Nancy agrees. “You’re probably right. I’m just really surprised he ignored me all day yesterday.”
Before Wendy can respond, two San Diego Police Department detectives walk through the door and identify themselves as Detectives Preston Adams and Beau Rogers. They verify which one of the two is Nancy Davis.
“I am,” Nancy says. “This is Ms. Wendy Stevens. She’s my counselor.”
Detective Rogers asks, “Ms. Stevens, would you mind stepping out of the room for a few minutes?”
Wendy says, “Of course, Detective.”
But Nancy stops her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like her to stay. We can speak freely in front of her,” Nancy says, thinking they are following up on the mugging report.
Instead, Detective Adams says, “We have some bad news about your husband, Arnold Davis. Your housekeeper found him deceased in the loft this morning when she came to do her weekly cleaning. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Wendy gasps. She immediately reaches over and holds Nancy’s hand as shock dawns on her face.
“What…what? What happened?” Tears start to pool in her eyes.
“It appears from our initial investigation that he may have committed suicide, but that will be determined after the medical examiner completes her investigation.”
“This just can’t be true. Oh, my Lord. How?”
“A gunshot wound to the chest.”
“What? What type of gun?”
“A shotgun.”
“Was it the short-barreled Mossberg?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
Nancy shakes her head. “Well, that was his latest purchase, and he loved that stupid gun. He always told me it was for home protection, and that’s why he wanted the shorter butt and barrel. He said it would be harder for an intruder to grab the gun away from him.”
The detectives nod. “He would’ve been right. Mrs. Davis, we have a few difficult questions to ask you. Do you feel up to speaking with us now, or would you rather we come back later?”
“No, I can speak with you now. It’s not like it’s going to get easier.”
“No, ma’am, probably not.”
“Please, it’s Nancy.”
“Very well, Nancy. Before we begin, do you still want your counselor present?”
“Yes, please,” she says, squeezing Wendy’s hand.
“OK, Wendy, is it?”
“Yes, Wendy Stevens.”
“Thank you. What type of counselor are you?”
“I have my PhD in psychology from the University of California, San Diego.”
“And what type of counseling do you do? It’s all for the record.”
“I understand. I do individual counseling, specializing primarily with victims of domestic violence. My office is in La Jolla.”
“Thank you.”
She nods. “You’re welcome.”
“Nancy, your housekeeper told us when she came in today, the closed-circuit TV system and alarm were turned off. Do you usually leave them turned off at night?”
“No, I never do, but Arnold will—sorry. Would. When I’m not there.”
“Why is that?”
“So he can have sex with other women.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“Detective Adams, I have been married to Arnold for a little more than twenty years. He turns the closed-circuit television and alarm systems off when I’m not there, so he can bring home whoever he picked up at the bar that night. That way I don’t have any proof of his indiscretions. I can usually tell when he has been cheating on me again, because after his one-night stand, he drinks too much Canadian whiskey and takes two or three Xanax so he can sleep without feeling guilty.”
“I see. Was he abusive to you during your marriage?”
“Well, you’re the detective. During our marriage I’ve been very…accident-prone, and my counselor specializes in working with domestic violence victims.” She smiles sweetly at him. “What do you think?”
The detective holds back a grin with effort. “I see. So the report of your mugging in the Gaslamp Quarter isn’t correct, then, is it?”
“Of course it’s correct.”
“Nancy, we have no intention of charging you for filing a false police report. We just want to get to the truth. We are clarifying simply because there is no indication anyone was mugged in the Gaslamp Quarter recently. Other than your report, of course.”
“You promise neither you nor anyone else will charge me if I give you the whole story, and it turns out there wasn’t a mugging?”
“You have our word no charges will be filed against you. We just don’t want to waste any more time investigating something that may not have happened.”
“OK, then. The truth is, Arnold beat the shit out of me again because I accused him of having another affair. I told the medical staff I was mugged because I didn’t want any more retaliation from him.”
“Thank you for clearing that up for us.”
“Thank you for understanding, Detectives.”
“You’re welcome. Now the questions are going to get very personal, and maybe even uncomfortable. Do you still want to continue?”
“Well, you just told me Arnold is dead and that he probably committed suicide. I don’t think your questions will shock me. Let’s get this over with.”
“Very well. Does your husband have pornographic magazines and DVDs?”
Nancy nods. “Absolutely. He liked to watch porn whenever I refused to have sex with him. Most of the time, it was in the loft outside the bedroom. It was his way of trying to humiliate me for saying no to him. Where did you find porn?”
“Your husband was found naked, and he appeared to have masturbated before he shot himself in the chest.”
“What a sick bastard. I guess he didn’t find a slut to fuck in our bed. Oh! The poor housekeeper had to find that?”
“Why would you say he’s a sick bastard?”
“Detectives, my husband had some great qualities, and he provided very well for me, but he was sick. Beating me turned him on, especially if I had to be hospitalized. He’d always go to a rooftop bar in the Gaslamp Quarter at some hotel near his office to pick up some bimbo to use to get his rocks off. Then he would drink, take Xanax, pass out, and try to forget everything. So if he was naked and masturbated before killing himself, he didn’t score this time.”
