Code 15

by Gary Birken

Sporting an easy smile, Ben answered, “I loved Inherit the Wind.”

  “No doubt one of the great Broadway musicals of all time.”

  “Are you in or not?” he asked, getting up and extending his hand.

  “Totally in,” she told him.

  “C’mon. I’ll walk you back to the elevator. I have to get back to the airport.”

  It took a few seconds for Morgan’s grin to fade. Ben was certainly putting on the full-court press. She thought about how quickly their relationship was changing. It was exciting, but she had known more than one couple who had wonderful platonic relationships capsized forever by allowing romance in. There was no reason to be unnecessarily pessimistic but at the same time she would remain cautiously positive about her burgeoning relationship with Ben.

  CHAPTER 51

  DAY TWENTY-ONE

  Before submitting the coffee from her near-fatal flight for chemical analysis, Morgan made sure to locate a private laboratory that didn’t do business with Dade Presbyterian.

  She was familiar with these types of labs, which catered largely to local physicians and smaller businesses that drug tested their employees. After a number of phone calls, she finally settled on a small facility in west Hialeah. For the first time since purchasing her Thunderbird, she was relieved that the salesman had convinced her to buy the navigational system. Without it, she never would have found the tiny lab, which was sandwiched between a chiropractor’s office and a delicatessen.

  A three-note chime sounded when Morgan pushed open the front door. Standing behind the counter, a chunky man with a solitary eyebrow looked up from his morning newspaper.

  “Can I help you?” he asked. His nametag read Gordon Bowen.

  “I’d like to drop off this specimen for evaluation,” Morgan answered, handing him the plastic container.

  With an indifferent look on his face, Bowen held it up to the light. After studying it from every conceivable angle, he removed the cap and took three quick sniffs from a safe distance. Following an indiscernible grumble, he replaced the cap and placed the container on the counter.

  “I’m sorry, missy, but I’ve only been doing laboratory analysis for twenty years so you’re going to have to help me with this one a little.”

  “Help you?” Morgan asked.

  He pointed to the container. “What bodily fluid might this be, because if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was stale coffee.”

  “It is stale coffee.”

  After a fleeting look, he asked, “What am I testing this for—more caffeine than the manufacturer claims should be in there?”

  “I’d like you to run a complete toxicology panel on it.”

  He picked up the container again.

  “Let me guess. You’re on the outs with your boyfriend and you want to know if he’s trying to poison you.”

  “Does my reason really matter?”

  “Listen, missy. We’re not here to—”

  “It’s doctor. You may call me doctor.”

  “Excuse me,” he said mockingly, raising his hands. “Just so I have this right; you’re requesting that we analyze your morning cappuccino for lethal substances. Is that correct, Doctor?”

  “You got it. When will you have the results?” Morgan asked, seeing no reason to enter into a battle of the wits with somebody who was obviously unarmed.

  Bowen pushed an order pad across the counter.

  “If you’ll just fill this out, we should have the results early next week.”

  Feeling Bowen’s eyes all over her, Morgan quickly filled out the forms and headed for the door.

  The ride back to her high-rise seemed to go by much faster than the trip down.

  Once inside her condominium, Morgan leafed quickly through her mail and then went into her living room. Through a bay window, she gazed north along A1A. On the opposite side of the street, a large American flag atop a bank building waved outstretched in a sturdy ocean wind.

  Morgan walked over to a leather recliner her father had given her for Christmas. She sat down and hoisted her legs up on the footrest. She wasn’t positive, but for the first time her ankles seemed a little swollen to her. Even without the lab’s official report, she was convinced that the coffee would contain some type of tranquilizer. The mysterious phone call she received from Ben’s flight school no longer seemed so mysterious. Luring her away from her plane for a few minutes was all the time somebody would have needed to drug her coffee.

  The dilemma now facing her was what to do if her suspicions regarding the coffee proved to be correct. Reporting the information to the police or Eileen Hale would almost certainly backfire. They both doubted her mental stability and would probably assume she had tampered with the coffee herself to prove her conspiracy theory wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

  Morgan closed her eyes. She wasn’t prone to midday naps but when she felt herself becoming heavy-eyed, she surrendered and allowed herself to drift off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 52

  DAY TWENTY-TWO

  Located in Coral Springs, the Argosy Travel Agency was tucked away in a small but fashionable strip mall.

  Standing in the agency’s entranceway, Morgan gazed at a large grouping of extravagantly framed serigraphs of exotic destinations that adorned the light beige walls. She felt invisible among the dozen or so preoccupied agents who sat behind identical desks fiercely pecking away at their keyboards.

  After a couple of minutes, and with no apparent hope of being helped, Morgan strolled over to an elderly woman at a small desk who appeared less frenzied than her colleagues.

  “Excuse me,” Morgan began. “I’m looking for Adele Kaine.”

  The woman removed her reading glasses from the tip of her skeletal nose and let them drop on their eyeglass cord. With an exaggerated effort, she rotated her chair around and peered down the long central aisle.

  She gestured toward the back of the office and in a scratchy voice said, “That’s her at the second-to-last desk on the right.”

  “Thanks.”

