Seniors Sleuth

by Jennifer J. Chow

Harold’s eyes locked onto Winston, and his grunting grew stronger. The man bent his finger and crooked it, asking Winston to come in. Winston didn’t want another repeat of the feeding tube experience, so he decided to find Kristy.

  He located her in Rob’s old office, about to place a call. She frowned at him and asked, “What do you want? Can’t you see that I’m busy? I have to find homes for all my residents pronto.”

  “I’m sorry. I just wanted to—”

  “Do you know what I have to do after that? That’s right, after placing all these people, I’ll need to find work. And do you know how I got into this mess?” She placed one quivering finger against his chest.

  “Kristy, I was just doing my job. After all, I caught the killer.”

  “But what if people think I had something to do with the murder? Or didn’t stop it fast enough? How does that make me look as a potential employee?”

  Winston backed a step away. “I didn’t know you’d be laid off.”

  “You’re always looking out for number one.”

  She sure was stressed. “Wait, Kristy.” He put his hands up. “I’m here because Harold needs something.”

  Her face softened. “What? Let me go find out what he needs.” She placed the receiver back on the hook and tucked in the hair that had come undone from her braid. Then she marched out to find Harold without another word to Winston. It seemed like a good time for him to leave.

  CHAPTER 25

  As Winston left Sweet Breeze, he couldn’t help but feel unsettled by the information he had received about the Harrison family. First, Anastasia had held onto a cease and desist letter against Jacqueline, and then Pete had talked about the argument between Joe and Mike. He decided to visit Jacqueline’s home once more to get the story straight.

  He took the freeway down to Gilroy. In front of the Harrison house, a classic buggy style car was parked in the driveway. He could see Mike Harrison tinkering away at its engine, a wrench in one hand. He would talk to the husband first to get his version of the fight. “Mr. Harrison, do you have a moment?”

  “I don’t know you, and I don’t have anything to say to you.” Mike straightened up and dangled the wrench in front of Winston’s face. It glittered in the setting sun’s rays. Winston wondered how it would feel to have the object “accidentally” drop on his head and gulped.

  Mike peered at the house across the street, and Winston followed his gaze. In the border of the kitchen window, Tom the muscled neighbor held something shiny in his hand, too. Winston looked back and forth between the two men, debating where to turn, when Jacqueline’s voice rang out in the twilight. “Mike, are you almost done out there?”

  “Another ten minutes, honey.”

  Winston saw Jacqueline’s figure silhouetted against the porch. “Is somebody with you, Mike? Oh, is that you, Winston? Come on in.” Winston entered the Harrison home with speedy steps.

  “What brings you to Gilroy?” Jacqueline asked as she settled a cup of Earl Grey before him.

  Winston showed her the cease and desist order from the lawyer, and her face blanched. “I didn’t ask for this. Mike must have requested it.”

  She put her face in her hands. “I shouldn’t have used the checkbook, but I didn’t want to mail the cash.”

  “You gave Joe money?”

  “He would have never used his own savings. I wanted to help him pay for EXTRANEAL, the dialysis solution. Kristy told me his medicine changed to a more generic version about a month ago. In the clinical trials runs, EXTRANEAL works really well, and I’d rather Joe get a quality product.”

  “So you paid for the better solution?”

  “Yes, and Mike must have found out.”

  “That’s a really kind gesture, Jacqueline. So it sounds like Joe’s insurance stopped paying, and you decided to help him out.”

  “It’s a bit weird, really. I finally called the insurance company, and they said they still covered it, but Kristy told me the supply company only gave Sweet Breeze the generic solution. I’m not sure why it stopped.” She fiddled with her tea cup, sloshing some of the liquid over its gold-rimmed edge. “Could you be a dear and check that out for me?”

