Illegally Dead

by Gregg E. Brickman

  "You dumb shit, you're unarmed." The young man laughed.

  "You might say so. Then again." Tony caught the man's first intent to move, the start of a thrust with the knife. Tony landed a bone-breaking blow to the man's forearm, forcing him to drop the switchblade and grab his broken arm.

  He dropped to his knees. "You didn't have to do that." A grimace contorted his face.

  "Oh, didn't I?" Tony remained alert, ready to fend off another attack. He surveyed the area. It appeared the young man worked alone. Tony lowered his arms to belly height. "Is anyone else coming?"

  "I'm alone."

  "Fine. Stay put. We'll wait on the cops."

  "I need a doctor."

  "Yes, you do." Tony continued to monitor traffic, glancing over his shoulder at the side street. Satisfied the danger had passed, he helped the young man to his feet.

  A white Taurus pulled in behind the truck. "Tony, you okay?" Howard called, opening his car door.

  Alfonzo came around from the other side of the smashed vehicles, weapon drawn and ready. Seeing the predicament of the young man, he holstered his gun. He looked at Tony. "What happened here?"

  Tony pointed to the source of the toxic fumes, then in the direction of the switchblade as he explained about the chemicals, the crash, and the thug's attack.

  "You have the right to remain silent," Alfonzo said, cuffing the man's left hand.

  "It's broken." The man held his arm close to his body. "I need a frickin' doctor."

  ***

  Two hours later, Tony parked Jen's car in front of the law offices and walked in. Several clients waited, tapping their feet, flipping magazine pages. The busy receptionist motioned him to take a chair.

  At noon, the waiting room cleared. Tony still needed to visit the offices of the physician defendants, and he needed to be at the hospital for his meeting with the hospital attorneys before three. He hoped he'd find something, anything connecting the previous murders to the most recent ones.

  "What can I do for you, Mr. Conte?" the receptionist said without a shred of sincerity.

  "I'm looking into the murders of the attorneys in Sawgrass."

  "Can I see your badge?"

  "I'm not a police officer. I'm a private citizen, a friend of the man who, I believe, is unjustly incarcerated for the crimes."

  "That sounds mighty important."

  Tony ignored the sarcasm. "Do you remember anything peculiar from around the time Gould and Atkins died? Strangers hanging around here? New vendors spending a lot of time? Anything unusual at all?"

  "Nothing. The cops asked those questions a long time ago."

  "What case were Gould and Atkins working on at the time?"

  "A malpractice action against Doctors Davis and Mossberg. I remember because I researched it for the police a couple of days ago."

  Tony made a note of the names and wondered why Howard hadn't mentioned the information. "How many lawyers does this office have?"

  "Two. We had three, but then . . . after . . . you know . . . Mr. Alden took on another partner."

  "Who does the billing?" Tony asked.

  "I do."

  "Can you tell me about the program you use?"

  "What does that have to do with their deaths?" The receptionist pushed aside a pile of papers.

  "Please, ma'am, humor me."

  "We have a new program, had it for about a year. It works fine. I remember we had a lot of trouble with it when we started using it, and the man was in here all the time."

  "Do you remember what the service man looked like?" Tony said.

  "No, I never saw him myself. He came late in the afternoon, and I leave at three. Small kids."

  "Is there anyone here who would know him?"

  The receptionist paused a minute. Then, while Tony waited, she answered the telephone. It sounded like a personal call about one of her children. After several minutes, she hung up and turned to Tony. "Listen, I have to get to work. Please go now."

  "Thanks for your help."

  Tony used a remnant of a telephone directory he found hanging in a telephone booth outside to find the address of the two defendant physicians. Davis and Mossberg occupied adjacent suites in the building connected to County Hospital.

  Dr. Davis, a neurosurgeon with a weasel thin face, refused to sit and talk with him. He took sixty seconds in the private office to say the case in question settled, and it was too bad about the lawyer. "However," said the neurosurgeon, "with two lawyers dead downtown plus the couple of lawyers killed in Sawgrass, it seems to me someone has a real good start with cleaning up the legal profession."

