TIL DEATH

by Annette Dashofy

  Still, the colorless face staring back at Pete from the picture had begun to haunt him. Who are you?

  Pete huffed a laugh, realizing the words rattling inside his head matched Zoe’s old ringtone for Franklin Marshall. Dammit. Now he’d never get that song out of his mind. Pete eyed his own phone, scooped it up, and keyed in Baronick’s number.

  “What’s up?” The detective sounded exhausted.

  “How’s your sister?”

  “Better. Awake and bitching about green Jell-O. She made Seth go out and bring her a breakfast burrito from the Mexican place on top of the hill.”

  Pete smiled at the thought of Seth happily doing Abby’s bidding again. Nearly losing her—permanently—was what Seth needed to realize what he really had. “When are they going to release her?”

  “That’s what she wants to know, but the doctor wants to run more tests. We need to find out what went wrong so we can make sure it never happens again.”

  “True.”

  The other line rang, and Nancy picked up from the front office.

  “Tell her I said to get well soon. I need her back at work. But I need her 100 percent, so no checking herself out early.”

  “Roger that.”

  Pete eyed the photo. “Another reason I called…weren’t you a patrol officer in Marsdale at the time Elizabeth Landis was murdered?”

  Baronick sounded suspicious. “Yeah.”

  “Do you remember a homeless man who overdosed around then? A John Doe?”

  “Abby has you trying to ID him now?”

  Pete decided against throwing his junior officer under the Baronick bus and remained silent.

  To no avail. “My kid sister was barely a teen when that John Doe was found deceased. When she didn’t have her nose in a Nancy Drew or Agatha Christie novel, she was glued to one of the cop shows on TV. Marsdale isn’t like Pittsburgh or even Brunswick. You don’t see panhandlers on the streets every day, so this guy fascinated her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d given him food at some point.”

  Pete could well imagine that. “I take that as a yes then.”

  “What?”

  “I asked if you remembered him.”

  “Pete, if you’re thinking there’s a link between my sister’s pet case and the Landis murder, just stop. The Marsdale John Doe didn’t have a car or money for any other type of transportation. There’s no way he ended up in Vance Township. Besides, have you forgotten? The murder weapon was found in the trash outside Dustin’s office building. I’m pretty sure John Doe didn’t put it there.”

  No transportation? Pete imagined the man in the photo standing at the edge of the road with his thumb raised. But Baronick was right. As was Zoe and Abby. The man was an addict who died of an overdose. “Occam’s Razor,” Pete said under his breath.

  But loud enough that Baronick heard him. “Sometimes the simplest answer is the correct one.”

  “Yeah. Sorry I bothered you.”

  “No problem. Abby will be thrilled to know her favorite boss gives this much credence to her hunches.”

  Seconds after he hung up, Nancy appeared in his doorway. “DA Frattini wants to see you in his office in a half hour. Or less.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Pete rubbed the space between his eyes where a dull ache brewed. “I’m down an officer. I can’t just drop everything to be at his beck and call.”

  “You tell him that. I’m not gonna.” The bells on the front door jingled, drawing Nancy’s attention, and she disappeared toward them.

  Pete stared at his phone. He could call in Kevin or Nate to pull some overtime while he responded to the District Attorney, coming when summoned like a faithful dog. Or…

  He punched in Frattini’s number.

  When the DA picked up, there was no greeting. “I want you in my office.”

  “I’m on duty at the moment. What can I do for you?”

  “Where are my witnesses in the Landis case?”

  “Detective Baronick and I have been interviewing them.”

  “Yes, I know. And Detective Baronick has managed to discredit the best one I had.”

  If Cheryl Vranjes was the DA’s best witness, Frattini was screwed. “She was about to convince your jury that she saw a serial killer get out of the victim’s car.”

  Frattini’s frustration radiated through the phone. “What about Jenna Haggerty?”

  “I spoke with her last week. She’ll testify to Dustin’s lack of fidelity.”

  “That’s one. What about Rebecca Weaver?”

  Pete had all but forgotten Elizabeth’s boss at the real estate office. “Baronick had her on his list.”

  “Baronick is busy with his sister. I want you to track Ms. Weaver down and find out if she remembers anything more than she did nine years ago.”

  Pete hoped Frattini had more than a couple of old girlfriends and a murder weapon found in the dumpster near Dustin’s office. The first jury had come back with a guilty verdict, but that was well before anyone knew of the Deserted Lot Killer. “A couple of your key witnesses have passed away recently. What do you think your odds are of getting a conviction this time around?”

  “Excellent. If I didn’t believe in my case, I wouldn’t waste the taxpayers’ money on a second trial. Quite honestly, I might even have a stronger case without them.”

  Zoe strode into the crime lab ready to hug her old friend, but Gloria spotted her and brought a finger to her lips in the universal shush signal.

  “What?” Zoe whispered.

  “I put my job on the line for you on this one,” the gray-haired woman said, her voice low. “Don’t broadcast it, okay?”

  Zoe understood and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Gloria dismissed the gratitude with a wave. “Like you said. It’s Franklin.” She picked up two folders, placing one on the counter in front of Zoe. Lowering her voice even further, she said, “And because it was Franklin, I did some extra testing.”