  Adele was talking into a headset but looked up immediately when Morgan approached her desk. She covered the mouthpiece and whispered, “I’ll be off in a sec. Have a seat.”

  From the multitude of files, brochures, and pamphlets scattered across her desk, it looked as if her work area had been decimated by a major windstorm. Smartly dressed and sporting a French manicure, Adele wore a pricey diamond-and-ruby tennis bracelet but no rings. From the soft and wrinkle-free appearance of her face, Morgan surmised she had availed herself of a good plastic surgeon.

  “How can I help you?”

  “My name’s Morgan Connolly,” she said, extending her hand.

  “Have you used our agency before?”

  “Never.”

  “What type of trip are you planning?”

  “Actually, I’m not here about a vacation. I work at Dade Presbyterian. I’m an emergency room physician.”

  Adele’s pleasant smile faded into a circumspect stare. “I remember your name, now. You took care of my sons the night they died.”

  Morgan nodded. She had spent considerable time rehearsing for this moment, but now all of her preparation seemed woefully inadequate. In spite of her effort to appear calm, she suspected Adele sensed her apprehension. Dismissing the idea of being aloof any longer, she said, “I apologize for not calling first, but it’s rather important that I speak with you.”

  “I’m a little confused, Dr. Connolly. My sons died well over a year ago. Why would you come see me now?”

  “Because I need your help.” Morgan answered.

  “I don’t think I understand.”

  She then took an unhurried breath before explaining her predicament to Adele. “I’m being harassed. I have reason to believe you may know the man responsible.”

  Adele set her pen down.

  “I know what happened between you and my ex-husband the night my boys died. My question is, if you think you’re being harassed, why aren’t you talking to the
police?”

  Morgan was a little taken back by Adele’s candor but still wanted to proceed as gingerly as possible.

  “I have spoken with them. Let’s just say I’m having difficulty convincing them of my concerns.”

  “I’m sorry, Doctor, but I still don’t understand what I can do to help you.”

  Fearing Ben had been right and that she had made the trip in vain, Morgan said, “Ms. Kaine, it took every drop of courage I have to come here today. I wouldn’t be here unless I was feeling a little desperate.”

  After an uncomfortable few seconds of silence, Adele reached down, opened the bottom drawer of her desk, and pulled out her purse. “Why don’t you call me Adele?” she said, sliding the drawer shut and coming to her feet. “There’s a coffee shop a few stores down. We can talk there.”

  CHAPTER 53

  Encouraged, but with guarded optimism, Morgan followed Adele out of the travel agency and toward the coffee shop.

  There was no line and they each ordered a coffee. Adele reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet.

  “My treat,” Morgan said, placing a ten-dollar bill down on the counter.

  “Thanks. Do you want to sit inside or out?” Adele asked.

  Morgan looked around the coffee shop and said, “Out.”

  It was a dreary spring morning, but with the promise of the sun burning off the ash-colored clouds that filled the western sky. Morgan followed Adele past several empty tables, eventually sitting down toward the end of the sidewalk.

  Adele wasted no time with pleasantries. “Was there something specific you wanted to ask me?”

  “I guess the first thing I’d like to know is if you have any idea if your ex-husband’s still living in South Florida?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve only seen Mason once in the last five years or so, and that was at the funeral. We didn’t speak. In fact, we made sure to stay on opposite sides of the church. But to answer your question, I think he probably still lives in the area. I ran into one of his old golf buddies a few months ago. His name’s Charlie Shaiman. He leases high-end cars. Mason’s name barely came up, but Charlie mentioned he had gotten him a car recently.” Adele took a hard look at Morgan. “How sure are you that Mason’s the one who’s been harassing you?”

  Morgan took the first sip of her coffee. “I’m not sure. At the moment I’d call it an educated guess.”

  “So you came here today hoping I could explain his atrocious behavior to you.” Morgan nodded. “The answer’s simple,” Adele said with a relaxed shrug. “It’s because he was born that way.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Mason was born with two giant chips on his shoulder.” Adele reached into her purse and took out a pack of cigarettes and a disposable lighter. She stopped for a moment, held up the pack, and asked, “Do you mind?” Morgan gestured to go ahead. “What you witnessed was Mason Kaine being Mason Kaine. It’s probably the main reason I divorced him, although the list of other reasons is endless.” Adele took two quick puffs of the cigarette and then promptly crushed it out in a plastic ashtray. “It’s the only way I can quit,” she explained before going on. “My ex-husband’s a selfish, insensitive, and hopelessly spiteful human being. His reaction to anything that went wrong in his life was to assume that somebody was to blame for it. Once he convinced himself of that, he would then go after that person like a pit bull.”

  “Did you have any reason to think that your sons received poor care?”

  “I come from a family of doctors. My father was an anesthesiologist in Broward County for over thirty years. He had just retired. He spoke to one of his colleagues at Dade Presbyterian. He took a look at the chart and assured him that nothing more could have been done to save Jason and Andy.” Adele picked up her cup but stopped before it reached her lips. “My father was right about Mason.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He told me that Mason was the type of man who looked in the mirror every morning and saw a ten. The problem was, everybody else saw a two.”

