Burnout (Goosey Larsen Book 1)

by James Vachowski

  “Excuse me, Doctor Demming, I’m so sorry to interrupt again but I thought of one more question. The thought just occurred to me that perhaps the two victims this week might have been participants in one of your pharmacology research studies. That might explain why they were found near the Medical University, wearing hospital gowns and with an unidentified chemical in their blood. Their names weren’t in the hospital’s patient records, but if they were participants in a research study then they might have been listed on a separate roster.”

  When I saw that look of absolute fury in Doctor Demming’s stare, I knew that I’d definitely overstayed my welcome. It looked as if he was trying to will my body to burst into flames, but I crossed my fingers anyway and hoped for the best. “Would you mind if I looked through your own patient files? It would only take a moment, and --”

  The doctor cut me off. If he had merely been furious before, his mood instantly shot up to a state of absolute rage. “Absolutely not, Detective! Do you have any idea just how competitive the pharmaceutical industry is? The stakes are huge! I have to sign a nondisclosure agreement before the University can even discuss the possibility of testing new medications. Secrecy is such a priority that my researchers aren’t even permitted to discuss their work with their families!”

  I should’ve kept my big mouth shut, but I’d had just about enough of the Doctor’s smug attitude. I mean, who the hell did he think he was, trying to keep me from closing out my cases? Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Well, I just don’t see how I can complete my investigations without access to your records, sir. I guess I’ll probably just have to see a judge about getting a subpoena.”

  Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Doctor Demming absolutely lost it at that point. He screamed, “Medical records are confidential! Do you hear me? Confidential! Do you have any grasp of the concept of doctor-patient privilege?”

  I realized that he was right, and I let out a long sigh. There was no way in hell a judge was ever going to give me a subpoena for those patient records if I didn’t even have any kind of criminal evidence to show him. All I had to work with was a suicide and an accidental drowning, and in the big scheme of things those just didn’t really matter. I held my tongue while the doctor caught his breath, and I tried to figure out how to extract myself without pissing him off any further. There was no point in flapping my gums anymore since I’d already been suspended for rudeness more times than I cared to count. In the end, I settled for closing my mouth and nodding my head.

  The doctor started in on a menacing lecture. He was clearly still angry, but at least he’d kept his composure and lowered his voice to a more civilized volume: “Confidentiality between doctors and patients,” he began as I settled in for the lesson, “means that I would be breaking my oath if I were to release any personal information on our research participants. This includes even simply confirming that a particular person was a participant in one of our studies. For example, the Medical University currently has several ongoing studies regarding the nature of addiction to illegal narcotics. I’m sure you can understand how the bond of trust between a doctor and a patient would be shattered if, for example, we reported the names of drug abusers to law enforcement professionals such as yourself.”

  Keeping tabs on junkies actually sounded like a pretty good idea, but I knew better than to say so. I stuck with my game plan of nodding silently while trying to look as dumb as possible.

  Doctor Demming continued his speech, but at least it appeared as if he had blown off most of his steam. Personally, I think that every so often some bigshots just need to be reminded of how important their work is. It must be reassuring or something.

  “Doctor-patient confidentiality is a most sacred privilege that has amassed a mountain of legal precedent. Without that basic level of trust, my work would simply not be possible. I’m sure you understand, Detective, that if you feel the need to continue inquiring along these lines, then I must insist on all future conversations being directed to the Medical University’s legal staff.”

  I nodded once more.

  He finally sat down, giving me a half-wave with his left hand. “Good day to you then.”

  I nodded one last time for good measure before silently walking out, all the while thinking about how much I hated successful people. Rich people might have made their mark in business but they were always such weaklings that they could only threaten you with their lawyers. It’s been my experience that there’s a sliding scale for those people where the more money they make, the bigger jerks they become. I’d dealt with my share of assholes in my career, but Doctor Demming was far and away the biggest one.

  Still, I had to pause and ponder this fact for a moment. If my sliding scale theory was accurate, then since Demming was a total jerk then he must have been really loaded. I stopped on the sidewalk, whipped out my notebook once more, and jotted down a reminder to start hanging out around the pharmacology division. If I was serious about landing a rich sugar momma to take care of me, I’d have to go where the money was.

  18.

  It was getting pretty late by the time I finally made it back to the Department and I was starting to feel another headache coming on, but I guess that was to be expected. Since becoming a detective, I’ve noticed that the later I stayed past four o’clock, the more likely I was to start feeling ill. I think it must have had something to do with spending so much time around all of these mid-career detectives. Staring at these guys all day was just so depressing. I mean there they were, most of them halfway done with life already, and all they had to show for their work was a tiny desk in a crappy office. I think it bothered me so much because somewhere deep down in my heart, I knew I’d probably be stuck at CPD for life too. Even the dull gray walls were aware of that fact, which is why they always seemed to be laughing at me and saying, “You’re here for twelve more years…get used to it.”

  I had a case file open with my feet propped up on my desk when Big Jim disrupted my work by walking in. He had this particular way of taking his time that made his movements seem like less of a walk and more of a lumber. By the look of his ever-expanding waistline, it probably wouldn’t be long until he’d be restricted to waddling. Jim lifted his head at me and jabbed a sausagey-looking finger toward his office, so I obediently got up to follow him in.

