Evelyn gave him a nasty stare. “Cool your jets.” She continued to challenge Sparks for a moment but then backed down.
“What about my stuff?”
Sparks lifted a plastic bag. “I’ve got everything right here.” When he lifted the bag the front of his suit jacket parted just enough for me to see the butt of his gun. I think Evelyn might have seen it too. She covered her mouth but said nothing. In either case, I knew that she had no human compassion and doubted she would do anything about it. Sparks put his hands on the chair grips and pushed me through the doorway.
It was a beautiful summer day. The sky was clear and the sun was intense. I had to shield my eyes with my hand. “Can I have my stuff, now?”
Sparks saw me shielding my eyes. He reached into the bag and handed me my sunglasses. “What about the rest?” I asked.
“Aren’t you just happy to be out? I could have left you in there indefinitely.”
“Yeah, you’re a real prince. I want my phone.”
Sparks let go of the wheel chair. We were still twenty feet from his car. “You can walk now.” He walked over to the car, popped the trunk, and dropped the plastic bag into it. We were alone outside the building. This time he intentionally exposed his gun to give me a good view. “Get in the car.”
“Where are we going?”
Sparks got into the car without giving me a reply.
I got out of the wheelchair. I knew better than to get into the car with him. Ax had taught me that the odds of survival diminished greatly once your assailant had taken you captive. I tested my legs to determine if I was steady enough to run. Sparks rolled down the window and tapped on the window frame with the gun barrel. “I said get in.” I lingered a moment while I tested my courage. He pulled back the slide and chambered a round. I walked to the passenger door and got in.
“I asked you where we are going.”
Sparks started the car and rolled away from the curb. “Don’t talk to me unless I ask you a question. I’m not a patient man.”
“Out of the frying pan into the fire.”
“I told you, no conversation.”
“I was talking to myself.”
“Well, don’t.”
~~~
Janik hovered over Sampson’s desk, nervously turning a pen between his fingers. Sampson held on the line while his call was routed to the hospital administrator. He waited no more than thirty seconds, but the elapsed time seemed much longer.
“Hello, Detective Sampson?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“Linda Gallo, Detective, how can I help you?”
“You’re the hospital administrator?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a patient at East Pines named Alexadra Ameleon?”
“I remember seeing her name just recently. Let me check our records. Is there a problem?”
“It’s important that I locate her immediately.”
“Okay, just a minute.” Sampson heard papers being shuffled. “She was just discharged.”
Sampson covered the phone and turned to Janik. “They just released her.”
“Shit!” Janik said. He was grinding his teeth loudly enough for Sampson to hear it. “You know what to do, Pete. Check in with me when you have a lead on her.” He walked away.
Sampson uncovered the phone. “What was she there for?”
“HIPAA laws, Detective; you’ll need a warrant before I can share the patient’s file’s with you.”
“I see that the PEC was signed by Dr. Samuel Rosen. Is he there? Can I speak with him?”
“He left right after she was released. He’s not on staff, but he requested temporary hospital privileges. We almost never say no when a patient is admitted on an emergency basis.”
“I’ll need his contact information.”
“Not a problem. I’ll have my assistant get that for you. Will you hold?”
“Yes, of course.” Sampson waited until Gallo’s assistant came on the line. He scribbled down Rosen’s contact information and dialed his office as soon as he had hung up with East Pines. The auto-attendant answered his call. He hit O for operator.
“Hello, North Shore Medical Center, how can I help you?”
“This is Detective Peter Sampson of the Suffolk County Police Department. I’d like to speak to Dr. Rosen.”
Sampson heard the receptionist speaking to a colleague. “Oh my God, Claire, another one.”
“What was that?” Sampson asked.
“Dr. Rosen isn’t in today. Would you like to speak to his service?”
“I’m not a patient. Where can I reach him?”
“I’ll take your number and ask him to call you back. He’s not on call today, so I don’t know how long it will take for him to get back to you.”
