Sweet Smell of Sucrets

by Renee Pawlish

  “Welch.”

  “Yeah, Welch. How does Trevor Welch tie in with Noel Farrell?”

  “Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot,” she said through clenched teeth. “Farrell had a file on Welch.”

  How did she know that? “Yeah, but I’m sure Farrell had a lot of files. How do you know there’s a connection between Welch and Farrell?”

  “Welch’s file is missing and it’s the only one. Seems a good bet someone took the file to keep me from figuring out there’s a connection between the two.”

  I had to work hard that time to not show my astonishment. “How do you know a file is missing?”

  My mind raced. She’d made the link between Farrell and Welch, but what else did she know? I doubted she was aware of Gus or Mick, which meant she was still focusing on me, even if she didn’t act like it when we’d talked at the Starbucks the other day.

  “On Tuesday, the liquor store near Farrell’s office called to report some suspicious activity around his office. I did some checking around. Your friend Henri Benoit from the memorabilia shop mentioned that he’d seen some strange activity around Farrell’s office.”

  Ah Henri, I thought. Your helpfulness did come back to bite me. But I couldn’t blame him for trying to help.

  “So we went back to Farrell’s office and checked around. That’s when I noticed that there was one file missing – Welch’s – and a day-to-day calendar that was on Farrell’s desk. Know anything about either of those?”

  I shook my head slowly and hoped lightning wouldn’t strike me. “I still don’t understand how you know anything is gone.”

  “Little police fairies told me,” she said, the sarcasm thick. “We had documented everything carefully when we searched the office right after Farrell’s murder. We took pictures of the entire office, including his files. When we went back and checked the office and files again, it wasn’t that hard to figure out that a file was missing.”

  “Oh, right.”

  She gave me a long, hard look, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “So if I looked around your place, I won’t find the file or calendar?”

  “You’re welcome to look around, just show me a warrant.”

  “I just might do that,” she said.

  And by then the calendar would be gone, I thought. “I don’t have either,” I said, then waited again for the lightning.

  She sighed. “This doesn’t look good for you.”

  I stared at her, my mind not coming up with any words. I’d already pled my innocence. Repeating it again wasn’t going to do me any good.

  “Are you going to arrest me?” I finally asked.

  “I don’t have any grounds for that…yet.”

  “Then I’ve got things to do,” I said.

  I stepped out onto the porch, forcing her to step back onto the stairs. I made a show of locking the deadbolt and then I turned to her.

  “After you,” I said, then followed her down the stairs.

  I headed to the Subaru and she tramped across the street to her Mustang.

  “Watch yourself,” she called after me.

  I got in and started the car, then pulled slowly into the street. The Mustang followed. Was she going to tail me the whole night? That would certainly ruin my plans. I needed to find Gus fast, along with the proof that he had killed Farrell and Welch, or I’d find myself trying to conduct an investigation from behind bars. Not good.

  I turned onto 17th Avenue and headed to Colorado Boulevard, then north onto Interstate 70. It wasn’t the way to Doctor McKenzie’s office but I wanted to see what Spillman would do. The Mustang stayed with me as I drove east, but then she veered south onto Interstate 225.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as I took Peña Boulevard, which led to the airport, but I got off on 40th Avenue and circled back under the highway so that I was now heading back south. I watched carefully for tails but there didn’t seem to be any, so I headed west on I-70 back to Colorado Boulevard. It was almost ten o’clock when I parked across the street from Doctor McKenzie’s office.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Downing Street was still busy with traffic, but it was too cold for anyone to be out walking. I watched the entrance to McKenzie’s office. No one went in or out. Not surprising as it was late on a Friday night. I pulled the binoculars from the backpack on the passenger seat and looked at the office building. The shades were drawn on the front window of McKenzie’s office. I scanned the street side of the building. The few windows I could see were dark as well. The other side of the building faced an alley and I couldn’t see anything.

  I set the binoculars down and pondered what to do. I was sure that Cal was right and that the office had a stellar security system, so I didn’t stand a chance of bypassing it. I noticed that the office was bigger than I’d originally thought. Too much office for a general practice? I didn’t remember seeing that McKenzie had partners, but there was one quick way to find out.

  I waited for a lull in traffic, then got out, crossed the street and walked past the front entrance. The sign on the door said David McKenzie, M.D., General Practice, and underneath that Stewart Mendelsohn, M.D., Psychiatrist. That confirmed it, just the two of them. But how could I get inside to find out what was going on? I started to turn around to go back to my car when I spotted a dark SUV slowing down behind me. I tensed, wondering if it was Gus, but it turned behind me into the parking lot. Who was showing up at McKenzie’s office at this time of night? The doctor himself?

  I continued walking casually down the street, then glanced over my shoulder. The SUV was out of eyesight so I bolted to 22nd, turned right, then hurried across a strip of grass and up to the office building, where I ducked behind some bushes. I flattened myself against the side of the building, and waited moment. Then I made my way in a crouch to the end and peered around the corner.

