The Other Side of Goodbye (Norman Green Book 1)

by Ben Follows

  “And we know that Joel overdosed on medication he never should have had. I think that’s what they were making in the warehouse.”

  “It was,” said Franklin. “Our teams analyzed it. It’s exactly the same as Burrow. It explains where Burrow comes from. It started as a cancer medication.”

  Amelia pushed herself off the wall. “Gary Thorne,” she said.

  Norman and Franklin jerked their heads toward her.

  “What?” said Norman.

  “Detective Franklin, that’s your source, isn’t it? Gary Thorne.”

  Franklin shook his head. “I can’t admit who my source is.”

  “That would explain a lot,” said Amelia. “It would explain how you got involved in Robin’s murder so quickly. Gary told you and wanted someone he knew involved so they didn’t find the real murderer.”

  “I can’t reveal my source.”

  “And then,” continued Amelia as though she hadn’t been interrupted, “we find out that Keith, Gary’s brother-in-law, has been working security for Thomas Ruutu. This is the same Keith whose wife, Marie, died from cancer. They gave her a ton of experimental treatments to try to stop the cancer, but nothing worked. All those treatments were funded by Gary Thorne, and it was managed by my stepfather, Harold Sweetwater.” She crossed her arms. “Do I need to go on, or are you going to admit Gary Thorne has been lying to you and fucking up this entire investigation?”

  Franklin said nothing for a few seconds. “We have Harold Sweetwater and Keith McCray in custody. Gary Thorne and Thomas Ruutu are missing. Norman, I need you to come to the station with me.”

  “Why?”

  “Keith won’t speak to anyone but you.”

  Somehow that made perfect sense to Norman. “As soon as the doctors clear me, I’ll come. Gary and Thomas must be setting up another lab somewhere.”

  “We’re looking,” said Franklin. “We haven’t found anything.”

  “Alright,” said Norman. “I’ll see you at the station.”

  He lay back on his pillows, trying to emphasize that the conversation was over. Detective Franklin took the hint and left.

  “What now?” said Amelia, falling into the chair beside the bed.

  “Thank you,” said Norman. “I wouldn’t be here if not for you.”

  Amelia grinned. “Who told you?”

  “I just knew. You put yourself at risk.”

  Amelia smiled. “You risked yourself for me, and I had to return the favor.”

  “A lot of people wouldn’t have done that.”

  “I’m not most people.”

  “I suppose not.” Norman was tired. The fatigue of nearly dying hadn’t worn away just yet. “Can you pass me my phone?”

  Amelia grabbed the phone from the side table, where it was charging. Norman took it and turned it on.

  He was immediately hit with almost fifty notifications. Some were texts from people worrying about his well-being, but most were voicemails.

  They were almost all from Julia.

  He took a deep breath and called his voicemail. He played the first message. It was from Julia. She was at Robert and Anita’s playing with the dogs. She was wondering how he was, and apparently Robert was as well.

  The messages continued in the same vein, talking about how she was worried about him and how she had started looking into his cases in an attempt to find him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in the twelfth message with a slight drunken slur, “I’m sorry for whatever it is I did. I know we both made mistakes, but there was something there, wasn’t there?”

  The message ended and the next came on. It was from Julia’s phone as well, but the voice wasn’t hers. When he heard the voice, a chill went down Norman’s spine.

  “Hello, Norman,” said Thomas Ruutu. “Your friend Julia was kind enough to give me her phone. She was trying to track you down and contacted me, since you were working on my case. We met up for coffee. It was very nice, but someone slashed her tires while we were there. I had to drive her home. It was a nice drive.”

  “Holy shit,” said Norman, his blood turning cold. “Amelia, come here.”

  Amelia, who had been sitting in a chair and leafing through a skiing magazine, stood and walked over. Norman put the message on speaker and held it out to her.

  “Norman,” came Julia’s distressed voice, “help me!”

