To the Last Drop

by Sandra Balzo

  ‘Kentucky is an equitable distribution state when it comes to property division, as is Minnesota. Wisconsin, though, is a community property state.’ She smiled. ‘You’d be surprised what a difference it can make.’

  ‘Which explains why you moved to Brookhills rather than to Minneapolis where Ginny was going to school.’ Though she didn’t plan to stay long, given she hadn’t unpacked or furnished her office beyond the essentials.

  ‘I am a planner, after all,’ Lynne said. ‘William wanted to escape his past and I wanted to escape him. I’m just the one who chose the route.’

  ‘Is that why you kept your mouth shut about the “allegations”? If William’s practice came tumbling down your property settlement might be worth a whole lot less.’

  A nod. ‘I wasn’t the one romancing young women into cheating and stealing for him. I shouldn’t have to pay for his crimes.’

  ‘Do you have any idea who went to the board?’

  ‘Probably that idiot Clay at the urging of his new office manager.’

  ‘I suppose an office manager would be in a position to catch it.’

  ‘Or to do it.’ Lynne Swope turned back to her work.

  ‘Like Bethany Wheeler.’ I circled the desk so I could see Lynne’s face. ‘She was overcharging patients and switching out drugs. All for William. Did she tell you about it when she came to see you that day?’

  Lynne smacked the desk with the palms of both hands and leaned forward on them. ‘Yes, she did – is that what you want to hear? She told me everything she’d,’ finger quotes, ‘“done for him.” The over-billing, the drug scam, the after-hours sex fueled by nitrous and painkillers.’

  ‘So you killed her?’

  ‘Me?’ Lynne straightened, appearing genuinely surprised. ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because she was about to blow the whistle on William and you needed the time to divorce him.’

  It was a good theory but Lynne was shaking her head. ‘I needed the time but Bethany wouldn’t have gone to the police. I’m certain of that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the little fool loved him. She still hoped I’d divorce William and he’d marry her.’

  ‘You call Bethany a fool but the same scheme had worked for you. William’s first wife found out about your affair and divorced him.’

  ‘And paid for it, financially.’

  ‘Not that you cared. You were the young office manager back then, cheating with the married doctor. Were you also scamming clients for him, too?’

  ‘No. Apparently that was a new trick the old dog was teaching.’

  For whatever reason, I believed her. ‘But how could they get away with it without his partner knowing?’

  ‘Clay’s not the brightest bulb, believe me.’ The financial planner shifted the box. ‘Now can you hand me the files in that drawer?’

  I gathered them, taking the time to digest what Lynne had just told me. Was the woman a killer – perhaps even a two-time killer? I had no idea. I didn’t even know exactly how Bethany had died, beyond that she’d drowned somehow. A boating accident or—’

  ‘Please.’ Lynne was holding the folders already in the box upright expectantly, waiting for mine.

  I handed her the stack and reached for another. As I did, I noticed the top one was tagged Staffing-L’ville. Keeping that, I passed the rest to Lynne.

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked.

  I flipped it open. ‘Looks like job applications.’

  ‘So?’ She said it as a sigh, almost as if she were bored of the subject of William. As she probably was.

  But I was paging through the applications and résumés and finding them fascinating. ‘I assume these are William’s notes. “Pretty but a little horsey through the hips.” Each application has a photo attached to it.’

  Now I’d caught her attention. ‘Strawberry blonde,’ she read over my shoulder. ‘Flat-chested. Smart.’

  ‘Did William consider “smart” a negative or positive?’

  ‘Oh, positive,’ Lynne said. ‘My husband did like a challenge.’

  ‘“Not sure – gorgeous but naïve,”’ I read on the next cover sheet and then squinted at the picture. ‘She looks familiar.’

  ‘She should.’ Lynne took it. ‘And I’ll be damned if he didn’t have her nailed in more ways than one.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘William should have trusted his instincts.’ She held up the photo. ‘This is Bethany – naïve enough to think he cared about her. What a …’

  She went on but I wasn’t listening anymore. I was looking at the picture of a young blonde woman with a pronounced widow’s peak.

