Die Before Your Time (Elia Christie / Luis Echevarria medical mysteries)

by Polonus Mucha, Susan

  “Want to join us?” Luis handed Hanssen his pole.

  “Maybe for a while. It's been a long time since I sat on a bank and fished.” He took a breath, then said, “So much going on this week.”

  Luis nodded. “I'm sorry about Aaron. He was a friend of yours.”

  “He was.” His shoulders slumped; he no longer looked like the Bermuda sailor.

  “How did you get to know him so well?” Elia asked.

  “Business.”

  “Business?”

  “Business.” Hanssen closed the door on the subject.

  Elia kept her eyes on her line. “We talked with a couple who witnessed the accident. The wife said an army-type vehicle ran Aaron's car off the road. I guess that's a Jeep. She told the police, so at least they have that lead.

  “Darn.” She reeled in her empty hook. “Sneaky fish. Stole my bait.” She rolled her eyes. “Again.”

  She baited her hook one more time and cast far out into the pond. “Frank, do you know why Aaron was bringing Angel Carter to the party?” She turned from the water and looked at Hanssen.

  “What makes you think he was bringing her to the party?”

  “Dot Scharff told us this morning.”

  “Is that right?” Hanssen stared out at the dark water and kept his eyes on his line. “Strange that she would want to come to a party after suffering her loss.”

  “She wasn't coming to party. Aaron was bringing her to see Harry Millen.”

  “Millen? Why?”

  “We think she wanted to tell him about Vicente's findings on Cyptolis,” Luis said. He was sitting on a bench untangling the casting net.

  “But that has us wondering,” Elia said.

  “About findings?” Hanssen glanced at Elia, then at Luis, and finally turned his gaze to the water.

  “Oh, we know the findings,” Elia said. “But Millen? The CEO of the company, the one person who should know everything about every drug. It's why she would have to tell Millen; wouldn't he know already? That's what's strange. What else did she have to talk to him about.”

  She reeled in her line, saw her bait was gone, and jabbed another mullet through the eye with a hook.

  Chapter 39

  “Pavnor Pharmaceuticals is behind this.” Hanssen had left, and Elia and Luis sat on benches on the dock waiting for a bite. “But I don't get it.”

  Luis looked at Elia. “Drugs are big business.”

  “I know, but murder?” She kept her eyes on her line. “Come on. One drug? How big a business is one drug?”

  “A lot of money goes into one drug. Research and trials take years.” He stood up to play a fish on his line. He slowly reeled in. Slowly, slowly. “Caramba!”

  “So far we're tied. Here, try again. Elia reached in the bucket for another slimy mullet and tossed it to Luis. He baited his hook, cast his line, and sat beside Elia.

  “But every drug has to go through that. What's so special about this one?” she asked. “It had already been approved, right?”

  “Preliminary approval.” He was silent for a minute. He stared at the water, his fishing pole seemingly forgotten. “A lot of money is spent just to get that approval.”

  “Are you talking research? Elia turned and look at Luis. Bribery? Are you saying the FDA can be bribed?” She looked astounded.

  “No. Not at all. Just what I said before. Research and trials. That costs millions. But once it gets past that, perception and leaks can cause a drug to crash.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  “It happens.”

  “But Luis, if every time a drug is recalled someone gets killed, there'd be a lot more dead bodies. Look at Vioxx. That was a big seller. Did you hear of anyone losing their lives over that recall?”

  Luis only shrugged.

  “So what is it about this drug that's so important that Pavnor would kill for?” Elia jumped up, her line taut. “I got something.”

  She kept her eyes on the water. Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it.” Elia talked to herself, while she reeled in the first catch of the day. The fish fought her and when it reached the surface, it skimmed the water in an erratic dance. “Yeah! I caught dinner.” She pulled the fish over the railing and plopped it on the dock, unhooked it, and dropped it into the bucket. It lay on its belly, its two eyes on one side of its head. “Flounder. We're having flounder for dinner.”