  The SUV was parked halfway down the alley, in front of a set of steps with a metal railing. The headlights were off, and the only illumination came from an overhead light above the back door to the building. The rest of the alley was in deep shadows. As I watched, a woman got out of the driver’s side of the SUV and a man emerged from the passenger side. He walked around the front of the car, and they went up to the door and knocked. They waited, then knocked again. A moment later, someone came down the alley from the other side of the building.

  “Oh, you’re early,” a woman’s voice said.

  She said something else in a quieter tone, and the man replied, but I couldn’t hear what either said. The woman who’d spoken climbed the steps and I got a brief glimpse of her as she unlocked the door. Average height, shoulder-length hair, and she was wearing purple nursing scrubs. That’s the front desk woman I’d talked to, I thought. She opened the door and all three disappeared inside.

  I took my opportunity and slipped around the corner. I crept forward and was about twenty feet from the SUV when the back door opened and the woman who’d been driving the SUV emerged. I squatted down by a nearby Dumpster. At least I hadn’t dived into it as I had on an earlier case. That had been so un-cool, so un-Bogie-like. Not to mention smelly.

  The SUV started up and sped down the alley. The headlights were off or else they would’ve seen me. As the car zoomed by, I tried to get a glimpse of the license plate, but with no luck. The SUV turned onto 22nd and was gone.

  I peeked over the Dumpster at the back door. What was going on in there – some kind of emergency surgery? But why not go to a hospital? And why did the woman leave? I started around the Dumpster and then saw movement down the alley. I sprawled flat on the cold ground and hoped I hadn’t been spotted. A tall, thin man was walking quietly toward me, carrying a black bag. Doctor McKenzie, I presume? If he looked down the alley, I was sure he’d see me. I tipped my head so I could get a look at him. He paused briefly at the door and glanced around. I willed myself to be invisible. It must’ve worked because he pulled keys out of his pocket and climbed the steps. As he unlocked the door, I could see him. Balding with glasses. He cleared
his throat and coughed, then let himself inside.

  I got up and brushed myself off. For the third time I started to move forward when another car came around the corner from the other side of the alley. Its headlights were off as well or I’d have been the proverbial deer. I silently cursed as I hit the ground again, then crawled backward until I was safe on the side of the Dumpster. I peered around it, my heart beating loudly in my chest. This car, a beat-up silver Hyundai sedan, also parked in front of the door and a couple got out. They looked younger than the first couple. The man was as big as a defensive lineman, and he dwarfed the woman beside him. They glanced around nervously, then went up to the door, knocked and were let inside. This time I wisely waited. A few minutes later, the man came back outside and got in the car, and the Hyundai sputtered to life. I tried to see its license plate, but again, no luck. Then the driver hit the brakes and the red lights briefly illuminated the rear of the vehicle. I saw the plate number and quickly committed it to memory.

  My heartbeat returned to normal. I watched both ends of the alley. A few minutes later, another woman showed up, along with a man in jeans. They hurried up to the door and let themselves in. Who were they? I wondered. Another doctor and a nurse? I waited another ten minutes, then sneaked out of my hiding place and approached the entry, my muscles ready to bolt if the door opened. I reached the entrance and hurried up the steps. If the door opened now, I would have no explanation for my presence. I tried the handle but the door was locked. Figures. I hurried back down the steps and along the side of the building, then paused underneath a large window. I had to stand on my toes to look in, but it was a worthless effort. Some kind of blackout material covered the glass, and I couldn’t see a thing.

  Ten feet down was another window. I looked in but it was dark and I couldn’t see anything. I sighed and continued to the end of the building. From there, I could see that the building’s parking lot was empty. Where did the doctors and nurses park? Somewhere on the street so they wouldn’t draw attention to the building would be my guess. What to do next? I could continue to stay in the alley to see when they all came out, but I was freezing. No, not a good choice. It made more sense to go back to the car and move it to the corner where I could see the parking lot entrance and the entrance to the alley. Someone had to come back for the patients, and I’d be sure to see them.

  The parking lot was lit by a few overhead lights and I decided it would be too risky to run across the lot to get back to my car. So I made my way back down the alley, hoping no one would come out. I ran across the lawn on the north side of the building, crossed Downing and hurried back to the Subaru. I got in, drove around the block and parked at the corner of Downing and 22nd. I didn’t want to turn off the engine, since the heat was just now warming up, but I had to so I wouldn’t draw attention to myself. So I piled on blankets, hunkered down and waited to see what happened next.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  After ten minutes, I was bored and antsy. I wanted to do a search on the license plate but I worried that my phone screen would be like a beacon in the dark, so I waited on that. At midnight, Willie texted to ask where I was. I shielded the phone screen while I dialed and called her back.

  “Hey, I thought you’d be back by now,” she said. “What’s going on? You didn’t get picked up for breaking and entering, did you?” Her tone was part humor, part concern.

  “If that had happened, would you come bail me out?”

  “Reed…” she said slowly.

  “I’m still at the doc’s office. Technically, I’m parked on the street, but I’m watching the office.” I filled her in on what I’d seen and what I suspected.

  “They’re in surgery right now?” She was appalled. “What kind of facilities are there?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t see inside. What I did observe was a small team of medical staff show up, presumably Doctor McKenzie and a couple of nurses, and some guy in jeans. Whatever they’re doing, it’s suspicious that it’s happening in the middle of the night.”