  "That's a rather cruel point of view for a physician."

  "Listen, bud, those legal bastards have hounded me since I finished my residency. They drove my first partner out of practice. I'm a good doctor. I care for my patients. Gould advertised on billboards for malpractice cases, encouraged them. Then he was ruthless in his pursuit."

  "That was his job."

  "Making up facts and finding a paid expert to swear to them was not his job. His job was to represent his client, who is back working, fully recovered. It's a miracle." The doctor scowled and turned away.

  "By the way," Tony said to the back of the man's head, "who was your first partner?"

  "Jerry Volney."

  Tony went next door. The orthopedic surgeon there was more cooperative.

  "This is the way it happened," Dr. Mossberg said, his voice quiet, controlled. "The plaintiff, originally my patient, had an alleged bad result from neck surgery. I say alleged because the man is back to work with no aftereffects. Two hundred thousand dollars can do that for you, I guess." Dr. Mossberg settled into his chair. He was a short man with a baby face suggesting he recently graduated college, but, based on the dates on his diplomas, Tony estimated his age to be approaching forty.

  "And?" Tony glanced around the tidy space. The smell of Betadine drifted in from the hallway. Someone was changing a dressing.

  "Anyway, Mickey, the neurosurgeon next door, and I did the surgery. The patient was left with limited movement in his left arm. He rehabbed with good, not perfect, results. I told him he had reached his potential, but he should keep doing the exercises, and maybe he'd get better strength and function. Mickey saw him for his final post-operative visit. The next thing we knew we were in court. Gould died of a heart attack."

  "Gould's death has been reclassified as murder."

  "So I understand." The doctor fiddled with a model of a spinal column on his desk. "The police talked to me a few days ago. Anyway, the trial recessed for a few days and then resumed. Kimberly Atkins picked up where Gould left off, and we lost. I believe the judgment was less than it would have been because the plaintiff's presentation lost some of its punch."

  "Then Atkins was murdered." Tony watched the surgeon playing with the plastic bones. The movements of his hands were precise. Jennifer had told Tony the surgeon had a good reputation on the eastside of town and achieved excellent results.

  "That was a shame. She was a beautiful, intelligent young woman—choice of professions aside."

  Tony stared at the fast and expensive computer system sitting behind the doctor. Bulky wiring suggested a high-speed Internet connection. "Nice computer."

  "I'm a serious hobbyist."

  "Looks almost like the one your friend has." Tony pointed a thumb in the direction of the neurosurgeon's office.

  "The systems are identical. Several of the offices in this building cooperated in the purchase and installation of some rather sophisticated equipment. We're linked to the same billing system and Internet connections, group deal. I have a web page with information for my patients. I even schedule appointments for selected patients online."

  "That's interesting."

  "I've found it to be an effective time saver."

  "Who's the vendor?" Tony flicked the hair from his forehead and glanced at his watch. He stood to leave. He needed to hurry to be on time for his appointment with the lawyers.

/>   "Mickey's ex-partner, Jerry Volney. He's a genius with computers."

  Twenty-seven

  "This is Tony," he said into his cell phone as he turned off Broward Boulevard onto the ramp for Interstate 95.

  "You okay?" Howard asked.

  "Yeah, sure."

  "I'm concerned you might have aftereffects from the gas."

  "No, like I told you, I didn't get much of it."

  Tony checked traffic and accelerated onto the interstate, staying in the right lane. "What did you find out from the bastard who attacked me?"

  "He was willing to talk. Anything to hurry along the process of getting to the emergency department, I think."

  "And?" Tony prodded, impatient.

  "He said he owed a favor to a friend of his."

  "Who?"

  "Turns out to be one of the clerks at King's Beverages. The kid said he wasn't paid. It was just a favor. He has a record. He's done it before."

  "Sure, why not? I beat up people as a favor to my friends. Keeps me in shape." As Tony took the exit onto Sunrise Boulevard, he updated Howard on his early morning encounter with Jerry Volney.

