by KJ Rollinson
Her Attorney chewed his lip, and made notes.
'Al Wright was easy. I waited outside the apartment and tailed him to a bar when he went out. I was dressed like a tart, I let him pick me up, and we went back to the apartment. He told me he had to move shortly as he couldn't afford the rent on his own. I had to prevent myself saying that was the least of his worries. I suggested I went into the bedroom while he made a coffee.' She laughed. 'Talk about Expresso! You’ve never seen two cups of coffee made so fast.' She shrugged, 'I slipped the cyanide into his cup when he was taking off his pants. He never did get around to humping me.’
‘What about your fiancé?’ I asked.
‘After the rapes I staggered home, and scrubbed myself from head to foot. I was about to pick up the phone to report the rapes, when it rang. It was my fiancé. He told me he had waited until 8.30 p.m. and then left. I remember thinking I was glad he wasn't there as I didn't want him to see me all bruised and dirty. He went on and on about how he had booked seats for us in this restaurant. Not a word to me as to why I was late, even though he would’ve known from my voice that I was very upset. Something told me he wouldn’t understand. I reckoned he’d tell me I was to blame, but then I just blurted everything out.'
She rubbed her hands constantly. I was reminded of Macbeth’s wife - 'out, out damned spot.' That was another broad with murder on her hands. (I love reading Shakespeare when I get the time). Josie was no longer with us when she resumed talking with a vacant stare in her eyes.
'Did you hear me Harold? I was gang raped. That's why I’m fucking late for your goddamn restaurant.’
She cleared her throat, and said in a deep voice, - presumably mimicking her fiancé’s voice. 'If what you have just said is meant as a joke, I think it’s in very poor taste.'
She was silent for a moment and then directed her conversation to me.
'He asked me why I had been so stupid as to take a shortcut through the park, and told me not to say anything to the police as I had to think of the good name of his family. I had enough by this time of his unsympathetic attitude and told him to get off the fucking phone.'
She leaned towards me again and said, 'You know what he said to me then.'
I shook my head and extended my upturned hand in a gesture for her to continue. She sat erect, and adopted a pompous tone, again mimicking Barton's voice.
'Your language is disgusting Josie. I feel in view of what has happened I must end our engagement.'
She looked at me. ‘When I was released from the hospital he sent me a letter. I realised part of it could read like a suicide note. He also wrote he’d call around the following evening to collect his things but I rang him to say I’d drop them off at his office. I remembered to take the note with me as well as the cyanide. He had a drinks bar in his office. He’d already poured himself a drink so I asked him to pour one for me too. I slipped the cyanide into his drink as he was pouring mine at the bar. I watched him die and then placed the second page of the letter in his hand.’
Gotcha! I stretched my back and legs to ease the tension. I decided to go for gold. 'What about your husband, Josie, how did you meet him? Did he know about the rapes, and the death of your ex-fiancé?'
'No, he didn't know anything as he’d been visiting the hotels he owned in the Bahamas at the time and missed the reports in the papers.’
‘How did you meet him?’ Gina asked.
‘I met him a few times in Harry's Bar at the Helmsley Park Hotel, just off Central Park. He was pot bellied, bald - not much going for him, but what the hell - he was filthy rich so I encouraged him and married the poor bastard. I know you’re wondering whether I told him I had Aids, well I didn't. I knew he was just another guy after me for one thing - so as far as I was concerned, I wasn't gonna tell him anything to put him off. After what had happened to me, I figured I was entitled to some comforts in life, until I decided to kill him.
He’d some tablets for his heart, which he kept in his side drawer. That night I decided to give him the come on. He couldn't believe his luck when I said, ‘Honey come to your little Josie.' I turned on the whole caboodle, hoping he would have a heart attack. When I was just about to push him off, thinking my plan wasn't gonna work, he groaned, clasped his chest and rolled to his side of the bed and died. I couldn’t believe my luck, I didn't even have to go through the pretence of trying to find his pills. So I just called the cops.’