“My cell phone number is 631-630-1112. Tell him that this is a matter of extreme urgency.”
“I will, Detective Sampson. Thank you. Goodbye.”
Sampson slammed the phone into its cradle. My timing sucks! He got up and refilled his coffee cup. His phone was ringing when he returned to his desk. “Pete Sampson,” he answered.
“It’s Tommy Drew, Detective.”
“Hi, Tommy, I didn’t expect to hear from you this quickly.”
“Forget about it, Pete; I’m having fun.”
“I’m glad I was able to amuse you. What did you find out?”
“We found a PVC coating on the tip of the Glock 21 as well as on the two slugs we recovered at the crime scene.”
“I’m not sure why that’s exciting, but I may wet my pants if you don’t tell me something fast.”
“I was following up to see if a silencer may have been used, and I think you’re right. Did you know that Glock makes a disposable plastic suppressor for the 21?”
“Plastic? You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not. The factory offers an oil-filled, plastic noise suppressor. It’s good for one clip, and then you give it the old heave-ho.”
I knew it! “That’s fantastic.”
“Now slow down, Pete. We still have to match the material we found on the barrel tip and slugs to the PVC the factory uses to make the noise suppressors. We couldn’t find any locally, so we’re flying some in from the factory in Deutsch-Wagram, Austria. The package will be here in three days.”
“Tommy, I owe you a Big Mac with extra Secret Sauce.”
“How about a porterhouse steak from Tellers?”
“You’re a hell of a negotiator. I’ll spring for the Big Mac and I’ll Super-Size the French fries. That’s the best I can do. Call me when you’ve got more.”
Sampson hung up his phone and stood up. He was about halfway across the squad room when he yelled into Janik’s open office. “Double homicide, just like I told you.”
Thirty-seven: Sag Harbor
I could feel the barrel of Sparks’ gun in my back as we walked into the Starbucks in Sag Harbor. Sag Harbor was an eclectic town on Long Island’s East End. It was populated with artsy types and individuals of extraordinary wealth. I had not spent a lot of time there, but it was the kind of place that made you feel as if you were outclassed the moment you rode down Main Street. We had to squeeze in between a Bentley and a Ferrari to gain access to the street and enter the coffee shop. The only non-exotic cars in this town belonged to the hired help.
Sparks handed me a twenty. “Order me a double espresso. My thirteen-round friend and I will be waiting here for you. This place has fantastic acoustics, so don’t try any hero shit, understand?”
“What about me?”
“Get yourself a cool glass of water; I don’t want you to bloat.” He sat down at a table facing the counter. “I’ll be waiting for you here.”
I walked over to the counter. Double espresso, heavy on the arsenic. I ordered his drink and grabbed a FIJI water for myself. I wanted to hock a loogie into his espresso, but his eyes were glued on me the whole time. I placed the drinks on the table.
“Here,” he said as he handed me the
black duffle bag he had carried with him from the car. “Lock yourself in the restroom and change into the stuff in the bag. I spent a fortune on this getup, so don’t come out until you look like a runway model.”
“What is the deal here?” I twisted the cap off the FIJI water and took a sip.
“No questions. Go into the restroom and do as I say. I bought expensive makeup too, so paint yourself up pretty. I checked this place out beforehand. The bathroom accommodates one patron at a time and has no windows.”
“You’re a dickhead!”
“Yes, Sweetness, I’m a dickhead with a gun,” he whispered. “Don’t forget the part about the gun, and better still, don’t forget that I’m not afraid to use it.”
“What am I getting dressed up for?”
He took a sip of his espresso. “Now what did I tell you about questions? I’ll tell you everything you need to know when you need to know it. Now go be a good little girl and maybe you’ll come out of this in one piece.” He took his eyes off me as he sipped from his cup of espresso. He slid the cuff of his jacket back and checked his watch. “You’re wasting time.”
