.” As he said this, visions of a skimpily clad Tanya Grayson danced in his head, immediately followed by visions of Chelsea dancing on his head with spiked heels. This midlife crisis was going to get him killed.

  Littlething, now calmer, said, “You got that right. That woman is good looking, hot as hell, and dresses to show it off. I can’t imagine her hurting anyone. Well, I can imagine it, but only in a good way.” Then he seemed to change his mind mid-thought. “But, as I said before, she didn’t want anything to do with this.” He gestured with his hand to call attention to his rotund body and finished with, “So, I’m guessing she’s probably gay. Good luck with that.”

  • • •

  Littlething pointed Jason in the direction of Tanya Grayson’s office, and off he went. When Jason knocked on her door, he heard an alluring voice say, “Hello. Come on in. Detective Longfellow, I presume.”

  Jason entered the room, a large corner office with full windows on two sides, and Tanya stood up behind her desk to shake his hand. She was just as he remembered—an exceptional female with long, wavy blonde hair, possessing the stunning face of a model and voluptuous body of a Playboy centerfold; she was dressed in a tight black dress with a hemline so high that it stopped just below the buttocks and a low-cut front showing substantial cleavage, right there for the viewing. Jason detected the scent of a very nice perfume wafting across her desk, a light fragrance that was both clean and erotic at the same time. He took her hand, with its long, sensual fingers and silky smooth skin, and he felt a little dizzy for a moment, his knees buckling slightly. She smiled.

  “Are you all right, Detective Longfellow? You look a little woozy.”

  “I’m fine, thank you. And I must say, you are looking great this afternoon. I approve of your business attire. Very professional, a real attention-getter, highly motivating, stimulating . . .” He tried his best to focus his eyes on her face, but it was like they had a mind of their own.

  “Why, thank you, Detective. You seem to be tongue-tied this afternoon. Perhaps you would like some coffee.”

  He took a seat opposite her desk “No thank you, Dr. Grayson. Please sit. I have a few questions that I need to ask you.”

  “Please, call me Tanya. Yes, you said on the phone that you had some questions. And, by the way, my face is up here. You seem to be speaking to my chest, which is fine with me, but it’s my mouth that will be answering your questions.”

  Jason blushed. “Sorry, I woke up with a stiff . . . neck this morning, and I’m having trouble holding my head up. I’ll try to do better. Is there any reason why you might want to harm Wendy Thompkins or Joanne Shipley? Some of your colleagues have told me that you were interested in Lance Harden at one point but that he was already involved with these two women.”

  “Lance and I are just friends. As you probably already know, I worked with him on both the Pleasuria and the Happiness projects. Toxicology studies are required for all drug development programs. I don’t know what anyone else has told you, but there is not, nor has there ever been, anything between Lance and me.” As she said this, she bent forward and propped her elbows on her desk.

  Jason’s eyes followed her ample cleavage, his head shifting forward so quickly he pulled a muscle in his neck, causing him to grab his neck and wince in pain. “Are you okay, Detective Longfellow? Be careful. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  He tried desperately to compose himself and focus on his next question. He suspected that she was purposefully trying to distract and fluster him, and it was working extremely well. Finally, massaging his neck, he said, “I’m okay. Must have slept in a funny position last night. My neck muscles are really tight. So, Dr. Grayson . . . Tanya, have you heard about the recent incidents, one fatal, here in North Carolina involving a pilot and an elderly woman? Both cases involved some type of hypersexual response, sexual hallucinations and repeated . . . let’s say, happy endings. Have you heard about these incidents on the news, and do you think that they have anything to do with what happened to Wendy Thompkins or Joanne Shipley?”

  She smiled, purposefully licking her bright-red lips, flirting with her eyes. “No, I haven’t heard anything about any such incidents. But I must admit, the repeated orgasms do sound intriguing. Where does one go to sign up for that?” She sat back in her chair, straightened her shoulders and crossed her long, sleek legs, giving Jason a clear view all the way up to her lacy black panties. At this point Jason involuntarily leaned forward and almost toppled out of his chair.

  “Detective, are you sure you’re okay? You look woozy again. I thought for a moment there you were going to fall on your head.” She laughed.

  Jason struggled to compose himself. “I’m fine. My stiff neck muscles just contracted and I experienced a momentary spasm. I’ll be okay.”