  “Norman,” said Thomas, “if you want to see Julia again, I need you to do one thing. Kill Keith. Do that and I’ll set Julia free. You can spend the rest of your shitty lives together with your stupid mutts.”

  “Norman,” Julia shouted from the background. “We’re at—”

  The call abruptly ended mid-sentence.

  They stood in silence for a few moments.

  “Shit,” muttered Amelia under her breath. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” said Norman. “I need to assume I’m being watched.” He thought for a moment. “Call Franklin and tell him to meet us at an undisclosed location and to bring Keith.”

  Amelia looked at him, wide-eyed. “You’re not honestly thinking of killing Keith, are you?”

  “Of course not,” said Norman instantly, “but I need his help to save Julia and catch Thomas. There must be a reason why they want Keith dead. He knows something.”

  Chapter 41

  Amelia set up the meeting while Norman met with the doctors. They cleared him to leave, although the doctor advised against strenuous activity.

  Half an hour later, they left the hospital.

  Detective Franklin pulled up in an unmarked police car. Amelia was already sitting in the passenger seat.

  “I have to sit in the back?” said Norman, walking up to the car.

  “There’s no more room,” said Franklin. “Get in. We got another cop car bringing Keith to a meeting location.”

  “Can you trust them?” Norman climbed into the back seat and buckled his seat belt.

  “Who?”

  “The cops.”

  “These are men I’ve known for decades. I would trust them with my life.” Franklin pulled out of the parking lot and out onto the road. “They’ll be there.”

  “Alright,” said Norman. He turned and looked out the window.

  Franklin sighed. “Amelia told me about Julia. We’re looking into her last known whereabouts.”

  Norman nodded. “Thanks.”

  “You know, Norman,” said Franklin, “I have to say that I’m impressed by you.”

  Norman turned to look through the wire mesh as they pulled onto the highway. “Why’s that?”

  “Less than a week ago, you were offered a bribe by Thomas Ruutu. You took it and then came to your senses and gave it back. Today, you were offered another deal Ruutu that was much more interesting. He offered the life of the woman you love in exchange for killing someone you barely know. And yet Amelia tells me you didn’t even consider Thomas’s offer.”

  Norman shrugged. “It was never an option.”

  “But it would have been before all this happened, wouldn’t it?”

  Norman shook his head “No.”

  “Why not? Is it because of a vendetta against Thomas? Because you don’t love Julia? Because Keith saved your life? What is it?”

  “There’s a fourth option,” mumbled Norman. He rubbed his temples, where a sharp pain had arisen. He grabbed one of the painkillers from the bottle he’d been given and dropped it into his mouth.

  “What’s that?” said Franklin.

  Norman turned and looked into the front seat. “I’m not a fucking murderer.”

  Franklin watched him in the rear-view mirror for a long moment, then he nodded. The remainder of the car ride was silent, until finally they pulled up to an old farmhouse. It was well maintained but didn’t look lived in.

  “The Toronto Police Department owns this place,” said Franklin. “A former chief left it to us when he died. We use it when we need a discreet location.”

  “Are they here yet?” Norman tr
ied the door before remembering it wouldn’t open from the inside. Amelia got out of the car and opened Norman’s door.

  Norman climbed out of the car. His legs wobbled a bit. Amelia grabbed his arm to stabilize him. He nodded his thanks and stepped back from the car.

  Franklin drove the car into the garage then came back out. They walked through the front door of the house. Everything inside looked fresh and unused, as though it had been furnished just a day before. There were security cameras set up in the corners of each room.

  “Basement,” said Franklin. “They’re waiting for you.”

  They walked down the creaking stairs. Norman expected to walk into an interrogation room, with Keith waiting behind a pane of glass while the cops smoked and watched him through a two-way mirror.

  He was right about the cigarettes, but everything else was wrong.

