Husbands of the Daughters
First thing the next morning was a trip to the morgue for an autopsy. It was scheduled for 10 am. That allowed the detectives time to review the past days hectic activity with the interviews. Rory and Stacy met Ben at the morgue at 9 am. Along with Marsha they sat in the small lunch room drinking coffee and tea. Marsha asked how it was going and Stacy replied:
"It always seems at this particular stage of a homicide case, the whole picture seems clouded with suspects. It'd be nice it after an interview one could say yea or nay and move on to the next one. But, that is so far from the case of reality it's not funny. It's people's greed Marsha. For example, the mother would usually live for perhaps twenty more years, but these off-spring need the money now. Most of us work for our money and don't have access to millions like these kids do. As kids we want to hurry life on fast forward instead of frame by frame.
Actually, when you think about it, because of so much violence either on video or computer games, death is not real. A kid thinks if he shoots somebody, that person will get up and walk away unscathed. After the realism sets in, they're treated as mentally void of real life and subjected to counseling. What results is a repeat offender. We've the three strikes you're out rule here in Oregon. But I'd like to know how many repeat offenders are really frightened of the three strike rule. After two times in the Big House, the prisoners become accustomed to the living quarters. They receive three squares, roof from the weather, heat in the winter time, TV, exercise area and lord knows what all. It's not a bad place to hang out for a lot of these guys," said a long winded Stacy.
"Super Sleuth, you said a mouthful. The really sad thing is society needs folks like us to try and keep them safe. It's true the majority are safe, but when a screw gets loose, its broadcast all over the country as 'Breaking News'.
Before mass media, it was word of mouth and nowadays, we've news 24/7 via smart phones, tablets and laptops. It used to be: "Hey did you hear about------------, and now it's: ''What do you think about---------." Society operates on the assumption you already know what is what; but some over sixty have no idea what is going on someplace besides in their backyard. I really wonder what the world will look like in fifty years from now. I'll be eighty two and still lapping up cheeseburgers," said a smiling Rory.
The Truth is Revealed
"Time for action my friends," said Marsha as she went to her small changing room to dawn her working uniform. Stacy went to the 'women's room to change and Rory and Ben to the 'men's' room to change. All met in the cool of the autopsy room. Marsha's assistants were at the ready. The body was lying on a stainless steel table that the victim felt neither cold nor discomfort. Marsha without preamble went to work. As usual, she began her work at the top and proceeded down from there. Hair samples were taken for drug purpose and to see if any other marks were on the head that shouldn't ordinarily be there.
An hour later Marsha looked up and said, "No doubt its poison that killed this woman."
"Are there any signs of needle injections Dr. Stone," asked Stacy.
"Not that I've seen. Actually this woman was fairly healthy according to her insides. Indeed there're some vitamin deficiencies but nothing life threatening."
"We're going now Dr. Stone and thanks for the information. We've some suspects to visit. Thanks for the talk and refreshments," said Stacy with Rory and Ben waving good bye.
The Tire Shop Flunky
"She's a good person and a fine pathologist," said Stacy as they drove to catch the husband of Sally Reynolds at his work. Larry, as it turned out, had been a tire man at the same tire shop since high school more than ten years ago. Stacy thought that after that many years, at least a management position or lead man or something other than just a tire man would be in order. However, as the life of Larry Reynolds unfolded, he was just worker who did enough to get by. His boss told Rory that Larry was, as it seemed, hanging on by a thread. The store manager was always on the verge of letting him go when he'd put on a burst of speed and enthusiasm just before evaluation time. Lazy but smart, was the words the manager used to describe Larry.
The manager said take what time you need as we're kind of slow today. They thanked the manager and went looking for Larry. He was just finishing his lunch when the three detectives walked into the lunch room. The other tire men saw that they weren't needed and fled like rats off a sinking ship. Rory introduced each of his colleagues, with a voice of authority to thwart Larry's contorted spiteful looking face. Stacy was witnessing a smirk of contempt, or cockiness. She thought in today's vernacular, this guy was a real piece of work. She decided to let Rory take this guy down a notch two from his already short stature.