Thirty-eight: Play it Cool
Sampson stashed his coupon book back into the glove box while he waited for his meal on the drive-through line. It was his indulgence day, and he was taking full advantage, eating every gram of fat he was entitled to. His wife had him on a strict diet. She allowed him one day a week to eat anything he wanted; otherwise, it was rabbit food and portion control for the rest of the week. The Checker’s server handed him a banana shake and a straw. He ripped the wrapper off the straw with his teeth and stuck it through the plastic lid. Sucking the viscous concoction through the straw took every ounce of suction he could produce.
He was back on the road in minutes and was chewing on a mouthful of French fries when the phone rang. “Detective Sampson,” he said with a full mouth.
“Detective, this is Dr. Sam Rosen, how can I help you?”
Sampson quickly gulped down the fries. “Doctor, I’m looking for Alexandra Ameleon. I see that you signed her out of East Pines Psychiatric Center this morning. Where can I find her?”
“I don’t know, Detective. I merely signed the release. We didn’t leave together.”
“Who did she leave with?”
“I believe she left with her attorney.”
“Look, Dr. Rosen, I don’t have time to play twenty questions with you. Who is her attorney? Where did he take her? Why was she admitted in the first place?” Rosen did not answer immediately. “Still there, Doctor?”
“Her attorney’s name is Thomas Sparks. He asked me to sign a PEC because he felt she was in danger of hurting herself.”
“Why would she hurt herself?”
“She was extremely agitated.”
“As a result of what?”
Rosen hesitated again. “I don’t know,” he said, conceding his lack of knowledge about her case.
“You don’t know? Isn’t that something a psychiatrist might ask a patient who was admitted to a mental health facility on an emergency basis?”
Rosen paused for the third time. “I’m not a psychiatrist, Detective. I specialize in orthopedics.”
Sampson was staring at his cooling French fries. “Orthopedics, are you kidding me? What the hell were you doing?”
“I have a business relationship with Mr. Sparks. He called me and said that he feared for his client’s life. He asked me to sign the PEC as he didn’t know any other doctors who might help. He told me that any physician could legally sign a PEC. He’s an attorney, I didn’t doubt what he told me.”
This sounds like a load of crap, Sampson thought. “Look, Doctor, we need to sit down immediately. Where are you and how fast can you meet me at the police headquarters in Hauppauge?”
“I’m afraid that can’t happen today, Detective. I’m in Pennsylvania. My son’s is in a facility here,” he admitted sadly. “I won’t be back until tomorrow evening.”
Jesus Christ! “Look, Doctor, this woman was probably agitated because she witnessed a double homicide.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Detective. I had no idea.” Rosen’s voice was filled with remorse.
You bastard! Play it cool, Peter. “How do I reach this guy Sparks?” Sampson couldn’t wait any longer. He grabbed a handful of fries and crammed them into his mouth. “I’m still waiting, Doctor.”
“I have his cell phone number.”
“Just a minute.” Sampson grabbed his pen and tore off a piece of the Checker’s bag. “Go ahead.” He wrote down the phone number. “I expect you to call me the minute you hit town tomorrow night. Do you understand?”
“Uh yes, Detective, I understand.”
“I don’t care how late it is.”
“I understand.”
“Fantastic,” Sampson said sarcastically. “Don’t keep me waiting.” Shithead! He disconnected and dialed Lieutenant Janik.
“Janik.”
“Lieutenant, it’s Peter, I just spoke to the physician that signed Alexandra Ameleon into East Pines. Something is going on here. Can you have someone pull background and possible rap sheets for Dr. Samuel Rosen and an attorney by the name of Thomas Sparks?”
“I’m writing it down. What’s going on?”
“Rosen’s not even a psychiatrist. He’s a goddamn orthopedist. He had this woman on psychiatric hold for extreme agitation and never even asked what was bothering her. I think this woman witnessed the double homicide and went off the deep end.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Janik said. “Why didn’t they kill her also? I mean someone’s pulling the trigger. The Glock holds thirteen.”
