Doctored Death

by P. D. Workman

  “I thought you couldn’t cook,” Kenzie teased, giving him a weak smile. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

  “I was focused.” Zachary smiled, his neck starting to get red. “I knew you needed me to get something ready, so I had a mission and I stuck to it.”

  “You did good.” Kenzie knew how hard that was for him, even if it seemed like a simple thing for her. “Thank you.”

  Zachary sat down, then bounced back out of his chair to get the carton of milk out of the fridge for Kenzie. “Unless you want something stronger...”

  Kenzie thought about it. She wouldn’t mind a bit of chemical help to get relaxed. But she shook her head. Zachary always said that he didn’t mind her drinking when he couldn’t, but she always felt a bit awkward about it anyway. And she needed a clear head to think things through, even though her brain was trying to shut her down.

  Zachary poured milk in her glass and sat down again, looking around the table to see if there was anything else he had forgotten. He apparently decided there was not and cut off a bite of his burrito.

  “Do you think you’re safe?” he asked in a neutral tone.

  Kenzie looked at him, shocked. “Am I safe? Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “If he’s working with the governor... there has to be some big money involved. And big guns. When people like that start putting you under surveillance... well, they’re probably willing to go farther, if they have to.”

  “Yeah, like what?” Kenzie laughed, shaking her head. “This isn’t a TV thriller. I can’t even believe he would plant a bug on me. The only other person who has ever done anything like that was... well... you.”

  She could remember how angry she had been when she had a mechanic put her car up on a lift to check for any foreign objects, and they had discovered a tracker mounted on the inside of her rear bumper. It was before she and Zachary were serious, and had been such an invasion of her privacy that she had immediately stopped talking to him.

  The red flush rose from Zachary’s neck to his cheeks and ears. “Uh... yeah. That was stupid, and I’m really sorry about all of the crap I put you through...”

  “I understand that you were anxious and that you wanted to protect the people you were close to. But it really was over the line.”

  “I know.” It had been almost two years ago now. They had alluded to it once or twice since getting back together, and Zachary always apologized and looked embarrassed by his own behavior. “But since we changed my meds around, and I started seeing Dr. B regularly... it’s been better. I haven’t done that—anything like that—since then.”

  Kenzie didn’t actually think that he had. She kept a pretty close eye on his mental state and how he acted around her, and she watched for any signs that he was trying to hide things from her or cover up his activities. Of course, there were many hours in the day when she couldn’t monitor what he was doing. He could be having an affair and bugging everything she owned. The bug in her purse could have been his, rather than Walter’s. Except then he wouldn’t have had a reason to find it there and show it to her.

  “What did you do with the bug?”

  “I drowned it.”

  Kenzie looked over at the kitchen sink, filled with water, and grinned. “Well, I guess we don’t need to worry about anyone overhearing this conversation, then.”

  “No. It’s just you and me.”

  “Unless he or someone else has bugged another area of the house.”

  “No.” Zachary’s voice was confident. “No other bugs.”

  “How could you know that? Someone else might have left something here another time. Or I might be bugging you to keep track of you during the day.”

  He shook his head.

  He was so sure about it that Kenzie was unnerved. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Because I check.”

  “You check?” Kenzie repeated. She thought about the bug detector in his bag. Right there where it was close at hand. How paranoid was he? Did he actually think that she might be bugging him?

  “Not every day,” Zachary assured her, as if that might be considered over the top. “But... every few.”

  “You sweep this house for bugs every few days.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  He blinked at her, as if only realizing now that this might not be considered normal behavior. “To... keep you safe. To protect your privacy. Make sure that no one is watching or listening to us when we’re here. After that business with that cartel, especially... it wouldn’t be a good idea to assume that they believed what they were told and weren’t checking up on us. On me. I don’t want any harm to come to you because of what I do. It’s just like you having a burglar alarm. An extra layer of protection.”

  “Well... I appreciate it. But I would have liked to know about it before. I think that’s the kind of thing you might want to tell me about.”

  “Oh.” Zachary took another bite of his burrito and chewed, thinking about that. “I just figured... you wouldn’t want to know. You’d feel better not having to think about it.”

  “No, I think I want to know if you think that there are bad guys after you. Or me.”

  “Hmm.” He stared down at his plate, not at her.

  “What?”

  “I think... are you sure?”

  “Am I sure I want to know? Yes, I am.”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “I think... you should consider... who your father is working with, and what their stakes are.”

  “Really?”

  He didn’t say anything. Kenzie poked at her burrito. She cut a few pieces off and worried them rather than putting them into her mouth. Her stomach was roiling. Probably best not to add a bunch of beans to that fermenting mess.

  “You think I’m in danger?”

  She didn’t want to discount his expert opinion. Yes, he was anxious, even paranoid at times. He had PTSD and the least trigger could set him off. She was sure that just having her father parking at the curb for that hour had wound his brain up into overdrive, which might explain why he was so concerned for her welfare. But he’d been right about the bug. And he’d dealt with unsavory characters and criminals who wanted him out of the way before. And Kenzie herself had learned before that just because someone seemed kindly and safe, that didn’t mean that they were. She’d been fooled in the past. That was one reason she wanted him to tell her suspicions, even if she did think that they might just be imagination. She needed to know what to watch for.