"Larry, at this point in time, we have your wife Sally at the top of our suspect list. We're trying to determine if you're an accessory or not. A smart man would cooperate to the fullest. Keep the sarcasm out of your answers and be specific. Now how many times have you been with your wife when she gave your mother-in-law her medicine?"
"Only a few times and those times were on a Sunday. I work mostly six days a week. I spend my day off watching sports being a couch potato detective." Have you at any time stopped by a pharmacy to pick up Mrs. Franks' medicine?"
"I never have, but my wife has. She complained that she was on a first name basis with the pharmacy workers at Walmart. Ever since they put in the drive through, she's not said a word."
"What are your plans for the money you'll inherit Larry," asked Stacy.
He turned to her and after an up and down a couple times said, "I've really no idea, but I'll be happy to hang up my tire iron," he said with a yellow toothy grin.
"What plans does your wife have when the cash rolls in," asked a caustic Rory.
"She wants to move to San Francisco and wear designer clothes. I've no interest in going there. I like my baggie pants and hoodie. If she wants a divorce, then she'd best get out her check book."
"Listen up Larry---somebody poisoned your mother-in-law. There were only a few people who could have fed her the arsenic in the required doses. It wasn't a onetime thing and then boom she's dead. This poisoning took place over a few months time. It had to be someone who was around her a lot of the time. That comes down to either your wife or the caregiver. If you know something that will help us, now is the time to not hold back. If your wife murdered her, then you'll not see one nickel of that inheritance," said Rory.
Stacy could see he was evidently nervous after he'd heard the reality of the situation. He swallowed and said, "I really don't know anything detectives. My wife is closed mouth and I like that about women," he said while looking hard at Stacy. "Wait a minute here----you're that detective lady who solves all the murder cases around here. Jesus, I'm damn glad I didn't kill the old bitch."
To the Dock
In most cities that have longshoremen there's a hall they work out of. It's a place where you find out if there's work today or not. Longshoremen hang out there waiting for word of a job. To kill the time many play cards or do other things to while away the time.
At the Coos Bay Hall, Rory went in to have Don Locust come out to be interviewed. Stacy and Ben were sitting in the SUV watching the door when the two men came out. Rory looked tall and handsome; while Don was average in all respects. One thing Stacy noticed was it didn't look like this guy was angry at the world. He had a smile and it seemed like he and Rory were having an animated conversation. The day was lovely without much of a wind. Stacy and Ben got out greeting the husband of Debbie. Rory introduced Stacy and Ben. "I'm ready if you are," Don said with a strong voice.
"Rory jumped in and asked, "Don, as you know someone poisoned your mother-in-law. That suggests the poison was taken orally. Also it may have been disguised in a container from a pharmacy. What we need to find out, if you have ever been to a pharmacy with the intention of picking up meds for Mrs. Franks?"
"I'd say more than a few times Detective Caltex. We've only one car and my wife would call to see if I was working.
If not then I'd pick her up and stop by Walmart to pick up some of her mother's prescriptions. I never asked what she was taking as I could care less. It was just something that was done all the time either by Debbie or Sally."
"When you arrived at your wife's mother's house, walk us through what happened to the meds," asked Rory.
"Well sometimes Deb gave the meds to Sharon or on occasion to Sally. I usually sat down and watched TV. I didn't pay any attention to what they were doing."
"While you were there, Don, did you see anything suspicious or someone who looked nervous; including your wife," asked Stacy.
"I'm really not much of a people watcher. My wife always seems the same whether there or elsewhere. Sally, on the other hand is wired for sound bouncing off the walls kind of woman. I did notice when Sally was around, Sharon was kind of nervous looking. She has a habit of rubbing the back of her neck. That's bout it detectives."
"Did you ever notice who fetched the water or juice for swallowing the pills when you were there," asked Ben.
"I saw both Sharon and Sally take a tray of drinks to the bedroom," Don said after a minute of thinking.
