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

by Polonus Mucha, Susan

  “Yes, and other organs as well.”

  “Didn't anyone pick this up?” Elia sounded confused.

  They were interrupted by the GPS giving directions to Greenwich. Luis made a couple of turns. “Vicente did.”

  Both were quiet. The only sound was the voice from the Garmin giving street-by-street directions to their destination.

  Luis never got to number six.

  Chapter 56

  Dot Scharff met them at the door. “I'm so sorry to drag you up here.” She looked tired. Her skin had a sallow cast to it, and her naturally curly hair was listless.

  Elia put her arms around her and gave her a warm hug. “You didn't drag us. We wanted to come.”

  Luis bent down and kissed her cheek. “Let's see what's going on.”

  She led them into the kitchen. “Coffee first.” She put some sweet rolls on the kitchen table and poured steaming coffee. “Please eat. There's so much food here. It's still coming in.” Her voice cracked at the last words.

  “Tell me about your children. They're both in college?” Elia sipped her coffee and nibbled on a roll. She nodded her head and looked interested while Dot talked about her kids.

  Luis looked over at his wife and marveled at how easily she put Dot at ease. He finished his coffee and wanted to get at the business at hand. “Dot, tell us what happened.”

  Dot began the story. “Lorraine Fegan — so thoughtful of her to come over.” She refilled the coffee cups and held the pot in hands, as if she needed its warmth. “She's been CFO at Pavnor for a couple of years, but has been with the company for a lot longer, for years.

  “What about her?”

  “Oh, she came over to take me out to lunch. That's when it happened.”

  “When it happened. The break-in.” Luis said.

  She nodded. “Come with me.” She pushed back her chair and ran a hand through her hair. She shook her head. “I know I look terrible.”

  “You look fine.” Elia stood and put her arm around Dot's shoulders. “Where to?”

  “Aaron's study.”

  They followed her and waited beside her as she stood for a moment in the doorway of the study. She took a breath and let it out in a sigh.

  “I'll miss seeing him sitting at his desk.” She walked over and put her hand on the back of the desk chair. “I could see him whenever I walked through the hall.”

  “He worked at home a lot?” Luis asked.

  “Not a whole lot. But he was in here every free minute since he returned from Bermuda.” She moved her hand back and forth across the back of the chair in a soft caress.

  Luis heard the wistfulness in her voice. He gave her a moment before he interrupted her thoughts. “Catching up? I know that's what I have to do when I've been away.”

  “No. He was upset about what happened in Bermuda. The doctor dying, of course. But then they buried his report.”

  “Who buried it?”

  I'm not sure.” She pointed to some chairs. “Please.” She frowned and looked confused. “I don't know.” She looked from Luis to Elia. “Wouldn't you think it would have to be someone from Pavnor?”

  “Most likely, but this wasn't Pavnor's meeting. It was a general scientific meeting.” Luis moved some books off the chairs and he and Elia sat down. “It could have been the organizers of the meeting.”

  “You don't believe that, Luis. You know you don't. Why even say it?”

  “Devil's advocate. But we'll try to find out.”

  “We'll be stopping at Pavnor while we're here, won't we Luis? So maybe someone can tell us.”

  Luis nodded. “I'd like to know.” He turned his attention to the study. “His laptop and papers taken. Anything else?”

  “Not a thing. That's why I think… No, that's why I know it has to do with Aaron's research on that Bermuda drug.”

  Chapter 57

  The receptionist sat behind an L-shaped desk in the center of the small lobby. The walls were painted a hunter green but peach-colored valances on the windows brightened the room. Plants and lamps on tables lent warmth to the lobby. She called Millen's secretary, then directed them to the fourth floor. Millen waited for them at the elevator.

  “Nice to see you again. I was surprised you had traveled this far. This is your honeymoon, isn't it?”

  “Yes, but what a lovely part of the country for a honeymoon,” Elia said.

  “If you have time, drive along the coast. Quaint towns, great seafood, magnificent scenery.”

  “We plan to,” Luis said, shaking Millen's hand. “One of these days. But, unfortunately, not this trip.”

  “Too bad.” Millen ushered them down the hall to his office. “So the honeymoon's over?”

  Luis chuckled. “I hope not.”

  “We're going back to Kiawah,” Elia said.

  “Well at least get over to the Avenue.”

  “The Avenue?”

  “Greenwich's shopping area. Great place to people watch. And fabulous restaurants.”

  “We can do that at least. After we leave here we'll check it out.” Luis looked at Elia and saw her nod in agreement.

  “I'm curious. What brought you up here, if you're still vacationing?”

  “Dot Scharff.”

  “Dot. Yes. When you called I was surprised. I wasn't aware that you knew her.”

  Elia looked confused. “We were there when she learned her husband had been killed, remember?”

  Millen shook his head as if to clear it. “Terrible night.” He shook his head again. “So you got to know her that night?”

  “Actually, no. But we know her now.”

  “I just wondered.” He paused a beat. “That's how you knew she was robbed.”

  “That's why we're here,” Luis said. To see what was stolen.”