  The basement was decorated like Norman’s grandmother’s had been. It was covered in flower wallpaper and old couches. In the center of the room was a round wooden table. The two cops and Keith were playing poker, using monopoly money to bet. The two cops were neck and neck, but Keith was down to his last twenty. They looked up as Norman, Amelia, and Franklin walked into the basement.

  Norman noted that Amelia had remained quiet, as though she wanted to be a fly on the wall.

  “Norman!” said Keith, laying down his hand and walking over to him. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  “Mostly,” said Norman, smiling. “Thanks for what you did.”

  “I couldn’t leave you there,” Keith said.

  They stood in silence for a few moments, then Franklin said, “Should we get started?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Keith. He looked at Amelia. “Who are you?”

  Amelia leaned against the wall awkwardly. “I’m Amelia Sweetwater.”

  Keith nodded somberly. “I’m sorry for your losses.”

  “I’m sorry about Marie,” replied Amelia.

  Keith nodded.

  “Okay,” said Franklin, “everybody except for myself, Norman, and Keith can wait upstairs.”

  “No,” said Keith. “I want Amelia to stay. She deserves to know what happened to Joel and Robin.”

  Franklin looked irritated. “Fine, but you two,” he gestured to the cops, “need to get out.”

  The two cops shrugged and walked up the stairs.

  Franklin looked at Amelia. “Are you sure you want to be here?”

  Amelia swallowed. “I’m sure.”

  Franklin nodded and gestured to the table. They all sat except Amelia, who remained by the staircase, leaning against the bannister.

  “Don’t record it, please,” said Keith, putting his hands together in front of him.

  “Of course,” said Franklin, although Norman couldn’t help but think about the endless security cameras around the house.

  “Norman,” said Keith, turning toward him, “the reason I requested your presence here is because I need you on my side. You know what I did for you and that I don’t agree with Thomas Ruutu and his organization. I need your support if this goes to trial. Can you promise me that?”

  Franklin groaned quietly.

  Norman ignored him. “I’ll support you,” he said.

  “Alright,” said Keith. He took a deep breath. “It all started when my wife, Marie, got sick. About a year ago.”

  Norman leaned back in his chair. “Take your time. I know this is hard for you.”

  Franklin shot him a look.

  “At first we thought it was a common cold,” said Keith, wiping tears away, “but then it didn’t go away. We went to the hospital. The most terrifying moment of my life happened when I asked the doctor what was wrong. He looked at with complete and utter bewilderment. He had no earthly idea what was wrong with Marie.”

  Keith requested a glass of water, and Amelia called up the stairs to the cops. Moments later one returned with glasses of water for everyone then returned upstairs.

  “I was working mall security at the time,” continued Keith, sipping on his water with shaking hands. “Gary, Marie’s brother, got in touch with a friend of his, Dr. Harold Sweetwater, to discuss the options. Sweetwater immediately recognized the disease. He knew there were theoretical cures, but it was rare enough that none had been tested. Sweetwater offered to develop the cure himself, but he needed funding. Gary knew the Ruutu family through his journalism career, so he went to them for money. More specifically, he went to Thomas Ruutu’s father, Jacobi. Jacobi is a shrewd businessman and a pure capitalist. Gary tried to sell it as an altruistic endeavor, but all Jacobi saw was that there was no profit in it. Jacobi turned him down. Gary went to other rich people as well and made the same offer. Many allegedly wanted to help, but it was lost money.”

  “What changed?” said Franklin, making a note.

  “Gary got a call from Thomas Ruutu,” said Keith. “Thomas had heard about the drug from his father and wanted to fund the development. It seemed to Gary like Thomas wanted to get out of his father’s shadow and create something that would be his legacy. “

  Norman nodded. “What better option than something his father had emphatically turned down?”

  “Exactly,” said Keith, “although there was something else. Thomas knew drugs, and he was smart enough to understand the chemistry. He knew that the drug Harold was developing was highly addictive.”

  “Did the drug work?” said Franklin.