  Luis sat back and smiled as he watched Elia in her excitement. “I think my gift did the trick.” He picked up the fish.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The fun part is fishing; let someone else have the same fun.”

  She grimaced. “Okay, throw it back. We'll stop at the market and buy a flounder.” She baited her hook for another try. “We'll cook it at Vicente's.” Elia got serious. “That's okay, don't you think?”

  “I think Vicente would be happy for us to cook a meal in his home.”

  They sat quietly for a good part of the morning, but neither had another bite.

  Luis began gathering up the fishing gear.

  “I guess I won the bet.” A grin spread across Elia's face.

  “I let you.”

  Frank Hanssen pulled into a driveway and stopped in front of the closed garage door. He fingered the borrowed remote and pushed a button. The door slowly opened. He pulled into an empty spot beside a dark green Hummer. He killed the engine, pushed another button and the garage door closed. He sat there until he heard footsteps approach the door leading into the house. He looked at the Hummer, and whispered “Army-type.” He visibly sighed, and waited for the door to open.

  Chapter 40

  Before heading back to Vicente's, Luis and Elia stopped at Freshfields and shopped at the market for flounder. “I'll be the chef,” Luis said as they unloaded their groceries.

  He opened a bottle of wine and handed Elia a glass of chilled pinot grigio. “Cooking with wine enhances any meal,” he said with a grin. He rubbed his hands together. “Ready for my fish demonstration?”

  Elia went up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Are you planning on doing the Heimlich on me?”

  “No. I'm planning on telling you how much I love you. I know you're trying to cheer me up.” She gave him a squeeze. “You know what? It's working.”

  “You know what yourself? That's not all that's working. Go away.”

  “I'm gone. But come see me later.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed the back of his neck.

  “Elia, I'm working here.”

  “Right.” She backed up and sat at the kitchen bar while he worked.

  He put the fish on waxed paper and spread a light layer of mayonnaise on it then dredged it in bread crumbs flavored with garlic salt, paprika, and a handful of fresh chopped parsley. He placed the fish carefully on a pan sprayed with olive oil and put it in a hot oven. “Ten minutes.”

  “I'll do the coleslaw.” Elia grated cabbage and mixed up homemade dressing — Nana's recipe. She had learned to cook American dishes from her dad and her dad's mother. She smiled as she thought of her grandmother. She could call Nana at any time and ask her how to prepare a dish and she'd always have the answer. A wave of sadness passed over her. So many loved ones gone. She stole a glance at Luis as he set the table on the deck. “Please, Jesus, keep him safe.”

  Elia checked her potatoes cooking on the stove, their skins popping open. “My part will be ready.” She drained the potatoes and melted butter in the pan, added lemon, salt, and chopped parsley. She sliced a tomato as a side. “Some color for our meal.”

  They carried their meal to the deck. Luis refilled their wine glasses, and as they ate they watched the birds flying overhead. The egrets flew the same path every evening across the marsh to the nearby copse of trees bordering a pond. There the egrets pulled in their heads and clung to the trees like giant cotton balls. In the morning they would reverse the order and fly back over the marsh to begin a busy day of fishing.

  “When do you think she's going to ha
ve the funeral?”

  “Huh?” Luis looked confused.

  “Dot Scharff. When do you think she'll have the funeral?”

  Luis shrugged. “I don't know. She's carrying Aaron back to Connecticut now, so I imagine in a day or so.” He lifted his wine glass halfway to his mouth, then set it back on the table. “What are you thinking?”

  “Connecticut?”

  Luis shook his head. “I should have seen this coming. Funeral?”

  “No. I was just thinking that maybe we could talk to some people in Stamford about the drug. Some doctors?

  “We are on our honeymoon.” He enunciated each word clearly and reached across the table and put his hand over one of hers.

  “Look, Luis, how can someone get away with putting a drug on the market that harms people — that kills people?”

