Walleye Junction

by Karin Salvalaggio

  “I need to get to the hospital to see Peter,” said Francine.

  “Peter Whitaker is in the ICU. I’m not even allowed to see him. It’s come to our attention that your husband may have been working on a feature about prescription painkiller abuse. We’ve received two anonymous e-mails on the subject. The source implies that this story is the reason your husband was kidnapped and murdered.”

  Francine unwound a scarf from around her neck and sat down in the empty chair.

  Macy continued. “According to Emma, it was a subject that interested your husband greatly.”

  Francine nodded. The color in her cheeks was quickly fading.

  “Over the past three years, eighteen of Dr. Whitakers patients have died from taking drugs he prescribed to them. It is the second highest fatality rate in the state of Montana. He’s settled out of court with patients’ families for $2.4 million.”

  “I didn’t know,” said Francine.

  Emma finally spoke up. “But this seems so straightforward to me. It’s clear that Joel Edwards was involved. He probably wanted money for drugs. The fact that my father’s story might have been about Whitaker is irrelevant.”

  “At this point I’m still considering all options,” said Macy. “From a legal standpoint, Dr. Whitaker has done nothing wrong. None of the deaths of the patients under his care were ruled suspicious. At the moment I’m trying to establish whether this morning’s events at his clinic are linked to the kidnapping or just a tragic coincidence. According to their drug rehabilitation counselor, Joel Edwards was highly dependent on Carla Spencer’s support in rehab. It may be that her death pushed him over the edge.”

  Francine looped her scarf back and forth around her hands as Macy spoke.

  “Mom,” said Emma. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

  Francine spoke softly. “Sometimes I got a little frightened working at that clinic. Some seedy characters came through that office. They were always trying their luck. I think it’s called ‘shopping.’ They’d go to multiple offices looking for a doctor who was willing to prescribe them painkillers even when they didn’t need them. They could be very intimidating. Peter had a lot of cash at the office so he could never be too careful.”

  “Why was there so much cash?”

  “A lot of patients paid in cash.” Francine’s smile was limp. “Sometimes I felt more like a bank teller than a receptionist.”

  “What does Whitaker do about the patients who are shopping for drugs?”

  “He always sees them. He once told me that it’s impossible to tell whether someone’s pain is real or imagined until they’ve been examined thoroughly.”

  “And does he give them what they came for?”

  “If Peter felt their pain was genuine he wouldn’t deny them relief.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “That will be my friend Sarah,” said Francine, rising from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go. She’s giving me a ride to Collier. I may not be able to visit Peter, but I feel I should be there for him.” She wound her scarf back round her neck and grabbed her jacket. “Emma, I’ll give you a call later and let you know when I’ll be home.”

  * * *

  Macy picked up her phone and called Lou Turner as soon as she was in her car.

  “Are you still at the Whitaker’s office?” asked Macy.

  “Just wrapping things up here.”

  “I just spoke to Francine Long. According to her there were a lot of seedy characters moving through Dr. Whitaker’s office. She said that they were ‘shopping’ doctors to see who’d prescribe them painkillers.”

  “Might be why Whitaker normally has a security guard on duty.”

  “Where the hell was he this morning?”

  “He had a flat tire and called in to say he’d be late,” said Lou. “Showed up an hour ago with a spare on his car, so I don’t have reason to doubt his story.”

  “We should still check. What company does he work for?”

  “Flathead Valley Security.”

  “Kyle Miller works for the same company.”

  “Kyle Miller isn’t a suspect. He’s got a solid alibi.”

  Macy started up the engine and pulled away from the curb.

  “I’m just leaving Francine Long’s house,” said Macy. “You should know that Kyle was on his way out the door when I arrived. He and Emma appear to be close.”

  “I’m surprised Francine let him in her front door.”

  “Francine didn’t get home until after he was gone.”

  “Did he do or say anything suspicious?”

