by L Jan Eira
Herb continued the conversation, “Muhammad Akrim is even more elusive. Apparently, he lives in the Middle East somewhere, probably Libya. Mike is also working on that through the FBI database.” Now it was Herb’s turn to have a bite of his pepperoni and cheese pizza and whet his whistle with Diet Coke.
“This thing is bigger than meets the eye, isn’t it?” asked Claire.
“We think so,” answered Susan.
“You know, Mrs. Norris, we really appreciate the help your husband is giving us. He has a knack for this type of work. If ever heart surgery doesn’t suit him, he’s got a full time job with us.” At first Herb sported a serious look on his face, then a smile.
“Well, as a doctor, what I do isn’t so different from what you do. It’s all, how to figure out an unknown. Who dunnit? The heart? The stomach? The gallbladder?” said Jack with a faint grin on his face.
“I had never looked at it quite that way, but I think you’re right,” said Susan. The others nodded agreeably.
The focus of the conversation then led the group to discuss the differences and similarities between the different professions, such as cardiology, psychology, local police force, FBI, and so on. Once done with lunch, the group disbanded.
The detectives went back to the research lab to snoop around even more.
Claire had a couple of patients to see in her office. Jack decided to go back to his office and do the dreaded paperwork. He had files to sign and counter-sign, lab data to review and decisions to make about the care of patients that had called the outpatient clinic with problems. The in-stack was growing at an alarming rate, despite the hospital continuing to be on diversion. He would take this time to dwindle it down, before the deluge of hospital business as usual recommenced, expected in a day or two.
Around four o’clock, Jack walked down to his car. It was time to drive home. Claire would be done with her appointments by now.
“Hi, honey,” said Claire when her cell phone rang. She was driving home.
“I finally think we’re getting somewhere with this case,” announced Jack excitedly.
“What did you discover in the lab?”
“They have been working on several experimental drugs. Wait a minute, baby.” Jack looked in his rearview mirror. A dark sedan was behind him. He could make out the occupant. It was a well-dressed Caucasian man, wearing dark sunglasses.
“What is it, Jack? Are you okay?” Claire could not wait any longer, despite the request.
“I think I’m being followed. Oh wait, never mind,” said Jack as the sedan in his rearview mirror turned right at the intersection.
“Being followed, did you say?” asked Claire worriedly.
“No, never mind. There was a big dark car behind me all the way from the hospital and I thought he was following me. But he turned off. He’s no longer behind me.” Jack was more relaxed now. The prospect of being tailed had momentarily made the hairs on the back of his neck stand out.
“Is this thing making you paranoid?”
“Why, do you know a good psychologist? I need some therapy.”
“I know the type of therapy you want.”
“I need a lot of therapy. I’m a basket case. Intense therapy.”
“I better refer you to an experienced psychologist since you are such a far-gone case. How about Dr. Joel Garrison? He’s older and wise in these matters.”
“No, I gotta have you. No one else can make me sane. Only you.”
“Okay, for a back rub I might see if my couch is free this evening.”
Jack always joked that as a cardiologist and electrophysiologist, all he needed was a stethoscope, which he carried in the right pocket of his lab coat. As a psychologist, Claire really needed to carry a couch with her.
“It’s a deal.”
“Hey, let’s watch Law & Order. It’ll give us some clues and help us think like detectives. And let’s go to bed early. We need to relax.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. I’ll go flying tomorrow. That relaxes me more than anything else. Except sex, of course.”
They both laughed aloud. Then, Claire rolled her eyes.
*****
Six days ago
September 25
7:03 AM
Jack needed to unwind. Doctor’s orders. The doctor ordered a trip to the clouds and beyond. Today was the perfect day to fill that prescription. The visibility was reported to be greater than six miles and the skies were touted to have an overcast ceiling at five thousand feet. Beyond the white fluffy cottony clouds, there was the promise of a beautiful sunny day.
