Blue Goodness (Michael Kaplan Mysteries)

by David W. Cowles

  “Did he hear what the argument was about?” Michael asked.

  “Yeah. This is a small town, Las Vegas is. Smith had been seeing Hogg’s wife on the sly for years—even when Smith was still working for Metro. In fact, she was the woman Smith was caught screwing in his patrol car. That was the incident that got him kicked off the force. She was all set to move in with Smith when Hogg offed her.”

  Mark shoveled another donut into his mouth, just as his telephone rang. He washed the donut down with a big gulp of coffee before answering. “Metro, Homicide Division. This is Detective Mark Caruso … uh, huh … how about that … yeah … okay, let me know if he comes to again … thanks for calling.”

  Mark put the phone down and looked at Michael. “That was the guard we’ve had posted outside Stewart Lamb’s room at UMC. Lamb came out of his coma briefly, said four words, then went under again.”

  “Don’t keep us in suspense. What did he say?” Michael asked anxiously.

  “He said, ‘woman with orange hair.’ That’s all.”

  Michael and Kimberly looked at each other. They yelped the same thing, simultaneously. “Soozie!”

  “Soozie? You mean that floozie who said she was your girlfriend?” Mark asked. “What about her?”

  “Mark, please promise me that Myra never finds out what I’m about to tell you.”

  “Okay, I promise. What is it?” he responded impatiently.

  “You know Soozie and I had sex. More than once. What you don’t know—and I didn’t know, either, until today, was that she induced me to have sex with her by drugging me with veterinary medications. The same type of drugs that were stolen from Dr. Royal’s clinic. And Lamb was injected with Blue Goodness—another of the drugs stolen from Royal. I think Soozie, and not Gunther Hogg, may be the person who tried to kill Stewart Lamb.”

  “So, even if Soozie did break in at Royal’s clinic to get the drugs, why would she want to kill Lamb?” Mark asked. “What possible motive could she have?”

  “Soozie used to be Hogg’s girlfriend. She had a big grudge against him and was out to get revenge. She was obsessed about wanting Hogg destroyed. Hogg had negligently killed her pet, a gray French poodle named Phideaux. Soozie has a big oil painting of the dog hanging in her living room.

  “In retrospect, I think Soozie must have been attracted to me solely because of my job as a newspaper reporter. She wanted to use me to write articles for the Times that would damage Hogg’s reputation. Apparently, she thought I’d be more willing to do her bidding if we were sex partners. Quid pro quo, to use a legal term.

  “Soozie was my source for the story about the animals dumped down the mine shaft. And she was the one who gave me the videotape of Hogg and Oscar Stein—the tape that, taken at face value, incriminated Hogg.

  “Knowing Lamb had instigated Hogg’s license revocation hearing with the Veterinary Board, Soozie must have figured Hogg would get blamed for the attack on Lamb—which, in fact, he did. Think about it, Mark. Remember when Soozie told you we were having sex at the time the attempt was made on Lamb’s life? If you’d bought her story, it would have been a perfect alibi for Soozie’s whereabouts at that time, as well as mine.

  “When I ran into Soozie at Lamb’s clinic, she’d just had a broken fingernail fixed. She might have damaged her nail struggling with Lamb.”

  Mark stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Michael. But what you’re saying does seem to make a lot of sense.”

  “What about Hogg’s wife?” Kimberly interjected. “Maybe Soozie killed her, too.”

  “Naw, that couldn’t be,” Mark disagreed. “There’s too much evidence pointing in Hogg’s direction. First of all, he’s a veterinarian, and his wife’s murderer used a scalpel—a tool of his profession. And she was stabbed with surgical precision. Next, Hogg’s blood was found at the murder scene, and his wife’s blood was on his truck bed and smeared all over his cowboy boots, which were hidden in the clinic. What’s more, Hogg and his wife were having marital troubles—she’d literally thrown his things out of their house. That’s motive. For the clincher, her body was stuffed into a plastic bag and tossed down the mine shaft, just like Hogg did when he disposed of the dead animals. Hogg had to have been the one who killed his wife.”

  “Not necessarily,” Michael countered. “Soozie is a real estate agent now, but she used to be a registered nurse. Her knowledge of human anatomy is probably greater than Hogg’s was. After all, he operated on animals, not people.

  “As far as the blood is concerned, it could have been planted. Soozie had—still has, in fact—a key to Hogg’s clinic. That’s how I got inside and copied his accounting records.”

  “Soozie could have smeared Hogg’s boots and truck with blood from his wife after she was killed, but how could she get her hands on some of his blood?” Mark argued.

  “Hogg was a regular blood donor. Soozie did volunteer work once or twice a month at the blood bank. She could have purloined a bag of his blood weeks ago and kept it in her refrigerator or freezer until she was ready to use it to frame him.

  “And Soozie knew where the bodies were buried—or, more accurately, dumped. She drew a detailed map so I could get to the mine. She knew Fairlawn Pet Cemetery was going to remove the animals from the mine, and, when they did, Hogg’s wife’s corpse would be the first one retrieved. Ergo, since we already knew—thanks to Soozie’s help—that Hogg was the person who disposed of the animals in the mine, he would be assumed to be the person who dumped his wife’s body there. It was a near-perfect setup. If Stewart Lamb had died without talking no one would have ever suspected Soozie.”

