by Amore, Dani
Mary took out the bottle of pills.
“I was wondering if you could tell me what these pills are and who prescribed them.”
“Are you the patient?”
“No, they’re for my grandmother. She is having trouble speaking and I can’t find records of these pills anywhere.”
Mary had studied the bottle, seen that any information on the medication and the prescriber was missing. The question was, was it on purpose or a flaw in some printer?
The woman glanced at Mary.
“I don’t see a prescribing physician, which is very unusual.”
“I thought so, too.”
“Let me ask the pharmacist, I’ll be right back.” She slid the window closed as if she didn’t want Mary to hear the conversation.
She wasn’t worried, there wasn’t anything illegal about asking about pills. Trying to fill them, now, that would be illegal.
After a few minutes, the man in line started talking to himself about his favorite Dirty Harry movie and Mary wondered if the woman had gone on break.
But then the window slid open.
“I don’t know if this helps or not, but the medication is something we’ve never seen before. If you can’t find the doctor who prescribed it, you would have to send it to a lab for analysis.”
Great, Mary thought. A dead end.
“But we were able to search through our system and although we couldn’t find a physician, we did get the name of the company who manufactured the pills,” the woman said.
Mary sighed. That would probably do her no good, but she said anyway, “Sure, what do you have?”
“The company is called Synergy Labs.”
The woman handed the pills back to Mary.
“I’ve never heard of them, but that’s not totally uncommon. There are a lot of new ones out there. It’s probably just a division of one of the big ones like Merck or Pfizer.”
Mary nodded.
“Thanks.”
She left as the man with the walker began telling the free blood pressure machine to ‘make his day.’
Thirty-Two
Although Synergy Labs seemed to keep a relatively low profile online, it didn’t take Mary long to find its headquarters.
It was located in Pasadena.
She had been surprised by the lack of a website for the company, as well as any press releases, news stories, or even mentions of Synergy Labs online.
It made her wonder if the company even existed. Maybe the gal at the Rite-Aid was having some fun with her. Then again, were pharmacists known for their senses of humor?
Mary ran through the options in her mind. It was too late to drive out to Pasadena now. She would have to wait until morning, which would also give her enough time to call around and see what else she could find out about the company. She also had to find out how and why Ann Budchuk had a bunch of medications with no labels, but that apparently came from Synergy Labs.
She glanced at her watch. Mary hadn’t heard yet from Jake and she was curious to see what he had found at both the Pitts crime scene and the Budchuk murder. Yes, Mary thought of it as murder, not suicide. These cases were all related, and not just because of the infantilism angle. Someone was killing all of these people who had been going through psychological therapy.
But why?
And who was killing them?
This case was really starting to get under Mary’s skin. She hated not knowing the answers. She took the situation as a personal insult.
She had told Jake she’d meet him for a drink at Skivvies, a dive bar not far from Budchuk’s residence. Once he had finished at the crime scene, he would head there.
Mary got there first and the place was crowded, but Mary was able to wrangle a table in the back corner by flashing her private investigator’s badge and saying she was with the health department.
A half hour and a beer later, Jake walked in and she waved him over to the table.
“What the hell is going on with you, Mary?” he said, sliding his chair out and taking a seat. “Two bodies in one day? That’s a record – even for you.”
“What can I say? I’m on a roll,” Mary said. A waiter brought another beer for Mary and a beer she had ordered for Jake.
Mary drank and enjoyed the taste of an ice-cold pilsner.
“So what did you find?” she said.
“Whoa, whoa,” Jake said, sipping his beer. “I’m not your errand boy. Send me over there and then drill me for information.”
“Since when aren’t you my boy?”
“Since now.”
“Ok, what do you want from me?” she said. Mary understood he was making a point so she decided to let him. Once the little drama was over with, she would get what she wanted.
“First, tell me how you wound up there,” he said.
Mary brought him up to speed with meeting Budchuk, her telling Mary about Pitts, then finding Pitts. She also went ahead and connected the call from Budchuk and subsequently finding her dead, too.
“Someone’s really on this one,” Jake said. “They’re killing faster every time. They must be desperate for something.”
“Okay, prissy boy,” Mary said. “Time to share.”
Jake took a long pull from his beer, set it on the table, and looked Mary in the eye. “The dead man was, in fact, Derek Pitts. Examiner estimated he’d been dead for about eight hours or so.”
He turned his pint glass in his hand.
“That’s it?” Mary said.
Jake shrugged his shoulders. “What can I tell you? He was dead, we’ll get ballistics back eventually but I can tell you there’s not a big rush on this one. No one is convinced it’s related to Craig Locher. Even with the baby bottle. Could be a coincidence, is what someone said.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Jake waved the waiter over and ordered two more beers.
“What about Ann Budchuk? Got just as little information on her, too?” Mary said.
