Illegally Dead

by Gregg E. Brickman

  "Your health comes first. I'll work extra. I can always work double shifts. They're paying managers agency rates to work doubles as staff."

  "If you're working doubles, who will help with the kids on the days I'm sick?"

  "Nonna." He looked into her eyes. "We're the most important people in her life, and she only works a few hours a week. She and I can adjust our schedules so that one of us is always home."

  "That's not fair to her."

  "Life's not fair." He kissed her.

  "You can say that again."

  "Life's not fair." Tony laughed until Jennifer joined in. "Jen, honey, we'll get through this."

  "But Tony, why us? Why me? It pisses me off. Things are perfect for us now—our new house, the kids, good jobs, Nonna here with us. Maybe, when they do the surgery, if they do the surgery, they'll find out it's all a mistake. Just swollen nodes from some infection."

  "Maybe, baby, maybe." He hugged her close while her fingers traced the smooth, broad scar on the right side of his chest and neck. "It'll be okay. You'll be okay."

  Back in bed, Tony lay awake but pretended to sleep so as not to disturb Jennifer. Exhaustion lined their faces when the alarm clock broke the silence. He listened as Jennifer took his advice and called in sick. She was rarely ill and had almost two months of accumulated sick time in addition to three weeks of annual leave. She'd need every minute, and more. He tucked her back in bed, dressed for work, and went to awaken his mother. She'd tend to the kids while Jennifer slept.

  Thirteen

  Howard and Alfonzo started Wednesday morning in the captain's office with a heated discussion. In truth, they listened, and the captain talked. Polter, the Assistant State Attorney, and Judge Kelsey had both called the captain that morning. They were impatient for results. Therefore, the captain was impatient for results.

  "Captain," Howard said to the dark, heavy set, senior officer, "we're following all the leads, but Kelsey isn't cooperating. He hasn't been forthcoming."

  Captain Townsend frowned. "You'll have to rely on good old-fashioned detective work." He stood behind his desk. "Polter and Kelsey want this case solved with the minimum of fanfare. I want the case closed. Get to it."

  Howard returned to his desk while Alfonzo stormed out of the station. Howard knew Alfonzo would return in a few minutes, cooled off and rational. Howard used the time to handle loose details on another case.

  As he slipped his leather notebook into the breast pocket of his gray pinstriped suit, the telephone on his desk rang. He punched the conference button. "Epstein."

  "This is Tony."

  Howard was on his way to question Chamberlain Thorne and didn't want to talk to Tony. Tony wouldn't approve. They had talked about the short list of suspects, and Tony was adamant Thorne wasn't involved. "What is it? I was just leaving."

  "Another lawyer died in the ED last night."

  "People die all the time." Howard bit his tongue. It wasn't Tony's fault. "Sorry, I'm out of sorts today, picked on and pissed off. How's Jennifer?"

  "Not good. Thorne told me yesterday she has Hodgkin's disease. He'll need to do surgery very soon."

  "I didn't know they operated for Hodgkin's.".

  "They need to . . . t . . . to find out which organs are involved and how severe the disease is. It's called staging."

  "Will Thorne be the one treating her?" Howard struggled to suppress his guilty feelings in his sense of duty. He knew it wasn't his fault, and he had no reason to be ashamed. Thorne was a legitimate suspect, one of the most likely now, high on the short-list.

  "Thorne is a surgeon. He'll transfer her care to an oncologist before the week is out. Chamberlain will do the surgery and be available if there are any further surgical procedures to be done in the course of treatment."

  "How does it look?"

  "Pretty good. Hodgkin's is treatable. She's young. The type of Hodgkin's she has responds readily to treatment." Tony took a breath and exhaled long and loud. "Meanwhile, about the lawyer."

  "Yes." Howard sat in his desk chair. He looked up as Alfonzo came down the short hallway, so he grabbed the receiver to continue the conversation in private. He didn't want to get into it with Alfonzo about Tony again today. Since this case began, they had almost daily exchanges about why Howard insisted on sharing information with Tony.

  Tony filled Howard in on Henninger's condition before he died. "The medical examiner took the case. I'd like to know what kind of poison he found. I can't help but think it's related to Valentine's death. Two lawyers in the same firm poisoned within two weeks of each other can't be coincidence."

