Second Degree (Benjamin Davis Book Series 2)

by A. Turk

  The attending doctor, whose nameplate read Mann, looked doubtfully at Charlie and, with scorn in his voice, stated, “You’ve been with this patient all this time, and that’s all you can tell me about her condition. As you know, Doctor, how I proceed in my treatment depends on what drugs she’s on. What’s her drug of choice? Without that information I’m flying blind.”

  “That’s the best I can do, sorry. Over the years she’s used more than a dozen different drugs. I didn’t follow her into the bathroom. I would be guessing, and that would be worse than not knowing.”

  “What’s your relationship with the patient?”

  “She’s my fiancée,” he consistently lied.

  With that, Dr. Mann turned and returned to his patient. Charlie remained in place a few minutes, then left for the waiting room. He sat down, and the bottle in his front pocket dug into his groin. He adjusted his pants.

  A tall woman in a black pantsuit with a gold shield visible at her belt approached him. She extended her hand. Before Charlie shook it, he looked at his watch, ten fifty-nine.

  “I’m Detective Haber, Hewes City police.”

  Chief Detective Kristin Haber arrived at the hospital, unbeknownst to Charlie, a few minutes after the ambulance. She’d been at the station when the 911 came in. Haber instructed Officer Dawson to remain at the scene, seal the apartment with crime scene tape, and prevent anyone from entering the apartment.

  When she got to the hospital, Haber didn’t make her move right away. She wanted to observe him.

  Charlie eyed Haber with suspicion. She looked tough, and she was. Haber was a sixteen-year veteran of the Hewes City police and was respected and regarded as a no-nonsense detective.

  She was tall, almost six feet, but she clearly had a woman’s body. She had short blonde hair, which gave her a tough dyke-like quality, but after being with her a few minutes, that stereotypical conclusion was rejected. She was a woman who had succeeded in a man’s world.

  “Is she alive? Her name’s Robyn Eden, right?”

  Charlie barely choked out, “She’s still with us, but I don’t know for how long.”

  Charlie was in a near state of hysteria. Tears were running down both cheeks. He was sobbing uncontrollably. In an effort to comfort him, the detective put her hand on his shoulder.

  Haber put her arm around him and drew him close. She felt the pill bottle in his front pocket and wondered what it was. Charlie cried hard into her shoulder. Haber was not only providing emotional support to Charlie but also evaluating this potential witness/suspect.

  Dr. Mann walked over and in a grim voice reported, “She’s gone. I called it at eleven thirty-six. I’m very sorry, but there was nothing we could do.”

  Charlie fell to his knees, and his face went blank. Haber read the look as one of complete despair and grief. He wasn’t acting. Haber could sense his deep loss. Haber lifted him up from under his arms. She was surprisingly strong for someone of only a hundred and fifty pounds. She worked out at least four days a week at the police gym, and on Sundays she took her two chocolate labs, Hershey and Nestle, for a six-mile run around Radnor Lake.

  She led Charlie to the Meditation Room, a small room the hospital set aside for clergy to meet with grieving families. It was a room too often needed at a hospital. Detective Haber mustered up her most compassionate voice and asked, “Doctor, what happened?”

  It was an open-ended question, non-threatening. Charlie burst into tears again and began sobbing.

  She tried again, “What happened to Ms. Eden?”

  “I don’t know. We were making love, and her heart just gave out.”

  His whole body was trembling. He gripped the chair for support, and it started to chatter from his trembling.

  The cause of death was drugs, not sex, thought Haber. He needs to tell me what she was on and how she got them. She was about to ask that very question when Charlie began to lose it again. He couldn’t be that good an actor, could he?

  Between his shakes and shivers, he squeaked out, “I’ve lost my baby.”

  Haber, trying to calm him, repeated the common assurance, “She’s in a better place.”

  Charlie shook his head and blurted out, “They’re in a better place.”

  “Who?”

  “Robyn and our baby. She was pregnant; that’s why I came to see her. I was trying to save both her and the baby. My baby, my child.”