  “Maybe. It’s possible. Or, he may want to keep an eye on you to make sure you’re not in any danger. But that would still mean that you might be in danger from others.”

  “Yeah. I guess either way... I should take extra precautions.”

  Zachary blew out a breath, nodding. His shoulders dipped down. He’d been holding himself tense. It was a relief for him that she had seen his point and would consider what she needed to do to protect herself.

  “Maybe I could help out for a few days, just to make sure everything is okay.”

  “Like what?”

  “Drive you to work. Or follow and make sure no one is watching you. Maybe put a tracker in your car and in your bag. So I know where you are if there is any trouble.”

  “Oh, so we’re back to trackers now, are we?”

  He shrugged. “Only if you said yes. Not covertly.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “And... can I help with this case that you’re working on? I know you’ve been worried about it.”

  “You do?” Kenzie looked across the table at Zachary. “How do you know that?”

  “I can see it. That you’re worried. That you’re getting stressed about work and trying to figure out what’s going on.”

  “Well, yeah. I am.”

  “Can I help? Is there any way? I know you can’t tell me anything confidential, but if there is something you need. Something I could help with. I’d really like to.”

  “No,
there isn’t anything you can do,” Kenzie said immediately, discounting the idea.

  “Well... think about it. You know I rely on your medical knowledge when I’m trying to sort out a case with medical involvement. Think about whether there are things that my expertise could help with. Skip tracing. Surveillance. Background research.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Kenzie agreed. “But I don’t think there is anything you can do.”

  55

  Kenzie was trying to read a book sitting in bed to quiet her mind and Zachary, sitting with her, was looking through email or messages on his phone. “You know,” Kenzie ventured, “There might be one thing you could do to help me out. With our investigation at work, I mean.”

  Zachary lowered his phone immediately. “Sure. What do you need?”

  “I need to track someone down. I’ve been trying to call her or get into her building, but I haven’t had any luck. It would probably take you an hour, and you’d not only know if she still lives there, but also most of her life story.”

  Zachary smiled. “Not all of that, but I can probably track her down for you. What do you know?”

  Kenzie outlined the details she had on Francine Mudd, the woman who had owned Lola before the dog ended up being given to the nurses at Champlain House. Zachary tapped details into his phone, nodding.

  “How long since she’s lived at this address, do you know?”

  “I don’t think it could be long. Maybe a few weeks or months. It was recent.”

  “I should be able to track her down.”

  “That would really help. We need to talk to her about something. Related to the case.”

  Zachary didn’t ask what it was. He was very good at not asking her about things that might be confidential. He didn’t usually ask her directly about the cases the Medical Examiner’s Office was working on, though sometimes he heard things through other channels. Kenzie shared interesting tidbits when she thought it would be okay. Non-identifying things so she wouldn’t be breaching anyone’s privacy. She didn’t actually have any live clients.

  “You’re careful at work, right?” Zachary asked after finishing his phone notes and setting the phone onto the side table on his side of the bed.

  “Careful about what?” Kenzie asked. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  “Just... your dad was talking about viruses and whether they could kill anyone... I don’t want you to do anything that might be dangerous. I can’t do anything to protect you from microscopic invaders.”

  “Oh, that.” Kenzie nodded. “Well, he was really talking out of school. It isn’t anything that I can discuss.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t expect you to. I just hope... you’re taking precautions. I don’t know. Wearing a mask and gloves. Whatever else doctors are required to do to avoid viruses spreading. Sealing them off or showers or whatever.”

  “Of course. We are very careful.” But Kenzie was mindful of what Dr. Wiltshire had said about viruses escaping from labs. It happened, even when scientists thought they were taking all the proper steps to keep them isolated. The morgue was not sealed from the rest of the building. Not normally. They could take measures if they thought that a case might involve biohazards, but they usually didn’t wear hermetically sealed suits or set up air locks between the autopsy room and the outside world.

  “Good.”

  Kenzie put her book down. Even if she wanted to, she knew she wasn’t going to be reading anything else. Her eyes just kept going over the same information.

  “Let’s see if we can get some sleep.”

  Zachary turned off the light on his side of the bed and waited for Kenzie to turn off her light and cuddle up to him.

  Kenzie wondered from Dr. Wiltshire’s face the next day if something had happened overnight. A child’s death or one of those other heartbreaking cases that made everybody depressed as they handled the body and other evidence. Trying to look past the tragedy of a life cut short and just focus on the evidence.

  “Morning, doctor.”

  “Kenzie... I need you to prep Mr. Cartwright’s body for transport. The funeral home will be picking him up later today.”

  “Oh.” Kenzie was surprised. “Have you made a ruling on cause of death, then?”