  "I have to agree. But you said bleeding into his brain would cause the same symptoms." Out of the corner of his eye, Howard saw Alfonzo slip into his cubicle. Howard could tell that the walk had helped. Alfonzo's color had returned to normal. The flush was gone.

  "Can you find out?"

  "Yeah, sure, why not?" Howard pulled out his pad and, out of habit, wrote a note, although he knew he wouldn't forget. "When did the medical examiner collect the body?"

  "The body is in our morgue. It's my guess they'll get it this morning. They must have had a busy night."

  "Just what I want to hear." Howard motioned to Alfonzo that he was ready to leave. "I'll call downtown later and get back to you."

  "Thanks. I appreciate it."

  Alfonzo stepped close to Howard's desk as he snapped his frayed nylon jacket closed over his baggy sweater. The sweater hung out from under the jacket in uneven folds. "Conte again? Don't you ever learn?"

  "Al, you're way off base. He's useful to us. We're useful to him. Besides that, he's a friend."

  "Let's get the hell out of here."

  "Temper, temper." Howard clipped his cell phone to his belt.

  Howard merged into traffic on Flamingo Drive and headed north. They were going to the medical office building on the hospital grounds, five minutes away. "Alfonzo, Tony told me Henninger, the guy we saw from Valentine's law firm, died in the ED late yesterday afternoon. Conte thinks it might be poison. They called the ME."

  "What's the ME think?"

  "He hasn't seen the body yet." Howard turned onto the drive leading to the hospital, then pulled to the curb to let an ambulance speed past.

  "He must not give much credence to what Conte says then."

  "I don't know if Tony talked to him. I do know when they called in the death, they mentioned the connection to Valentine and the possibility of the symptoms being from poisoning."

  "That'd make life interesting. Makes you wonder who hated the firm enough to start methodically taking out the senior partners," Alfonzo said, his voice a whisper.

  Howard pulled into a parking space around the side of the office building, and the two detectives hustled into the elevator lobby. Howard enjoyed the clear, cool January morning. Alfonzo pulled his jacket around himself, shivering in the fifty-five degree air.

  Howard pushed the elevator call button. A second later, the doors slid open providing egress for the single passenger, Chamberlain Thorne. Never one to miss an opportunity, Alfonzo stepped forward and flashed his badge.

  "Doctor Thorne, we need to ask you a few questions."

  Thorne surveyed the surly detective, then looked past him to Howard. "Detective, I'd love to stay and chat. However, I'm on trauma call at the hospital, and I'm going there now. I'm sure your questions can wait. The accident victim can't."

  "Can't they get someone else?"

  "Not in time. We rotate trauma call. It's my turn."

  "I understand," Howard broke into the conversation. "When do you think you'll be free?" Howard fell in step with Thorne, since it was obvious he wouldn't stand still.

  Thorne hurried along, leading the small entourage. "Listen, I don't know what this is about, but I'd rather not have a couple of detectives follow me into the ED."

  "Doc, we like to talk with you about the murder of Warren Valentine."

  "Fine. Give me your card. I'll call you when I get out of the OR."
r />   "How do we know you'll call?" Alfonzo said.

  "I'm not going to leave town." Thorne picked up his pace.

  Alfonzo hurried to keep pace, but Howard intervened. Soon the two detectives were headed south in the Taurus with the heater running on high.

  "Where to?" Howard asked, braking for a traffic light. He had believed the interview with Thorne would point them in another direction. Instead, the captain turned up the heat, they had another possible victim, and they had to wait to talk to the prime suspect.

  "The possibilities are endless," Alfonzo replied.

  "I want to go talk to Irene Valentine again. I'd like to see if she has the Amaretto bottle," Howard said.

  "You don't think she'd keep it if she's the one who put the poison in his drink?"

  "No, but maybe the brother did the deed, and she doesn't know the Amaretto is poisoned."

  "Yeah, right." Alfonzo pointed to the turn into the gated neighborhood where Irene Valentine lived.

