To the Last Drop

by Sandra Balzo

  That didn’t sound good.

  ‘And the B12 deficiency isn’t insignificant,’ Ted continued. ‘It can cause nerve damage in the upper and lower extremities, like numbness in fingers and toes.’

  ‘I noticed when William picked up his mug Friday night that he didn’t seem to realize the coffee was hot until he sipped it.’

  ‘An oral surgeon with nerve damage in his fingers,’ Ted said. ‘Do I know how to pick ’em or what?’

  ‘What,’ I confirmed, but I was thinking about Ginny. ‘Did you notice anything missing Friday night? Prescription pads from William’s office, maybe?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know,’ Ted said. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Clay Tartare thinks Ginny forged prescriptions. I’m wondering if she planned to continue the habit in her father’s new practice.’

  ‘But she wasn’t here that night.’ His eyes narrowed as he rocked forward in his chair. ‘Or was she?’

  I hesitated and then nodded. ‘She stopped by around quarter to ten. William was already dead, or so she says.’

  ‘And you think she was there looking for prescription pads?’

  I shrugged. ‘She’d flunked out of school – any normal kid would be avoiding her parents, not stopping in to say hi. But she also admitted there were no lights on in the building.’

  ‘So she should have assumed her father was gone.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘And the office empty.’

  ‘Then how did she get in?’

  ‘She says William gave her keys.’

  ‘For the building? That son of—’

  I held up my hands. ‘I know how you feel about handing out keys to people but I’m wondering whether William actually gave them to Ginny.’

  ‘She stole them?’

  ‘Or borrowed them sometime over the summer and had copies made.’

  ‘All in preparation for raiding the office Friday night?’

  ‘Or whenever the chance presented itself.’

  ‘Swope told me that Ginny had been in trouble for drinking and drugs. It was one of the reasons he gave for making the move from Louisville, though he asked me to keep it quiet.’

  ‘And you did?’ I asked. ‘Our son drove home three hundred miles with somebody you knew was a druggie?’

  Ted winced. ‘He said she was clean now.’

  Of course he did. ‘Except for the beer and marijuana at her cousin’s house. Not to mention whatever she was after here. You said you didn’t know if any prescription pads were missing. What about the drug cabinet? If Ginny had keys for the office maybe she also had them for the cabinet.’

  But Ted was shaking his head. ‘Those keys don’t leave this office.’

  ‘Where do you keep them?’

  ‘In the file cabinet.’

  I followed him to the office behind the reception desk and a tall metal file cabinet. Ted pulled out the second drawer of the cabinet, toppling one of the framed photos on top.

  ‘At least you’d know if somebody had been in here,’ I commented, righting a framed version of the picture Diane had shown me of her twins.

  ‘Diane calls it her “tin-can” burglar alarm. Says it’s better than nothing.’ He jangled a set of keys. ‘See? Still here.’

  ‘You file the keys under K?’

  ‘Like I told Diane, nobody can tell what they open,’ he said defensively as he dropped the keys back in.

  I assumed the office manager had to choose her battles in bringing the office up to her standards – and the twenty-first century – so I left it to her. ‘What about prescription pads? Are they under P?’

  ‘They’re printed from the computer as we need them now.’ Ted shoved the drawer closed, sending two photos tumbling this time.

  I gave up and trailed Ted back to his office. ‘So Ginny couldn’t have stolen them from William’s desk.’

  ‘Not unless he had old pads from his former practice tucked away,’ Ted said, settling into his chair. ‘Or Ginny hoped he did.’

  ‘What did you say when you confronted William on the porch?’

  ‘Why ask me? You were hovering by the door, weren’t you?’

  Sometimes it felt good to talk to somebody who knows you so well. Sometimes not. ‘People were chattering so I missed most of it.’

  Ted sat back in the chair hard enough to make it squeal. ‘I think I called him a bastard—’

  ‘Son of a bitch,’ I corrected and then reined myself in. ‘At least that’s what you said inside the shop. You may have called him a bastard outside.’

  ‘Maybe. I remember getting increasingly irritated as Swope took his good-natured time pulling a chair away from the building and sitting down. He even held up a hand for me to wait so he could take a sip of his coffee.’