  An hour earlier Morgan hadn’t a clue if Adele Kaine would even speak to her. Now, questions were popping into her head faster than she could ask them. Even allowing for ex-spouse bashing with its usual embellishment, Morgan suspected that Adele was painting an accurate picture.

  “Do you happen to know where he works?” Morgan inquired.

  Adele laughed. “Mason work? I don’t think so. Mason was a trust-fund baby. He would never dirty his hands with anything as bourgeois as a real job. The problem was that he fancied himself as some high-powered entrepreneur and venture capitalist. Unfortunately, his track record putting deals together fell well short of his overinflated opinion of himself. In a way, it’s a shame.”

  “Why?” Morgan asked.

  “Because for all his faults, the guy’s brilliant. He would get interested in some obscure topic and then devour everything that had ever been written about it until he was an expert. I remember for about six months he did nothing except build antique trains. When he got bored with that he decided to get a PhD in music theory. The trouble was, nothing kept his interest.” Adele shook her head. “What a waste of God-given talent.” The sun finally showed itself and Adele reached into her purse for her sunglasses. “Why don’t you ask me what’s really on your mind? Why don’t you ask me if I think Mason’s capable of harassing you?”

  “Do you?”

  “Without a doubt. As soon as I filed for divorce, he put a team of private investigators on me around the clock. I hoped things would get better as time passed but they got worse. I would come out in the morning and find my tires slashed or my car keyed. My credit cards would get mysteriously canceled and all kinds of salespeople would call. It was obvious what was going on. Finally, my lawyer got a restraining order against him. Even with the judge’s order, I was scared to death.”

  “It’s hard to believe you ever went through with the . . . the . . .”

  “With the marriage?” she asked flatly. “Mason was born with the gift of gab. He could talk his way in or out of anything.” Her voice suddenly switched to a regretful monotone. “I guess I thought I was in love. It took me a while, but I eventually figured out I’d made the worst mistake of my life. Hopefully, I’ve gotten a little wiser with age.” Adele sat silently, watching as a young mother pushing a twin stroller walked by. “Do you have any children?” she asked Morgan.

  “I’m pregnant with my first.”

  “Congratulations,” she said with a painful smile.

  “I’m sorry, Adele. I didn’t mean to . . .”

  Adele pulled a tissue from her purse. “I was a mess after my boys died but I’m better now.” She forced a smile. “It’s amazing what a year of therapy can do for you.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you one last thing?” Morgan asked.

  Adele nodded.

  “As I mentioned, I only spoke to your ex-husband briefly that night. I was a little preoccupied with his behavior, so I wasn’t exactly concentrating on his appearance. I have reason to believe the man who has been stalking me has a gap between his front teeth.”

  “Mason’s teeth were fine,” she said shaking her head slowly. “But a couple of years ago, I remember hearing he was hurt pretty badly playing rugby. They took him straight from the field to the hospital and into surgery. He broke a couple of facial bones and knocked out several teeth.”

  “But from what you’ve told me, your ex-husband’s a man of means. I’m sure he would have undergone reconstructive dental work.”

  “You would think, but very little of what Mason did was either predictable or made sense.”

  “Did he ever mention the name Gideon?” Morgan asked.

  Adele shook her head. “Not that I remember.”

  Morgan extended her hand across the table. “I should let you get back to work. You’ve been very helpful. I can’t thank you enough.”

  They stood up together and headed back to the travel agency. Adele reached into her purse and handed M
organ her business card.

  “I know we hardly know each other, so you’ll forgive me if I say that you seem a little frightened. My cell phone number’s on the card. Call me anytime if you want to talk. We probably have more in common than either of us knows.”

  Morgan reached for the card and smiled. “I may take you up on that. Thanks again.”

  “I hope things work out for you.”

  Morgan waited for Adele to go back inside before heading back to her car. She slid in behind the wheel and started the engine. Before backing out of her parking place, she thought about Mason Kaine’s rugby accident. She suspected Ben would call it a long shot, but it was certainly possible that Mason Kaine could have been left with a gap between his teeth that he chose not to repair. There was another possibility that was even more far-fetched, but the thought of it made her shudder.

  Perhaps it was nothing more than her intuition, but something kept telling her she was one step closer to proving who had murdered her father.

  CHAPTER 54

  After attending Jenny Silverman’s girls’ night out, Morgan headed south on the Florida Turnpike.

  If she hadn’t promised Jenny she would go, she probably would have found an excuse and stayed home. To her surprise, however, she had thoroughly enjoyed the evening and had no regrets about attending. She didn’t know how, but for three hours she managed to tuck the shambles of her life away in some remote crevice of her mind.

  Absentmindedly, she drifted toward the left, but the sudden blast of an eighteen-wheeler sent her swerving back into her own lane. After a labored breath, she threw the peeved trucker an apologetic wave.

  Her cell phone rang.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t call earlier,” Ben said. “My meeting just broke up. I’m on my way back to the airport. How was girls’ night out?”

  “I had a good time. I’m glad I went.”

  “Good. Did you speak with Adele Kaine this afternoon?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “It was a very enlightening conversation, to say the least. And contrary to your gut feeling, she was a fountain of information.”