While driving to Evansville Airport, Jack called ahead and asked the FBO personnel to pull his airplane out from its hangar into the apron. The FBO, fixed base operation, is the business that handles general aviation pilots and airplanes. They manage the hangars, fuel the airplanes, provide repair services and sell charts, maps, sunglasses and other flying paraphernalia.
“Hey doc,” greeted Steve Peski. Steve was one of the managers at the FBO. His secret love affair with Jack’s Bonanza was obvious. Well, actually, it was no longer a secret at all. Steve was in his mid-fifties with graying disheveled hair.
“Good morning, Steve.” Jack walked towards the flying machine. Steve approached.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” asked Jack.
“I heard about the mess you all had at the hospital. I’m glad you’re OK. I was worried about you. I mean you could have been the one that was killed before you had a chance to leave me the Bonanza.”
“Okay, Steve, if I ever get killed, I’ll make sure to leave the airplane to you.” Both men smiled. Jack was performing the pre-flight check, Steve right behind, attached at the hip.
“In my dreams.”
“Steve, you know how I keep teasing you that I’ll let you fly her? How about today?”
“Are you kidding? Doc, don’t kid me like that. It’s not healthy. I may have a heart attack on you.”
“I’m serious. You take good care of her. You fly. I’ll take the right seat.”
In no time, both men were perched and strapped in their seats in the small cockpit. Jack gave Steve a quick once over the instruments. Steve had not flown the Bonanza, but he was rated in like airplanes. In no time, he was ready to go. He would require a little assistance for the first flight and Jack was happy to oblige.
“Niner-eight-gulf-kilo, ready to taxi with weather info Tango,” announced Steve proudly into the microphone, roosted securely, admiring the instrument panel in front of him.
“Niner-eight-gulf-kilo, taxi to runway one-eight via taxiway Alpha then Charlie, hold short runway nine,” instructed the Evansville Tower Ground Controller.
“One-eight via Alpha, Charlie, hold short niner,” repeated Steve, increasingly proud and cocksure. With a little increase in throttle pressure, the beautiful airplane began to roll forward. Steve’s smile was ear to ear, as he followed the Ground Controller’s instructions. Soon the aircraft was positioned on Runway 18 awaiting orders to take off.
“Niner-eight-gulf-kilo, cleared for take off with right turn to 2-3-0, maintain VFR,” commanded Tower. The flight had been filed as VFR, or visual flight rules. This indicated that navigation of the airplane had to consist of the pilot’s ability to see outside the aircraft.
After repeating the instructions into the mike, Steve gunned the engine and the plane commenced its scamper down the runway. Soon they were airborne.
“Wow, she’s fast and smooth,” admired Steve.
“That she is, that she is.” Jack smiled agreeably.
After about ten minutes of flying around three thousand feet, they managed to find a hole in the clouds through which they could climb above the cloud layer, remaining in visual meteorological conditions. Steve was not rated to fly by instruments alone. As such, he was not allowed to fly into the clouds and lose his ability to navigate without visual cues. Now, they were on top of the world. Or, at least, the clouds that provided shelter from the scorching sun, like a giganti
c pergola over Evansville.
“So, what the heck happened at the hospital?” asked Steve.
“A patient shot one of the doctors and a nurse. They were both my friends.” Jack’s eyes moistened with tears.
“I’m sorry, Jack. I should have realized it and—”
“That’s okay. I should talk about it. It actually helps me.”
“That’s rough to lose your friends like that.”
“Let me ask you a question, Steve. Do you ever get military aircraft landing here in Evansville?” asked Jack after a long pause, hoping to change the beat of the conversation. Oh yeah, and get some info. Jack felt like a detective.
“All the time. The military aviators have occasional drills around here and use the airport here in Evansville. Have you not seen them?”
“Yes, I’ve seen fighter jets flying around on occasion.”