  I could imagine the scene and Ted as a ticking time bomb.

  ‘Finally,’ Ted continued, ‘he set the cup down and asked what the problem was. I said Clay Tartare had called and told me about the board’s investigation.’ Ted had closed his eyes in an effort to remember and now they popped open. ‘That’s right – that’s when I called him a bastard, because he laughed.’

  ‘At what?’

  ‘I told him he had a lot of nerve playing disapproving parent to Ginny when it was obvious he was hooked on drugs himself.’ He looked up at me. ‘I assume Clay told you that, too.’

  I nodded. ‘I expect the investigators checked the drug cabinet?’

  ‘They did. Nothing missing. But then that wasn’t his MO.’

  Stealing drug samples would be traceable. William Swope had been smarter than that. ‘Switching out the patients’ pills once they’d been prescribed. It’s hard to believe he got away with it.’

  ‘Swope was smooth, which is probably why I didn’t check him out as well as I should have. He had me fooled.’

  ‘And a lot of other people, from the sounds of it.’ But not Rita Pahlke. Had she been one of the patients whose drugs were stolen? Maybe that’s why her teeth were in such bad shape. Once burned she’d been twice shy. Of both dentists and their tracking devices.

  On the off-chance William kept old patient files, I asked, ‘Can I get into his office?’

  ‘Nope,’ Ted said. ‘The detectives still have it off limits.’

  I stuck my head into the corridor and saw that the door at the end of the hallway was closed and sealed with tape so any tampering would be noticed.

  Not that I had any intention of tampering, noticeably or not. ‘Did they say for how long?’

  ‘Nobody has told me but one of your main suspects called to say she’d been given the OK to come by tomorrow and pack up his desk.’

  ‘Lynne? When’d she call?’

  ‘About an hour ago, maybe?’ Ted lifted up his cell. ‘Thanks for giving her my number, by the way.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Assuming Lynne Swope hadn’t used her one phone call to discuss housekeeping with Ted, she hadn’t been charged. ‘Was she calling from home?’

  ‘How would I know?’ Ted asked. ‘She just said she’d be in to box up his desk in the morning.’

  Interesting how everybody seemed to be packing up to leave. ‘How did she sound?’

  ‘Sound? OK, I guess. I have the phone number she called me from.’ He slid his phone across the desk to me.

  I pulled mine out and compared. The digits matched Lynne’s call the night of William’s death. I punched it up and hit the send button.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Calling her, of course,’ I said, getting to my feet.

  ‘Can’t you do that somewhere else? I’m—’

  Busy. Right. ‘Lynne?’ I said into the phone, waving for my ex to shush. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Oh, Maggy. I’m so glad you called.’

  ‘How did it go at the station yesterday?’ I was walking toward the door.

  ‘Wait!’ Ted said.

  I put my hand over the phone and mouthed, What?

  Ted looked sheepish and cupped his hand behind his ear, indicating he
wanted to hear.

  I rolled my eyes and hit speaker. ‘… Talked to the process server, apparently.’

  ‘So they found out about the divorce,’ I said, not coming right out and admitting I’d been the stoolie who told them. ‘Did they give you any detail on the medical examiner’s report?’

  ‘Just that he’d determined that William’s death wasn’t a suicide.’

  ‘A homicide then?’

  ‘That’s what I assume, since I was obviously being questioned in connection with it. Once I realized that, though, I asked for my lawyer.’

  ‘Kay Spinelli?’

  ‘Seemed the most expedient. She finished with Ginny and then came to the interrogation room. Which reminds me, Ginny texted that she’s with Eric. He didn’t go back to school?’

  ‘No. He was worried about you and Ginny and decided to stay home an extra day.’ I glanced at Ted. ‘Or two.’

  ‘That’s sweet,’ Lynne said. ‘Are you sure—’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure he’s gay,’ I said. ‘He’s just a nice, caring guy.’ And probably didn’t mind missing a few classes in exchange for being in on the excitement. ‘Listen, would you mind if I stopped over?’

  A hesitation.