  “Okay, buddy, you’ve convinced me,” Mark said. “I’ll pick her up. Do you know where she might be at this time of day?”

  “Soozie was at home about one-thirty this afternoon,” Kimberly volunteered.

  “How do you know that?” Michael questioned.

  “I called her and we had a little girl-to-girl chat. About you. I warned her to leave you alone. Sorry, Michael, I forgot to tell you earlier.”

  Michael grimaced but did not comment.

  “Do you know where Soozie lives?” Mark asked.

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll never forget her apartment,” Michael said with disgust.

  “Okay. You lead me there. I’ll grab a couple of other officers and follow you in a squad car,” Mark instructed. “Let’s go.”

  Thirty-Nine

  SOOZIE HAD BEEN CRYING most of the afternoon, ever since she received the phone call from the bitch who said her name was Kimberly Cohen. Her spirits were broken and she was more depressed than she’d ever been in her life, even more despondent than after Phideaux was killed. Periodically, she would go to her medicine cabinet, take out the container of liquid valium, remove the cap, and take a swig without measuring, much as some people who are addicted to nighttime cough syrup do.

  Even after being threatened by the Cohen woman and told she would never see or hear from Michael again, Soozie still hoped he would show up on her doorstep. If he did, she wouldn’t even ask him where he had been or who he was with or what he had been doing. She would just invite him in and help him put away his things and make him feel at home and loved.

  But the day had worn on. It was after four and Michael still hadn’t phoned her. The splendid prime rib dinner Soozie had spent most of the morning preparing for him was still cooking in the oven, the wine was chilled, the table had been set, but Michael was not there, and probably never would be. Soozie was not going to eat alone. Not tonight, not ever again. She lit the long white candles and moved them from her dining room table to the fireplace mantle, placing one on each side of the oil painting of Phideaux.

  “I kept my vow to you. Your death has been avenged, my darling Phideaux,” she said out loud to the picture on the wall. “The bad man who killed you is now dead. He can never hurt another little doggie again.”

  The valium made her gait unsteady and her speech slurry, but Soozie was anything but confused. She had
made up her mind, knew exactly what she was going to do, and was fully capable of doing it. “Mama Soozie will be with you soon, my sweet baby poodle-woodle,” she promised. “I thought I had finally found a man who could love me, a man who could give and accept unconditional love, but I was wrong. He was no good, just like all the others. Maybe by tomorrow he’ll change his mind and want me, but by then it will be too late.” She blew her nose into a Kleenex.

  Soozie went back to her bathroom. This time, she removed a plastic IV-drip bag of saline solution from a drawer and a small bottle containing a fluorescent blue syrup from the medicine cabinet. Then, she attached an eighteen gauge hypodermic needle to a large syringe, inserted the needle into the bottle of Blue Goodness, carefully measured out fifty cubic centimeters of the thick fluid, and inserted the needle through the stopper of the bag. Slowly she pressed on the plunger until all the euthanasia fluid had been emptied from the syringe, then shook the bag vigorously to mix the contents. Even diluted with the saline solution, the color of Blue Goodness was almost as intense as it was in the small bottle.

  The valium was making it more difficult for Soozie to focus her eyes now, but she managed to affix a new number twenty-three hypodermic needle to the tube leading from the bag. Soozie went to her living room, and, using a wire coat hanger, suspended the bag from the top of a floor lamp. The clear plastic tubing attached to the bag reached nearly to the floor. She extinguished the lights in the room, all except for the candles on the mantle and the little brass lamp mounted on top of the painting, and sat down in a comfortable armchair next to the floor lamp, where she could concentrate on Phideaux’s likeness until the end.

  It was still not too late to change her mind, not too late for Michael to show up. She would wait until five. No more, though. She watched the minutes tick away on the large clock sitting on the mantle beneath the painting of her beloved companion. She was becoming drowsy and was not certain she could remain alert enough to insert the needle in her vein if she waited much longer. At three minutes to five, she stuck her arm with the needle.

  At two minutes to five, she heard, somewhere in the distance, a doorbell ring. Was it hers? She could not tell, nor cared any longer.

  At one minute to five, she heard a pounding on her door. She would not answer it. Whoever it was would go eventually go away.

  At five sharp, she reached over to the plastic tube, located the clamp, slid the valve open, and watched as the blue liquid dripped from the bag into the tube, and from there flowed into her vein.

  “ARE YOU SURE we’re at the right building?” Mark asked Michael. “All the apartments on this street look alike.”

  “Yes, this is the right place,” Michael assured him confidently.

  “I guess Snyder’s not at home. Do you know where her office is? Maybe she’s there.”

  “Soozie’s home, Mark. I’m sure of it. That’s her Cadillac parked in front. Maybe she’s in the shower and can’t hear the doorbell. Maybe she has a man in there and doesn’t want to come to the door. Maybe—”

  “Maybe. Maybe. Maybe,” Mark muttered. Two other officers were standing behind him. Kimberly trailed behind the officers. “Maybe I should just bust the door down and find out.”