  THIRTY-THREE

  ‘Can I use your laptop?’ I had burst into the dental exam room and now two sets of eyes turned my way.

  One set hovered above a mouth held open by cotton wads and clamps; the other was glaring at me from below a miner’s head lamp. ‘What for?’

  I held up a hand to shield my eyes from Ted’s light. ‘I need to Google something. Privately.’ Lynne was gone but there was no computer in William’s office. And this certainly wasn’t something I could do at the front desk with Diane over my shoulder.

  ‘In my office.’ Ted gestured something that could be read as ‘get out’ or ‘go ahead.’

  I did both.

  Slipping into his desk chair, I cracked open the top and touched a key. Nothing happened.

  Argh. The man probably shut down his computer every night. And didn’t fire it up the next morning. And why should he? He had ‘people.’

  I hit the power button and waited.

  When the search engine came up I typed the words Bethany Wheeler obit, figuring that should about cover it.

  It did. Bethany Wheeler. Died at the age of 24 on April 2.

  No maiden name. And the photo was different than the snapshot attached to her file. In this one Bethany wore what Lynne had called ‘Reese Witherspoon bangs’ covering her high forehead, but she was recognizable all the same as the woman in the personnel file.

  I studied the heart-shaped face, wishing I dared retrieve the framed photo from the file cabinet for comparison. But I was almost sure I saw traces of the little girl with the widow’s peak, holding her brother – Jamie’s – hand.

  I scrolled lower in the obituary.

  ‘Preceded in death by her husband, Victor Wheeler, Bethany is survived by her mother, Diane Laudon …’

  And just like that, I had the confirmation I was looking for. Bethany Wheeler was, indeed, Diane Laudon’s daughter.

  But if Diane had come to Brookhills to avenge her daughter, would she use her own name? Not that the average widow and foster mother – assuming those parts of her story were true – would know how to get the fake identification and social security number she would need to get a job.

  And I could attest that Diane’s credentials and experience were impeccable since I’d done the search. I thought about that. Bethany died April 2 and Diane had started here toward the end of April. April 24, to be exact. William, not until May 1. So, somehow, she’d known he was making the move to Thorsen Dental.

  I clicked back to Google and entered William’s name, searching for anything posted in April. And found it. Just a line in the ‘New to Town’ column of the April 11 Brookhills Observer – William’s name and the date he was joining Thorsen Dental – but it was enough. Diane could easily have come up with it as well. A little research on Thorsen Dental and she’d have found the job opening. It must have seemed like fate.

  Once hired, Diane would have no worries that William would notice a family resemblance. Bethany was adopted. It did explain, though, why the office manager didn’t have an adult photo of her daughter on display but there was one of her son. The fact that she even displayed the younger photo made me wonder whether Diane was playing with Swope. Daring him to notice the woman he’d bedded in the face of the little girl she’d been.

  So how had Diane felt when William walked past those fa
mily photos every day for six months, probably not even noticing them? Was she angry?

  Then there was Lynne. She said she’d read Bethany’s death notice, but that was before the Swopes moved to Brookhills. Even if Lynne had read far enough down to see Diane’s name, there was no reason for her to have remembered it and put it together with the office manager in her husband’s new office.

  Fact was, Bethany just didn’t matter that much. To anybody, that is, but her mother.

  I switched back to the obituary and clicked print. As I did, I caught the bottom line: The family suggests memorials to the Drug-Free Foundation.

  My assumption when a family suggests memorials to the American Cancer Society, for example, is that the person died of cancer. Had drugs – an overdose, maybe – killed Bethany? If so she’d probably had a habit far worse than making free with the nitrous oxide. Or was I reading too much into the wording of the obituary?

  No printing noises, so I hit print again and considered the nitrous cart. Ted had told Diane to cancel William’s appointments and that William would leave his keys on her desk. Had she waited for William and – realizing that it was her last chance – beaned him with the oxygen cylinder, sending him flying out the window?