The detectives nod. “OK, then. Was he having a steady affair with someone in particular?”
“Not that I’m aware of. He was the king of one-night stands. Usually he would have his fling, feel guilty, and then dump the woman and never return her calls.”
“Did he have any enemies?”
“I’m sure he did. He was a very successful real estate developer. And I’m sure he pissed people off, but he never mentioned anyone in particular. Why are you asking that if it was a suicide?”
“We have to cover all aspects of the investigation. It’s just routine. Nancy, thank you for your time. Will you authorize Ms. Stevens to speak with us should we need to clarify anything with her about your relationship with Arnold?”
Wendy interjects. “Detectives, while I appreciate your desire to fill in all the gaps you may have, it is my practice never to speak about my clients’ cases. This is privileged information, and anything you need you can get directly from the client. I will not discuss any details with you for any reason.”
“OK, then. Nancy, can we contact you later if we need to?”
“Yes, of course you can. I believe I’m being released tomorrow, so I’ll be at the house…if that’s OK.”
“Yes. The crime scene will be cleaned up, but you may want to call your housekeeper to make sure you’ll feel OK returning.”
Nancy nods. “How long before you expect to complete your investigation?”
> “If there are no surprises we should complete the investigation within two weeks. We will keep you informed throughout the process.” They hand Nancy their business cards and leave the room, allowing Wendy and Nancy some privacy.
“Are you OK? I’m sorry, never mind. What a silly question. Is there anything you need?” Wendy asks, still holding Nancy’s hand.
Nancy sighs. “As sick as this may sound, I’m actually relieved he’s dead. I won’t have to worry about getting my ass kicked, and I’m sure I’ll be better off financially with a suicide rather than a divorce. My love for Arnold died years ago. I just didn’t have the guts to leave him or kill him, so I’m glad he took that responsibility for me. At least he didn’t screw this one up and survive.”
Wendy nods and squeezes Nancy’s hand. “As your counselor,” she whispers, “I suggest you don’t ever repeat those words to anyone else. This conversation is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality, and as such, I am duty bound to never repeat it. While I understand what you mean, others may not, and those words could haunt you forever. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Nancy swallows. “Yes, I do. I’ll never say anything about that again.”
“Good. I’ll check on you tomorrow, OK? Call me if they keep you here another day. In the meantime, you have people to get in touch with. Your housekeeper, your attorney, Arnold’s office; you’ll probably need to replace the carpet pad and carpet in the loft. What about life insurance and your bank accounts? Are you a signer on all of them?”
“Yes, Arnold made sure of that in case something happened to him. I won’t be frozen out of them, not even his business accounts.”
“Good. I suggest you start with the housekeeper, then move on to the attorney, and see what you run into before going home. In any event, you’ll need to have the carpet removed and replaced before you get home. You don’t want to go home with that not being done.”
Nancy nods. “Oh believe me, that’s the first thing I’m going to do. I won’t go home until it’s replaced.”
“Good. Do you need anything else before I go?”
“No, but thanks for all your help. I promise you’ll be the first person I’ll call if I need anything. Now go take care of your other clients and get out of here, so I can get my calls made and shit dealt with. We’ll talk tomorrow. And don’t worry about me. I’m feeling surprisingly better.”
Wendy smiles inwardly. “Yes, absolutely. I’ll come by the house if you’re there. If not, let me know.” She pats Nancy’s hand one last time and leaves the hospital.
CHAPTER 16
ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST
Wendy leaves the hospital and makes two very brief stops before driving to Oceanside to call upon Harder Gould. She arrives at the house and parks on the street, along the curb, instead of in the driveway. As she approaches the house, she muses at the quaintness and warmth the home portrays from the outside.
No one would ever know, she thinks. Sadly, an evil lurks inside the possessiveness of any type of addiction, especially heroin. This drug, like alcohol, is a jealous bitch that demands everything a person has to offer and isn’t satisfied until it’s taken your life.
Wendy chuckles, briefly contemplating the personification of addiction she’s just imagined, and then she considers that today she and heroin may both satisfy their greedy lust for more. She reaches the front door, wondering what Harder Gould will look like, and if he will even feign interest in what she has to say.
She rings the doorbell, and Harder answers, his face hard. “Hello. You must be Wendy. Tina said you were going to stop by.”
“Yes, I am. May I come in? It’s good to finally meet you, Harder.”
“I guess,” he says, stepping back to allow her entrance. “Make yourself at home.”
“Thank you. I won’t take much of your time. As you know, Tina came by to see me this morning, and she is concerned about you.”
“Yeah, she thinks I’m depressed because I’m disabled and not able to work, right?” Harder says, scratching the back of his head.
“Well, are you depressed?”
“Hell yeah, I am. I can’t work because of the constant pain I’m in, and it’s never getting any better. Who wouldn’t be depressed?”