  “We’re still waiting for a few tests to come back, so no, I’m not ready... But we’ve collected everything we need to, and his family is waiting to hold a funeral.” He shrugged. “I think that we need to move on to other cases; we’ve got a few that need to be cleared out. I’ve been spending too much time on this possible outbreak. There’s really no reason to think that this virus is any worse than typical HHV-4. Mankind has been dealing with Epstein Barr for hundreds, possibly thousands of years.”

  “Okay.” Kenzie didn’t want to argue with him about it. Maybe if he released Cartwright’s body, the political pressure would go away and she wouldn’t have to worry about her father or anyone else who might feel like making trouble. “Any... special precautions to be taken? Do you want me to say something to the funeral home about the possibility of contaminants?”

  “HHV-4 is not known to be dangerous,” Dr. Wiltshire said flatly. “You can tell them he is positive and they should take appropriate action. Wear gloves and a mask, avoid any physical contact with fluids. They would do all of that anyway, but if you remind them... then we’ve done our duty.”

  “Is everything okay, Dr. Wiltshire?”

  “Yes, of course, Kenzie. Everything is just fine. Take care of that for me, won’t you?”

  “Sure.”

  He went on to his office. Kenzie did as she had promised, going into the morgue and preparing Cartwright’s remains for pick-up.

  Kenzie’s phone rang just before noon. Kenzie considered ignoring it, claiming that she was already on her lunch break and wandering down to the vending machine to see if anything edible had been stocked.

  Then she saw who it was. Zachary.

  “Hey, Zach. How’s it going?” She tried to sound as relaxed and unstressed as possible for his sake.

  “Good. I have contact information for you for Francine Mudd.”

  “Already?” Kenzie smiled. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”

  Zachary carefully dictated to her the information he had gathered, which was, as Kenzie had expected, a little more than just her phone number and address. The reason she was no longer at the old address was that it had been her boyfriend’s apartment, and they had since broken up. She was now back to living on her own—in a dog-free building, Kenzie assumed—and usually worked evenings as a waitress or hostess.

  “Perfect. That’s really helpful.”

  “Are you going to talk to her today?”

  “Yes, if I can,” Kenzie agreed.

  Zachary was silent in response. Kenzie tried to figure out if she were supposed to have given him a different answer.

  “Okay,” Zachary said eventually. “I’ll see you later, then.”

  “See you tonight,” Kenzie agreed.

  Kenzie decided that sooner was better than later, and if she were to go out, she could avoid eating something from the vending machine. She could stop and get some good takeout, or even just a grocery store salad, and save herself from the questionable sandwiches and other items in the vending machine.

  So she headed out right away. She would talk to Francine Mudd and see what information she could offer and still be able to get back to the Medical Examiner’s Office to get a few more things done and shut down for the day.

  It would probably have been wise to call ahead, but Kenzie didn’t want to give Francine an opportunity to offer any excuse for not being able to talk. So she found the woman’s apartment and knocked on the door. She hadn’t even had to get Francine to let her in through the double set of doors in the vestibule downstairs. A delivery man had been let in ahead of Kenzie. She caught the door and continued as if she belonged there. No-one stopped her.

  She rapped sharply on the door, intending for it to so
und brisk and businesslike. It was a couple of minutes before a woman arrived at the door. Kenzie looked her over, frowning.

  “Are you Francine Mudd?”

  “Yes. And you are...?”

  Kenzie had expected the woman to say that she was Francine’s mother. She had imagined Francine to be a college student, someone just trying to make it on her own for the first time. Living in cheap apartments. Getting a dog and then not being able to take care of it. Breaking up with her boyfriend. Working as a waitress. All those things had predisposed her to think of Francine Mudd as a young woman, not the middle-aged woman who stood in front of her.

  “Oh. Sorry. My name is Kenzie Kirsch. I’m with the Medical Examiner’s Office.”

  “Has someone died?”

  “No. Well, yes, people have died, but not someone directly connected with you.”

  “Oh, good. You scared me for a minute; I thought that maybe...”

  “I’m sorry. I should be more careful. I’m actually here about Lola.”

  “Lola?”

  “A dog you used to own.”

  “Oh. That Lola. Well, she isn’t dead, is she? And if she was, it wouldn’t be handled through your office.”

  “No. We’re looking into a death that occurred at the senior center where Lola is living. I was asked to look into Lola’s background as part of our survey of the environment.”

  “Why would you need to know about Lola?”

  “Well, she was with him when he died. It’s just routine, ma’am. Do you think I could come in? We could sit down and work through these questions and then I’ll be on my way.”

  “I suppose.” Francine opened her door the rest of the way to allow Kenzie in. She led Kenzie to a clean, neat, bright sitting room done in a sort of grandmotherly style. Old furniture with light upholstery or accents, needlework hung on the walls, and smelling faintly of roses or another perfume.

  “This is very nice.”

  “It’s comfortable,” Francine said, looking around to evaluate it. She acted as if it weren’t actually her place, but just somewhere she had landed for the day.