“Even less,” Jake admitted. “Definitely her house, her pills. We’re leaning toward suicide.”
“Even with what I told you?” Mary said.
“We need proof, Mary.” He smiled at her. “You know I always believe you. It’s those others who need more proof.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just trying to sweet talk me.”
“Is it working?”
Mary watched as the waiter put another beer in front of her.
“The beer is, but you’re not.”
Thirty-Three
Alice was watching a reality show where aspiring singers audition for judges.
“Why are you watching that?” Mary said.
“I like to watch people trying to get their career off the ground. They remind me of you.”
Mary went to the kitchen and grabbed a cookie from Alice’s fridge. On second thought, she took two.
She went back into the living room and sat on the couch.
A scruffy looking guy with a guitar was butchering a Bob Dylan song.
“You take a lot of drugs, don’t you?” Mary said to Alice.
“Used to,” Alice said. “Back when I was a hippie, I took all kinds of stuff until I wound up on the back of a Hell’s Angel’s bike headed for Temecula and an initiation. I lost him at a rest stop and never took drugs after that. Except ones prescribed by my doctor.”
Alice went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of Coke. It probably had Crown Royal splashed in there, too. Alice called it her vitamin.
“Why do you ask?” she said to Mary. “Looking for a new dealer for your female Viagra?”
“Very cute, Timothy Leary,” Mary said. “I’m talking about prescription drugs.”
“Well, I’ve been able to cut back on some of my medications now that I’ve lost some weight working with Sanji.”
She shot a wink at Mary.
“Of course, the money I’ve saved has all gone to buying more lube.”
“Please stop,” Mary said. “So have you ever h
eard of someone getting drugs from a manufacturer and not a doctor?”
“Can’t say that I have, Mary. Why? Are you looking into Botox? I hope for your sake?”
“No, afraid not.”
“You pay for your own health insurance, don’t you?” Alice said.
“Sure do.”
“That has to suck.”
Alice drank from her glass and Mary popped the last of the cookie into her mouth. Damn, it was hard to beat a good cookie.
“It does suck sometimes, Alice,” Mary said. “But back to the topic at hand. How would a woman get a bottle of pills directly from a manufacturer?”
“How do you know she did? Did she tell you?”
“No, she’s dead.”
“I see. What if the manufacturer didn’t give them to her?”
“I see where you’re going with that,” Mary said. “Maybe she stole them.”
“Or maybe she was part of an experiment. Don’t drug companies test drugs all the time?”
“Yeah, but they usually do it overseas. For legal reasons, you know. Not a lot of tort lawyers in Mongolia.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“And the truth.”
“Something tells me they aren’t trying out drugs in Beverly Hills.”
“Unless there are volunteers.”
“I know plenty of women who would volunteer for drugs that made them lose weight, or wrinkles, or perk up their girls.”
Mary thought about that.
“Another possibility is that drug companies send their stuff to doctors, and the doctors give the stuff out, sort of as trial runs.”
“I could see that happening,” Alice said. “Did you see in the news about that one doctor who just got arrested for billing hundreds of dead people? Some of those guys have no conscience. Like most private investigators.”
Mary knew she had to talk to a doctor she could trust. But first, she wanted to scope out this drug company.
Right after another cookie.
Thirty-Four
Mary loaded up on Peet’s Coffee then guided the Accord out of Santa Monica toward Pasadena. She had waited until she was confident the office was open.
She dialed the number, got an operator, and asked for the CEO’s office. She was transferred to a secretary, who answered the phone by saying, “Mr. Ward’s office.”
“I’d like to make an appointment to see him this morning, preferably at about 10 a.m.”
“So you don’t have an appointment?”
“No.”
“May I ask what this in regard to?”
“I’m a venture capitalist interested in investing in one of his new drugs. I’ve got about a billion dollars to burn through by the end of this month. That’s why I’m personally calling.”
“I see,” she said.
Mary knew she didn’t buy it.
“Usually this kind of thing is handled by submitting your proposals in writing…”
“Look, I’m not a venture capitalist. I’ve been seeing Mr. Ward for several months and I have some important news for him of a very intimate nature, if you know what I mean by ‘intimate.’ But he’s not returning my calls which means he’s either not horny, which I find hard to believe, or he’s avoiding me, which is much more likely. I will be at your office at ten o’clock. I’m a gorgeous blonde woman. My name is Cary Mooper.”
Mary disconnected the call.
This should be interesting, she thought.
Traffic was quicker than she expected and she pulled up in the parking lot of Synergy Labs fifteen minutes before ten.
The building was a collection of soulless cubes set back in the shadow of the Pasadena foothills.
Mary had heard bears still roamed the foothills and could frequently be found in dumpsters looking for food.
Mary parked the Accord and entered. She went to the front desk and told them she was Cary Mooper there to see the CEO.