  The sprawling, contemporary house was set back from the street and shaded by mature black olive and oak trees. The surrounding houses were similar in theme, but each different in design. It was difficult to tell where the gardens stopped and the houses began.

  Lush sago and areca palms, cut-leafed philodendrons, and partial walls secluded the Valentine home. A dramatic roof overhang created a private entrance. The front door's location was obvious but not visible from the street.

  Irene Valentine answered the door herself. "Detectives."

  "Ma'am, can we come in please?" Howard showed his badge. "We'd like to ask you a few more questions."

  "I know who you are. Come right this way." She led them into a spacious entry foyer resembling the outside gardens. Massive pots holding huge feathery palms filled the corners and encroached on the cluster of chairs and occasional tables in the center of the room. The men shared a small rattan sofa, and Mrs. Valentine sat in one of the facing chairs. "How can I help you?"

  "Ma'am, we haven't made much progress," Howard said.

  "I'm not surprised." Irene Valentine was a pretty woman in her early fifties, petite and trim. She wore a simple shorts and tee shirt set and no jewelry except for a modest pair of diamond earrings. Despite her obvious lack of sympathy for her departed husband, she had a gentle manner and a soft voice.

  "May I ask why not?" Howard said.

  She raised an eyebrow, peering at Howard from the corner of her eye. "He wasn't a well-liked man. Many people wanted him out of their hair—me included, I might add. I'm not surprised people aren't rushing forward to help solve his murder." Though her attitude was flippant, her voice remained soft.

  "Did you kill him?" Alfonzo asked.

  "Oh, heavens no. We rarely spent any time together, just at social functions where image was important. Several times a week, we'd have our morning coffee together to discuss the business of the household. I have my charity work. He has . . . had his moneymaking.

  "This house is quite large, his quarters were on one side and mine are on the other. We went our separate ways years ago. We talked about divorce, then decided continuing together made more sense, for better or worse and all that."

  "How long had your relationship been on those terms?" Alfonzo asked.

  "Non-relationship, you mean. We drifted apart when he started taking malpractice cases. That angered my family and embarrassed me. We always had a large number of friends, many doctors from around town included. Suddenly, we were the enemy."

  "Why did you continue to put up with it? I understand you didn't need the money."

  "John, our son, was in school. He was a tough kid. He needed two parents. Warren was a horrible husband, but a good father. He was the one who dealt with John's problems."

  "You stayed together for your son."

  "Yes, and I guess for us, too. I didn't want to admit my family was right, that I shouldn't have married him. After John went into the service, I moved across the house."

  "Was your husband cheating on you?" As usual, Alfonzo persisted in his line of questioning. His direct approach often produced results.

  "Oh no, at least I don't suppose so. I wouldn't care if he had. We weren't very physical even when we thought we were in love." Irene Valentine didn't blush.

  This lady is tough, Howard thought, as he picked up the questioning. "Where's your son now?"

  "He's a fighter pilot in the Air Force. He's stationed out of the country, has been for years. Warren forced him into the military, and he paid him back by liking it. I wanted him to be a professional, maybe a doctor like his grandfather and uncle. He wanted to fly airplanes."

  "Where is he stationed?"

  "In the middle of the Pacific. Don't worry, he didn't poison his father. He didn't care enough about him to poison him."

  Howard asked for information to verify her son's location. Irene Valentine rattled off his address and credentials.

  Alfonzo said, "Do you have the bottle of Amaretto your husband used to prepare his celebration cocktail?"

  "I don't."

  "You sure?"

  "Certainly. He didn't prepare it here. He ordered it from King's. He had a special relationship with one of the clerks who would deliver it, ready mixed, to his office on a moment's notice, day or night. I can imagine what he tipped the guy."

  "If you rarely talked to your husband, how do you know about that relationship?" Howard asked.

  "Oh, it went on for years. The bills came to the house. I paid them when I handled the household accounts."

  "King's Beverages?" Alfonzo said.

  "It's down the street from the courthouse." Irene Valentine smiled. "Gentlemen, am I a suspect?"

  "Of course, the spouse is always a suspect until proven otherwise. Statistically, it's the way things work out the majority of the time." Howard drummed his fingers on the end table. "Is your brother still here?"

