One Strange Accident

by Kay Wyont

  Danny and Frank trailed Susan down the hall, but Randy fell behind to take a look at the storage room. It was the smallest one he’d ever seen. Apparently, they’d never heard of shelving, because the floor was stacked with boxes and other assorted crap.

  “Dr. Higgins may be a lot of things,” Randy muttered to himself, “but a neat freak ain’t one of ‘em.”

  He headed down the hall and caught up with the others in the room Susan had mentioned. Letting out a low whistle, he abruptly stopped. “Strange might be an understatement.” Two chairs sat in the middle of the room. Behind them was a table with a projector pointed at the large screen that dominated one wall. The only other furniture in the room was a bookcase half-full of psychology books, and other than the screen, the walls were bare. “That’s weird,” Randy said.

  Susan huffed out a disgusted sigh. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

  Randy pointed at the projector. “This, for one. Who uses film anymore? Even so, where are the films he’s showing? You haven’t found any reels, have you?”

  “Nope. Nothing else.”

  Frank knelt beside one of the chairs. “This one’s bolted to the floor. The other one isn’t. I wonder what he does in here.”

  Randy slowly circled around, surveying the austere room. “I don’t know, but I’m surprised he doesn’t keep it locked. This is enough to arouse anyone’s curiosity.”

  “Uh...” Susan waved her case of lock-picking tools. “Mrs. Winslow didn’t have a key.”

  Danny grinned and checked his watch. “We could ask him, but it’s already after five. I doubt he’s coming back. Too bad we had to waste the morning waiting for that warrant. I’d really like to get my hands on that laptop.”

  Frank got to his feet and moved closer to Danny. “If he’s using an old projector instead of modern technology, there might not be anything to find on his laptop. I mean, he still uses paper files. Digitization doesn’t seem to be his thing. I’m not sure how technically proficient he is.”

  “Might know you’d make that connection, Frank,” Randy said. “You’re part of the digital generation. I’m too old for that to dawn on me.”

  “I think we’ve found all we’re going to find here, I’m afraid,” Susan said.

  “Where’s Marty?” Randy asked. “Maybe he’s found something.”

  “He’s out in the van tagging all the vials.” Susan replied. “He didn’t find anything, either. I wish my apartment was this clean. It’s like there’s no clutter here.”

  Except for that storage room, Randy thought. It was one more thing that didn’t fit with its surroundings.

  “I hope we can get an answer on what’s in those vials before he notices they’ve gone missing. First thing tomorrow, he’ll check the inventory sheet to see what we took. I just hope he doesn’t come back tonight.”

  “I’ve got your back, Randy. As usual,” Susan said with a smirk. “I carry vials to collect small pieces of evidence. We put empty ones in there.” Hearing footsteps, Susan peeked into the hallway. “Marty’s putting the vials back now. They’re not exactly the same kind Higgins has, but they’re close enough that I hope he won’t notice the switch. My guess is he’ll go straight to the room and look, instead of looking at the list. With a little luck, he may not look at the inventory sheet at all.”

  “You’re always one step ahead of me, aren’t you, Susan?”

  “That’s my goal.”

  “Make sure the inventory is nicely sealed in an envelope so Mrs. Winslow can’t look at it.” Randy sat down in the chair bolted to the floor. “This really bugs me. He has to be showing them something on that screen, because this chair is the perfect angle to view it. But why is it bolted to the floor? There aren’t any straps on it to hold someone in the chair, so why bolt it down?”

  “Maybe it’s so the chair won’t ever get out of position,” Frank offered. “As clean as this room is, somebody’s probably verging on OCD.”

  “That might make sense if the other one was bolted down, too, but it’s not.” Randy looked over his shoulder at Susan. “You sure you didn’t find any film?”

  “You can keep asking me that, but the answer is still gonna be no.”

  “Are we packing it in?” Danny asked.

  “I don’t see any other choice. How long will it take to get the results back on those vials, Susan?” Randy stood up, but his eyes were locked on the chair. What are you doing in here, Doc?

  “Probably no later than tomorrow morning, if it’s LSD. I’ll test for that first. Otherwise, it might take a while.”