  “Well I could have told you that on the phone. Whoever it was didn't get much. I understand they only got to the study and then left. Probably scared off by something.” Millen fidgeted as he spoke. He didn't make eye contact and instead shuffled papers on his desk.

  “Harry,” Luis got down to business. “There's something that's bothering me.”

  Millen raised his eyebrows. “Bothering you?”

  “About Vicente's paper. At the meeting in Bermuda.”

  Millen stopped his fidgeting. “Ah, yes. Bermuda. I couldn't make that meeting; I sent some other people.”

  “His paper should have been presented,” Luis said.

  Millen didn't respond to Luis's statement, so Elia spoke. “Vicente was dead. Couldn't someone have read his paper?” She said it quietly.

  “I understand how you feel, Elia.”

  “Was it something in the paper that you didn't want anyone to know about?”

  “I told you I wasn't there. Someone else pulled that plug.”

  “You're the boss. The buck stops with you.”

  “You have no idea. If I had been there, that paper would have been presented.”

  “I don't know, Harry; I don't think it would have put Pavnor in a good light.” Luis said.

  “You're right. You don't know. I trust my subordinates to do the right thing.” As he spoke, he moved to the door and stood with his hand on the doorknob.

  “Well, Harry,” Elia said with a trace of a syrupy southern accent, “maybe you should learn not to be so trusting.”

  She and Luis stayed put.

  Millen looked from one to the other. “Is there something else?”

  “No. We got what we came for.” Luis said.

  Millen returned to his desk and picked up the phone. “Madison, would you escort my guests out?”

  “Oh, one more thing,” Luis said. He turned back to Harry. “Are you planning to release Vicente's report now?”

  “I'll have to review it.”

  “Good idea. Review it. And then look into why there is so much hemorrhaging.” He turned to the door and took Elia's hand. “And check to see where Cyptolis is produced.” They followed Madison out of the office.

  Millen's face
lost its color. He closed the door and dropped into his chair. “Damn you, Fegan. This could have been over.” He picked up the phone and punched in her number.

  He put his throbbing head in his hands. He dug in his pocket for his bottle of nitroglycerine and gave himself a short squirt of the red liquid. He sat still for fifteen minutes, not wanting to stand and fall on his face with the falling blood pressure from the medication. When he felt better, he left his office.

  Chapter 58

  “So what do we know now?” Elia and Luis strolled the Avenue in Greenwich and were now walking on neighboring streets.

  “I think we know nothing.” He shrugged.

  “China. All Aaron said in his report was that he discovered that some drugs were being produced in China, and Cyptolis was one of them.

  “That's not illegal is it? The China part?”

  “No. It's not illegal.”

  “Then what's the problem with China?

  “It's not smart.” He paused. “Economical, but smart?”

  “Luis, everything's made in China. Why not drugs? They're expensive. Economics count.”

  “Si, pero… ”

  Elia glanced at him. “You're thinking in Spanish, aren't you? I know something's percolating when you do that.”

  He shook his head. “I don't know. You're right. China produces a lot of everything, including drugs. He took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully. “This trip was fruitless.”

  “No it wasn't, Luis. We saw Dot.” Elia waited for a rebuttal, but Luis had stopped and turned and was looking behind him toward the Avenue.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Did you hear that?”

  Elia looked around. “What am I supposed to hear?”

  Luis stood completely still. As he looked down the street, he saw the source of the noise. He held tight to Elia's hand.

  “What?” Her voice went up a half octave. “You're scaring me.”

  “There's a guy on a motorcycle. Every time we turn down another street he's there.”

  Elia looked around. “Coincidence?”

  “I hope.” They walked quickly to their car, Luis glancing around like a member of Obama's Secret Service detail. “This was a crazy idea. I'll be glad to get back home.”

  “Home home? Or are we going to finish our honeymoon?”

  Luis glanced down at his wife as he opened the car door. “Honey we're never going to finish our honeymoon.” He cocked his head as if in thought, then closed her door.

  When he got behind the wheel, he turned to look at her. “Look, we've had a crazy couple of weeks. Let's forget about all of this for a few days and do some traveling while we're here.”

  “But — ”

  “No.” He held up a hand. “Wait. Let me finish.” He laid a hand on her arm. “A few days. A few days of no motorcycles chasing us, a few days of not looking over our shoulders.” He moved his hand to her cheek and stroked it gently. “A few days.” He said it softly and waited for her to speak.

  She nodded. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Muchas cosas! We can go into New York and see a play. We can take Millen's suggestion and drive up the coast. We can go all the way to Cape Cod. On the way we could stop in Newport. We could drive up to Boston.” He looked at her with a questioning look on his face, his fingers twirling around in her hair.

  She nodded again. “Sounds nice. Where shall we start?”

  “Let's start in New York.”

  “Honey, I think the locals call it the City.”

  He started the car and pulled out of his parking place, glancing in the rearview mirror for company. Not seeing anyone, he winked at her. “The City. We'll go into the City.”

  He drove a couple of blocks passing St. Mary's Catholic Church and turned down a side street. “I know it's here somewhere.”

  “What?”

  “The train station.

  “We're going right now?”

  “It's only a forty-minute train ride, I heard. Why not?” He drove another block and spotted the tracks. “At least let's check the schedule.”

