Royal Pains : Sick Rich (9781101559536)

by Lyle, D. P.

  The time in question turned out to be about thirty seconds.

  Evan R. Lawson, superspy, to the rescue.

  My cell rang, and when I answered Evan was jabbering a mile a minute, his voice just above a whisper.

  “Whoa, slow down.”

  He tried. Not easy for Evan when he’s revved up. “They’re here. I’m looking right at them.”

  “Where?”

  McCutcheon’s eyebrows raised.

  “The parking area behind the school gym.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “She’s digging around in a black canvas bag and he’s talking on his cell phone.” I heard a noise. “Just a sec.” His voice was lower. “I thought he might have seen us, but I don’t think so.”

  “Us?”

  “Danielle’s with me. The dude’s all totally spooked about something. Keeps looking around.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Hiding in some shrubbery. Maybe two hundred feet from them.”

  “Don’t move and don’t do anything stupid. We’re on the way.” I closed my phone and looked at McCutcheon. “Behind the gym. Evan and Danielle are there.”

  I was out of the booth before McCutcheon could take a step. As I ran toward the school, McCutcheon was with me, talking into his radio. He told all his guys to head toward the gym and to call for backup.

  We found Evan and Danielle at the same time Officer Tommy Griffin found us. We all huddled behind the shrubbery.

  “I have two units rolling this way,” Griffin said.

  McCutcheon nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  McCutcheon told us to stay put, and he and Griffin pushed through the row of shrubs and walked toward the couple. At first the couple didn’t see them coming, but then the Pete dude turned and froze as if his feet had melted to the asphalt. Now Erin looked up and she, too, froze.

  “Peter Anders?” McCutcheon said. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Three of the undercover guys showed up. They easily handcuffed the couple. Both Pete and Erin appeared too shocked to resist.

  “She threw something in the Dumpster,” Evan shouted. “The one on the left.”

  McCutcheon turned and looked at us and then nodded toward the three Dumpsters that sat against the side wall of the gym.

  Two of the officers opened the bin Evan had indicated. One vaulted inside and began rummaging through the debris. In half a minute he held up two plastic zip bags, gripping them by their corners. Each brimmed with bright pink pills.

  “Those aren’t mine,” Pete said.

  “So we won’t find your fingerprints on the bags, then. Right?” McCutcheon asked.

  A car sped around the corner of the gym and into the lot. It came to a sudden stop, hesitated a minute, and then the rear wheels spun as the driver reversed his course. He swung the car around, obviously intending to retrace his path. Didn’t work. Two patrol cars cut him off.

  This one was easy to figure. Somehow Pete and Erin had discovered that the cops were on to them. They abandoned their van, tried to dump the pills, and called a friend, or maybe a fellow dealer, to whisk them away.

  Only took a few minutes to bag up the evidence, arrest the two guys driving the car, and settle Pete and Erin into a patrol car. McCutcheon spoke with his guys briefly and then everyone dispersed, the patrol cars heading toward the police station.

  We headed back toward the HankMed booth.

  “Good job,” McCutcheon said to Evan.

  In a flash Evan had his cell phone out.

  Evan R. Lawson is a superspy.

  “What’s that?” McCutcheon asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” I said.

  McCutcheon actually smiled and then nodded as if he understood. Maybe he had a goofy brother, too.

  “I need to head to the station,” McCutcheon said. “And have a chat with our drug-dealing couple.”

  “That should be interesting,” I said.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Probably not. They’ll lie and I’ll lean on them. They’ll try to blame someone else, but I’ll cut off all those avenues. Finally they’ll confess and I’ll pass everything along to the DA.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done this before,” I said.

  “Too often. But nine times out of ten that’s more or less how it goes.” He nodded. “Thanks for your help in all this.”

  We shook hands. He congratulated Danielle and Evan again for their good work and then he left.

  Evan, Danielle, and I walked back to the HankMed booth. Cory and Carrie weren’t there, so I asked Divya where they were.

  “Their mother was here at the fair. She brought them. And Alaina. When she couldn’t find them she came by. Worried that something had happened.”

  “Something did.”

  Divya nodded. “True. Just not what she expected. When I told her what had happened to Alaina, she was at first scared and then she was furious.”

  “Can’t say I blame her.”

  “They’re on the way to the hospital to see Alaina and her mother.”

  “Wouldn’t want to be Carrie or Cory,” Evan said.

  “Or Alaina,” Danielle added.

  Chapter 24

  I picked Jill up for the dinner I’d promised her. She looked hot. Little black dress and all. I told her so.

  “You look nice, too, Dr. Lawson,” she said.

  I did. I wore my best blue suit, white shirt, and red tie. I’m not big on suits and ties, but this was a special occasion.

  “I even washed behind my ears,” I said.

  “That’s good to know.” She brushed a bit of lint from my jacket sleeve. “You should dress up more often.”

  “It might hurt my reputation.”