  “Detective, do I understand correctly that I’m a suspect in the alleged attempted murders of Wendy and Joanne? These women are friends and colleagues of mine, and I would never consider harming either of them. Why, how could you even think such a thing?” She pushed her shoulders forward just a little to give Jason a clearer look at all that cleavage again, and his eyes glossed over for a second.

  “I don’t really consider you a suspect. A fine-looking woman like yourself would have no reason to be jealous of anyone, and you certainly wouldn’t need to harm anyone to get a man. I just have to ask these questions. It’s part of my job.” His mind told him that she was a possible suspect because she had reason to be jealous of both of the victims, but his testosterone was arguing furiously that this woman could not possibly kill anyone.

  “Thank you. I assure you I had nothing to do with harming Joanne or Wendy. But I do think that I know who the murderer is. I don’t know anything about a pilot or old woman, but I believe that Dr. Littlething is the one who tried to kill Wendy and Joanne. He was angry with them because he tried to hit on both of them and they shut him down. Also, Joanne and I were good friends and we may have made fun of Dick in front of the other senior managers on one or more occasions, based on his diminutive size. So, he has a motive for harming both Wendy and Joanne, and frankly I’m afraid that he might come after me. I just don’t feel safe here anymore.”

  Jason wanted to walk around the desk, take her into his arms and comfort her, but he heard the voice of Chelsea in his head, telling him that if he did so he had better sleep with one eye open from now on. So, he refrained.

  “I hear what you’re saying. I agree that Dick Littlething is my number one suspect at this point. If you are concerned for your safety, maybe you should talk to the local police. They might be able to put a guard on your body . . . I mean, assign you a bodyguard, to protect you until these attempted murders are solved and the perp is in jail. Just a thought.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Detective. I appreciate it. I don’t actually think that I need a bodyguard, but I will be careful.”

  Jason’s eyes glossed over yet again as he imagined guarding that body, but he heard Chelsea’s voice in his head say, Dead. You are so dead, so he came back to reality.

  Tanya stood, signaling the end of their meeting. Jason just sat there for a moment, staring at that little black dress, but finally he stood too, shook hands with this gorgeous, clearly innocent woman, and walked out the door, thinking, I’m really likin’ this PI gig.

  • • •

  While driving home to Virginia, Jason could not stop thinking about Dr. Grayson and that little black dress. He said to the empty car, “No woman
should look that good. If I wasn’t married, I’ll bet I could charm her right out of that dress. But I am married, to a nurse, with access to scalpels, and needles, and drugs, and who probably knows lots of ways to inflict pain, and death. Let’s see, little black dress versus pain and death?” He thought about this for a minute and then said, “Oh crap! Damned black dress. Damned midlife crisis. I’m almost home, and I got so distracted by Dr. Grayson’s hotness that I forgot to interview Lucy Chang. Oh, what the hell. She’s probably innocent anyhow.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The following Saturday morning, Chelsea had an appointment for a haircut and style, leaving Jason home alone with the three girls. Lizzy was upstairs, keeping an eye on her two younger sisters. Jason was in the small workshop in the basement, located near the bottom of the heavily carpeted stairs. He was painting a small birdhouse that he had built when he heard Lilly say, “Okay, Lucy, climb aboard the train. It’s time for a train wreck, and you’re the only passenger.”

  These were not words that a parent wanted to hear his eleven-year-old daughter say to her five-year-old sister, and the voice was coming from the top of the stairs. Jason continued painting, assuming that Lizzy would intervene in whatever Lilly was up to. After all, he was paying her to watch them. But Lizzy never appeared on the scene. Jason heard Lilly say, “Okay, Sis. Off you go!”

  Jason dropped the paintbrush and ran for the basement door. He yanked it open and looked up to see Lucy sitting at the top on a small toy train engine designed for little kids to ride while pushing with their feet. Lilly was standing just behind the vehicle, ready to give it a hard shove and launch her little sister into the air and down the stairs. All Jason could do was scream, “Noooo!” as he started to run up the stairs.

  Lucy screamed, “Whee, this is fun!”

  Jason had on a pair of slippery slippers resembling cat’s paws that Chelsea had given him for Christmas, having not yet learned his lesson after slipping and falling on the carpeted stairs while showing them off to the girls. He yelled again, “Lilly, No! Do not push!” As he said this, his foot slipped on the bottom step, and he fell forward, smashing his face and stomach into the stairs. “Umph,” he groaned as the wind was knocked out of him.