  Pavlik said they’d found nothing they didn’t expect to find on the tank. That might include blood and the like, of course, but the officer manager’s fingerprints wouldn’t raise any red flags.

  Diane had the keys and was accustomed to being the last one in the dental suite and closing up. William wasn’t. Which made me wonder – he certainly wouldn’t have packed up his desk in the dark but the lights were off both when Lynne had driven past and when Ginny had stopped by and seen William’s body. Had Diane automatically flipped off the power when she—

  The computer screen went black.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  As I feared, the reception desk was empty when I raced out. No sign of Diane and the only light came from the windows. I saw a paper in the printer’s tray and picked it up.

  ‘What the hell?’ Ted’s head came around the corner. ‘I’m in the middle of a procedure. What happened to the power?’

  ‘Your office manager is a woman of habit. She switched it off as she left. Just like Friday night.’ I waved the obituary in my hand. ‘I know you have document sharing, but you also share a printer?’

  Ted nodded. ‘A top-of-the-line laser printer is expensive.’

  Twenty years ago maybe, but I wasn’t going to debate it with my cheapskate ex-husband. ‘Call Pavlik and tell him I think Diane Laudon is William’s killer. She’s taken off but I’m going to see if I can follow her.’

  ‘Diane? I—’

  I didn’t wait to hear the rest.

  I reached the parking lot just as Diane was swinging open the door of a blue Hyundai Accent just two cars away from my Escape.

  ‘Diane!’

  The office manager turned, keys in her hand. ‘Oh, hi, Maggy. Will you tell Doctor Thorsen I wasn’t feeling well and needed to leave? That I’ll see him tomorrow?’

  ‘You saw the obituary I sent to the printer,’ I said.

  A quick uptake of breath followed by a slow shake of the head. ‘You have a child. You understand.’

  My child, thankfully, was still alive. ‘Bethany died of a drug overdose?’

  The adopted mother shoved a curl of gray hair off her forehead. ‘Suicide, overdose. I’ve found it’s pretty much the same thing when you’re dealing with an addict.’

  ‘Had Bethany had a problem with drugs before?’

  ‘Before William Swope, you mean? No, though her mother was a junkie. That’s why Bethany and Jamie came to me in the first place.’

  ‘How old was she then?’ I was hoping I could stall Diane long enough for Pavlik and his troops to get there.

  ‘Four.’ She swung her purse across the driver’s seat and let go so it landed on the passenger one. ‘Beautiful little girl already showing signs of an attachment disorder. That’s why I couldn’t have her separated from her brother, you see?’

  I did see, unfortunately. In a lot of ways, I was in utter sympathy to what Diane had done. In others ways, not so much. ‘Attachment disorder. You mean she had trouble bonding?’

  ‘With some people. Others she was inappropriately affectionate with. The poor baby was starved for human interaction – she didn’t … well, she didn’t quite know how to handle it. She could be inappropriate, especially with older men. Looking for a father figure, I suppose. My husband, he did the best he could with her. But—’ She shook her head.

  ‘William must have been thirty, thirty-five years older than Bethany.’

  ‘Her first husband was even older. Victor died of cancer and Bethany nursed him right through to the end.’

  ‘She sounds kind.’

  ‘To a fault. Their junkie mother tracked the twins down a couple years back, probably looking for a handout. Jamie told her to go to hell but Bethany gave her a chance.’

  ‘She went into your field – medical office management.’

  Diane nodded. ‘And more’s the shame. If she hadn’t she wouldn’t have gone to work for Swope after Victor died. She was still mourning and I think that’s why she fell so hard. She would have followed Swope to hell and back.’ A grim laugh. ‘I guess she did, in a way.’

  ‘William Swope told his wife that Bethany drowned.’

  ‘He’d be right about that.’ She slid into the driver’s seat. ‘When Bethany was fired she came home to me. She was a mess – trembling and crying when she got off the plane. I put her to bed and stroked her hair, told her I’d call her brother and we’d get her into treatment in the morning. To just rest and that everything would be all right.’