  “Kind of. It took a few months to develop. When it was complete, we started giving it to Marie. The first few days were promising. The color returned to her cheeks, and her energy seemed to return. The tumor growth slowed.”

  “But it didn’t stay that way?” said Franklin.

  “No,” said Keith, shaking his head. “False positive. She always wanted more. She craved it. She spent the last few weeks of her life begging desperately for that drug. That was my fault.”

  “What happened after she died?”

  “Nothing, for a few weeks,” said Keith, wiping a tear. “We had the funeral, and I always got the sense that people thought I should have done more. Like I hadn’t put my blood, sweat, and tears into this. Like I hadn’t risked everything.”

  “What about Gary?” said Franklin.

  “He understood,” said Keith. “He always understood. I didn’t want to be at my house, so he let me stay at his place, and then he get me a job.”

  “At the warehouse with Ruutu?” said Norman, making a note.

  “Yes,” said Keith. “They were looking for trustworthy security guards, and I had experience.”

  “They kept working on the drug?” said Franklin. “Even after the failure with Marie and knowing the negative side effects?”

  “They did more than that,” said Keith. “Thomas started using his connections to sell it as a street drug.”

  Franklin nodded. “I thought so.”

  Keith took a sip of water. “Thomas had a complete monopoly on producing and supplying it. I didn’t have access to confidential information, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. They were making money hand over fist, despite not having a single patient.”

  Norman made a note and glanced back at Amelia, who seemed to be trying to disappear into the wall. “What happened to Joel Sweetwater?” he said.

  “All I know,” said Keith, “comes from rumors and my guesses.”

  “What’s do you think happened?” said Franklin.

  “Harold Sweetwater never wanted to be involved in an illicit drug operation,” said Keith, putting his hands together on top of the table. “Although he worked in pharmaceutical research for a while after his masters, he always wanted to be a doctor. He took an oath, and he lived by it. When he found out what was being done with his work, he tried to stop it. However, Thomas and Gary were making so much money that they would never allow that. They threatened to destroy everything Harold loved if he went to the authorities. Harold didn’t want anyone he loved to get hurt, but he wanted to stop them. He took a single bottle of the pills
from the lab so he could take them to the police.”

  “What went wrong?” said Franklin.

  Norman glanced back at Amelia. She had taken a few steps toward the table.

  “He needed to smuggle the drugs out somehow,” said Keith. “Joel was taking painkillers for his leg injury at the time. Harold took one of his empty pill bottles. He filled it with the drugs and snuck it home. I don’t know what happened that night, but I can guess. I think that Joel was looking for his pills and found the bottle his father had taken. He took a few pills, and the pain in his leg didn’t subside, so he took more. You’re only supposed to take one pill a day. It wasn’t long before he overdosed.”

  “What happened to the pills?” said Franklin.

  Norman looked at the table, a sudden realization coming over him. “Harold took them,” he said.

  They all looked at him, and Norman found himself glancing back at Amelia, who was now just a few feet behind him.

  “When I first met Robin,” said Norman, “she said she’d heard someone walking around Joel’s room before she found his body. It was the reason she refused to believe he had committed suicide. She went to dozens of private detectives, and they all refused to believe that there could have been any crime without any indications of forced entry.”

  “It was Harold,” said Amelia. The three men turned to look at her. She was a foot behind Norman, her arms protecting her chest. “It was his fault my brother died.”

  The three men were quiet for a long time.

  “I’m sorry,” said Norman.

  Amelia fell into the fourth chair at the table and stared at the wall, as though her entire world was being torn apart.

  “What about Robin’s death?” said Franklin.

  Amelia didn’t react.

  “I don’t know,” said Keith, shifting awkwardly in his seat, “my best guess is that someone inside the organization was contacted by Robin, and Ruutu or Gary found out. They sent someone to meet with her. They might have hired someone. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”

  Franklin made a note. “I have one more question.”

  Keith looked around the table and nodded. “You want to know where they are now.”