  He flopped down hard behind his desk and I winced, feeling sympathy for his chair springs.

  “How’s about you shut the door behind you this time?” he said.

  I did, but hesitated before choosing my own seat just in case Doctor Demming had actually been angry enough to call in a complaint. I doubted that enough time had passed for an angry phone call to be processed through the switchboards, so I went for the glory and chose the chair on the right. It was directly in the line of fire of my boss’ good eye but I was feeling brave and besides, I had nothing to fear from Big Jim. That guy hates rich people even more than I do.

  Jim clicked the mouse on his computer a few times before bothering to look over at me. I was tempted to ask him what his solitaire score was, but I held my tongue. Finally, he licked his lips and said, “I’ve got to head up to Columbia for my little niece’s wedding on Saturday. I’ll have to get an early start, so I’ll probably be cutting out of work sometime after lunch tomorrow.”

  I nodded, but didn’t say anything. This was nothing new since like most lieutenants, Big Jim cut out of work early almost every Friday. The only unusual thing I noticed was that he had bothered to actually make up an excuse this time. I figured he was just testing out his lie on me, trying to fine-tune the sound before repeating it to Captain Russell.

  Jim glanced back at his solitaire game and clicked the mouse once more. “I need you to fill me in on your cases today, so I can turn in my weekly reports to the Captain before I head out.”

  “Sounds good, boss.” In actuality, it sounded great. Whenever Jim left the office early, I usually gave him a fifteen-minute head start before heading for the
house myself. I wasn’t about to complain, so I whipped open my new notebook and said, “Leonard Encienario.”

  Jim double clicked the mouse, shuffling the deck. “Go.”

  “The case is closed, no further investigation needed. The coroner’s office is still waiting on SLED to identify whatever chemical was in this guy’s blood sample, but they’re ruling it an accidental drowning regardless. I’ll toss the test results into his file whenever they come back.”

  Jim snorted. “More like if they come back, you know how slow those SLED dicks work. Okay, but make sure to give yourself two dots on this week’s stat sheet. One win for closing the accidental death case, and another for solving Champaign PD’s missing person file.”

  I smiled. You had to love it, getting twice the recognition for only one job. “Whatever you say, boss. Next up was Hooks Thomas.”

  Big Jim looked up from his game, sporting a big grin. “Don’t think you’re getting a closure stat for that bum, too.”

  I smiled back at him. “I better get another one, Jim! Christ, I spent the whole morning working on his case file. I swear, Hooks was as big a pain in the ass dead as he was alive. We finally ended up calling the case a vandalism because of the damage to the store’s air conditioning unit, but I closed that out with no investigation needed due to the offender’s death.”

  “Good riddance.”

  I wished all of my cases cleared so easily. “Let’s see…next was Shawn McGurn. The coroner’s office ruled it a suicide, so I’ve closed his file too. But get this, Katie Maslow said his bloodwork was almost identical to Encienario’s, and they found the same chemicals during the autopsy. Again, they couldn’t tell what it was, but it doesn’t change the ruling on the cause of death. I’ll just update his file the same way whenever the SLED lab reports come back.”

  Big Jim scratched his chin and looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah. Go ahead and do that for now. He was another missing person, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, give yourself a double stat for him, too. Performance reviews are due next month, and I’ll need all the ammo I can get if we want the Captain to reconsider that ‘Below Average’ rating of yours.”

  I smiled. Yeah, things were definitely looking up for Detective Goosey Larsen as I arrived at the final name on my list. “Last, but certainly not least, James Smithson.”

  Jim turned his focus back to his game. “Go ahead.”

  “His missing person file with the Department is still active. Also, I’ve cross-listed him as a person of interest in Squealer’s B+E case. I already put out some fliers for the patrol cops, so once they pick him up I’ll snag a judge to sign out an arrest warrant. That way, once they bring him in for the vandalism I’ll be able to clear his missing person status at the same time.”

  Big Jim crowed triumphantly. “You had a streak going for a minute there, Goosey, but I knew you couldn’t close them all! But seriously, I’ve got to give you credit, you came through with flying colors this week. When did you turn into such a go-getter?”

  I wondered if he meant that as a compliment or an insult, since Jim is hardly the type of boss who enjoys supervising hard-charging officers. He usually says that aggressive cops are too much of a liability and besides that, they make everyone else look bad.

  He looked up from the computer, then slowly leaned back in his seat. The chair squeaked on its springs with a harsh, grating plea for mercy. “Was that it, or do you have anything else pending this week?”

  I pretended to think for a moment before I finally said, “Not that I know of.” The only thing I actually had planned was to slide out of work early on Friday and spend my afternoon lying in the sand at Folly Beach.

  “Okay. Get your reports turned in before close of business tomorrow.” When Big Jim talks about the close of business on a Friday he usually means before eleven a.m., but it wasn’t my place to question his schedule. I just sat there for another minute, taking a good long look around the office. Most of the commanders were big on hanging their degrees or awards or family pictures up on the walls, but Big Jim had none of these. His office walls were a solid sea of gray, the same shade that covered every other wall in Central with the only difference being that his were built from a smaller, executive-looking style of brick.