Wendy nods but remains quiet. Harder’s straightforward approach to meeting with her surprises Wendy. His demeanor and appearance also surprise her. He is well groomed, but showing signs of a person in the early stages of detoxification. He’s fidgeting, and his hands are shaking ever so slightly.
Wendy continues, “Harder, Tina and I talked a little about your heroin use, and she’s getting scared. It’s about the speedballing. She feels it makes you angry and agitated.”
“I know. She’s afraid I’m going to be like her ex-husband, right?”
Wendy raises her eyebrows. “Well, it’s a concern. Is it realistic or not?”
“Look, I’m just in so much pain all the time, and I’m really cranky, that’s all.” He sighs. “I’m going to make some coffee. Do you want some?”
“No, thank you, but please go ahead and make yourself some.”
Harder nods, then gets up and goes to the kitchen, and Wendy follows him. As she passes the chair he was sitting in, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a handkerchief holding a packet of heroin cut with fentanyl. Letting the handkerchief fall open over his chair, she watches the sealed packet fall into it, then smoothly puts the handkerchief back into her pocket before reaching the kitchen.
Harder turns around. “Are you sure I can’t get you some coffee or tea?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve had plenty today, thanks.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
Wendy continues. “Harder, please don’t think I’m judging you, because I’m absolutely not. I have never had to deal with any type of chronic pain, and I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but what Tina is most concerned about is the level of heroin use. What she sees is that your use is affecting your relationship and the family’s finances.”
Harder nods and motions Wendy to head back into the living room as he follows her. She covertly watches him find the heroin. She pretends to focus on taking her own seat and sees the excitement in his expression. She sits in her chair, pretending to fuss with her jacket, and sees Harder subtly put the heroin in his front pocket.
Wow, that was very smooth, she thinks. If I hadn’t been looking for a reaction, I would have missed it completely.
She clears her throat. “I’m really here to ask you to consider entering into some type of addiction treatment, so we can reverse the disturbing trend Tina sees developing. She really loves you, and she only wants what is best for you and your relationship.”
“I know she does, and I appreciate you stopping by to help, but I feel like I have everything under control. I can’t quit. It hurts too much. So she’s just going to have to deal with it. This is who I am now.”
“What you need is a better plan for pain management. What you’re doing is dangerous, and I don’t want to hear about you miscalculating and ending up as an overdose statistic.”
“I understand your concern, but like you said, you have never had to deal with any type of chronic pain. You don’t really understand what’s going on here.” Harder stands up, and Wendy follows suit. He leads her to the front door. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m not interested in treatment. If Tina really loves me, she’ll support me no matter what.” He grins at her, and Wendy almost shudders.
Wendy smiles. “Is it OK if I tell Tina everything we talked about? If not, I won’t, but it could be good for her to hear.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. I’ll have this talk with her myself.” He cracks his knuckles.
Wendy nods once, and he closes the door in her face.
Wendy phones Bonnie.
“Hello?”
“Hey,
sweetie, I’m going to stop by the market and pick up some cheese and snacks, and then I’ll be right there, and we can catch up on everything. I’m sorry I’m a little later than I said I would be. My day has been busier than expected, but I’m really looking forward to spending the rest of the day with you.”
“Oh, don’t worry!” Bonnie tells her. “And don’t rush. I’ll see you when you get home, and then we’ll have another girl’s night before I leave in the morning.”
“That sounds perfect,” Wendy says, then sighs. “Are you sure you can’t stay another day?”
“No, girl, I’m sorry. Not this time. There’s just too much going on. But I’ll see you soon, and we’ll make tonight count!” Bonnie replies, and they hang up.
Next, Wendy phones Tina to let her know how things went with Harder.
Tina immediately tells her, “Harder called right after you left the house. He seems upset. I think I’ll stay late at work tonight, and I’ll see if I can wait for him to calm down. Did he seem angry? Was this a bad idea?”
“I don’t know yet, dear. Let’s hope we can get him into an outpatient drug treatment program pretty soon.”
“It doesn’t sound promising…he told me never to send a counselor his way again. He doesn’t want to change, does he?”
“I don’t think so. I’m sorry, Tina. Be careful going home, and call me if anything seems wrong, OK?”
“OK,” Tina mumbles, sniffling.
Wendy hangs up and wonders if Harder is going to use today or not, then figures he won’t be able to avoid the temptation and is probably using for the last time right now. She shrugs. Well, if he does, he’ll be dead by the time Tina gets off work, and then at least she’ll be safe, she thinks and turns on the radio. The Queen song “Another One Bites the Dust” is the first thing that comes on and Wendy chuckles. How appropriate and probably true. But this time, it’s within Harder’s own power to prevent, just by asking for help instead of using. She feels the all too familiar adrenaline rush, knowing she is fulfilling her role as an angel of mercy.
Unmerited Favor: The Compassion and Peril of Mercy ( Un missable Series Book 2) Page 15