  “You can’t bust her door down—you know that. You don’t have a warrant. Any evidence you find would be thrown out because of the Exclusionary Rule. Stand aside. I’ll do it,” Michael said. “I’m a private citizen and won’t be acting under the color of law.” Mark stepped back and Michael took a running leap at the door. On his first try, the door popped loose from the hinges and latch and fell inside the apartment. Michael was the first one to enter.

  Soozie was slumped over in a chair, the IV-drip tube in her arm. “Ohmygod, I think she’s killed herself,” he yelled. “Someone call for an ambulance. Now!”

  Michael ran to Soozie and pulled the needle from her arm. He slapped her in the face, first on one side and then the other. Her body was cold and clammy. “Get me a wet towel,” he ordered one of the officers. “Kimberly, look around and see if you can find out what Soozie has taken.”

  Soozie stirred slightly, saw Michael in front of her, and gave him a weak smile. “Michael, why didn’t you come sooner? I waited for you all day. I truly loved you, Michael,” she whispered.

  “What did you do to yourself, Soozie? Why?”

  But she closed her eyes, her beautiful emerald eyes, and did not hear Michael’s questions. Michael tried shaking her, washing her face with the wet towel, talking to her, but she would not wake up. Then, oblivious to the officers, heedless of Mark and Kimberly, Michael held Soozie close and gently rocked her back and forth, tears streaming from his eyes.

  Within minutes the paramedics came running through the door and pushed Michael aside so they could check Soozie’s vital signs. “She’s still alive, but her pulse is very slow. Do you know what happened to her?”

  “I think I do,” Kimberly announced. “I found this bottle in the medicine cabinet in her bathroom. It’s a euthanasia solution, used to put animals to sleep. Veterinarians usually call it Blue Goodness. The bottle is half empty. She must have mixed it with the saline solution.”

  “Let’s get her on a gurney and to an emergency room. Fast. Sunrise Hospital is the closest,” one of the paramedics said to the other. “Bring along the bottle. Maybe there’s an antidote.”

  “I’m going with you,” Michael said.

  “No, Michael, you can’t—” Kimberly protested, grabbing his arm.

  Michael looked at Kimberly with both tenderness and determination in his eyes. “Kimberly, it’s something I have to do. Soozie may be dying because of me. I wasn’t the one who needed to see a psychiatrist today—she did. I should have recognized she needed help and arranged for her to get it. She has no family, no one else.

  “You can follow me to the hospital if you want, or I’ll take a taxi home later. But I have to go, right now. There isn’t any time to waste.”

  Michael sat in the back of the ambulance and held Soozie’s hand the entire ride to the hospital and prayed she wouldn’t die.

  “SO THIS IS THE YOUNG LADY who drugged you,” Dr. Schwartz commented, looking down at the unconscious woman lying in the hospital bed.

  “Yes, this is Soozie. Is she going to make it?” Michael asked.

  The doctor nodded. “I think so. Apparently, you found her in the nick of time. She must have just opened the IV drip valve—there was virtually none of the euthanasia solution in her blood. However, if you had arrived at her apartment ten or fifteen minutes later, she would have been dead. From what you’ve described, she’d made herself a very efficient suicide machine.

  “Soozie does have a tremendous amount of diazepam in her system. Were you aware she’d taken a large dose of valium?” Schwartz asked.

  Michael shook his head. “No. I hadn’t seen her all day.”

  “She’s going to be sleeping for quite a long time. Because of the suicide attempt, I’m going to place her in the psychiatric ward. Why don’t you go home, Michael, and get yourself some rest. There’s nothing more you can do for her tonight. If there’s any change in her condition, we’ll call you. Feel free to phone the hospital and talk with the head nurse on duty any time you want.”

  Michael went to the waiting room to call Kimberly, but she was already there. She rushed to him and gave him a big hug. “Michael, I’m so proud of you. Despite everything Soozie did, you still have room in your heart to feel compassion for her.”

  “Soozie’s a human being, Kimberly. A very troubled human being. I went with Mark to her apartment expecting to watch him arrest her on murder charges. When I saw her there in the chair, dead or dying, I didn’t know which, all my feelings of anger melted.”

  “Does the doctor think she has a chance?”

  “Yes. Fortunately, Soozie didn’t get much of the Blue Goodness. We got to her just in time. She has a valium overdose, but should recover from that by tomorrow. What’s going to happen to her afterwards, though, is
an entirely different matter. If she’s arrested and convicted for the murder of Hogg’s wife and the attempted murder of Stewart Lamb, she could be in prison for the rest of her life. Or, even executed—ironically, probably by lethal injection.”

  Kimberly put her arm around Michael’s waist. “Let’s go home, honey. I’ll make some sandwiches if you’re hungry. Right now, I don’t think either of us is in the mood for going to a restaurant.”

  Michael leaned over and kissed Kimberly tenderly on the forehead. “I’m glad you’re so understanding of the way I feel. Dr. Weitzman was right. You and I can expose our innermost feelings to each other.”