  * * *

  Winston couldn’t say no to Jacqueline’s sweet face, so he found himself driving back to San Jose, hunting down A+ Health Supplies. He found the storefront from its neon lettering, a glaring beacon in the dusk. The building itself was about an eighth of the size of the giant drugstore chains he was used to. Winston almost had to hurdle over the wheelchairs near the entrance to make his way in. The pharmacy counter was located in the back, the better for customers to walk through aisles of medical equipment and snatch impulse items. Maybe a donut pillow to ease hemorrhoid pain? Or a leopard-spotted cane to show off around town?

  He neared the pharmacist’s counter and saw a tiny silver bell on the countertop. He felt like he was at a butcher’s shop as he gave a sharp tap against the metal. A piercing ring split the air. A shuffling of feet, and a man popped out from around the corner. Instead of the customary white pharmacist shirt, he wore a ribbed tank top with jeans. “Sorry, the pharmacist will be right with you. She’s in the ladies’ room.”

  “Well, what’s your name? Maybe you can help me.”

  “I don’t give out meds.” He straightened some pharmacy bags in the filing system behind the counter. “I’m Frank. I just keep things neat and tidy here.”

  Frank. The name flashed across his brain. “Do you make deliveries, too?”

  “Yes, but I’m planning on becoming a bona fide pharmacist one day. Why?”

  “Did you happen to deliver some supplies to Sweet Breeze this past week?”

  Frank pulled out a clean cotton rag and started wiping fingerprint smudges off the counter. “I had nothing to do with that scandal.”

  “A+ is in the clear.” Winston laid his business card on the now shiny tabletop. “Trust me, I’m in the loop. I just need more details about the dialysis solution delivered to Joe Sawyer.”

  “I haven’t gotten my degree yet, man. I don’t know about all that chemical stuff.”

  “That’s okay. I know there was a change in the solution provided by your company. You guys switched from a brand name to a generic. Do you know why that happened?”

  Frank shrugged. Winston could see the muscles rippling across his sleeveless shirt. “Sometimes families want to save money.”

  “I talked to the family, though. The ex-wife paid out of her own pocket to ensure that he received the brand name solution.”

  “Well, sometimes the doctor will prescribe both the brand name and a similar generic version. Maybe the physician wanted to help out his patient’s finances.”

  “It’s possible. Let me check that out.”

  Winston texted Kristy about the solution, receiving a message back a few moments later: “I remember the prescription. MD did not order generics. Jacqueline insisted on brand name. No more texts please. Preparing for interview.”

  Winston stared straight into the man’s eyes. “Frank, the doctor didn’t ask for generics. Is there anything else that could have occurred?”

  Frank glanced around him and then lowered his voice. “You didn’t hear this from me, okay? But our new pharmacist was very interested in Joe Sawyer.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Her eyes lit up when she saw his name in the database.”

  “So you think she switched out the solution?”

  “Beats me, but you can ask her yourself now.”

  Winston heard the swish of the white pharmacist robe before he saw Emma Harrison appear. “Emma, I didn’t know you worked here.”

  “Part-time. It happened recently. They cut back my hours at the hospital, and I needed to supplement my income.”

  “It’s funny to see you because your mom just sent me over here.”

  Emma raised an eyebrow at him and then turned to glare at Frank. “Get back to work. This conversation is none of your business.” Frank hung his head and scurri
ed to the back recesses of the pharmacy area.

  “Emma, did you switch Joe’s dialysis solution on purpose?”

  She propped her hands out in front of her, elbows on the countertop, each palm like a scale. “Brand name. Generic. What’s it matter? My mom didn’t need to waste money on him.”

  “You didn’t like Joe.”

  “Her old ex who was mooching off Dad’s money? No, I didn’t.”

  “Did Joe take money from your dad?”

  “Not directly, but Mom always gave him stuff, including this brand-name solution.”

  “I think your mom meant it as a kind gesture.”

  Emma moved one palm way down, as if loaded by a heavy burden. “She does it out of guilt. If he didn’t cheat my family out of money, he surely stole my mom’s happiness.”

  “No wonder you looked so angry at Joe’s funeral, scratching at his coffin.”