*
NEW YORK TIMES. Mrs. Josephine Simpson, 24, widow of Mr. Joshua Simpson, 50, millionaire, was found dead in her holding cell, where she had been held pending arraignment. A plea of guilty had been entered for the murder of her former fiancé, Mr. Harold Barton. She had also confessed to three other murders, including the murder of her father when she was 17.
A police spokesman said Mrs. Simpson had ingested cyanide, which she had concealed within the hem of her skirt.
(Story continued on page 4).
DOCTOR LISTER - I PRESUME
I knocked on Captain Washington Carson’s door, slapped the crumpled page of a newspaper down onto his desk, and pointed to an article.
'I’d like to head an enquiry into this death, chief.'
He raised an enquiring eyebrow as he wiped away a blob of ketchup, which obscured some words of the story, concerning the death of a Mrs Lister.
His cheerful black face looked amused as he held up a ketchuped finger, 'Your breakfast, John?'
I grinned and explained, ‘I wrap my mid-morning snack in a page of an old newspaper, and I read the articles as I eat.’
He looked at the date at the top of the page. 'This paper is two weeks old, why do you think the death requires investigation?'
I shrugged, ‘Let’s just say I've got a hunch about it.'
'You've got to give me more than that. So let's have it.'
I told him I knew the husband of the deceased, a Dr Robert Lister, and about my previous encounter with him. After Captain Carson had listened to me, he gave me the go ahead to start investigations. Within a few days, I received reports on the dead woman, a Mrs. Elaine Lister, age 35. The autopsy report showed Lister's ex-wife appeared to be in good health when she died at her home on Randall’s Island. Her death certificate stated accidental death due to a self-administered overdose of the drug methaqualone.
Gina Morris, my rookie partner, sat on the edge of my desk swinging her shapely legs as she read the information. 'This looks to me like an accidental death due to an overdose, so fill me in.'
I grinned at her, 'Come on. We’re going to Randall's Island. All will be revealed. Oh, and you’ll meet my daughter, Lucy.’
*
Gina and I drove to Randall's Island, which is situated in the East River in New York City, and forms part of the borough of Manhattan. On crossing the Triborough Bridge, I edged the car forward to the toll, showed my badge, then followed the exit sign to Randall's and Ward’s Island. On our journey, I brought Gina up to date on the reasons why I had specifically asked for this case. I’d met Dr. Robert Lister when dealing with a case involving the pop star, Tony Marsden. Tony was found dead four years previously. Lister had been his doctor.
His death was ruled to be a methaqualone overdose, and large amounts had been found in the body. It could not be proved Dr. Lister supplied the drug to Marsden, as no prescriptions could be traced. Lister provided an alibi that he had not seen the pop star for two days before his death.
Marsden was found dead in his mobile home, which he used as a base whilst performing gigs in different States. By his body was an empty whisky bottle. He was known to have a dependency on drugs and alcohol, so like Elvis, his death was accepted as a self-administered overdose - but not by me. I felt Lister had gotten away with murder - or at least manslaughter.
I knew my daughter was a keen fan of the musician when she was younger and I figured it wouldn't do any harm gleaning whether she remembered what was said at the time of his death and what rumours were now going around the island about the death of Dr. Lister
’s ex-wife.
I’d rung Lucy to let her know we were coming. I timed it so we arrived at her house about lunchtime. She was a very good cook and I looked forward to forgetting about my diet and tucking into one of her delicious gourmet meals.
We were met at the door by Lucy, and her husband, Frank. I introduced them to Gina.
'Wow, Pop, you look terrific. You look ten years younger. Turn around, let me look at you,' Lucy said admiringly.
I dutifully turned. I must admit I was kinda proud she'd noticed ‘the new me'.
'You like my new suit and haircut then. I've stopped popping to Patsy's Pizzeria. I've lost 20 lbs.'