The security guard looked at her with recognition, pressed a button, and two security guards with a man dressed in a dark blue suit approached her.
Uh-oh, she thought.
Thirty-Five
“Ms. Mooper?” the guy in the suit said.
Mary liked how that sounded. She kind of felt like a mooper right about now.
“Yes,” Mary said.
She turned to the three men. The two security guards were big guys and the gentleman in the suit was pretty large, too. She could tell they were aware of their physicality, and were using it as a way to intimidate her.
It wasn’t working.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” the man in the suit said.
“How about the good news first?”
The man ignored her.
“You will not be allowed to see our CEO today. In order to submit a proposal for venture capital, you need to fill out the proper paperwork and have all of this prearranged. I’m sure you understand.”
“I do, understand. But I also have some questions that are unrelated to venture capital. It’s more like venture criminal investigation.”
The man’s face stayed blank, like a stone. Which also happened to be the material Mary guessed his face was made from.
“You see, there have been a string of murders, and one of the victims had a large supply of drugs manufactured by your company,” Mary said. “The police don’t know about this yet, but I do. And if I don’t see your CEO, then the police will be hearing about the situation immediately.”
The man considered her for a moment, then nodded to the security guards who stayed put.
The man took out a cell phone and called someone.
Mary waited, watching the two big guys.
“Fellas,” Mary said.
They ignored her.
The third man quickly returned to her.
“There’s someone you can talk to.”
They rode an elevator to the top floor, and Mary followed the man to a conference room.
She was shown in, and then the door closed behind her.
Two men sat at the head of the table. They turned, and one of them, a man dressed in an expensive suit with a gold tie clip, pointed to a chair to his right.
She sat down.
The other man was dressed in a much cheaper suit, darker, with no gold tie clip.
“My name is Xavier Rodan,” the man in the expensive suit said. “I’m head of the firm’s Legal Department. And this is Larry Coldwater, head of the firm’s security.”
“Gentlemen,” Mary said.
“And what is your name?” Rodan said.
“My name is Mary Cooper and I’m a private investigator. I’m looking into the death of a woman named Ann Budchuk who was found with a large supply of drugs made by Synergy Labs. I’m here to find out how she got them, as they don’t appear to have been prescribed by a doctor.”
“And who is your client?” Rodan said.
Mary understood that Rodan was leading the charge here, and Coldwater was simply going to observe.
“That’s confidential,” Mary said.
The lawyer smiled. “I’m afraid most of what we know is confidential, as well. It appears we’re at an impasse.”
“I see,” Mary said. “Can you at least tell me in general terms if you ever prescribe medication directly to a patient?”
“I have never heard of a pharmaceutical company prescribing drugs to individuals,” the lawyer said.
Mary noticed that wasn’t technically saying no.
The security guy, Coldwater, got Rodan’s attention and tapped his watch.
“I’m afraid this conference is over, Miss Cooper,” Rodan said.
Three security guards appeared in the doorway of the conference room.
“These gentlemen will see you out.”
Thirty-Six
Mary returned to her office and was pulling out a Moleskin notebook to jot down ideas for the case, when she saw a man appear outside her door.
He looked familiar.
And then it hit her.
It was Trey Barnes, Valerie’s brother.
“Buy you a drink?” Mary said.
Barnes followed her inside and she gestured toward the chair across from her desk. He sat down and looked around.
“I’ve never been in a private eye’s office before,” he said.
“Glamorous, isn’t it? Want something to drink? I’ve got beer and a few Diet Cokes.”
“I’m okay, thanks.”
“So what’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” Mary said.
“Well, I was finishing up with Valerie’s stuff and thought of something she had mentioned to me awhile back. I wasn’t sure if it was important or not.”
“Sometimes it’s the little details that blow a case wide open,” Mary said. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”
“Val and I were talking on the phone once and she said she was going to group.” He made air quotes around the word.
“And I said to her, like group yoga?” He smiled at the memory.
“She said no, group as in group therapy, but not normal therapy,” he continued. “Sort of a support group, was the way she put it, as I recall.”
Mary waited and thought about it.
“Did she say anything else about it?”
“No, that was it.”
“So why do you think that memory stuck with you?”
“I think it was the way she said it. We didn’t have many secrets between us, and I thought there was more to the story. But I didn’t press her. We never did. Of course now, I wish I had.”
“Hindsight is always 20/20,” Mary said. She took a drink of cold coffee. “What do you think Valerie meant by it? What do you think it was?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. But I think it had something to do with therapy, but that it was maybe unconventional or something. If it was just a normal type of group therapy, I don’t think she would have been talking about it the way she did. That’s all I can guess.”
Mary nodded.
Barnes wiped his palms on his thighs, as if he was nervous about something.
“Is there anything else?” Mary said.
He shook his head.
“No, I’m done with all of the arrangements. And heading back to San Francisco this afternoon.”