  ‘But it wasn’t?’ It came out as a hoarse whisper.

  ‘That night she swallowed every pill she’d brought with her, climbed into the bathtub and went to sleep. The next morning I found her slipped down under the water.’

  My stomach rose into my throat. ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ I said again.

  ‘I’ll never know …’ She ran her hand over her face and started over. ‘I mean, they say you’ll never know what’s in their heads. But … I think Bethany was afraid I would put her in rehab and go after Swope.’

  It’s something I might have done.

  ‘As it turned out, she was right. Though I didn’t know it that night.’

  ‘What changed?’

  ‘Me.’ She was looking past me into the distance. ‘When somebody you love kills themselves it opens this door you never even knew was there.’

  ‘Suicide.’

  ‘Yes.’ She met my eyes. ‘Here one second, gone the next. So … easy.’

  And irreversible. ‘But look at the misery left behind.’

  ‘And questions – lots and lots of questions.’

  With no answers, as Taylor had said.

  ‘So anyway,’ Diane said, taking up the story again, ‘I decided if life was ever going to make sense again I needed to do something about Swope. I like to think that Bethany would have wanted that. She just … couldn’t stay to see it happen.’

  ‘But what about Jamie?’ I asked.

  ‘Jamie is why I made it through. But I still had to do something. Something for Bethany.’

  Diane put the key into the ignition. ‘You printed out Bethany’s death notice. I assume you saw my name?’

  ‘Yes.’ I stayed where I was so she couldn’t swing the door closed. ‘It confirmed what I’d suspected, looking at Bethany’s picture and the one of the twins on your file cabinet.’

  She’d started to turn the key and now her hand dropped. ‘You recognized her from two photos. He knew Bethany – slept with Bethany – and had no idea she was the girl in that photo. Hell,’ a dry laugh, ‘I’m not sure he ever noticed it.’

  ‘I’m a mom,’ I said. ‘Maybe—’

  ‘Don’t make excuses for him,’ she snapped. ‘Swope knocked that frame down every time he opened the drawer to get keys for the drug cabinet. Not only
did he never look at it, he never set it back up again.’ She was staring out the windshield toward the building facade but, I thought, seeing something very different.

  ‘What happened that night?’ My voice came out a whisper.

  She looked at me. ‘That night?’

  ‘Friday.’ When she didn’t answer, I said, ‘I can understand how desperate you must have been. All this work – getting hired in the first place and suddenly you were down to one night to do what you’d come to do. You knew William would be back to pack up his desk so you just waited for him with the oxygen tank.’

  ‘You think we came to Brookhills to kill him?’ She cocked her head and thought about it. ‘I guess that’s true at its core. But no, I didn’t set out to hit him with the tank. He came in, full of himself as usual. Rolled the nitrogen-oxide cart right out of my office where I was replacing the oxygen cartridge. I told him to wait until I finished but he didn’t listen. Must have needed his fix.’

  I didn’t miss the fact that Diane had said ‘we.’ Filing that away for now, I tried to stay on track. ‘So you followed William into his office?’

  ‘Only to replace the tank,’ she said, like a teacher correcting a student. She was gazing straight out the windshield. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. I wanted my moment. I wanted to tell William Swope exactly who I was and what I thought of him. That he had destroyed the kindest soul on this earth.’

  Diane swiveled her head toward me. ‘But do you know what he was doing when I got there?’

  I shook my head.

  Diane Laudon met my eyes. ‘Crying.’

  ‘Crying?’

  ‘Can you believe that?’ She shook her head back and forth as if she still couldn’t believe it herself. ‘He was standing at the window reading some papers and sobbing like a baby.’

  ‘Did you see what the papers were?’

  ‘I pulled them away so I could take a look. I was hoping a subpoena or something that meant he’d finally been caught. But no, it was notice of “dissolution of marriage.”’

  ‘Divorce.’

  ‘Everything he’d destroyed,’ Diane said, ‘and he’s crying because his nice comfortable world is falling down around him.’