  “Maybe. When Emma asked about what happened at Whitaker’s office, the question of security came up. Emma was surprised that there was none. Kyle was standing right there and said nothing. He must know that his company handles Whitaker’s security.”

  “Might be something else,” said Lou. “Kyle would have realized then and there that someone at Flathead Valley Security screwed up big time, and he didn’t want to admit his company’s culpability.”

  “I hear you, but he has ties with the kidnappers and Dr. Whitaker, and he may know Joel Edwards through his church group visits to the homeless camp. We should look into it further. Did the security guard have any reason to believe that his car was intentionally vandalized? He may have heard something. Someone may have been seen in the neighborhood.”

  “For all we know it was Joel Edwards that flattened the tire,” said Lou. “Delaying the guard’s arrival at Whitaker’s clinic would have cleared the way for him.”

  “Anything from Gina and the patrol officers we sent to the homeless camp?”

  “Nothing so far, but I got word they’re on their way back into town.”

  “Okay,” said Macy. “Let’s meet up at the station in a half hour and compare notes. I still need to read the witness statements from the clinic.”

  “I’m going to be a little late coming in,” said Lou. “I think I’m going to pay the security guard a visit. Give me a call if Gina has any news. Last I heard Ryan was waist deep in Joel’s car. He may have something to report as well.”

  * * *

  Macy checked the messages on her phone as she wove between the desks inside Walleye Junction’s police department. Aiden had been trying to get in touch since the previous day, but she hadn’t had time to return his calls. Her phone rang as she was writing him a message.

  “Just a second, Mom,” said Macy.

  Macy ducked into the incident room. She slumped down into a chair and closed her eyes for a second.

  “Macy,” asked Ellen. “Are you there still?”

  “Barely. I closed my eyes for a second and almost drifted off.”

  “I’ve just returned home from Luke’s doctor’s appointment.”

  Macy’s eyes popped open.

  “Is he okay?”

  “Yes, it was a routine visit. Flu vaccine.”

  “I forgot that was scheduled for this week. How’d he take it?”

  “Like a trooper,” said Ellen. “All was forgotten by the time we arrived at the ice cream parlor.”

  “That’s my boy,” said Macy.

  “Any chance things are winding down with the investigation? It would be nice to have you home.”

  “We’re running out of suspects, so it’s just a matter of time now.”

  Ellen laughed. “Do you always arrest the last one standing?”

  “Something like that.” Macy looked up. Ryan was out in the hallway making faces at her through the glass partition.

  Macy was dead tired but smiled anyway. “Mom, I gotta go,” she said. “I’ll call you later. Give Luke a hug from me. And don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.”

  “I love you sweetheart.”

  “Love you too.”

  * * *

  Ryan swept into the room and grabbed the chair next to Macy. He took a sip of coffee from a large takeaway cup. The barista had written IAN in capital letters across the side.

  “Someone out there
loves Macy,” said Ryan, cozying up to her. “Was that Aiden on the phone or have you already moved on?”

  “Ryan, don’t be awful. It was my mom.”

  Ryan looked disappointed. “That’s no good. I can’t make fun of Ellen. She won’t invite me to your place for Thanksgiving anymore.”

  “We’ve never had you over for Thanksgiving.”

  “An oversight that I’m hoping will be corrected this coming November.”

  “Duly noted. So what news from the impound lot? Did you get a chance to have a look at Joel Edwards’s car?”

  Ryan retrieved a file from his bag and smacked it down on the table in front of Macy.

  “If we don’t start dealing with a better class of criminal I swear I’m quitting,” he said. “The man’s car was a hellhole. He lived like a pig.”

  “He was homeless,” said Macy. “I’m sure he did the best he could.” She flipped through the file before setting it aside. “I don’t have time to read the whole thing. Did you find anything I can use?”

  Ryan set a plastic evidence bag out in front of her. It contained Philip Long’s business card, which had been checked for fingerprints.