  "Oh, heavens no. He left the weekend after we learned Warren was poisoned."

  "Where was he when your husband was murdered?"

  "Oh, now my brother is a suspect."

  Alfonzo said, "I couldn't miss the hatred in his voice when I was here last."

  "That was mild. But alas, Jonah was in Houston when Warren died. I know because he was the first person I called. He was in the operating room there. They rang the call in for me. I remember him saying he'd been working on the same case for four hours, but he was almost done. He said he'd catch the first flight east. Since my parents died, it is only Jonah and I in the immediate family. We were always close. We're closer now."

  "Close enough for him to hire a killer for you?" Alfonzo asked.

  "Oh, no. Jonah didn't see any particular reason for me to change my living arrangements. As I said, I came and went as I liked and didn't have to contend with Warren too often. It's strange, but now that's he's gone, I miss knowing he's there on the other side of the house."

  ***

  "Al, did you get into Valentine's house the last time you were there?" Howard asked, pulling to a stop in front of King's Beverages.

  "Mrs. Valentine and I sat in the same place in the foyer. Makes you wonder what's inside." The day was warming. Alfonzo opened his jacket.

  Howard's cell phone played the first few notes of Ode to Joy. "Epstein."

  "This is Chamberlain Thorne. I'd prefer to meet you at the police station rather than in my office."

  Howard raised an eyebrow. "That's fine. When can you be there?"

  "In an hour, if that's good for you."

  "I thought you were going into surgery?"

  "Unfortunately, the patient died before we could get him to the operating room. There is something I think you need to know though. He was a paralegal for Valentine's firm, worked with Henninger. His name, by the way, was Iglesia."

  "What happened in the accident?"

  "Single car accident. The paramedics said he ran into a telephone pole at about eighty. Bystanders said it didn't look like he made any attempt to break." Thorne reiterated his plans to meet
the detectives at the department and hung up.

  After filling Alfonzo in, Howard continued down Flamingo Drive toward the police department. He stayed far to the right, letting traffic race by.

  "That's three deaths in the same law firm in a little more than two weeks," Alfonzo said.

  "Wonder what's going on. Practically speaking, the only suspects left on our list are Thorne and the two guys who swore they'd get revenge—the good ol' boy and the gangsta."

  "We'd better make sure the medical examiner doesn't consider the cause of death obvious for Iglesia."

  Howard handed Alfonzo his cell phone. He listened as Alfonzo asked the ME to review the case for any connection to the deaths of the two lawyers.

  Alfonzo handed the cell phone back. "He said, and I quote, 'You dumb son-of-a-bitch, of course we're going to look at the case.'"

  Fourteen

  "Magdalena, this is Tony in the ED," he said into the telephone. It was Thursday morning, January 20, and sleeping drunks and mad dog weirdoes brought out by the full moon filled almost every stretcher. "This place is howling. Every cage is occupied. Can I borrow a secretary for a few hours? Paula called in sick."

  "Sure, Tony. It'll help my budget. It's the other secretary's turn to float, but I'm sure Dori Grilley will volunteer. That okay with you? It'd give you a chance to work on . . . you know." Magdalena hinted at Tony's earlier comments about Dori being a possible mole in the malpractice lawsuit epidemic.

  "That's a plan. I'll take her."

  "Have you found out anything more?"

  "In truth, I haven't had time to snoop much. Jen's under the weather."

  "I hope she's recovering."

  "She went to work today. Insisted. Said she felt better after her days off. She wanted to talk to her director and arrange for leave. Her next appointment with Thorne is early next week."

  "I'll pray for her. I've worked a lot of Oncology. HD patients do well."

  "Thank you." Lost in thought, Tony hung up the phone.

  Minutes later the petite Dori Grilley skipped and wiggled up to him. As usual, her interpretation of the unit secretary's uniform caught the attention of every male she encountered, Tony included. Painted on taupe slacks left little doubt that her thong panties covered only the essentials. The required white blouse—in Dori's case a tight spandex pullover—revealed full breasts and erect nipples. Her smock draped over her arm. Before he could greet her, she ran her hand down his bicep, caressing his muscles. "Hi, I volunteered to come down."