by Dana Killion
My phone rang just after I’d maneuvered my Audi out of the lot and onto Franklin Street. I punched the button on the steering wheel and the call came in over the Bluetooth connection.
“Hey, Andrea. It’s Henry. Can you talk? Sounds like you’re in the car.”
“Hold on.” I slid into an open parking space and pulled a note pad out of my bag. “Go ahead.”
“We’re just getting started on that analysis you ordered but I got a funny marker turning up that I wanted to get to you right away. It seems that I’m getting a hit on a botanical component.”
“Why are you finding that unusual? My understanding, based on their marketing, is that herbal ingredients are part of the flavoring.”
“I’ll know more soon, but I think we’ve got something in the Solanaceae family in this sample. In other words, belladonna, and if that’s part of their herbal concoction, that’s a damn dangerous path to be taking.”
“Belladonna? What’s that?” I asked wracking my brain.
“It’s an herbaceous plant in the nightshade family. Highly toxic. Back in the Middle Ages it was used as an anesthetic. And a poison. Some of the current alternative crowd use it as a pain reliever. Others get off on it because it can cause hallucinations.”
A poison? I felt myself tense at the thought. Why would belladonna be in the drink? My mind jumped with questions Henry couldn’t answer. “I don’t imagine something like that got into the bottle accidentally.”
He laughed. “I’ve seen stranger things. Look, like I said, I don’t have anything conclusive yet, it was one sample, but this was strange enough to bring to your attention. We’ll keep working this. Give me a day or so.”
“Thanks Henry. Call me when you know more.”
I immediately phoned Lassiter and left a message asking him to look for belladonna in Lane’s system. I also needed to tell Michael. Too angry over what I’d seen in the hospital last night, I hadn’t answered his earlier text. But this I couldn’t keep to myself, I sent him a text asking if I could see him tonight, then put in a call to Martin Vasquez.
It was time for another conversation with the crew at VTF. I pulled a note pad and pen out of my bag.
“This is Andrea Kellner again from Link-Media. I have couple more questions. Can we talk for a few minutes?”
“I was on my way out the door,” Martin said. “Can it wait until the morning?”
“I’d really appreciate it if you could spare just a couple minutes now.”
“All right. But I’ve only got a few then I really have to get going. My son has a basketball game I can’t miss.”
My head was swimming with questions, not the least of which was why? Accident? Part of the recipe? I couldn’t fathom a rational explanation for what I’d heard.
“I’m curious about the raw materials,” I said. “My understanding is that the recipe for each of the drinks is exactly the same, except for botanical flavorings and colorant. Is that correct?”
“Yes. Same base, it’s all listed on our label.”
“Some of the ingredients on the labeling could be interpreted as a bit vague. Can you be more specific about what you mean by natural flavorings?”
“We’re not required to be more specific. I assure you we follow all labeling regulations to the letter of the law. Quite frankly, that question makes me uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable? In what way?” His response was curious. I noted the avoidance. I hadn’t asked about what he was required to disclose. I wrote down his words verbatim as well as my initial reaction.
“Well, the competition of course,” he said, as if it should be obvious to anyone. “The specific ratios and components of our flavoring are things we consider trade secrets. We’re in full compliance, exactly as labeled.”
“Are you and Olivia the only people who order the raw materials?” I asked taking another tack.
“Yes, I handle sourcing, vendor relations, and production planning. Olivia writes the purchase orders and monitors delivery.”
“Once the ingredients are onsite, how many people are handling the raw materials between receipt and use in a batch?”
“We have six guys trained, two for each shift.”
“And for the ingredients not clearly specified on the label, the natural flavorings, are there multiple ingredients or is it a single?” Maybe working my question from the fringe would yield more information.
“It’s a blend.”
“And is that blending done in the plant or do you order a specific mix from your supplier?”
I was shooting out questions rapidly knowing that at any moment he would shut me down.
“I’m not sure I like where this these questions are going. What exactly are you getting at? It feels like you’re insinuating something about how we do business.” His back was up. I had one more question if I lucky.
“I’m just trying to clarify the process,” I said. “Let me ask the question another way. Is there any possible way for something, a contaminant for instance, to get into a bottle? Is there any scenario where something you didn’t want could get into one of the drinks?”
“The only people who know the full breakdown of our formula are Mr. Bowman, myself, Olivia, and my predecessor. Not even our vendors could recreate our formula. We blend our flavorings onsite. Every ingredient is coded and the people handling the raw materials have my ultimate trust. Our quality control is impeccable,” he said, his voice rising a decibel.
“I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but I doubt Mr. Bowman would be happy with where this is going. If you have anything else, you’ll need to speak to him.” With that he hung up.
25
The heady scent of truffles and fresh pasta lingered faintly in the air as I entered the elegant restaurant. The clink of silver against fine china bounced at me over the low rumble of intimate conversations. A cascade of hanging lights glossed a warm glow around the room competing with the streetlights as they glittered in the park outside while Michigan Avenue traffic rushed past. I was led to a table next to the floor-to-ceiling windows where Michael sat waiting. My text late this afternoon had been returned with an invitation to join him for dinner at Spiaggia. Typically, I would have found it a lovely celebratory splurge. Tonight, it felt more like a mea culpa.