  “It's done all the time. Drugs do kill people. All the time. You give digoxin to someone who doesn't need it — or better yet — to someone who needs it, but give him a double or triple dose, and he can die.”

  “But — “ Elia began.

  Luis played with her fingers, then nodded. “But, this is different. There was no black box warning of the deadly side effect that damages the liver. And it was known by the makers. That is criminal.”

  “So? Do we go to Stamford? To Pavnor?”

  “We don't have to go to Connecticut. I'd like to talk to some of Vicente's colleagues here in Charleston. I can't figure out what could get him killed. There must be more.

  Chapter 41

  “That's it.” Luis put the tape on the last box. They had met with the owner the evening before and figured out what was Vicente's and what wasn't and had spent most of the day finishing the packing. “We'll drop these at the post office in Charleston.”

  Luis loaded the car while Elia did one last walk-through of the house. She nodded. “Yes, I think we're finished.”

  She got in the car, fastened her seat belt, and dug in her purse for her notebook and cell phone.

  “Who're you calling?”

  “Riser. To let him know we'll be staying awhile.” She held up a finger, listened to a recording, and left a message.

  Luis backed out of the driveway. “Before we go home I'd like to talk with Duke Middleton about some property.”

  “Who? And we're not leaving yet.”

  “No, we're not leaving.” Luis drove slowly down the street and looked at the homes on the street, all painted subdued and varied tones of gray and taupe. “Middleton's the fellow who played a round of golf with Millen, Hanssen, and Aaron the day Aaron died. He's a realtor. I met him briefly and said I'd stop to see him before we left.”

  “Thinking of buying some property?”

  “Not me. I heard Hanssen talking about it, though.”

  “And Riser?”

  “He's got a house here already.”

  “Of course! How could I have been so stupid? Bonnie had a property owner's decal on her car. They come and go on the island as they please.”

  “So?” Luis reached the end of the island and turned onto Nancy Kerrison Parkway.

  Elia ignored the question. “Don't you suppose that's who Hanssen was going to visit yesterday when he left us?”

  “Riser?”

  “Bonnie.”

  “I repeat. So?”

  “Don't you think that's odd?”

  “They're friends, Elia.”

  “No. They're more than that.”

  Luis glanced at his wife. “Meaning?”

  “Collaborators.”

  “Collaborators?” Luis shook his head. “I think you have an overactive imagination.”

  Riser checked his messages then made a phone call.

  Chapter 42

  “Have you ever been to New England?” Elia glanced at Luis as they drove across the Maybank Bridge on their way into Charleston.

  “We're not going to New England.”

  “I was just asking if you'd been there.”

  He shook his head. “I know you. No, I've never been to New England. It's always been important to me as a doctor, though.

  “When I was in medical school in Lima my bible was The New England Journal of Medicine. I learned a lot from their case studies and discussions; it was like solving a puzzle. I'd get all the clues and have to find the solution — the diagnosis. Studying that journal opened up a new horizon for me to learn more.

  “I can honestly say that was the stimulation to further my interest in medicine. The magazine comes out of Boston, and in Perú we referred to Boston as the brains of the United States; if you wanted to learn something in medicine, you went to Boston.”

  Luis looked over at Elia. “But this time, I think we'll learn as much in Charleston as we would in New England.”

  It was late afternoon when they parked their car in Charleston. The streets were busy. Pedestrians filled the walks; some meandered, others walked briskly. Elia and Luis held hands and paced themselves with the meanderers. Most of the tourists were dressed in shorts and tennis shoes. But Elia and Luis were on a date. She wore a soft-flowing turquoise sundress and had wrapped a matching light-weight shawl around her shoulders. Strappy sandals completed her outfit. Luis wore camel-colored linen slacks, and a black linen shirt open at the neck.

  They peered in windows of restaurants they passed on their walk. On a side street they found an Italian restaurant.

  They looked at each other and nodded at the same time.

  “Señora, Italian it is.”