  A quiet, almost relaxing feeling had settled over the station by that point since most of the useless nine to five zombies had already headed home for the day. The buzzing sounds of people pretending to work had ceased completely, and the only noise left was the soft clicking from Jim’s mouse as he shuffled a new deck of cards.

  Everything seemed right with the world, but I still couldn’t shake the same nagging feeling that I’d had since leaving the Medical University. Big Jim seemed to be in a civil mood, so I figured it was a safe time to bounce a few ideas off of him.

  “Hey, Jim. Doesn’t it seem odd to you that both McGurn and Encienario’s bloodwork came back with the same unknown chemical?”

  He let out a curse, then double-clicked. “Nope.”

  I didn’t really have anywhere else to be, so I figured I’d press the issue. “I mean, can you remember the last time that Katie Maslow didn’t have an answer to something?”

  Jim just grunted and wrinkled his brow with intense concentration, but I knew he wasn’t paying me one bit of attention. He was leaning down over his computer monitor in a face-to-face battle with a simulated Vegas dealer. “So send McGurn’s blood up to SLED, too.”

  I sighed. “Boss, Katie Maslow’s already taken care of it, but here’s the thing. When I went down to MUSC to talk to the victim in that B+E case Squealer dumped off on me, it turns out he’s some kind of big deal research doctor there.”

  “So what? It’s a hospital, of course they got doctors there.” Double click.

  It sounded like Big Jim was doing his best to blow me off, but the man was batting out of his league. I knew all the best moves for avoiding a conversation, so I just kept my momentum up. “Here’s the thing, Jim. This Doctor Demming, he’s the director of the pharmacology division.” I saw my boss mouthing the word, so I added, “That means he leads research studies on new drugs.”

  Jim finally looked up at me. “Did you know that when the city switched to that new health plan, they stopped covering my prescription for Viagra? It’s bullcrap.”

  I threw up my hands in frustration. “Jim, listen to me! Katie Maslow said that the toxicology reports might not be back for at least four weeks. When Doctor Demming told me that he specialized in drug research studies, I asked him if he wouldn’t mind taking a look at those blood samples since maybe he could pick up on something that Katie’s people missed. Plus, it’d save us from having to deal with those goofballs up in Columbia.”

  Big Jim gave his mouse another click and cursed under his breath, which I took to mean that he’d reached the end of another deck. “Are you nuts? He’d probably end up billing the city for his time. Do you have any idea how much those doctors make?”

  After that afternoon’s interview I had a pretty good idea, but I knew better than to say so. “Well anyway, it doesn’t matter. He said he just didn’t have the time.”

  “Good.”

  “But just think about it for a minute, boss. Here’s a division of the Medical University that does research studies on new drugs, right? And both Encienario and McGurn were found dead on that campus. Both were wearing hospital gowns, and they both had a very similar but unidentified chemical in their blood.”

  Big Jim finally stopped his game long enough to look up at me, scratching his forehead in confusion. I knew I’d gotten his full attention because he hadn’t bothered to start up another new game. “So….what are you saying, Goosey?”

  It was the opening I’d been waiting for, so I pounced on it. “What if McGurn and Encienario were participants in one of Demming’s drug research studies? Come to think of it, they both went missing right around the same time, too. There’s just too many similarities for all of this to be just a coincidence.
”

  Big Jim chewed on his bottom lip, an act which reminded me how close it was to dinnertime. He looked up at the ceiling for a long moment, then back down at me. “Okay. So what?”

  And that was it. I couldn’t give him an answer since I didn’t quite understand it myself. None of the week’s cases really made sense, but they sure weren’t adding up the way I wanted them to. Something was obviously still missing and the only answer I could give was to shrug my shoulders. “I just don’t know, boss.”

  Jim looked a little ticked off, either because it was getting dark and he was still at work or because I had nearly dug up extra work on a Thursday night. He gave me his best stare-down and said, “Let me tell you something, Goosey. You’re assigned to work missing persons. Missing. Persons. You got that?”

  Great, I thought, now it was Big Jim’s turn to throw his weight around. Every so often, people in charge feel the need to strut their stuff and remind you where you fall in the pecking order. I hadn’t minded Doctor Demming’s harassment earlier since he was a wealthy prick and didn’t know any better, but the problem with Jim flexing his muscles was that I’d personally seen his paystubs. I knew exactly how much that dude took home every two weeks and even though it was a lot more loot than I was claiming, it wasn’t nearly enough to justify being a jerk. I sighed and fell back on my original strategy of nodding silently.

  Jim snatched a handful of papers up off his desk and shoved them into a drawer. “Look at your own reports, Goosey. Leonard Encienario was ruled an accidental drowning, no signs of foul play. Christ, Squealer himself processed that case. If there’d been anything at all to find, you know that little weasel would have dug it up. And take Shawn McGurn while we’re at it. He was ruled a suicide and for good reason. Henderson County said he had no family or friends, remember? Hell, even I didn’t like the guy and I only knew him from your report.”