"That's all for now," said Rory. If we have more questions, we'll be in touch. Thanks for your help."
Hunger Pangs
Stacy sat down thankful for the respite. She needed some relaxing time to digest what they'd heard from both husbands. For her it sure seemed the key to the case was who administered the medicine on a regular or even an irregular basis. Or course it sounded simple to isolate the prime suspect with the regular giver of meds, but with so many involved, Stacy mentally counted: Sally, Debbie, Beverly and all three men including the doctor Morse Builtmore. All had motive and opportunity. Probably Sharon was among the top suspects, but Stacy didn't have the feeling she killed her boss.
That suspect total was eight. Now they had to weed through the list to discover the guilty party. She heard Rory saying something, but what, she didn't know. She looked up and he said, "Earth to Stacy. Man you looked like you were on the moon. I hope you discovered who murdered the poor lady," he said as he sat back while the waitress set his plate down that was still sizzling with the delicious smell of grilled steak.
"What do you want Tall Man," she asked without a smile.
"Oh my, I hit a soft spot. Sorry bout that. I wanted to ask you something," he said as he lavished on the sour cream and chives to his fat potato. "That Larry dude needs cut down to size. I think he knows more about this that he's letting on. His wife is guilty as hell and I think he feels she did the deed. What do you think?"
"I've not enough info at this point to point a finger at anyone. We need to keep digging and pestering these suspects. Also you know I never commit until I'm confident who murdered the victim," said a slightly agitated Stacy.
Ben saw it and said, "Rory, she's right and let's not have a war of words while I'm eating the best salmon of the year. I think the owner caught it this afternoon off Captain Lois's deep sea fishing boat." That brought an end to what could have been a small lovers' quarrel for little or no reason.
After dinner Stacy drove home leaving instructions for Rory to set up an appointment to interview Dr. Builtmore. Only this time bring him to the station. If he balks, speak to the country prosecutor and tell him I said the guy is a prime suspect. She remembered seeing Rory smile hearing that; and then his downcast look as she drove away without even a peck on the cheek.
Ben was beginning to feel sorry for his partner Rory. It would seem the harder he tried to make a relationship work, the more he bungled it. It would be like Romeo who went down on my knee to Juliet and then lost his voice. That would be very embarrassing Ben thought.
At home she found both her father and Fran in the wood shop sitting at the giant work table looking over a map of the Southwest. Stacy pulled up a stool and said, "When you leaving?" Both Ray and Fran laughed. Stacy thought it was so cool to see her father so happy and laughing.
"Neither one of us have ever been to the Southwest. We're thinking about taking a trip in a car first and look around. One thing I'm a little worried about is leaving the place without anyone around. Do you have any idea Stacy," asked her father.
"Humm, well---let me see now-- maybe advertise at the Senior Center for a live in caretaker or at church."
"We thought about that Stacy," said Fran. "But when we come back where do they move to or do we let them stay here with us?"
"I see your point. It'd be nice if it was a couple who could keep the place reasonably clean and the man could tinker around a little. Or, maybe another idea might be having a housekeeper come in once in awhile and make sure the security system is functional. Of course the patrol cars can make a sweep around here and make sure they note it in their records. Okay, I like the idea of taking a car trip, but that's a long drive. How about flying down there, rent a car and then go around. Save on the long drive."
"We could contact a travel agent in Coos Bay and set up a trip for us. Let them do the work of reservations and such things. I like that idea," said her father.
"Well, I'm off to bed, so will see you for breakfast in the morning," said a yawning Stacy.
Breakfast was simple with oatmeal and toast. Stacy updated her father on the case and the upcoming interview with the hostile doctor.
"Stacy, he'll be fine now that he knows this is serious stuff. I think he was expecting a generous stipend from Mrs. Franks for his life time service to the family. Simple minded people think a reward is forthcoming if they do a good job for someone. In this case, it was his job to be their primary physician. He shouldn't expect any more than his posted fees. Well, go get em girl. You've quite a track record behind you already," said her father with obvious pride in his voice that Fran didn't miss hearing.