  “If we can’t find anything else, at least we can get him on drug possession if it turns out to be LSD. Although with our luck, he’s got a prescription for it.”

  “Always the pessimist, hey, Monroe?” Danny asked.

  “Lately, yes.”

  “If he has one, then he wrote it for himself, so we can still nail him.” Danny pulled out his handcuffs and dangled them from one finger. “I can hardly wait!”

  Randy rolled his eyes and headed toward the door. He stopped to talk to Mrs. Winslow, who was back at the desk, wearing her best I’m-here-to-help smile. “Mrs. Winslow, we’re through here. Sorry for keeping you after hours.”

  “No problem, detective. Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Randy handed her an envelope with the inventory. “This is for Dr. Higgins. Thanks for your cooperation. You have a nice day. Or what’s left of it, anyway.”

  “You, too. I imagine you’ll be able to get home in time for dinner, won’t you?”

  “Hopefully. But we have to go back to the station for a while.”

  Her smile turned into a sympathetic pout. “Oh dear. Long days, huh?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Good evening.”

  Before she could say anything else, Randy hurried for the door and caught up with the others outside. As he got in the cruiser, he surreptitiously glanced back through the front glass. Mrs. Winslow sat in the same spot, watching. “You’d think she’d be anxious to leave.”

  “Maybe she just likes it here,” Danny said, sounding bored. “You know, a super-dedicated employee.”

  “Beats me. But it’s been a long day, and I’m not gonna worry about it. Let’s get out of here.”

  The three men were quiet as he drove out of the parking lot and headed back to the station. But Randy couldn’t stop the questions rolling around in his mind. Why the receptionist hadn’t hightailed it out of the office was the least of his worries.

  Where is the Doc’s laptop? Why was that chair bolted down? What’s in all those vials?

  Randy shook his head sharply. If he wasn’t careful, he’d drive himself crazy with questions he didn’t have the ability to answer. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to focus on the one question that would have the greatest impact on his life in the short term.

  What is Margret making for dinner, and will I get home in time to eat it?

  FOURTEEN

  Back at the station, Randy sent Frank home, and he and Danny settled in to finish their paperwork and notes for the day. Twenty minutes in, Randy’s desk phone rang, and the clerk told him a visitor was asking to see him at the reception desk. Randy hung up and sighed. “Great. At this rate, I’ll never get dinner.”

  Danny wasn’t sympathetic. “You’re leaving me to do all the work, and you’re the one complaining? Hey, maybe it’s a pizza delivery guy! That wouldn’t be so bad.”

  Randy ignored him and headed toward the front of the building. When he got to Reception he found a pizza-less Mrs. Winslow standing by the desk, gazing aimlessly around the room. For a second, he wondered if he could quietly turn around and pretend he hadn’t seen her.

  As if sensing him, the portly woman turned and locked her eyes on Randy, then moved in his direction. “Detective Monroe, may I talk to you, please?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I really can’t answer any questions about what we did or did not find at the clinic.”

  “That’s not w
hy I’m here. Well, I am here about the clinic, but...” She glanced around at the people in the waiting room. “Can we talk somewhere more private?”

  She’d better not be wasting my time. “Sure, come on.” Randy reluctantly led the way to one of the interview rooms. As they passed through the squad room, he motioned for Danny to follow. Randy held back a laugh as Danny scowled and stalked across the room.

  Too bad, partner. Misery loves company. If I’m stuck with her, so are you.

  Once they were all seated in uncomfortable metal chairs around a battered brown table, Randy addressed their uninvited guest. “What can we do for you, Mrs. Winslow? Please remember, we can’t give out information about the case or the search today.”

  “You don’t have to keep repeating that, detective. I’m not stupid. I get it.”

  “Of course. Go ahead, then.”

  “Can I trust you? I think I can, but I need assurance you’ll keep what I tell you in confidence.” Mrs. Winslow twisted her wedding ring around her finger as she studied Randy’s face. “Will you?”

  “That depends on what you have to tell us. If you admit to a crime, we can’t keep that quiet.”