  He drove with his window down, enjoying the air against his face. He had been driving with the window down in the van during the incident and felt thankful for the seasonal coolness. "Listen. Can you meet me in the ED at about five?"

  "Sure, but why?"

  "I have a meeting with Hoch, the hospital lawyer, about my case. We're going to see Schmeck at her law office tomorrow."

  "Okay, but why are we meeting in the ED?"

  "I'd like to go over something with you and Nick Messing. He's calling his relief in early so we won't be disturbed."

  "I'm curious. I'll be there."

  "Bring Hernandez."

  "Now I'm really curious."

  ***

  Tony strolled into the Emergency Department a few minutes before five. He saw Nick Messing huddled with the oncoming doctor in the corner of the nurses' station. They were discussing the patients Nick was transferring to the next shift. The hallway felt icy. Tony slipped on his suit jacket.

  "Hey, Conte," one of the orthopedic surgeons called from behind a curtain. "Thanks for the referral."

  "What referral?" Tony stepped into the doorway of the room.

  "The arm."

  "Cute." Tony smiled at the young surgeon when he stuck his head out from behind the curtain. "Were you able to set it?"

  "Sure, no prob. Only took about three hours in the operating room. You shattered his radius in three places and the ulna in two. The guy will trip every metal detector in town for months."

  "Where he's going, I don't think that'll matter." He buttoned the top two buttons on his three-button jacket as he walked in the direction of the nurses' station.

  A few minutes later, Tony ushered Nick, Howard, and Alfonzo into the administrative conference room. "Listen, gentlemen, I have a plan, but we couldn't discuss it downstairs."

  "Why not?" Hernandez asked, his voice skeptical.

  "I figure whoever it is that tried to knock me off today could be bugging my office. I have a suspicion they're surveiling the law firm, too."

  "Interesting notion," Hernandez said. He rocked backward on the leather swivel chair and propped his feet on the high-gloss conference table.

  Tony took a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and spread it on the table in front of him. He pointed to the first column and said, "I've been looking for the connection between the victims. What commonality exists, besides retribution, I mean? You two are convinced Thorne is the bad guy, and his motive is sheer revenge." Tony nodded to each of the detectives in turn. "I don't buy it. In fact, I'm convinced Thorne is innocent."

  "Prove it," Hernandez said.

  Tony reviewed the similarities between the doctors who were involved in the cases. "Now, Gross, scum that he is, isn't our man. He doesn't have the means or the brains to pull it off. And we know the cook was paid in drugs."

  Nick said, "I hate to say this, but I suggest we have to take a look at Ray Prentice."

  "I agree with Nick," said Tony.

  "Why?" both detectives asked at once.

  Nick continued, "Like I was telling Tony a couple of days ago, Prentice has been vehement in his hatred of the plaintiff's attorney in the Rivera case, Emily Schmeck. It's the same attorney of record for the Carlson case, the one Tony's involved in. Prentice made leading statements a couple of times, asking me things like, wouldn't I like to see her out of the picture."

  "And?" Tony asked.

  "I told him I intend to take the first opportunity to settle out of court that comes my way." Nick stood and paced. "Now, as I was saying, or about to say." He shook his head. "The wife of a physician in my group attended court the day Valentine died. She's a paralegal student assigned to observe the proceedings for a class report." Nick looked at Howard. "Anyway, she told me she overheard Ray Prentice telling Chamberlain Thorne not to save Valentine. She said Thorne went over and started CPR anyway. He had to call Prentice a couple of times to get him to help."

  "Odd behavior for a man who has taken the Hippocratic Oath," Howard said.

  "Given the behavior of many physicians, Hippocrates is probably lurching around in his grave." Nick sat. "She said she saw Volney sitting in the last row. She remembers him from when he was practicing."

  "Wonder why he was there?"

  Tony rattled the paper in front of him, tapping a list of names. "That's why the two top people on my list are Ray Prentice and Jerry Volney."

  "Huh?" Alfonzo raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Strange as alligator shit."