“We’ve even seen the top brass coming in. Now, they don’t arrive in fighter jets. They travel in full comfort. A major with the Marine Corps, who has been here twice recently, flew in a fully loaded Citation X. What a beautiful airplane. Beautiful sight to see. That baby was equipped with—” the excitement in Steve’s voice was interrupted by Jack, his interest piqued.
“What would a major want with Evansville, I wonder?”
“As a matter of fact, he wanted Newton Memorial Hospital. I arranged the limo transportation myself. He had meetings with some famous doctor at the hospital.”
“And you say he came twice?”
“Yeah, a few months ago and again about a week later, something like that.”
“Do you know who he came to see?”
“I don’t remember now. I have the name on file. His last name is also a first name. I remember that. A bit of a weird name.” Steve paused to attempt to retrieve the name from his memory-storing bin deep in the back of his brain.
“Was it Rupert?”
“Yes, that’s it. Rupert.”
“I wonder what he wanted with the military or what the military wanted with Rupert.”
“And soon after the major, another even more impressive bird flew in an international businessman to see Rupert. I arranged his limo, too. And took care of his Gulfstream G550. Beautiful. You should see the inside. Very plush.”
“What did he want with Rupert?”
“I don’t know that. But, I can tell it was big business. This man was from another country. He looked like he was from the Middle East somewhere. I remember thinking he had to be a prince or some rich person. I remember, the pilot filed an IFR flight plan direct to Paris, when they left.”
“How many times did this guy come see Rupert?”
“Just that one time.”
“Anyone else unusual come to see Rupert or our fair little hospital?”
“No. Nobody. I have worked here for fifteen years. Nobody has visited the hospital. Not before, not after.”
“Steve, will you give me a call if any of these two jets ever returns to Evansville?” Jack produced his card on which he wrote his cell number and handed it to Steve.
“It’s the least I can do after you let me fly this beautiful bird.”
*****
10:10 AM
A more appreciative grown man, Jack had never met. Steve was so elated that Jack granted him his wish to fly the Bonanza that he would not shut up about it. With the single-engine Beechcraft now securely housed in the private hangar, Jack secured himself in his Lexus. After all, “Click it or Ticket.” Besides being the law, Jack was a strong advocate of seatbelts and always used his.
During the drive to the hospital, Jack again had the premonition of danger. As he drove, he frequently scrutinized the rearview mirror. There was the large dark sedan. Was he becoming paranoid?
Jack dug out his Treo from his pocket and made a call.
“Hey, are you guys following me?”
“No, man. You’re on our side, remember?” retorted Detective Herb Fuller, with a smirk.
“I keep thinking I’m being followed by a large sedan. Dark, maybe deep blue or black.
“Hmmm,” returned Herb. “It’s not us. I don’t think.”
“He just turned right. He was about three cars behind me. All the way from the airport. Maybe it’s me just being paranoid.”
“Hey, in our field paranoid is a good thing. Let me look into this a bit, see what I can find out.”
“By the way, I have some stuff to talk to you about. Can I meet with you and Susan in a few minutes?”
“Sure, come on in. I’ll have the Starbucks ready for you.”
“Thanks, Herb. See you soon.”
Jack drove to police headquarters. He walked straight to the detective office where Herb, true to his word, was stirring Jack’s Starbucks coffee.
“We proudly serve!” stated Herb jokingly, as he handed Jack his coffee.
Jack took a long sip of the hot beverage, appreciating its rich flavor.
“Good to the last drop,” said Jack.
“Wrong coffee brand. So, what did you find out? Herb said you had some news for us,” asked Susan with a smile, sitting back on the sofa in the room.
“I went flying today. Steve Peski, who is the manager at the airport, told me a Marine Corps Major Rooner and a foreign executive have been in to see Rupert over the last few months. The major came twice, Akrim just once. These visits occurred after the first few murders. I have exact dates of their arrivals.”