  “I've heard there are great Italian restaurants in Connecticut.”

  Chapter 43

  Cramer was shouting at the camera. His shirt was wrinkled, his sleeves were rolled up, and he jabbed his finger at his unseen audience. “Don't do it! You'll be sorry.

  “Okay. Let's hear it from Jeremy in our nation's capitol. What's on your mind, Jeremy?”

  After the obligatory “boo-yah,” the anonymous Jeremy posed a seemingly benign question, but it caused chest pains in more than one investor.

  “I'm calling about pharmaceutical companies and — ”

  “Hold it, hold it, shouted Cramer. We're all friends here. Name it. Name it.”

  “This is a hypothetical question — ”

  “Don't do ‘em. Gotta be something concrete.” Jab, jab at the camera and in Jeremy's face. “But, okay, I'll answer a hypothetical question — a first for me. Go ahead, Jeremy from our nation's capitol.”

  “Suppose a drug passes almost all the steps required by the FDA to be eligible for the general public. The drug is on the market, still a few steps to go, though. But it is on the market. The company's profits rise with the news, right?”

  Cramer interrupted. “In this hypothetical question, that's a rhetorical question, am I correct, Jeremy from our nation's capitol?”

  “Well, the company's stock goes up. Here's my question.”

  “Hypothetical?”

  “Yeah. What if there's a side effect?”

  “Crash! Down the toilet. Sell, sell, sell.” Cramer shouted at the camera.

  “But the FDA doesn't know about the side effect.”

  “Hold it. Hold it right there, Jeremy from our nation's capitol.” Cramer was shouting. “Two pieces of advice: Sell and,” his voice went up half an octave, “Don't take the medicine.”

  “OK. That's enough of hypothetical questions. Let's hear it from Annie in Brighten Heights, Pennsylvania.”

  In Charleston, Kiawah, Stamford, Greenwich, TVs were switched off, and silence reined, roaring louder than Cramer. Then phones rang.

  Frank Hanssen was on the train between New York and Stamford and missed the first airing of Mad Money. But he heard about it. The first call came from South Carolina.

  “Why would someone ask that?”

  “He gets all kinds of questions. What makes you think it's about our drug?” Hanssen wiped the sweat off his forehead with a swipe of his hand. “You said it was a hypothetical question.” “There are no hypothetical questions. Find the guy who called
in.” The line went dead.

  The next call came from Connecticut. “Where are you?”

  “On the train.”

  “Coming here?”

  “Yes. Home.”

  “ You missed Mad Money.”

  “I heard about it. So?”

  “So lots of people are going to wonder if that's what's happening at Pavnor.”

  “It's not. Listen, I'll talk with you in the morning. I've got some calls to make.” Hanssen snapped his phone shut and turned it off. A dead phone can't ring.

  Millen set his phone down gently and picked up his Scotch and sipped it slowly. A sly smile graced his tired-looking face. His study overlooked a forested backyard in quiet Greenwich. It was a peaceful scene, but he turned serious and apprehensive about what was to come. What had to come. He paced about his study and stopped to look out the window. The sun's rays filtered through the trees as if a light from heaven was filtering down on the lawn. But Millen wasn't thinking of heaven — just the opposite. It was then he placed the call to Elia's cell phone.

  Chapter 44

  Luis turned on TV and caught the late–night replay of Mad Money. He was eating a bowl of strawberry ice-cream from room service and half listened to the caller's question about side effects. He perked up when he heard a reference to stock prices. He forgot the ice-cream and listened to the segment. He got to his feet and started pacing, a frown growing. He stood at the patio door and looked out at the ocean, not noticing its glistening under a full moon. A slight breeze carried a whiff of the sea's fish into the room.

  “Side effects, stock prices.” He said it softly. He stepped onto the patio and started circling the small area. “Side effects. Stock prices.” He walked back into the room, and out again. In and out again.

  “Luis? What are you doing? Aren't you coming to bed?”