  “True.” She laughed. “But you look okay in jeans, too.”

  “As do you, Ms. Casey.”

  “You don’t have to take me to dinner,” she said.

  “Really? I thought I did.”

  “It’s not a real date.”

  “It’s not? After I washed my ears and wore a suit?”

  “But you didn’t bring flowers.”

  I snapped my fingers. “I knew I forgot something.”

  She laughed. “No problem. I didn’t really expect any.”

  “So you have low expectations.”

  “With you? I’d say yes.”

  “My feelings are hurt.”

  “Right. But I’d bet you could’ve talked Evan into cooking. He’s on that jag now.”

  “I wouldn’t want him around gas and sharp instruments tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s manic. He cracked the big case. If you listen to him he deserves the Medal of Honor.”

  “He did find the bad guys.”

  “Yes, he did. But what would you expect from Evan R. Lawson, superspy?”

  We both laughed.

  Truth was that I was proud of my brother. He did track down the bad guys. He did crack the big drug case.

  My brother the DEA agent.

  “Or I could have cooked,” Jill said. “Maybe not as fancy as Evan, but I know a couple of dishes you like.”

  “But this is your night, not mine.”

  She twisted slightly in her seat. “And why would this be my night?”

  “You’ve worked hard the past few months on the fair. Particularly the last two days. You deserve a little fine dining and fine wine.”

  “So we’re going for fine.”

  “Would you expect anything less from me?”

  “A lot less.”

  “We could find a drive-through.”

  “Not in this dress.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to settle for fine.”<
br />
  “Where are we going?”

  “Stella’s.”

  “That is fancy. And very French.”

  “As I said, fine dining and fine wine.”

  “This isn’t dutch, is it?”

  I laughed. “No. This is on HankMed.”

  “So I’m a tax deduction?”

  “Something like that.”

  “How romantic.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  Stella’s was in East Hampton. It looked like a French country house. White with dark green trim and shutters and ivy framing the entrance. Inside it was quiet and elegant. Soft jazz from the piano player ensconced in one corner of the main dining room set the tone. The air was rich with the aroma of French sauces.

  “Can I help you?” The attractive young woman stood behind the reception podium.

  “Lawson party.”

  “Oh, yes. You must be Dr. Lawson.” She smiled at me and then looked at Jill and nodded slightly. “Ms. Casey. Welcome to Stella’s.”

  “Smells wonderful,” I said.

  “It tastes even better,” she said. “Please, follow me.”

  As she led us through the main dining room, Jill grabbed my arm and whispered, “How’d she know who I was?”

  “I must have told her.”

  We continued through the main room and down a short, narrow hallway.

  “Hank Lawson, what are you up to?” Jill asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Here we are,” the hostess said. She pushed open the door to a private dining room and we entered.

  Inside, a group of friends awaited us. Evan and Divya, of course. Danielle and Angela Delaney, George and Betsy Shanahan, Marcy and Stephanie from Marcy’s Bodyworks, and Principal Jerry Hyatt.

  “Surprise!” they all shouted in unison.

  Jill stood speechless for a minute and then looked at me. “I take it this is your doing.”

  I gave a half bow. “And Evan and Divya.”

  Tears collected in her eyes and she melted into the crowd, hugs and kisses following.

  While Jill received her well-deserved accolades, I chatted with Danielle and Angela. A waiter brought me a glass of champagne and refilled Danielle’s and Angela’s glasses. Danielle was out of her sling and Angela had discarded her walker for a cane.

  “My shoulder feels much better,” Danielle said. “And before you ask, yes, I’ve been doing all my strength and range-of-motion exercises.”

  “No pain?” I asked.

  “Very little. Just a little stiffness.”

  “It’ll get better week by week.”

  She nodded. “I think I’ll make that meet after all.”

  “How’s your hip?” I asked Angela.

  “You’re not here to talk shop. You’re here to celebrate Jill.”

  “True. I just can’t help myself.” I smiled.

  She laughed. “I’m fine. Hated that walker, but I love this cane.” She held it up. It was stained oak with a nonskid rubber tip and a faceted brass knob. “And if anybody tries to bother me I can brain them with it.”

  “Grandma,” Danielle said.

  “Well, I could.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have to,” I said.

  The clinking of a knife against a glass caught my attention. Everyone else’s, too. It was Evan.

  “Let’s all take our seats,” he said.

  My brother, the master of ceremonies.

  Everyone settled around the large oval table. I sat beside Jill.

  Waiters appeared and began pouring wine. Orders were taken and conversations moved around and back and forth across the table.

  “I can’t believe you kept this from me,” Jill said. “How long have you been planning this?”

  “For about a month.”

  “And you kept it secret? Or a better question is, Evan kept it secret?”

  “Evan kept what secret?” Evan asked.

  “This,” Jill said.

  “Under threat of bodily harm,” Evan said. “By Divya.”

  “Actually, this was Divya’s idea,” I said.