Jack pulled out some papers from his jacket’s inner pocket. These were copies of the flight logs at Evansville Airport. Susan and Herb approached to look at the documents. Herb pointed to a large blackboard in the back of the room and the group walked in its direction. When they arrived, the blackboard displayed the time line of all the incidents they were investigating. The first unusual and unexplainable case the detective discovered was a bizarre medical situation which transpired on July 7 in Burkhart County, about fifty miles from Evansville. The victim’s name was written in red chalk, Paul W. Clute. Under his name, was written the date of the occurrence and the manner of death—sudden cardiac death with no structural heart disease, a diagnosis obtained from the death certificate with an editorial from Jack’s input. Under this was the location of the event, Redwood, Burkhart County. The other discovered cases of bizarre medical discrepancies and/or wacky homicide/suicides were likewise displayed in a timeline fashion to the right of the first incident. On that list were Floyd Sullivan, who died suddenly and unexpectedly on August 16 at Newton Memorial’s emergency department; and Joe McIntyre, who perished from a massive brain bleed at home on August 26, but not until he ruthlessly killed his wife in cold blood.
“The first visit from Major Rooner was on August 14.”
Jack paused looking through his papers. Susan stood up and picked up a piece of chalk. She added to the timetable: 8/14/06—Maj. Rooner visits Rupert. A drawn arrow indicated the point in time of the entry in relationship to all others. The other visit and that of Akrim’s were likewise added.
“So, where does this take us?” asked Jack breaking the silence.
“We will talk to the DA and see if this is enough to get a warrant or at the least compel Rupert to come in and answer some questions. But first, we asked his head lab-tech to talk to us,” said Herb. A short moment of silence ensued as Susan consulted her notebook, as anticipated by Herb.
“A Mr. James Miller,” she said finally.
“I’ve met him at the research lab. He’s a real nice older man. He’s kind and helpful. Can I come along?” asked Jack.
*****
1:07 PM
“Thanks for meeting with us with such short notice, Mr. Miller,” said Herb. The two local detectives were joined by Jack and Mike in the pleasant surroundings offered by the plush conference room in the research laboratory. This site was chosen purposely, to allow Miller to be most relaxed and for all to have access to the lab equipment, should it become necessary. Miller waddled onto a chair with a glass of water in his hand. He yawned as he sat dow
n, apologizing for the indiscretion as he did, his right hand covering his mouth. All others sat comfortably at the table, each with a drink perched on a coaster in front of them. Jack noticed a faint reddened area on James’ right hand. The pleasantries and introductions had been completed a few moments earlier.
“My friends call me James. Please, call me James. It’s my pleasure to help in any way I can. These atrocities really shook us all to the core.” Miller spoke with a nasal tone of voice, but his words seemed true and from the heart.
“James, we have been chatting with hospital personnel from all departments, to learn about the routine here and try to find some clues into the murders,” said Herb. Sitting back into the leather chair comfortably, his legs crossed, his hands on his knees, Herb continued in a calm, caring tone.
“Had you noticed anything strange or out of place before September 18, the day of the murders?”
“No, not at all.” James seemed perplexed, speaking slowly with an inquisitive look of worry on his face. “Like what? I’m not sure I know what you mean,” continued James.
“Anything out of the ordinary? Anyone or anything here that is usually not here? Anyone or anything missing that should have been here? Anything at all you can think of that might be a helpful clue for us,” said Herb.
“None that I can think of. It all seemed usual and routine around here.”
“What about the day of the murders or since then?”
“I can’t think of anything unusual.” James stopped for a moment to reach deep into the memory circuits of his brain. He shook his head looking at all present.
“What about Dr. Rupert? Has he seemed strange or anxious about anything?” inquired Herb.
“Oh, yes. Dr. Rupert is always that way. He is always worried about something. Always anxious that something will go awry. I have never seen a man with so much negative energy. He is just a worrywart; that’s all there is to it,” said James decisively, a yawn afterwards.