  ‘I have a nice bottle of wine I can bring,’ I offered.

  ‘Sure, come on over.’

  THIRTY

  Ted seemed genuinely disappointed when I left but I promised to keep him informed. Not only did my ex control the crime scene but he had provided a good amount of information, something I’d need in this post-Pavlik era.

  Lynne’s colonial was on Brookhill Road, just our side of the dreaded traffic circle. She greeted me at the door and took the wine to open while I went into the living room.

  ‘Sorry for the clutter,’ she called from the kitchen. ‘Our house in Louisville was quite a bit larger.’

  While not nearly as small as my front room, this one seemed even more claustrophobic. No sheepdog, admittedly, but boxes, still unpacked, and furniture meant for a much bigger house.

  ‘Have a seat,’ she said, indicating a white armchair upholstered in what appeared to be raw silk. She handed me a glass of wine.

  I sat frozen, holding the delicate stemmed glass out away from my body and, more importantly, the chair. ‘Are you sure we should be drinking red wine?’

  ‘Oh, sure,’ she said from the matching couch. ‘I hate this stuff anyway. William thought it was impressive.’

  ‘Well, it is that,’ I said, not quite relaxing. How long were you questioned for yesterday?’

  ‘A couple of hours, maybe? I got home about six or so last night.’

  ‘That’s not too bad.’ I leaned forward over my knees to take a careful sip. ‘I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.’

  In truth, I hadn’t given Lynne a thought the night before, despite being awake most of it. Wallowing in self-pity takes a lot of dedicated time and energy.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Lynne said. ‘I should have called you.’

  ‘Not a problem.’ I’d succeeded in making her feel guilty – or making her act like she felt guilty. Hard to tell with the Swopes. ‘What were the detectives asking?’

  ‘To be honest, almost exactly what you warned me.’ She set her goblet on the carved wood table between us. ‘You know, why I didn’t tell them about the divorce, et cetera, et cetera.’

  Glad I helped prepare the witness for testimony. ‘And you told them the truth?’

  ‘Just like you said. That I didn’t want to say anything in front of Ginny.’

  I started to put down my glass and hesitated. ‘Do you have a coaster? I don’t want to mar your tabletop.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Lynne said, smiling. ‘I’m not keeping the tables, either. My taste in furniture runs toward more clean lines. Contemporary or modern.’

  The widow seemed awfully merry. Or merrily redecorating. ‘Lynne, did you know William was abusing drugs?’

  ‘Nitrous oxide?’ Lynne asked. ‘I’m not sure I’d call it “drugs” or “abuse.” Nitrous isn’t a federally controlled substance and it’s perfectly legal to inhale in medical or dental settings.’

  ‘Yet William fired Bethany Wheeler for doing just that.’

  ‘I said it was an excuse. She’d become a romantic liability.’

  I left the pills aside and stuck with the inhalants. ‘So you wouldn’t be surprised if he was using it in his office Friday night.’

  ‘Before he died?’ She squinted, thinking. ‘No, not really. He was under a considerable amount of stress.’

  And then somebody killed him when he was nice and relaxed. ‘I don’t know if you remember but there was a green oxygen tank on the ground near William’s body.’

  ‘I do, vaguely. Though I have to tell you a lot of that morning is a blur.’ Lynne took a sip of wine and held up a hand while she swallowed. The gesture reminded me of the delaying tactic Ted said William used on the porch Friday night. ‘This is so good.’

  Apparently she hadn’t looked at the label when she opened the bottle. My cabinet at home was empty so I’d stopped at the gas station for a bottle. The wine selection suffered in comparison to the hanging air freshener scents. I’d chosen pine. And a merlot.

  ‘Glad you like it,’ I said politely and then returned to the subject. ‘At first I thought William might have used the tank to break the window.’

  ‘In order to jump?’ Lynne waved toward the flat-screen television which she’d switched off when I came in. ‘I was watching the news and they said the wound to William’s head was “ante-mortem”?’

  ‘Before he died.’

  ‘I’m not stupid,’ Lynne snapped.