I noticed Lucy casting glances at Gina and knew exactly what was going through her scheming female mind. She was figuring whether the transformation had anything to do with Gina. OK, I admit, being around a young, blonde, good-looking partner had possibly made me aware I was letting myself go. The slow slide had begun after my wife died three years ago, following a two-year battle with cancer. To try to put the past behind me, I moved from South Bronx to take up my new post as first-grade detective in Manhatten, but the change in my appearance didn’t mean I had the hots for Gina, no way. She’s only twenty-one, five years younger than my daughter, I'm nearly fifty-one; I face mandatory retirement in just over twelve years time.
Lucy’s husband, on vacation from work, said to me, ‘To what do we owe the honour of a visit from the great and illustrious detective John Rode, - you mean to say you’ve actually gotten around to seeing us.’
'What d you mean, Frank? I saw you Christmas time, what are you complaining about?’ I said jocularly. I was embarrassed by the fact that Christmas had been six months ago, and I knew telephone phone calls were not enough.
Lucy and Frank looked so pleased to see me that I kept putting off mentioning Tony Marsden's and Mrs. Lister’s deaths. I felt a bit of a heel knowing my visit was not purely social, so I was pleased when Frank mentioned the death of Michael Jackson, which gave me the opportunity I needed to steer the conversation my way.
Gina and Lucy had been in the kitchen tidying up after the meal. I’d noticed Gina had been quiet at the meal, but I figured this was to give me a chance to catch up with Lucy. I knew my daughter wouldn’t miss the opportunity to pump her about any relationship she imagined existed between us, but she’d reckoned without Gina who could hold her own. Lucy and Gina eventually joined Frank and me on the patio.
He’d been reading a newspaper and said, ‘I see Dr. Conrad Murray was convicted of involuntary manslaughter following the death of Michael Jackson.’
Right on cue, I said, 'Yeah, it reminds me of the case a few years ago involving the pop star Tony Marsden?' I turned to Lucy, 'You were quite a fan of his, can you remember reading or hearing anything about the doctor he employed?'
'Gosh, Pop, I was only about eighteen when I was really into him. I was aware it was well known he used to drink a lot, and had a growing dependency on drugs,' Lucy said.
I nodded. I knew from the information already in our possession that he was addicted to cocaine and methaqualone, and he was considered an alcoholic. He had employed Lister during the last few years of his life. From what was said in the papers at the time, Tony and his wife used to quarrel because she thought Lister took advantage of Tony's addiction and just gave him anything he wanted as he was making pretty fair money out of him.
‘I can't understand why you should be interested in such an old case?’ Lucy said. She then clicked her fingers. ’Wait a minute, I've just remembered, Tony's doc's name was Robert Liston - no Lister, wasn't it? The same name as the guy here on the island, whose ex-wife recently died. I bet that's why you’re here isn't it?’
Instead of answering her I looked at my watch and said to Gina, 'We’ve finished dinner, better get going if we want to keep the appointment with Lister.'
I thanked Lucy and Frank and assured them I wouldn’t leave it too long before I visited them again. We beat a hasty retreat before my inquisitive daughter could ask me any further questions.
*
Dr. Lister showed Gina and me into the lounge, and asked us to sit down. He explained he was staying in his ex-wife's house for a while to put her papers in order and arrange the sale of the house.
I made a mental note to check on who would be the beneficiary of her estate. I didn't bother betting that I would probably find it was the smug slug in front of me.
'I believe you were your deceased ex-wife's doctor.' I said.
'I wasn't Elaine's doctor. I was her medical adviser,' he replied.
'OK. Medical Adviser. So what did you advise her to take, prior to her death?'
'You must understand my ex-wife and I were on friendly terms despite our divorce. As a good friend I’d recommend what would be most effective remedy for her frequent migraine and anxiety attacks.'
'Would that have been a drug called methaqualone, doctor? As you know large amounts were found in Mrs. Lister's body.'
He picked at the creases in his trousers, polished his glasses, and cleared his throat before he replied. 'I only remember recommending a painkiller called Ativam, and Ambien, a sleeping pill. I don’t recall ever having recommended she should take methaqualone.’