He stood when I approached the table giving me an appreciative smile and a quick kiss. “You look good in blue. I ordered a glass of the Cabernet you ordered last time we were here. I hope you’re in the mood tonight.”
I was surprised and impressed that he had remembered. But I already knew, from firsthand experience, that the biggest charmers were also the biggest liars. I settled into my chair and took a sip of the wine as our waiter handed us menus. May as well enjoy the drink, I suspected it would be an early evening.
“Shall we order? That way we can talk without interruption.”
I nodded. The restaurant was busy for a Wednesday night. Good food always found its audience. Michael ordered a beet salad and the veal chop, and I, a mixed green salad and capellini with black truffles.
My head was a tangle mess of thoughts. The woman I saw Michael with last night. Whether Lassiter had found anything yet? And most importantly, how in the world had belladonna gotten into the drink? It made no sense. I’d agreed to meet Michael for dinner so I could tell him what I’d learned about VTF in person. It was too complicated for a phone call. But I hadn’t expected him to suggest one of the most romantic restaurants in town.
I still needed his professional help. Whatever he was doing personally, was no longer my concern. At least that was the story I was telling myself.
“How’s your sister today?” he asked.
The question was a perfect segue into who-the-hell-was-that-woman, but if we started there, we wouldn’t discuss business.
“We’re still waiting for toxicology reports to come in,” I said instead. “You should know that I’ve hired a private lab.”
Michael put down his scotch. “You did? For what
exactly?”
“I’ve asked them to test the energy drink. It’s a lab I know from my ASA days. They’re the people I’d call in if I needed chemical analysis.”
“And you’ve taken this on yourself instead of letting law enforcement do our jobs.”
I ignored the irritation in his voice and the cold stare. “Of course, I knew CPD would be testing, but figured I could get it done faster by calling in a favor. You also made it clear that our jobs only intersect occasionally. So I’m going to share the early findings and you can confirm it with CPD forensics.”
I paused for a moment waiting for his curiosity to surpass his irritation. He took a sip of his scotch then lifted a brow. “And?”
“Early analysis indicates belladonna in the drink. Testing is incomplete, but I’ll know more soon.”
The server arrived with our first courses, giving us a moment to let the information sink in. I saw the tightness around Michael’s eyes change to confusion, and cop mode set in.
“Belladonna? You mean like the herb they used in that old Nicole Kidman movie. The one where she and Sandra Bullock were witches?”
“I’d forgotten about that, but yes. I think they used it to kill a guy who’d been bothering Kidman.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Why in the world would the drinks contain a toxic plant?”
“That’s the first question,” I said, swirling the wine in my glass. “The next is, did it get there accidentally or intentionally? Apparently, it’s used by the alternative medicine crowd as an anesthetic and a hallucinogen.” I’d put Google through its paces after getting off the phone with Henry and had a little more background. “There are also indications for medical use treating bladder spasms and motion sickness. I called Dr. Lassiter, and of course, I’ll send you the lab report when I have it.”
“Any other investigation you want to tell me about, detective?”
“I’ve spoken with Cavanaugh, twice.”
Michael tipped back his scotch and shook his head. “Jesus, Andrea.”
“I know what you’re going to say, but don’t. We spoke about his daughter and his work at the plant. I didn’t say anything about the lab testing. I know the assault charges haven’t been dealt with, but I believe the guy.”
“You believe what? That he didn’t make a mistake? That he didn’t accidentally poison anyone while in the depths of his grief?”
Michael was annoyed and probably feeling insulted right now, but I didn’t care about his ego. I kept my emotions in check even though Michael didn’t seem inclined to.
“I believe that the man has extreme pride in his work, and that the idea of a poor quality product in any form, disgusts him. Look, the guy’s been through hell and back and maybe things got out of control in his life, but I just can’t imagine the man I spoke to being vengeful.” I paused, recognizing the absurdity of the statement. “Strange thing to say after he shot Seth, I know. I mean it’s a one-off. It’s not who the guy is or was prior to his daughter dying.”
Michael gave me a look that said, really?
“Okay, I’ll correct that. He’s angry at Seth and yes, he’d take a punch at him again in a heartbeat regardless of his current legal problems. The man is tortured wondering if anything that happened on his watch contributed to his daughter’s death. A man in that condition does not put anyone else’s life on the line.”
“You mean not intentionally.”
I shrugged and let the comment slide. Michael and I were both paid to be skeptical although the stakes were bigger for him. Investigation would reveal what was true and what wasn’t. Provided everyone remained open to what developed.
“Apparently, VTF’s financial situation is a little rocky,” I added. “Cavanaugh indicated that they were making late payments to vendors and having trouble keeping up with demand.”
Michael chuckled, a self-satisfied grin on his face.
“Is that necessary?”
Michael turned away. “I’ll try to restrain my enthusiasm.”