  No, but you are an ungrateful bitch. ‘My point is that William may have been hit—’

  The front door cracked open and Ginny stuck her own head in. ‘Hello?’

  Lynne got up to greet her daughter. ‘You were up and out early this morning.’

  ‘It only seems that way because you slept late.’ Ginny picked up Lynne’s wine glass and took a sip. ‘Ugh.’

  Either the girl didn’t like wine, or didn’t like crappy wine. I was betting on the latter. ‘Eric isn’t with you?’

  ‘He just dropped me off.’ She settled on the couch next to Lynne and sat facing me. ‘So what have you found out?’

  ‘What has Maggy found out?’ Lynne rotated her head toward me now. ‘I thought you were reluctant to get involved, given your relationship with the sheriff.’

  If the last three days were Lynne’s idea of un-involvement, then …

  ‘Oh, that relationship is over,’ Ginny said, washing her words down with another sip of cheap wine. ‘And Maggy’s not somebody who lets a man tell her what to do, anyway. Right, Maggy?’

  Why did I feel like I was being handled?

  Because I was. But if Ginny could lay all my cards out on the table, I could do the same with hers. ‘Right. But first things first: tell your mother what you told me.’

  Ginny frowned.

  ‘OK, I’ll get us started.’ I turned to Lynne. ‘You know that Ginny was brought in for questioning because her fingerprints were found in William’s office.’

  ‘I do, though I still can’t understand how they got there.’

  I slid a quick glance Ginny’s way. ‘It seems that—’

  ‘Oh my God,’ the girl exploded. ‘I’ll tell her, OK?’

  ‘OK by me.’ I settled back in the chair.

  ‘So I went by Dad’s office that night about a half hour after you texted me that you were going home.’

  ‘You did? Why?’

  ‘I wanted to talk to him alone. About school.’

  Lynne looked a little hurt but she didn’t let it derail Ginny’s recounting of that night. ‘Did you see him?’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  Since Eric wasn’t there to do it, I said, ‘Tell her everything, Ginny.’

  She reached for the wine glass and I slapped her hand. ‘Now.’

  ‘Have it your way.’ The girl sat back
sullenly and folded her arms. ‘I went to the office Friday night. The window was broken and I looked out and saw Dad on the ground.’

  Lynne looked stricken at this succinct summary. ‘Dead?’

  Ginny seemed to suppress a sarcastic remark. ‘Yes.’

  I took a sip of my own wine. It sucked, but not as much as Ginny’s attitude. ‘The rest?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I mean why you went there.’

  ‘I already told you. I went to talk to my dad.’

  ‘Despite the fact that there were no lights on in the building.’

  ‘I told you – I saw his car in the parking lot.’

  I set down my glass. ‘You couldn’t have – the lot is hidden from the street.’

  ‘I—’ Ginny slapped her mouth shut.

  Leaning forward, I said, ‘You had your dad’s keys duplicated the last time you were home and when you saw nobody was in the office you thought the coast was clear. What were you looking for? Drugs? Prescription pads?’

  A hesitation and then a bratty shrug. ‘Whatever I could find.’

  ‘Ginny!’ The rebuke seemed automatic.

  The girl turned to her mother. ‘You have a whole lot more to get upset about than this. I didn’t take anything.’

  ‘Except the divorce papers,’ I pointed out.

  ‘That’s why nobody found them,’ Lynne said slowly. ‘But why would you do that?’

  Druggie or not, ‘She didn’t want you implicated.’

  ‘Implicated.’ Lynne’s nose wrinkled as she thought. ‘Ginny, you thought I killed your dad?’

  The girl squirmed. ‘I knew he’d been fooling around. When I saw the divorce papers I figured you’d brought them and you and Dad had had a fight.’

  Lynne waggled her head, not seeming to know how to respond. Then she pulled out her phone and held it up. ‘I texted you I was going straight home.’

  A shrug. ‘I figured you lied.’

  Couldn’t blame the kid. There seemed a lot of that going on, which reminded me that I wanted to confirm a chunk of information her mother had fed me. ‘Lynne, while you have your phone out, could you check the exact time of the call you made from your office on Friday afternoon?’