  Emma blushed a deep red, dark like her polished scarlet fingertips. “I know you’re not supposed to talk ill of the dead, but that’s the way I saw it. Joe was an emotional and financial burden on my family. I’m glad that he’s gone now.”

  “Joe was murdered.”

  “I heard the rumors. The man was ninety. How much longer was he going to live, anyway?”

  The front door whooshed open, and Winston heard a heavy gait tottering down the walkway toward the pharmacy.

  “It looks like I have a customer coming. Is there anything else you wanted to say?”

  “I think you should tell your mom about this.”

  She waved him off. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”

  Winston swapped places with the silver-haired gentleman approaching the pharmacy, the old man’s quivering hand holding out a doctor’s prescription. At the sight of the customer, Emma turned all smiles and cheerful greetings.

  Winston wasn’t sure what to make of the Harrison family, with the jealous dad and the vengeful daughter. He did owe an answer to Jacqueline, though, but he didn’t want to give it to her in person. It sounded like that whole family needed to work out their psychological issues.

  In place of a face-to-face conversation, Winston plucked a postcard from a spinning rack. One of those generic ones with “Welcome to California” in bold print featuring endless tanned bodies and spotless beaches as a backdrop, although he didn’t even live near the ocean. He wrote a brief message to Jacqueline to talk to her daughter about the dialysis solution. He would stamp it and drop it off at the blue mailbox a block away from his home.

  CHAPTER 26

  Winston had just settled down to a late Salisbury steak dinner, courtesy of his microwave, when he got the call from Marcy.

  “Hey, kid brother! Are you free this coming weekend?” A brief pause. “But why do I need to ask? You’ve got no social life.”

  “I take it you’re not calling to give me a pep talk, Marcy.”

  “I can give you one in person.”

  “Are you headed back to the States?”

  “There’s a conference in your area. Do you mind if I stay at your place overnight? I get free housing at the hotel the next day, but I wanted to fly in a night early to get ready for my talk.”

  “You never stayed at my place before.”

  “Now that you own it free and clear, I’d like to see your permanent place.”

  “Yeah, thanks again for helping me buy it.”

  “What are big sisters for?”

  “Guess what, Marcy? I cracked my case.”

  “Really?” She yawned.

  “Gee, that excited, huh? Wait a minute, isn’t it like four in the morning at your place now?”

  “Couldn’t sleep and wanted to get the details of my stay worked out.”

  “Gary doesn’t mind your odd schedule?”

  “We’ve been married for fifteen years. He better be used to my habits by now.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, I’ll tell you all about the case when you come and visit me.”

  “That’s fine. Pick me up at the San Jose airport. I’m arriving at four in the afternoon. I’ll email you the details. Make sure you write it down on your calendar.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” Marcy could be such a nag sometimes. It was a blessing she and Gary didn’t have any children.

  They hung up, and Winston stared at the phone for a moment. Despite having solved a big case, he felt like he’d returned to boring old bachelor mode. No date for the weekend, except one with his bossy big sis.

  * * *

  Winston decided to take a drive to see Sweet Breeze at night to revel in his victory once more. He parked and stepped out onto the sidewalk to view it up close. In the moonlight, the quiet house seemed eerie. A “For Sale” sign had sprouted on the lawn, the vampire stake at the bottom partially jutting out of the fresh, upturned earth. No crickets sang songs near the deserted home. He heard only the wind whipping around its walls, sounding like creaking footsteps.

  He smelt a sharp scent on the wind. On the lawn, there were some joss sticks left burning in a ceramic urn filled with sand. No doubt left there by the superstitious owner. He’d be sure to want to appease Joe’s angry ghost.

  A flash of light appeared in one of the windows. Winston blinked and rubbed at his eyes. Another dazzle from a different room. He felt goose bumps rise up on his arm as he saw a ghost gliding through the rooms. It moved fast across the windows, the trail of pure whiteness an after image burning into his retina. Winston shivered. With Joe’s ghost haunting the place, how would they ever sell the building?