Doctor Builtmore does a Flipside
The interview was scheduled for 10 am at the North Bend office of the State Police. Captain Blane went with Rory to pick the good doctor up so there wouldn't be any fuss. All went well and when Stacy showed up at 9:30 am only Ben was in the office. They chatted about his family and she told him about her father and his 'crush' their plan to visit the Southwest for a place to winter up in the future.
Rory came in with his usual smile and a grim looking Captain Blane went to his office. Dr. Builtmore was expressionless. Stacy was sure few people could read the doctor's face with any success. What Stacy was a little shocked that the doctor didn't have a lawyer with him. He was either cheap or confident he was not guilty; or better yet, couldn't be caught.
Rory led the way to an office they used for interrogations. A stainless steel table with a chair bolted to the floor was the only furniture in the room. Ben brought three folding chairs to literally fill up the small room. Stacy wondered why the doctor wouldn't feel intimidated under the circumstances' but then again, maybe he was.
Rory read him his rights and Ben started a recording of the interrogation. The doctor refused a legal rep and looked Rory in the eye as if daring him to ask a question he didn't already have the answer to.
"Mr. Builtmore, on how many occasions in the last three months did you visit Mrs. Franks," asked Rory.
Silence occurred for perhaps ten seconds. Then he said, "Maybe four or five, I'm not sure but my clinic should have a record of when and how many times I visited my patient."
Ben passed him his cell phone and said, "Call and get us the number we're looking for." Surprised almost raised an eyebrow on the doctor. He punched in the numbers, made a request and told the recipient to call him back soonest.
With that taken care of, Rory continued, "How many times when you were visiting your patient, Mrs. Franks, did you personally give her the medicine you prescribed?
"I gave her medicine every time I visited her," said a still stoic Builtmore.
"Where did you get the medicine," asked Stacy.
"I've a pharmacist friend who delivered it to my clinic, or I stopped by his shop," he replied.
"Were all of your meds that you prescr
ibed for Mrs. Franks in pill form or was some, if any, in powder form," asked Stacy boring into his cold eyes.
All three noticed the good doctor was contemplating the answer when Stacy continued saying, "Remember, others gave her medicine that you prescribed as well. If you gave her any medicine in powder form, what was it and where did it come from. Also, we'd need to see the actual prescription and what it was prescribed for."
Now Stacy viewed the shell of armor surrounding him start to crack a little. She could see he was looking for the appropriate answer and being very careful not to be caught in a lie. "Yes," he said, "I prescribed a powder medicine for her diarrhea. Again, my pharmacy friend delivered it to me at the clinic, or I picked it up at his place. If a member of the family went to another pharmacy, that medicine comes in capsule form also. It's more expensive from a giant drug company, but very reasonable for a qualified pharmacist to make their own out of bulk stock."
"We'll need the name of the pharmacist who is your friend and the phone number please," said Rory.
"Certainly can do. He's from South Africa where pharmacists are known as chemists. Chemists enjoy making their own combinations of drugs ordered by a doctor. I've worked with him for over ten years now since he immigrated to America."
Not only Stacy, but both Rory and Ben saw red flags being waved everywhere. However, what did this chemist have to gain; what was or would be his motive; and furthermore, is Doctor Stoic behind the whole thing, wondered Stacy.
"Did Mrs. Franks by chance ever mention that you'd be in her will to receive an inheritance," asked Stacy.
Again there was thoughtful silence coming from the aged doctor. Stacy at first thought the doctor around early sixties, but looking closer, seventy plus was a better guess. Finally he said, "Right after Hank died, Betty confided in me that Hank wanted me to have a little cash for the hard work I'd done to keep him alive as long as it was. I was a bit embarrassed, as you can imagine," Stacy saw him lower his eyes as if he truly was embarrassed, "and scoffed at the notion. Betty insisted and I didn't argue further."
Murder Mysteries #3 Page 17