  “A guy in jeans?”

  “Yeah, he didn’t have on scrubs like the two women. Maybe he’s another doctor.”

  “Or an anesthetist. McKenzie would need one if he’s doing some kind of extensive surgery.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “It all sounds risky.”

  “Since when does that stop people?”

  “You’re right,” she said. “Hey, I just looked up harvesting organs on the internet. Did you know it’s been a huge problem around the world, especially in China?”

  “I hadn’t heard that. I remember reading a Robin Cook novel called Coma about that kind of thing.”

  She whistled. “The money’s incredible. In China, a person gets paid almost forty grand for the organ, and this one illegal business was charging the organ recipient over four hundred thousand to do the operation.”

  “Wow,” I said. “If Doctor McKenzie is charging that much, he’s making a small fortune. Although they have a team of people to split the profits with.”

  “The money would still add up. In China, they say you can Google ‘harvesting organs’ or similar phrases and find places to sell your organs, but not here in the U.S. I just tried. So who’s setting it up?”

  “Good point,” I said. “The doc would need someone to find donors.” I thought for a moment. “Do me a favor, will you? Look up this license plate.” I rattled off the plate of the Hyundai sedan. “You’ll find license plate look-up sites on the internet.”

  “Hold on.” A pause. “It’s registered to Hugh Ryerson.” She spelled it. “And I suppose you’ll want to know where he lives, right?”

  “Yep.”

  She gave me an address in east Denver, not too far from where I was. “You’re not going there now, are you?”

  “No, I’m going to see what happens here first.”

  “Do you want me to come and keep you company?”

  “Sorry, Willie, but I don’t think I could handle the distraction, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I think I know. You’re right. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of your wasting your stakeout.”

  I laughed. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

  “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

  I thanked her and hung up. The night dragged on. I wanted a soda with caffeine or maybe a thermos-full of coffee, but I didn’t have either with me and then I’d have to pee anyway. Funny how the movies never show the smaller details of detective work, like needing to use the john. I sighed and fought to stay awake.

  Traffic died out and the street grew quiet. My hands stayed warm in my gloves, but every once in a while I had to wiggle my feet to keep my toes from going numb. Then I passed the time thinking about film noir that had a surgery connection. Bogie in Dark Passage, where he undergoes plastic surgery to change his appearance. Hollow Triumph, also known as The Scar, where the noir hero assumes another’s identity, right down to the scar on his face. I was entertaining myself nicely when around three, I spied a cop car down the street.

  “Crap,” I whispered.

  I sank down low so my head was below the windows, my knees hitting the steering wheel, and held my breath. Then I realized that no one outside the car could hear me, so I let the breath out slowly. I stayed still and waited. The night sky grew brighter as the patrol car passed by. I listened for a minute, then slowly edged up in my seat. The cop car was gone.

  I relaxed a bit and found myself dozing off. Then another set of headlights got my attention. An SUV drove up to the office building and turned into the parking lot. I glanced at my watch. Almost five a.m. Once the SUV was out of view, I threw the blankets onto the passenger seat, hopped out of the Subaru, dashed across the street and up to the alley entrance. The SUV parked by the back entry, and the same woman I’d seen before got out and climbed the porch steps. The back door to the building opened before she had a chance to knock.

  They were expecting her, I thought as I scooted do
wn the alley to my trusty hiding place by the Dumpster. It was only then that I realized how cold and dark it was, that witching hour right before dawn. Fortunately I didn’t have to wait long because the back door opened and the woman emerged, followed by the man she’d dropped off. He was stooped over and moving slowly. The woman and a nurse helped him down the steps and into the passenger side of the SUV. The woman said something in a whisper to the nurse and the nurse ran back into the building, returning a moment later with a small plastic bag. She handed it to the woman, who got in the SUV and started it. The nurse returned to the entry, then looked down the alley, so I quickly leaned back. A moment later, the SUV sped down the alley as it had before, turned on 22nd and vanished. I again didn’t have a chance to see the license plate.

  Shortly after that, the beat-up silver Hyundai sedan appeared and the big man – Hugh Ryerson – got out, went inside and returned a few minutes later with the petite woman. She was also walking slowly, the way people move right after surgery. The same nurse helped her into the sedan, and then they drove past me and were gone.

  I sat behind the Dumpster and waited. A half-hour later, the back door opened and the team, such as they were, appeared. A woman’s voice drifted over to me, but I couldn’t make out what she’d said. I peeked around the Dumpster.

  The man with the black bag was nodding. Then he said, “I’ve got to see Strickland and then I’m going home for some sleep. Well done, everyone.”

  There were nods and smiles and they all quietly walked down the alley toward the parking lot.

  I leaned back against the building and waited until I was sure they were all gone, and then I ran back to the Subaru. I turned it on and waited a minute, then blasted the heat, nearly moaning with pleasure as the hot air blew on my chilled body. Then I called Willie.

  “Hm, what time is it?” she asked sleepily.

  “Almost six. Sorry to wake you.”

  “It’s okay. What’s going on?”