  Haber was shocked. The news came out of left field, and she simply wasn’t prepared. The pregnancy would have been revealed anyway via the autopsy report, but that would be provided down the road.

  He calmed down a bit, and she put her hand on his shoulder before cautiously continuing to question him.

  Charlie explained that he lived in New York and was in town for the long holiday as a good time to try to reason with Robyn.

  “When did you come down?”

  “Friday afternoon. Robyn’s an addict. She was out of control. I was trying to convince her to get help. We were having intercourse, and she complained of severe chest pain so I called 911. I performed CPR until the paramedics arrived. I can’t believe this happened again.” The words just slipped out.

  “When?”

  Between sobs Charlie mumbled, “Derby weekend last year.”

  Haber decided to change the subject. She could call Louisville later and get the details. So she asked, “Did Ms. Eden have a history of heart disease or any other serious medical problem?”

  He replied, “I wasn’t her cardiologist, but she didn’t have a history of heart disease.” Then he changed the subject, “I need to call her family. Anything else?”

  “Make those calls, and we’ll resume my questioning. One last thing: whose name is the apartment under?”

  “I don’t know. I paid the rent for her. Robyn was a songwriter and performer. I paid most of her bills.”

  “Do I have your permission to search the apartment? If she was a drug addict, I suspect we’ll find her stash, and that might shed light on the cause of her death.”

  The question changed Charlie’s demeanor. It was like a light switch was turned on, a total transformation. He became all business.

  “Absolutely not! No search warrant. I’m not going to turn Robyn’s death into a three-ring circus. She was an addict, and her death was tragic. I’ve got to make those phone calls.” He fled the Meditation Room and went into the hall.

  Haber looked at her watch. It was eleven forty-eight.

  Detective Haber didn’t like being dismissed by him, but she had to admit that the conversation could wait while the family was informed. Better to let him be the bearer of bad news than her. Eventually she’d interview Robyn Eden’s next of kin but not today.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  SOME FRIENDS GET TOGETHER

  Tuesday, July 4, 2000

  (About An Hour Earlier)

  It was just about eleven when the big finale of the Hillwood Country Club’s fireworks lit up the sky with explosions of bright colors and deafening noise. Without fail, the club supplied twenty-five minutes of free fireworks. This year, the Davises’ one hundred twenty guests gathered in their backyard around the swimming pool and oohed and ahed. The Davis home was so close to the source of the fireworks that the observers could smell the gunpowder in the air, and the smoke drifted into the backyard.

  It is a clear night, not too many stars, the blacker the better, Davis thought.

  As the fireworks ended, Davis checked his watch, eleven twenty-eight. It was pretty late, and the party would be breaking up quickly. Davis smiled as he looked around at the happy faces at the party. He mingled among his guests who seemed to be having a fun time. And why not? They’d been well fed and entertained. Sparing no expense, Davis arranged for the main courses: a roasted pig cooked over an open pit and fried chicken submerged in a wire basket in a vat of hot oil. The Davises also offered all the fixings: hush puppies, white beans, and fries. Davis joked with several others that his kosher grandfather would turn over in his
grave if he knew that his grandson was serving pork on the 4th. It was funny because it was true.

  Davis consumed three plates of food. Liza saw the first two plates. He ate the third out of her view. Davis knew he was already in trouble for going back for seconds.

  The guest list included family members, clients, neighbors, politicians, and other members of the Bar. His in-laws, Dr. John and Patsy Caldwell, looked like they were really having a good time. Davis noticed Sammie and Morty sitting at an isolated table. He looked down and saw the smoke rising from Morty’s cigar. Davis laughed. Morty was braver than he’d thought, smoking in front of his cardiologist, Davis’s father-in-law. Morty fought the Nazis, so Davis guessed Dr. John Caldwell was manageable.

  Davis took a deep breath and took a moment to ponder his success. He had a sense of accomplishment in what he’d done. Then he looked at his children, Caroline and Jake. They were standing around with neighborhood kids and kids of longtime friends, having a ball.