  Zoe flipped the folder open. She could feel Gloria’s eyes on her as she read.

  And read it again.

  Zoe met her gaze. “An overdose of insulin? Someone at the hospital injected him with too much insulin?”

  Gloria shook her head vehemently. “Look again.” She took the file back, scanned it, and replaced it in front of Zoe with a finger pinned to one line. “Insulin was found in his stomach contents. Like I said, I did some extra testing. I knew he was diabetic, so the low glucose numbers wouldn’t be a surprise. But the way he died in the hospital? I know those people over there. My mom’s a diabetic, and they’ve saved her life more than once, so while I ordinarily wouldn’t check for insulin, in this case, I did.” Gloria’s whisper took on a note of breathless excitement. “Finding it in his stomach contents? It shouldn’t happen.”

  Zoe tugged the report from under Gloria’s finger and held it closer, reading the words a third time.

  “Insulin taken orally doesn’t work. It would be destroyed by stomach acid.”

  “Then how do you explain this?” Zoe asked.

  “That’s the point. I can’t.” Grace hesitated. “Unless…”

  Zoe waited, watching Grace’s eyes shift in thought.

  “I’ve heard rumors that one of the pharmaceutical companies has developed an oral insulin, which would be huge. Imagine being able to take a pill instead of injecting yourself. I have no idea if they’re doing tests on humans yet.”

  “I know for a fact that Franklin’s been on the injectable. Even if he had access to some new oral version, why would he swap it out now?”

  Gloria didn’t respond.

  Didn’t have to. Zoe knew the answer. “He wouldn’t. Not intentionally.”

  “And no one on the medical staff would accidentally give him an experimental drug,” Gloria said.

  Accidentally being the keywor
d. Zoe’s mouth went dry. “Franklin was murdered.”

  Gloria’s eyes held steady, a glint of anger in them.

  Zoe suddenly felt dizzy. She placed the report on top of the folder and white-knuckled the counter to keep the world around her from tilting.

  Loretta Marshall, the grieving widow. The pharmaceutical sales rep. Throwing Zoe and Paulette out of Franklin’s funeral home. The crashing in the office as Loretta ransacked the place. Looking for a will that would’ve cut her out of an inheritance. Had she known he planned to change his will? Was that why she’d come back into his life at a time when his health was failing? Was he not dying fast enough to suit her?

  “Zoe.” Gloria’s voice carved through her thoughts, jarring her back to the lab. “Are you okay?”

  She inhaled, letting oxygen fill her lungs and flood her brain. “Not really.”

  Gloria nodded as if she knew what Zoe’d been thinking. She tucked the reports neatly back into the first folder before placing the second one on top. “Since I was already breaking protocol by bumping Franklin’s labs ahead of everyone else’s, I figured what the hell. I ran the other one at the same time.”

  “Other one?”

  Gloria tapped the folder. “Gina Wagner.”

  Gina. The death with no obvious cause. Zoe remained motionless. Except for her racing mind.

  Gloria tapped the folder again. “You really want to see this.”

  Opening it, Zoe scanned the results. Stopped. And checked the name at the top.

  “When I saw Franklin’s results, I tested her too,” Gloria said.

  Gina Wagner had extremely low blood glucose levels. Just like Franklin. And just like Franklin, insulin was found in her stomach contents.

  Twenty-Eight

  Frattini ordered Pete to get back to him after speaking with Rebecca Weaver. Before Pete could react, the line went dead.

  The intercom immediately buzzed. “Agent Graley is waiting to meet with you in the conference room.”

  Pete launched from his chair and strode from his office.

  Graley had her hair pulled back in a tight bun that stretched her face taut but failed to disguise the grim expression on it. “DLK has struck again.”

  “What? Where?”

  “North central Pennsylvania. Near a little town called Avis.”

  “When?”

  “Last night. The victim’s body was discovered around two this morning. The good news is we didn’t miss him by much. We have a team already in place. I’m heading there now.”

  “Any witnesses? Security cameras?”

  “Don’t know yet.” She picked up her handbag as the bells on the front door announced another visitor. “I wanted to update you before I left.” She cast a questioning look at him. “Anything new on your end?”

  He thought about mentioning John “Occam’s Razor” Doe but decided against muddying the waters. Unless Doe was a murderous ghost, he wasn’t DLK. “Nope.”

  Graley headed for the door. “I’ll keep you posted. With any luck, we’ll soon have our man in custody, and you can ask him in person if he was in Vance Township at the time of the Landis shooting.”

  Pete stepped into the hall and watched as she gave a nod to Nancy and the new visitor, Lauren Sanders. The reporter reached out a hand and introduced herself. Graley shook the hand but responded with a terse, “No comment,” before exiting the station.

  Lauren started toward him. “Do you have a few minutes to spare?” she asked.

  “As if it matters.” He winced. “Sorry. Come on back.”

  Lauren followed him to his office and plunked into her usual chair. “Wasn’t that Special Agent Felicia Graley who just left?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is there anything new from the FBI?”