  Divya sat across from us. She lifted her glass to Jill.

  “Well, thank you. It’s a very pleasant surprise.”

  I stood. Everyone looked at me. “Before dinner I want to make a toast.” Everyone picked up a glass. “To Jill. For an incredible job with the First Annual Hamptons Health and Fitness Fair.” I raised my glass. “I’m sure there will be many more.”

  Glasses pinged against one another and everyone toasted Jill.

  “It was nothing,” Jill said. “Only three months of my life.”

  That drew a round of laughter.

  “I’d like to make another toast,” Principal Hyatt said. “To Evan. For cracking the drug ring.”

  More pinging as Evan stood and bowed. His cell phone appeared.

  Evan R. Lawson is a superspy.

  My brother, Mr. Modest.

  Dinner came and the conversation level declined as everyone dug in. I had ordered poulet sauté and Jill blanquette de veau. We shared and both were marvelous. For desert we each had Strawberries Romanoff. Wow.

  After dinner we gathered in the bar for a nightcap. I sat next to Hyatt.

  He leaned over, propping an elbow on the arm of his chair. “Before I came over I stopped by and saw Sergeant McCutcheon. He said his department had had twenty-three encounters. His word.”

  “Twenty-three?”

  “Let me see if I remember correctly.” He looked toward the ceiling as if recalling McCutcheon’s words. “Two intoxicated teens at the beach, six in local ERs, four of those at Hamptons Heritage, and those at the health fair. The rest were either on the streets or driving.”

  “Makes you feel safe to be on the road, doesn’t it?” I said.

  “I thought about that as I drove over. I also thought about what I’m going to do next school year.”

  “And that would be?”

  “We—by that I mean the school board and the education department—have always focused on the high schools.” He shrugged. “Figuring that’s where the major problem was. Seemed logical. Now I’m not so sure. Three of the kids that the police picked up were twelve.” He sighed. “Can you imagine? Twelve?”

  I started to say yes I could, but I let it go.

  “I’m thinking we need to begin programs in middle school,” Hyatt continued. “Even in grammar school.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right.”

  “I just don’t understand it. I don’t know how it was when you were in school, but for me the worst thing any of my classmates did was beer and the occasional theft of their parents’ harder stuff.”

  “Same for me. With a little marijuana tossed in. But those were few. I can still name the stoners in my school.”

  “And now we have this.” He massaged the back of his neck. “Maybe I’m getting too old. Too far behind the times.”

  “I don’t believe that. It’s people like you that can turn this around.”

  “Can I? I don’t know.”

  “Trying is all you can do.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  A waitress appeared and asked if we needed anything. We both opted for mineral water and lime.

  “This stuff is pretty bad, isn’t it?” Hyatt asked.

  “Yes, it is. Not the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I think PCP holds that honor. But this is a dangerous combination.”

  “And according to McCutcheon we’ve seen just a small slice of it.”

  “Oh?”

  “He talked to a friend with the DEA. Apparently there are secret labs making this stuff from coast to coast. Every time one gets busted five more crop up.” He sighed
again. “I thought video games and the Internet were stealing our kids’ souls. Seems petty by comparison.”

  “Did he say where these came from? Were they made locally?”

  “His DEA guy said they probably came out of Queens. They’ve busted a few labs up there. Or maybe down near Brighton Beach.” He stared at his shoes. “Truth is, they just aren’t sure.”

  That depressing conversation took us to eleven o’clock. People began saying their good-byes, Danielle and Angela first. Evan had driven them, so he left with them. Marcy, Stephanie, and the Shanahans soon followed. Finally Jill, Divya, and I walked Hyatt out to his car. We stood and watched as he drove away.

  “I wouldn’t want his job,” I said.

  “I’m sure he says the same about yours,” Divya said.

  Chapter 25

  I got lucky last night. Jill invited me to stay over. Our relationship had been off and on lately. Mostly off. Not that we were fighting or arguing about anything, just that we had opted for less entanglement. But I guess last night proved we needed a little together time. I know I did.

  I awoke early. Jill was still asleep. I lay there and stared at the ceiling, going over everything that had happened in the past few days. I thought about this new and nasty drug that had popped up. About all the good kids we had seen. Kids who made some bad choices. Fortunately there had been no deaths, none that I was aware of anyway, so there was that. Still, this drug was out there and we would see more before long.

  Some things in life are certain.

  By the time Jill began to stir, my thoughts had traveled to Patrick Knight. One thing I knew about him was that he would be successful regardless of what he decided to do when he grew up. Smart, witty, and with a confident attitude that would take him far. Despite being from a broken home and now fighting a tough disease, Patrick would be okay. No doubt.

  Even some good things were certain. That was comforting.

  Jill yawned and stretched, then rolled on her side, looking at me.

  “You’re awake.”

  “I am.”

  “And you’ve just been lying there?”

  “Thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “You.”

  “Liar.”

  I rolled toward her. “No, I have been. And a few other things.”