  “This doesn’t prove they actually met, but I found Philip Long’s business card in Joel’s car. Both their prints are on it.”

  Macy noticed Gina was standing in the open door and held up the card for her to see.

  “What do you think?” said Macy. “Did Philip and Joel actually meet?”

  Gina nodded. “Your contact down at the homeless camp seems to think so.”

  Ryan cracked a smile. “Oh, Macy, you do move in interesting circles.”

  Macy ignored him. “You spoke to Mike Samson?”

  Gina came in and leaned against the wall. “He says he introduced Philip Long to Joel Edwards.”

  “Well, that trumps my business card discovery,” said Ryan, pushing his chair away from the table. “I have a ton of paperwork to get through, so if you don’t mind I’m going to find a quiet cafe.”

  “Call me if anything comes up,” said Macy.

  “I’d rather invite you out for a drink,” he said as he headed out the door. “If anyone is interested, I’ll be at the hotel bar at eight.”

  “You have to admire Ryan’s energy,” said Macy.

  “A fluffy pink bunny comes to mind every time I see him.” Gina took the seat Ryan had vacated. “Philip Long was seen at the homeless camp about a month ago looking for Edwards. They talked for about an hour, but when Mike asked Edwards about it, all Edwards would say was that it was about his sister.”

  “The same sister who died of an overdose?”

  “I assume so. Are you thinking she might be on the list we were sent?”

  “I don’t remember seeing anyone named Edwards, but she may have been listed under a married name.”

  Gina sifted through the files laid out on the table until she found the information they needed on Joel Edwards. “Does Wendy Martin ring a bell?”

  Macy grabbed the e-mail she had been reading earlier.

  “It certainly does,” said Macy. She flipped through the pages of the first anonymous e-mail they received. “I found her.”

  * * *

  Joel Edwards’s sister Wendy had only been thirty-five years old when she passed away.

  Wendy Edwards Martin was severely injured in a car accident. Following lifesaving surgery and several follow-up operations that included skin grafts, fusing two of her vertebrae, and facial reconstruction, she was in constant pain. As a last resort Dr. Whitaker prescribed fentanyl patches. Wendy was grateful as it was the first time she was pain free since the accident. Three months later she went for a routine appointment in Dr. Whitaker’s clinic. On her way home she filled prescriptions for Xanax and hydrocodone at her local pharmacy. Later that same day she was found dead on the living room sofa. According to the coroner’s report there were high levels of Xanax, fentanyl, and hydrocodone in her system.

  “Do you think Joel Edwards went to the clinic to confront Dr. Whitaker about his sister’s death?” asked Gina.

  “I haven’t seen the witness statements yet, so I have no idea what was said.”

  “I’ll give Lou a quick call and see if he knows anything.”

  Macy scrolled through her unopened e-mails, stopping when she saw that she’d been sent a video link from the clinic’s security cameras. She opened it and watched. The sound was too distorted to make out what was being said. She could see Joel and Dr. Whitaker at the top right corner of the screen. It looked as if they were arguing.

  Gina put down the phone. “The receptionist was the only one in the waiting room with Edwards and Whitaker, and she’s not been interviewed yet.”

  Macy rotated the laptop around so Gina could see the screen and pointed to the video that was playing. “There was definitely another witness in that room. See that woman seated near the doors? She was standing out front with the others when we arrived,” said Macy, picturing the boy who at first glance had so resembled Luke. “She was holding a child.”

  Gina picked up the phone. “We can get her name from Whitaker’s appointment book. We’ll find her.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later Gina and Macy were on their way to an address on the outskirts of Walleye Junction. They pulled into the driveway and parked behind a minivan. The driver’s-side door was wide open and the keys were still in the ignition.

  Macy rang the doorbell and waited. Through the window she could see a woman sitting in the living room. She rang again.