  “I don’t think I’ve committed any crimes, but that’s not why I’m here, either. I don’t know what you were looking for today, but I’m hoping you’ll tell me—”

  “Ma’am—” Randy cut her off, but she cut him off right back.

  “Just answer one question.” Her eyes opened wide, as if she’d had an epiphany. “Maybe you could just write the answer on a piece of paper. Then you wouldn’t be talking about it.”

  Randy suppressed a groan. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it doesn’t work like that. We don’t discuss cases we’re working on. Writing something down is still considered discussing it.”

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” Mrs. Winslow gave a heavy sigh and looked from one detective to the other. “Quite frankly, I’m still a little torn about talking to you.”

  Randy took a deep breath and studied the woman across the table. She seemed nice enough, but where was she going with all this? Whatever she wanted to ask was important enough for her to take a chance and come to the station. Even though he probably couldn’t answer her question, he really wanted to know what it was. Maybe, if he put her at ease, she’d feel safe. And if she felt safe, she’d talk. And if she talked, he might actually be able to wrap everything up and get home for the tail end of dinner.

  Randy clasped his hands together on the table and leaned forward with a warm smile. “Well, if it helps you any, I’ve been told I’m very trustworthy. You can call my wife and ask her, if you want. I did remember our anniversary this year, so I’m pretty sure she’ll vouch for me—unless she’s mad at me for something I don’t know about.”

  “And you?” Mrs. Winslow turned to Danny.

  Danny laughed and slapped his partner on the back. “Randy might vouch for me, if that counts. I would say the same thing he did, but my wife is always mad at me for something or other, so you’re just going to have to take my word for it.”

  Mrs. Winslow frowned. “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, so I’m not sure. Tell you what. If you’ll answer a question for me, which I promise has nothing to do with your investigation, I’ll base my decision on your answers. Okay?”

  “I suppose.”

  “When you first saw me, did either of you question why I was the receptionist at the clinic? I mean, I’m not exactly the poster child for weight loss.”

  Danny’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “Yes, ma’am, I did. I’m sorry.”

  “And you, Detective Monroe?”

  “Well...since I can’t come up with a logical reason that it’s part of the investigation, I guess I have to admit I did. I’m sorry. Truly.”

  “Good answer, detectives. If you’d said otherwise, I’d know I couldn’t trust you,” she replied, chuckling. “Not to worry. I knew my weight might get in the way when I applied for that opening. It took me forever to convince him to hire me. He said it would look bad for the clinic. I guess he didn’t have any skinny girls apply.”

  “How’d you out-psych a psychologist?” Danny asked.

  “I convinced him he could use me for before and after advertising, and I let him take a ‘before’ picture of me. I’ll say this. Since I’ve started working there I’ve lost about ten pounds. Of course, that could be because they’ve adjusted one of the medicines I’m on. I have arthritis, and I’ve ballooned up since I started those drugs they prescribed. I mean, I never was skinny, but I wasn’t this bad. Dr. Higgins thinks I’ve lost the weight because of him.”

  Randy hoped he didn’t look as impatient as he felt. “It’s good you’ve lost some weight, and congratulations, but I’m confused about what this has to do with us.”

  “I have a stepson. Well, that’s not quite accurate. I had a stepson. His mother died and when his father and I got married, he was still pretty young, so he’s like my own son.”

  “You had a stepson. What happened?”

  “He died. His name was Saul Young. I didn’t take his father’s name when Tom and I got married. My maiden name is Winslow.”

  Danny sat up straighter. “Saul Young? The VIA bus driver?”

  Mrs. Winslow smiled an innocent smile. “Ah. I thought you might have heard of him.”

  Randy chuckled despite himself. He still kicked Danny under the table for good measure. “Please explain your stepson’s relationship to your job at the clinic.”

  “Saul was a client there, as you seem to already know.” She shot another triumphant little smile at Danny. “I hadn’t met the doctor, but not too long after Saul began going to the clinic, he started to change. Big time. He was depressed. He was angry. He hardly slept. None of that was normal.”