“I’m still putting the puzzle together, Lieutenant, but I know I’m right. Look, this woman is in trouble. Can you look for her cell phone number and put it on constant dial. I have the attorney’s cell phone number. I’m going to try him now.”
“I’m on it, Peter. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Sampson grabbed his Big Buford burger and chewed down a piece of cold meat. He picked up his cell phone and dialed the attorney. Sparks’ phone rang ten times and then disconnected.
Thirty-nine: This is the Deal
We were back in the car. I had changed into the outfit as Sparks had instructed me to. I was now wearing a skimpy bikini and a short see-through cover-up. I was wearing high wedges, which were as high as the sexiest pair of pumps in my closet. My mission had still not been revealed to me. God only knew what Sparks had planned for me. I was in desperate shape and had begun to pray that Ax was close by. In my heart, I felt that he wasn’t. My brother was fearless, and he would have certainly come to my rescue by now if he could have.
Sparks’ cell phone began to vibrate again. It had been going off continually for the past ten minutes. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“Aren’t you going to shut up?”
“I’m beyond being afraid. Tell me what you want from me.”
“Just sit there and look pretty. You’ll know soon enough.”
His phone began to vibrate again. “Why don’t you just shut it off?”
Sparks didn’t reply. He maneuvered the car into the parking lot across from the Sag Harbor Marina. He found a spot at the farthest end of the lot and parked the car. He checked his watch and then pulled out a photograph. “Remember this face.”
The man in the photograph looked to be about sixty years old. He had curly, gray hair and a bobbed nose. “Who is this?”
“His name is Señor Hernitos.”
“So who is he?”
“He’s a guy throwing a party on his pleasure boat. That’s all you need to know. Take a good look. Make sure you remember his face.”
“I asked you who he is?”
Sparks stuffed the photo back into his pocket. “I’m going to escort you over to his ship. Say that you’re with Angela Devereux, and the guards will allow you onboard. Remember the name: Angela Devereux.”
I covered my eyes. “Please let me go.”
>
“You’re irritating me again. So stop with the useless pleading. You either do what I ask, or I’ll kill you right here. I told you, I’m not a patient man.” He reached into his pocket and handed me a capped syringe. It was loaded with a vial of clear liquid. “Put this in the pocket of your cover-up. You get Hernitos alone, and you stick him with this. Chuck the needle afterwards. I’ll be waiting for you when you get off the boat.”
“No, there’s no way. What’s in the syringe?”
“It’s Viagra, Honey,” he said sarcastically. “What do you think it is? You just stick him and get off the boat. You won’t want to be around when it kicks in.”
“It’s poison.”
“Potassium chloride. Just enough to stop his heart but not enough to show up in an autopsy. It’ll look like he had a heart attack.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
Sparks lowered the windows. “Take a deep breath. Get your shit together. Do you hear me?”
I nodded, but I wasn’t feeling any better. Sparks handed me my bottle of water. I couldn’t drink. He was expecting me to kill a man, a man I had never met. I prayed that Ax was close by. “I’m not a murderer.”
“Au contraire. Want to see the video again? And please, I don’t want to hear how it was self-defense.”
“This is completely different. I can’t do this.”
“You will do it or you’ll die. I guarantee it.”
“Why aren’t you coming aboard?”
“Because they would never let me aboard. That’s why I need you. Who do you think Angela Devereux is, a nun? You’re here because Hernitos requested you. He paid five grand for Angela’s best girl.”
“I don’t. I can’t.”
“You will. If you don’t want him to mess with you, inject him before it goes too far. Be resourceful.” Sparks reached past me and unlocked the door. “Get out!”
Sparks got out as well and began to march me toward the marina. I could feel his gun barrel pressed against my back once again.
The ship in front of us was immense. I could see that a party was in progress as we approached. The deck was filled with guests, waiters, and crew. The name inscribed on the yacht read, Diosa de Oro.
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