“Growth has been straining their financial resources. They’ve had serious issues with vendors not shipping. I understand they’ve had to bring in some new suppliers last minute. Growth is pushing them and they’re having a hard time keeping up. Common story.”
I didn’t add that I’d learned this from Olivia. My objective was to give Michael enough information to arouse his curiosity. His own investigative skills would take over if belladonna were confirmed.
“Okay, that starts to paint another layer for us. Money. What’s that saying? It’s the root of all evil?”
I cringed. The phrase brought back too much pain, too many memories. Memories that he knew were hurtful.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Michael said, catching me wince. “I didn’t mean to bring it all back.”
He reached over and laid his hand on mine. I pulled away as our meals were delivered, shaking off the ghosts of my past.
“VTF has a financial backer. A venture capital guy who’s been invested in the company for a number of years. His name is Aaron Nadell. He owns a firm here in Chicago called Nadell Capital. I don’t know how deep he’s into the deal, but they’re the type who like big paydays. Could be someone to look into.”
Michael had gotten that determined look he had when situations puzzled him. I could almost see the gears turning, forming questions in his mind that he would carry with him, pondering their meaning.
“I met him recently, Nadell, and his wife, Candiss. She’s involved in the Drea Foundation. They hosted the gala where Seth was shot.”
“Small world the rich run in.” He finished off his scotch. “When do you expect to hear back from your lab guy?”
“I’m hoping for tomorrow. As I told you, I called Lassiter and let him know to look for belladonna. I’m going to the check with him first thing in the morning see if he found anything in Lane’s system. I’m sure that will extend to the autopsy reports.”
“Good. Now do we have to have another talk about your fondness for police work?”
“Michael, I have a job too. You asked me to share what I’ve learned, I’ve done that. So get over it.”
“Are you upset with me about something?” he asked. “You seem distant, like you’re not all that happy to be here tonight. Are you upset about last night?”
I looked down at my plate and took a breath before speaking.
“I saw you. I shouldn’t care, I’ve pushed you away. I’m the one who’s needed time, but I’ve told you about my marriage.” I was rambling, trying to get the words out, any words without breaking down into tears. “I told you how hard trust is for me because of that…”
“Wait. What did you see? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Michael said, his voice urgent.
“You kissed her. The blonde in the hospital. You pulled her into your arms and kissed her.”
I was shaking, holding back the flood of hurt and memories, not wanting to dissolve in a pile of weak female flesh. My father had called me stoic this morning, it was the furthest thing from what I felt right now as tears stung my eyes. I turned away, trying to regain composure.
“You saw me with my ex-wife. Her father’s ill. She’s terrified he won’t make it and I went to see them. Yes, I gave her a kiss. We have a history, it was nothing.”
He said it as if it were just any other small detail of his day. Michael reached for my hand but I couldn’t take it.
I turned back to him, confusion flooded his eyes.
“And you’ve been stopping to see her for several days now?”
He nodded.
“If it meant nothing, you wouldn’t have been keeping it secret. You’ve had days to share that with me. After everything I’ve told you about my marriage, about how I’ve been hurt by lies, you still chose not to tell me. And that means something to me.”
I picked up my purse, laid some money on the table for the expensive meal, and left the restaurant.
26
My h
ands were wrapped around a travel mug of strong Earl Grey as I attempted to get feeling back into my frozen fingers. I’d managed to walk out of the apartment without gloves this morning. It had been a late night with little sleep and my mind was jumping, still distracted by Michael and worry for my sister.
Borkowski’s edits on my Janelle Platt story had been waiting in my email when I returned from dinner, so I’d wrapped that up and loaded it into the queue for this morning’s email blast. Michael had phoned about an hour after I’d left the restaurant, but I had let the call go to voicemail. I needed a clearer head before saying anything more to him. My history with Erik was clouding my thoughts. I didn’t know if Michael was lying to me, but given everything I’d gone through, hiding the fact that he was seeing his ex-wife was essentially the same thing.
By the time I’d wrapped up the article, I’d been too wired to go to bed, and instead had stayed up well into the early morning digging deeper into my research on belladonna, and on Nadell Capital. Luckily, my father had gone back to Lane’s apartment for the night and I’d been able to utilize my frustrations by working rather than lying in bed fuming. Not that it was helping my energy level this morning as I walked into the office.
My plan was to spend a little time with Brynn, see where she was on the VTF research I’d asked for, then head over to the hospital. I tossed my scarf and coat on a chair then picked up my mug and went looking for Brynn. I found her in the break room working on her own caffeine infusion. I cringed at the vending machine donut she was washing down, but since I hadn’t eaten so much as an apple this morning, I was in no position to judge.
We had the room to ourselves, so I took a seat next to her.
“Anything on VTF yet?” I asked, shivering and taking a big gulp of my tea. “Damn, I can’t seem to get warm. I wish I’d worn a heavy sweater.”
Brynn held up the cellophane-wrapped pastry. “Sugar helps. I can see you want some.”
“Ask me again when civilization has fallen apart and the only food left is Twinkies.”