  CHAPTER 27

  The newspapers printed scandalous updates: A big story revealed that Rob would be held in jail while he awaited trial. Another article divulged that people had seen lights flickering in the middle of the night at the old Sweet Breeze home and blamed it on Joe’s bereaved spirit.

  So when Winston passed the building a few days later, he was surprised to see a “Sold” sign planted on its tiny front lawn. After the ghost article, he’d checked the Web and saw that the asking price had dropped down by half. Even at such a low price, he wondered what kind of people would occupy a house filled with memories of death and disease.

  His phone beeped at him. It was Kristy on his caller ID.

  “It’s so good to hear from you,” Winston said. She hadn’t kept in touch with him since the day of the arrest. He hoped she was immersed in her job search and not brushing him off on purpose.

  “I have something important to tell you.”

  “What is it? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but I just got a call from Officer Gaffey,” Kristy said.

  “Gaffey…”

  “The cop who arrested Rob. It turns out that there’s a problem with the sample.”

  “Was it contaminated?” After all, it had been in one of those flimsy coffee cups and mixed with Coke to boot.

  “No, there was no suicide tree in the batch.”

  “What do you mean? They couldn’t extract it?”

  “No, they didn’t find any in the cup. Or in the vial from the fridge—they only found traces of water. Officer Gaffey says not to worry, though. Rob can be convicted based on the chat record and the physical presence of the vial in his office.”

  “There’s still something odd about the suicide tree not being found.” Winston hung up and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Had he been wrong? Could somebody else have murdered Joe?

  He stared out into space and found his eyes refocusing on the Victorian house neighboring Sweet Breeze. Its sign read, “Boyle & Davies Law Offices.” The letter. The Harrison family was a mess, but why had Jacqueline given Joe a cease and desist order? Was she truly unhappy behind the kind façade, as her daughter had suggested? Maybe she’d decided to take matters in her own hands by killing Joe when she didn’t get legal results.

  Good thing the hardworking lawyers were open. The Law Offices of Boyle & Davies took up the entire space of the beige Victorian home. Upon entering the front door, Winston found himself walking into a room that resembled
a large library. Towering bookshelves with thick spines hemmed him in on all sides. The redheaded receptionist, barely twenty and model-thin, let him gape at the volumes accumulated in the main room before addressing him. “How can I help you?”

  “I need to see Tim Boyle.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” She started tapping away at the sleek laptop on her desk. “What’s your name?”

  “I didn’t schedule anything with him.”

  She blinked her gravity-defying long lashes at him. “Mr. Boyle can’t help you then.”

  Winston pulled out the cease and desist order. “I’ve already received correspondence from him.”

  She seemed to recognize the company stationery. “Your name again?”

  “Joe Sawyer.”

  The woman’s deep blue eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re kidding, right?”

  He held his breath. Did she read the news or was she living in the typical self-focused youth bubble? “You don’t look like a Sawyer,” she said.

  He resumed breathing. “I was adopted.”

  She hesitated for a moment. It was the pause of doubt, but Winston saw that political correctness won out in the end. She pressed the intercom button on her desk. “A Joe Sawyer is waiting to see you in the lobby, Mr. Boyle.”

  “Joe Sawyer? Now that I’d like to see. Send the man on up. I can spare fifteen minutes for curiosity’s sake.”

  The receptionist told Winston to go up the staircase and turn right. He found the heavy oak door with gold lettering immediately. Tim’s office was decorated all in brass. His desk edges as well as the handles of his clients’ chairs showed off the same polished metal.

  Both Winston and Tim stared at each other for a long moment. Winston saw a real-life Mr. Clean in a three-piece-suit looking him over through gold wire-rimmed glasses.

  “I don’t think you’re Joseph Sawyer,” Tim said. “You don’t look like a dead ninety-year-old white male to me.”

  “No, Mr. Boyle. I’m Winston Wong.” He handed the lawyer his business card. “I’m interested in learning more about this cease and desist order.” He pulled out the letter and placed it on the desk.