  "Not really," Tony said. "That's the commonality. Look at it this way. A paid thug raped and murdered Atkins, the plaintiff's counsel in a suit against Volney's former partner, Mickey Davis. Volney paid the same thug to beat up someone a few years back. The cook in the restaurant where Henninger ate his last meal might be considered be called a thug, and the guy who attacked me, a thug. No doubt about it."

  "But what motive would Volney have? He's done time for trying to get revenge. Why would he try it again?" Howard said.

  "I figure Volney has more to be angry about than ever. All of his former colleagues are sucking in big bucks, and he's running around to their offices fixing their billing programs and kissing ass. He, by the way, also sold billing programs to Davis and Davis's co-defendant, Mossberg, who were being sued by Atkins and Gould downtown."

  "Interesting," said Howard, rubbing his jaw.

  "The connection between the offices involved in the lawsuits and subsequent attacks on the lawyers is Volney." Alfonzo edged forward.

  "Yes. The other interesting thing is all of the physicians involved in the cases—except Thorne—are serious computer nerds. Every one of them, again except Thorne, maintains the billing programs for their respective practices. They meet in special sessions with Volney to discuss billing issues. He's linked the offices together and is saving them mega-bucks."

  "You're saying Volney is our man, not Prentice." Nick studied Tony over the top of his wire-framed glasses.

  "No, I'd say either . . . or both." Tony pushed his hair from his brow. "That's what we need to determine. This is my plan." Tony laid a second piece of paper on the table, positioning it for the detectives to examine.

  "Thorne had ready access to cyanide from his father's shop. Anyone can get his hands on enough coke to put someone away, and Thorne had breakfast with the paralegal. Thorne was in the kitchen of Sprouts the day Henninger ate there. The only question is about the spider venom, but Thorne could have paid someone to stick it to Hansen." Alfonzo sounded unconvinced.

  "All true, but he's not the only one." Tony reported on Volney being a regular in the deli and about his early morning entry into King's.

  Tony watched Nick spin the dregs of his coffee in the cup, then stare at the swirling liquid as if it would reveal the answer.

  After a long moment, Nick spoke. "I remember when Volney came on staff several year
s ago. He came to the department and offered his services as a poison consultant. He claimed to have done a lot of work various toxins during his residency. He gave me copies of several articles he co-authored for one of the medical journals. He claimed to be an expert."

  "Interesting." Howard looked at the paper on the table, then at Tony. He said, "My interest is piqued. How can you be sure your plan will work? Maybe Volney didn't bug all of those computers."

  "By tomorrow, we'll know," Tony said.

  "What are you going to do, ask Volney?" Nick said.

  "Don't worry about it, and don't ask. If I'm right, we'll give a good show in Schmeck's office tomorrow. Then, we'll see what happens when you and Prentice go to court."

  "But Tony, I agreed to settled that case. Only Prentice is going to court." Nick sounded concerned.

  "Prentice doesn't know you settled, does he? You met with your counsel and Schmeck a few minutes before I met with her. Prentice has been in surgery and will be there for several hours yet."

  "Why don't you ask Schmeck if you can search her office?"

  "I did. She's concerned there's a mole in the office who would tip off Volney and Prentice. She knows I'm coming." Tony leaned forward. "She's ready to be done with this. She's afraid of becoming a target herself, and she's willing to play the game. Nick, your case begins on schedule Friday. Kelsey is the judge, and Schmeck is prepping him now. It'll be Kangaroo Court."

  ***

  Tony kissed Jennifer on her forehead and slipped out of bed.

  "How can you?" she said. "I'm worried you'll be hurt. I need you far more than I need Thorne. You're the reason I can deal with this thing. You're my strength."

  "He's innocent, and I think I know who's guilty. We need to find out if those offices are bugged."

  "But—"

  "Baby, sweetie, it's a piece of cake. I've been in before. I know my way around. Besides, Schmeck will stick up for me if I get caught."

  As Tony dressed in black pants and a black, long-sleeved tee shirt, he watched Jennifer with concern. She looked sullen and dejected. If he was hurt, Jennifer would have insurmountable problems. Schmeck and the two detectives would see he didn't stay in jail if he got caught, but first he had to live through the night.