  Pete wasn’t sure how public the new DLK murder was just yet. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Lauren’s mouth puckered in annoyance. “In other words, yes, but you won’t tell me.”

  “It’s not my case.”

  “There’s been another homicide but not locally.”

  Damn. She was sharp. “You didn’t hear it from me.”

  “Off the record then. What else haven’t I heard from you?”

  He chuckled at her tenaciousness. “I’m sure you have sources in the Bureau who can answer your questions.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t.”

  “You don’t know anyone in the FBI?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He caught the gist of her words. “Let me guess. You had a source in the Bureau.”

  She leaned forward, braced an elbow on his desk, rested her chin in her cupped palm, and gave him a flirtatious smile. “Why don’t you name a place where I might have a source?”

  “Avis, Pennsylvania?”

  The smile faded. “Afraid not.”

  “Then go fish.”

  She leaned back. “That’s not how the game is played. You better stick with poker.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Lauren grew serious. “You know I’ve been working on two stories, right? One about the new trial for Dustin Landis as well as a feature piece on the life of Franklin Marshall.”

  “Zoe told me.”

  “Other than the fact that Franklin was supposed to testify at the trial, I didn’t expect to find any crossover information between the two stories.”

  Pete thought about the coroner’s testimony and personal, as well as professional, theories about Elizabeth’s killer. All of which had nearly sunk the DA’s case the first time around. Had Lauren learned about that?

  “Have you met Franklin’s ex-wife?” Lauren asked.

  “Loretta? Oh, yeah.” Pete’s train of thought circled back to the reporter’s previous statement. “You found a link between Loretta and the Landis case?”

  “Could be. Or it could be mere coincidence.”

  No. Not another coincidence. And no more Occam’s Razors for him either. “Tell me.”

  “Loretta Marshall is a pharmaceutical sales rep.”

  “I know that.”

  “Did you know her pharmaceutical company—and she herself—had offices in the same building where Dustin Landis worked at the time his wife was killed?”

  Zoe left the police lab in a brain fog. Clutching the two reports, she stood outside the elevator and stared at the panel without making a selection.

  Both Gina and Franklin had died of insulin overdoses. Coincidence? No friggin’ way.

  She fumbled in her pocket for her phone. She wanted to call Pete, but neither case was in his jurisdiction. Instead, she keyed in Wayne’s number. “Where are you?” she asked when he picked up.

  “Still at the hospital.”

  The hospital. With his sister. Who’d been admitted with a mystery case of hypoglycemia. Suddenly chilled, Zoe asked, “How’s Abby?”

  “Better. We’re waiting on her test results.”

  “Stay there. I’m on my way.” She ended the call, cutting off his response, and hit the elevator’s down button.

  Fifteen minutes later, Zoe found Wayne and Seth in Abby’s room. Wayne had confiscated the recliner in the corner and was working on his laptop with his feet up. Seth sat at Abby’s side, one arm resting on the edge of the bed as if he wanted to hold her hand. She looked even more like her old self than she had earlier. Zoe wasn’t certain whether the flush in Abby’s cheeks was because of normalized glucose levels, the empty personal-sized pizza box on the bedside tray, or Seth’s presence. However, her hands remained folded in her lap, not reaching toward his.

  Zoe greeted the young Vance Township officers briefly before focusing on Wayne. “I need to talk to you.”

  He didn’t budge. “Okay.”

  “In private.” At Seth’s and Abby’s puzzled frowns, Zoe feigned a smile and added, �
��It’s about an old case.”

  They seemed satisfied.

  Wayne set his computer on the marble windowsill and pushed up from the most comfortable seat in the house. He pointed at Seth. “Stay out of my chair,” he said before trailing Zoe into the hall.

  She led the way to an empty family waiting room a few doors down, careful to shut the door behind them.

  “What the hell’s going on?” he asked. “What old case?”

  “I lied. It’s not an old one.” Zoe held the folders out to him. “It’s two current ones.” She watched as he read through the reports. And read each a second time. His eyes clouded as he reached the same conclusion she had.

  He met her gaze. “This isn’t a coincidence, is it? Two people who testified at the Landis trial? Dead within days of each other? From the same thing?”

  Zoe shook her head. “There’s more.” She told him about the rumored experimental oral insulin. “From what I understand, normal injectable insulin wouldn’t survive the stomach acid.”

  Wayne pondered the information. “I’ll have my men look into any clinical trials. Find out if anyone around here is taking the new drug.” He traced his upper lip. “I wonder if Gina and Franklin were poisoned at the same time.”

  “As far as I know, the only time they crossed paths recently was at her autopsy.”

  “But Franklin was already showing signs of hypoglycemia during that autopsy. Right? That’s when he had the first heart attack. When you saved him.”

  She hadn’t considered that. “Crap.”

  “What about the day Gina died? I wonder if they could’ve eaten at the same place.”

  “I don’t know.” She thought back to last Monday. “Franklin was in the office with me in the morning. He had some funeral home business to deal with while I worked on reports for the coroner’s office. He got tired after lunch and went home. I didn’t see him again until Gina’s autopsy the next morning.”

  “He didn’t go with you to the Wagner house?”

  “No. He told me to handle it.”