  But he didn't pull into the train parking lot. Instead he drove past, turned another corner, then another, and yet another.

  “Luis? What is it?”

  “Nothing. I just want to make sure that goon on the cycle doesn't know what we're doing.” He made a few more maneuvers then turned into the parking spot. “New York, here we come.”

  When they reached the platform several people were standing around. Luis checked the schedule, then his watch. He looked around and saw a machine, tapped the screen and waited for two tickets to spit out. Both he and Elia kept watching the others and looking over the railing at the parking lot below. When the train came around the bend and headed for the stop, Luis took one more fast look at the parking lot, and stiffened. He pulled Elia into an alcove and held her close until the train pulled out of the station.

  “What? What, Luis?” Elia tried to peer over his shoulder. Did you see someone?”

  “Someone thinks we're on that train.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Without answering, Luis motioned her forward. They stood behind a pillar and looked down at their car.

  The “goon” on the motorcycle had pulled beside their car.

  “Oh my god!” Luis pulled his wife out of sight as soon as the words burst forth from her mouth.

  Then he repeated her words, but softly, almost in a whisper.

  An hour later, they had stopped at their hotel, packed, checked out, and were back on the road. This time they drove through Port Chester, New York, a village adjacent to Greenwich. The village was bustling with car and foot traffic. Restaurants, bakeries, hardware stores, were just a few of the businesses lining the main street.

  One of the many restaurants geared to the large Latino population touted Peruvian food.

  “Maybe we'll check out that one when we come back through here,” Luis said with a nod toward the restaurant.

  He headed toward the large building plastered with the huge red Lowe's theater sign. He entered a parking garage and didn't take the first parking spot he saw. He went up several levels, all the time checking his rear view mirror.

  “Luis.” Elia had her hand on his arm as he was about to get out of the car. “Stop.”

  Halfway out of the car with one foot on the pavement, he turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised in question.

  “Let's drive up the coast and go into the City when we return. Someone's expecting us to be on the train. We don't want to have to wonder if someone's waiting for us at Grand Central Station.”

  He pondered her suggestion. “Pull out the map; let's see where we're going.”

  Elia's suggestion proved providential.

  Chapter 59

  “I thought you told me we had a sure thing here?”

  Frank Hanssen leaned against his car, his arms folded across his chest. His tie was loosened, but his sport coat was pressed to perfection. His gray slacks had a straight arrow crease down the legs and his tassel loafers looked spit-polished. The permanent crease at the bridge of his nose showed more of his personality than his put-together outfit.

  He was in the parking garage of the Port Chester train station glaring at Lorraine Fegan.

  “I am not the investment guru.” She stood two arms lengths from Hanssen, feet apart and hands on hips. With her black leather pants and boots, she looked like a silver-haired Wonder Woman. “You are.”

  “Well I'm not the guru now. What the hell is going on?”

  “You tell me. You called this meeting.” She looked around the parking garage. “In your satellite office.”

  “The stock crashed.”

  “Frank, all stock has crashed. We're in a recession!” Her voice went up an octave. “What's that have to do with me?”

  “Pharmaceuticals are not supposed to crash.” He clearly enunciated each word through clenched teeth.

  Lorraine stepped back. “What happened?”<
br />
  “Where have you been?” He squinted at her. “Do you live in a cocoon?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Mad Money. He shook his head. “One lousy question and we're in the basement.” He told her about the program and the question about a drug and the FDA being in the dark.

  “You're crazy. One question.” She didn't sound so sure.

  “The point is our investors think it was our company, and they're pulling out.”

  “First of all, it's not your company.” She was Wonder Woman again. “Second, if you think you've got problems now, just wait.”

  “What? What now?”

  “Aaron Scharff is back from the grave.”

  Chapter 60

  Millen let himself into the quiet house. He could smell something in the oven. Although Jeannie didn't eat much, the housekeeper cooked a full meal every evening. Jeannie insisted on it. She wanted Harry to eat. But he would have insisted on it anyway because he wanted his wife to eat. Or at least try to eat.

  “Dinner's in the warming oven, Mr. Millen.” The housekeeper had her pocketbook over arm. “I'll see you in the morning.” As she opened the front door she turned. “I've got soup for Jeannie.” Her eyes were sad.

  Millen fixed himself a scotch and carried it into his study. He sat down on the sofa, the leather giving with his weight. “What the hell is going on?” He downed the drink.

  He fixed a tray for Jeannie, added a plate for himself, and carried it upstairs to his wife's room. The nurse was giving her patient a glass of water. “There's some good food downstairs Peg; go and help yourself. I'll take care of Jeannie.”

  Jeannie smiled at her husband. “Clara made some soup, I see. Put it aside and tell me about your day.”

  “Nope. First we eat. Then we talk.”

  He helped his wife with the soup and wouldn't let her stop until it was half consumed.

  “I'm finished.” Jeannie Millen put her spoon on her tray. Her husband had covered it with a white linen napkin and had plucked a few dogwood petals from a backyard tree and fixed them in a tiny vase. She gestured at his tray. “And you haven't eaten a bite.”