  “They found drugs in his system during the autopsy,” Danny said. “That would explain it.”

  “That’s another thing. Saul’s mother died from a drug overdose, and he was terrified he’d inherited something from her that would make him more prone to addiction. He wouldn’t even take aspirin. He didn’t want to take any chances. Then he was in that horrible crash, supposedly with LSD in his system? It was all wrong. Saul’s death broke Tom’s heart. It wasn’t too long after Saul died that he had a heart attack. I lost them both, and the only clue I had was Eternal Weight Loss.”

  “Are you saying you got that job just so you could spy on Dr. Higgins?” Randy looked at Danny, whose face was a mixture of disbelief and admiration. Surely, he can’t think this is a good idea. Doesn’t she realize how dangerous that could be? I thought Kirkman was a wackadoodle. She’s taking crazy to new heights.

  “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound funny,” she replied, chuckling. “Spying sounds so harsh. I would rather think of it as investigating why my child was dead and who did it to him. I really like the shows on the Investigation Discovery Channel. That’s where I got the idea. They’re always showing episodes where the police wire somebody up to trap a suspect. All I had was my gut instinct, so I decided to do some checking for myself.”

  Randy almost lost it. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? You suspected Higgins of playing a role in your son’s death, and you wanted to spend more time with him?”

  “Yes, and just to be on the safe side, I looked up the law when I decided to do this. I wouldn’t be considered an agent of the government, so it’s all good, and I was careful. Very careful. Spy vs Spy in Mad magazine had some pretty good pointers.” Mrs. Winslow’s eyes were twinkling. “Would you like to know what I found?”

  Randy just stared at her. Finally finding his voice, he said, “When this is all over, Mrs. Winslow, we need to have a serious talk. Unless you’re considering becoming a private eye, you really should leave the detecting to the professionals.”

  “It’s Gloria, detective. And while that does sound tempting, I think I’ll stay with what I’m doing. Not at the clinic, obviously. The sooner you close that place for good, the better. I
have a home medical transcription business I put on hold when I took the clinic job.”

  “Okay, Gloria. What did you find? And since we’re evidently working together now, I’m Randy and that’s Danny. We still can’t talk about the investigation, but that doesn’t mean we can’t listen to what you have to say.”

  “I found something I think you should see.” Gloria unzipped her purse and pulled out her phone, glancing at Randy. “I know you wanted to get your hands on this the other day, but I couldn’t risk blowing my cover.”

  “Was I that obvious?”

  “I’m a mother, remember? You can’t hide much from us.” She opened her photo app. “He hardly lets this notebook out of his sight, but he went to lunch without it a few days ago, and I snapped some quick pictures of some of the pages.” She passed the phone to Randy.

  The photos were of handwritten entries of names with corresponding notes. 3-Caldwell: Diet, father. 5-Andy: Drinking and driving, father. He scanned the orderly list of names. They’re all here.

  Randy looked back at Gloria. “Do you have any idea what the notations mean?”

  She shifted in her chair. “It sounds kind of crazy, but hear me out. I noticed a few other incidents in the news that reminded me of Saul’s. People in San Antonio going off the deep end with no apparent motive. So, I made note of them. I even went through archived newspapers at the library. Then I’d go to the office when the doctor was gone, and I’d see if we had a file on them. I checked about ten names, but only found seven who’d been clients at the clinic. When I got my hands on the notebook, I found those same names and snapped the pictures. It was hard to decipher, but Higgins made notes on Saul, like this one here.” She found pictures of Saul’s entry and zoomed in. “Anti-drug. See? And this one.” She flipped through the pics again, stopping at Andy’s entry. “Talks about drunk driving. I don’t know how or why, but I think he found a way to use mind control on his patients, and he took their worst fears, like Saul hating drugs, and used it against them. I know, it sounds like something from the SyFy Channel.” She glanced toward the door. “Should I be expecting the men in white coats to come and take me away? And, by the way, if you try having me committed, I’ll just deny everything, so it’ll be your word against mine.” Her bravado wilted as she looked up at the camera in the corner. “Unless you’re filming this conversation. Are you?”