  And then there was the lovely Liza. Davis was dedicated to her to a fault. She put up with all his quirks, which many wives wouldn’t. She preferred to nag him instead of leave him. He was a very lucky man.

  Davis walked over to Peter Nichols and Valerie Daniels, who were sitting on a wooden swing, pushing off with their feet under a one-hundred-year-old oak tree. Davis was very proud of that old tree.

  Valerie was running for re-election. They’d been talking for hours. Davis thought they must have been talking strategy.

  “Great party as always, Ben,” Peter loudly announced.

  They talked Democratic politics for a good thirty minutes; they were some of the last ones at the party. It was about midnight when Davis decided to change the subject.

  In a concerned but hopeful voice he asked the senator, “How’s your sister, Robyn, doing? Is she still with Charlie Garcia?”

  Valerie’s body language immediately changed and gave away her answer. Davis, a quick study of body language from reading witnesses and jurors, watched as this proud and powerful woman became humbled. He could also see the anguish on her face.

  “She’s out of control, and I admit, I’m desperate. I turned to Charlie Garcia for help; he’s still a part of her life. She’s pregnant with his child. He’s with her now. I spoke to him on Thursday and told him about the pregnancy. He at least admitted to me that he’d been with her in Nassau recently, which makes him the father. We agreed that was the time of conception. He promised to try to convince her to go to rehab. She’s a complete mess, a full-blown junkie.”

  Davis and Peter were aware of Robyn’s problems. She’d worked for Peter, and they all knew that ended badly.

  An emotional person, Peter said in an unsteady voice, “What a waste! She’s such a beautiful and talented young woman. I’m sorry I ever gave her a job and introduced her to Charlie. He’s nothing but trouble with a capital T. I was fooled by his aristocratic air and charm. I misjudged him. I made him my partner, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. Thank God for Ben, or I’d still be dealing with the problems he created. I can’t believe, Valerie, that Robyn’s pregnant and he is going to be a part of her life forever through their child. I pity Robyn, and I pity their child.”

  “Believe it or not, Charlie is my last hope to save Robyn. He still has influence over her, and I’m waiting to hear from him, whether he convinced her to face up to her addiction and enter rehab again.”

  Just then the senator’s cell phone rang, and she excused herself. When she returned, she had a strange, blank look on her face. It was obvious that something was very wrong. Before either Davis or Peter could ask, in a weak and quivering voice, she squeezed out, “That was Charlie. Robyn’s overdosed, and she’s been admitted to Hewes County Hospital. Ben, could you drive me there? I don’t think I’m up to driving, and I may need your legal talent.”

  Peter jumped to his feet. “I’m coming too. I know Charlie better than either of you. I’ll get the truth out of him.”

  Davis excused himself, conferred with Liza, and he, Peter, and the senator jumped into Davis’s black Eldorado convertible and sped off to the hospital. They were at the emergency room of Hewes County Hospital in less than twenty minutes; it was just before one.

  The emergency room was crowded. There was an accident involving two cars of teenagers. There were also the predictable injuries of the 4th, including burns and mangled limbs from M80s and other incendiary devices.

  Davis walked up to a physician with Peter and Valerie right behind him. “Good evening, sir. This is Senator Daniels. She’s Robyn Eden’s sister. What’s Robyn’s condition?”

  A young resident in blue scrubs glanced up, cleared his throat, and looked Davis straight in the face. “I regret to inform you that Ms. Eden was pronounced dead more than an hour ago. My condolences, Senator Daniels. She was barely alive when the EMTs brought her in, and there was nothing we could do to save her.”

  Davis and Peter each grabbed one of Valerie’s arms, preventing her collapse to the floor. The two men dragged her to a chair in the waiting room, and Peter left to get a glass of water. Davis put his arm around her, and she sobbed into his shoulder. Peter returned with the water, and she desperately gulped it down.

  As the three sat there and tried to digest what they’d been told, another doctor approached and introduced himself, “I’m Dr. Randolph Mann. I’m the attending. Ms. Daniels, would you like to talk with me in private?”