I knew nothing about the two drugs he mentioned but because I knew Tony Marsden’s case history I was pretty hot in my knowledge of methaqualone, which is a sedative similar to barbiturates. It can produce a range of effects, including euphoria, unconsciousness and seizures at high doses. It was widely used for recreational use, but eventually it became listed as having no recognised medical use, due to its potential for addiction and abuse. An overdose of the drug can lead to coma, or death. Methaqualone cannot now be legally manufactured in the U.S. outside of research, so I figured he may have gotten 'bootleg' methaqualone, probably from Colombia, smuggled into the U.S. through California, or from Canada, where the drug is still available on prescription.
A thought had occurred to me, which I intended to take up with Gina later, so I decided not to pursue my line of enquiry on methaqualone,
Instead I asked, ‘Your ex-wife seemed pretty fit, Doctor. She was a member of the local tennis club I hear. Popular and cheerful, but friends stated they’d seen a change in her the last few months. She didn't seem as confident and she had mood swings.’
'I can’t say I noticed detective, as we were divorced we didn't see each other on a daily basis. I was not her keeper you know, only her medical adviser.' he said.
'We’ve traced a prescription, signed by you. I thought you just said you were only her medical adviser.’
He looked angrily at me. ‘It’s several weeks ago since Elaine died. She sometimes would get two or three headaches a week so I probably did issue her with a prescription on one occasion.’
I decided it was time to play my ace.
'I believe you were employed as Tony Marsden's doctor up to his death four years ago. I’m aware that you’d not seen Marsden for two days before he died, but it’s on record that he, too, like your ex-wife, took methaqualone. You must know it’s a Schedule 1 drug and it’s not readily obtained legally. How do you think he and your wife obtained their supplies?'
He looked at me through narrowed eyes and rubbed a finger along his thin lips. I could almost see his mind weighing up how much I knew about him, and the drug.
'I had advised Mr Marsden that he should not imbibe alcohol whilst taking the drugs I had prescribed for chronic backache, which I diagnosed was caused by tension and anxiety. As to how methaqualone got into his body I have no idea. We used to travel from State to State, detective. He could’ve got it anywhere. May I remind you that I was away at the time of Tony's death and I was not at any time considered a suspect. As to Elaine, I am completely at a loss how she obtained the drug.’
'You said you weren’t considered a suspect in Marsden's death, but you were questioned about his death several times, obviously you don’t recognise me from four years ago.'
'Now you mention it, I do
recollect you - I thought your name sounded familiar. I seem to remember you had more hair then and were thinner.'
Cruel! So much for my diet, but I’d lost a lot of weight four years ago because I was worried sick about my dying wife.
I decided to call it a day and advised him our enquiries into the death of Mrs Lister were still ongoing and we may need to ask him further questions.
'As you wish, Detective Rode, although feel I cannot add anything else which may assist you in your enquiries.’
*
'Pompous bastard,' Gina exclaimed as she swung her legs into the car passenger seat. She shuddered. 'If he didn't top his ex-wife, I'll climb the Empire State Building twenty times. I could do without his bedside manner, thank you very much.’
We headed back to the Precinct. As we were driving I told Gina about the line of thought which occurred to me whilst interviewing Lister, and asked her to check whether he had a licence to possess methaqualone. When I got back to the Precinct, I checked every pharmacist in the district for any other prescriptions he had issued. My enquiries came up with zilch. I also asked Gina to dig deep into the doctor's background, particularly with regard to his medical qualifications; where he had obtained his degrees.
*
Two days later Gina came to my desk, carrying a pile of papers. I looked up enquiringly into her triumphant face.
‘I won’t say you'll never believe what I’ve found about Lister, because I suspect you already know some of it.'
I grinned at her. 'You mean he’s a fake doctor.'
'Right on the button, and more,' was her delighted response. 'Can I tell you the information in chronological order before I get to the really juicy bits?'