  “Mrs. Butler,” Macy yelled. “I’m detective Macy Greeley. I need to speak to you about what happened at Dr. Whitaker’s office this morning. I know you were there.”

  The door opened slowly. The woman look dazed. She barely looked at Macy’s badge before opening the door to let them in.

  “I can’t stop crying,” she said.

  “Where is your son?” asked Macy, searching the room for any signs of the young boy.

  “I put him down for a nap.”

  “Is it okay if my colleague Gina checks on him?” asked Macy

  “I suppose so,” said Mrs. Butler. “His room is upstairs.”

  Gina headed upstairs and Macy followed Mrs. Butler into the kitchen.

  “Mrs. Butler, did a police officer try to interview you this morning?”

  The woman leaned against the counter. Her hair fell across her face as she dipped her head.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s all a blur. I just wanted to get my son home safely.” Her hands trembled. “I don’t remember driving here.”

  “That’s understandable,” said Macy. “You’re in shock.”

  Gina appeared at the bottom of the stairs carrying a little boy. The child reached out for his mother.

  “Let’s sit in the living room,” said Macy.

  Macy took Mrs. Butler by the elbow and guided her to the sofa. Gina placed the child on his mother’s lap once she was settled.

  “Before I ask you anything, I want to know how you’re doing?” said Macy. “Are you or your son hurt?”

  Mrs. Butler pressed a tissue to her eyes and shook her head. She was struggling to breathe. Macy put a hand on the woman’s knee.

  “It’s okay. You and your son are safe now.”

  Hot tears ran down the woman’s flushed cheeks. She couldn’t get any words out. The little boy stared at Macy openmouthed and confused. He was too young to understand what was happening, but he sensed that something was wrong. He buried his face in the crook of his mother’s arm.

  “What’s your son’s name?” asked Macy

  “William,” said the woman.

  “He looks like he’s about the same age as my son.”

  “He just turned three.”

  “Luke is two and a half.”

  The woman brightened. “My older son is named Luke.”

  A long sob escaped from somewhere deep within the child. His mother held him even tighter.

  “He’s still scared,
” said Mrs. Butler.

  Macy pulled a red lollipop out of her bag that she’d been saving for Luke and started to unwrap it. The boy’s eyes followed her every move.

  “Under the circumstances I’d say he could use this more than me.” Macy glanced at the boy’s mother. “I hope you don’t mind. I should have asked first.”

  The boy grasped the lollipop tight and tucked it in his mouth.

  “Seems like a little sugar is the least of our worries. What is the world coming to?”

  “I know it’s the last thing you want to think about, but I need you to tell me what happened this morning.”

  The woman brushed the hair off her son’s forehead and kissed him there for a long time.

  “I didn’t notice when he came in. I was sitting in the waiting area reading a magazine while William played in the children’s area near the receptionist’s desk. The guy sat down next to me and started talking like he knew me. I remember being annoyed because the waiting room was empty. There were plenty of other places he could have sat.”

  “Did he say why he was there?”

  “He said he was there to speak to Dr. Whitaker about his sister, Wendy, I think.”

  Macy pulled out Joel’s photo.

  “Is this the man you spoke to?”

  The woman flinched. “That’s him.”

  “I want you to tell me what you remember. Nothing more.”

  The woman adjusted her son’s position on her lap.

  “He seemed harmless enough, but he did go on a bit. He said he didn’t have any family left in Walleye, that his niece had moved to Denver with her father.” She paused. “I may have that wrong. It may have been Chicago.”

  “That’s okay. You’re doing great.”

  “The man’s sister, Wendy, had died at some point. He made it very clear that it wasn’t an accident. Last I remember he was rambling on about a government conspiracy.” Her voice trailed off.

  “What happened next?”

  “Dr. Whitaker came in and the guy hurried over to meet him. I remember thinking that he was being incredibly rude. I’d spent all that time listening to him go on and on and then he just up and leaves without saying anything.”

  “Did he have a gun?”