  Between sobs, she replied, “No, sir. This is my friend and attorney Benjamin Davis and my friend Dr. Peter Nichols. You can speak freely in front of them.”

  “Senator Daniels, you were aware that your sister was an IV drug user? She died of an overdose.”

  “She’s had a substance abuse problem for almost the last ten years. Do you know what she died from?”

  “I’m waiting on the blood work, and the police have already ordered an autopsy, but it was definitely an IV and her injection site was her groin area. That’s not an easy self-injection site. It’s used to try to hide one’s drug use from others. Do you know a Dr. Charles Garcia? He came in with her by ambulance.”

  “He’s Robyn’s off-and-on boyfriend. Is he still here?”

  “He’s in the chapel. He was not able to give me a good medical history when your sister was admitted. I found some inconsistencies in what he told me. The police initially questioned him, but he asked to be left alone in the chapel before they resume their questioning.”

  “What was the exact time my sister died?”

  “The code was called at eleven thirty-six.”

  “When did Dr. Garcia know she was dead?”

  “The moment it happened he was standing outside the room.”

  Davis was overtaken by anger. He’d looked at his watch and tried to figure out when Daniels got the cell phone call. It was right about midnight. “That bastard knew Robyn was dead when he called you. Where’s the chapel?”

  Dr. Mann informed him it was the fourth door on the right. Davis ran down the hall and threw open the stained glass door. Charlie was sitting in the third wooden pew with his face in his hands, crying. Peter and Valerie weren’t far behind Davis.

  “Charlie, you good-for-nothing son of a bitch. You knew she was dead when you called Valerie!”

  Valerie chimed in, “Ben’s right, Charlie. You called me right at midnight, and the doctor just told us she was dead twenty-four minutes before you made your call. You should have told me she was dead.”

  Charlie looked up and, with tears in his eyes, responded, “I didn’t know how to tell you that Robyn was gone. I tried and tried to convince her to go to rehab, but I was too late.”

  Peter spoke for the first time, “You didn’t make her an addict, but you encouraged her. You knew better than any of us that she needed to be protected from herself and watched over. Instead you convinced me to turn her into a walking billboard. Shame on me!

  “She underwent half a dozen surgeries, and each time she was given a narcotic for pain. Then you
unethically made her fall in love with you, yet you were unwilling to make any commitment to her. Shame on you! The last thing that girl needed was unreturned love. When she walked out, she turned to the road and drugs. You’re the one who pushed her out the door.

  “And then there’s last year’s Derby. We don’t know what happened because your henchman Harrelson covered it up, but we do know Robyn was hospitalized and you wrote the prescription. Shame on you!

  “You knew your relationship was poisonous for both of you, yet you continued to see her, and then you reckless son of a bitch, you knocked her up. Shame on you!

  “That brings us to this weekend. The cops aren’t through with you, and you’ve got a lot of explaining to do. I’m going to enjoy watching you squirm.”

  Davis put in his two cents, “What a lousy excuse for a doctor you are, Charlie. You’re also a lousy excuse for a human being.”

  “Don’t jump on me, asshole. You’ve always had it in for me.”

  Charlie thought about the bottle in his front pocket. He wished he had another oxycodone, but he didn’t.

  “You’ve ruined so many people’s lives. You’re a real smart-ass, Charlie. I hope you’ve got the right answers when the cops resume questioning you about this poor woman’s death. My advice is to get a good lawyer. I’m not available.”

  The three friends exited the hospital, leaving Charlie alone in the chapel.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  A DEFENSE IS NEEDED

  Wednesday, July 5, 2000

  Haber was still in the lounge and needed to be dealt with. Charlie didn’t care if Haber wanted to question him. He was going home. At least that’s where he thought he was going.

  Charlie was walking toward her, and without a word, he walked right past her. Haber wasn’t used to being ignored. Who did he think he was?

  With as much authority as she could muster, Haber asked loudly, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  Charlie snapped back, “I’m out of here. I’ve got Robyn’s mother and sister to contend with.” Over his shoulder as he walked away, he said, “I’ve got to organize my thoughts. Those won’t be easy phone calls.”