McKay opened the door for Ryder and me and offered us two chairs facing his desk, then sat down in his big leather executive chair and splayed his hands out on the desk in front of him. “What can I help you with?”
Ryder said, “Is Mandi O’Malley still MIA this morning?”
McKay’s face crumpled. “Yes. Poor girl. I can’t imagine what she’s going through right now. It’s such a tragedy.”
“What do you think she’s going through right now?” I asked, unsure if he meant Scott’s death or if he thought she was in some kind of immediate danger.
McKay seemed shocked by my question. “The passing of her husband, of course. We’ve all been affected. Not like she has, but still…affected.”
I nodded. “Affected. Right. And how many days of bereavement leave has Mandi taken since Scott died?”
McKay frowned. “Well…none. But I assumed she was saving them for the visitation and funeral.”
“Would you say that she’s been distracted this week? Has she been performing her job as she normally does?”
He thought for a moment. “She doesn’t seem terribly distracted. I would have to say she’s been doing good work this week, especially given the situation.”
Ryder asked, “Anything happen yesterday that would lead you to believe that she was planning to leave town or that she needed some time by herself?”
“Not that I know of…” McKay replied, trailing off as his brow furrowed. “Well…” He paused again, deep in thought.
“You seem to be mulling something over, Mr. McKay. What is it you’re not telling us?” Ryder said.
McKay squirmed in his seat. “It’s nothing, really.”
Ryder stared him down. “You sure about that?”
Sighing, McKay replied, “It may be nothing, but when Mandi came back to the office yesterday afternoon from a sales call, she seemed…upset. Shaken, even. I was getting coffee from the breakroom and saw her duck into the ladies’ room crying.”
I said, “Did you find out what was wrong?”
He shook his head. “I…I assumed it had to do with her husband’s death. It seemed perfectly normal to me that she might have bouts of crying, especially here at first.”
“In other words, you did nothing to try to comfort an employee—a fellow human being—who’d just lost her husband.”
“Well, no…but—”
“You know, Mr. McKay, when my employees are visibly upset, I try to help them out. Don’t you feel like that’s an important part of your job as manager? To make sure the employees you oversee are doing okay?”
Ryder wiped a hand across his face to hide the smirk forming there.
Judging from the sweat beading on McKay’s forehead, I figured I’d got under his skin. “It’s not my job to worry every time a woman cries in this office,” he blustered.
Ryder murmured under his breath, “Bad move, pal.”
I glared at McKay. “Wow. A misogynist. My favorite.”
McKay shrunk a couple of inches under my gaze.
I continued, “We also need you to verify where Mandi was this past Friday and Saturday. She said she was on an out-of-town work trip. Is that correct?”
McKay grabbed his mouse and clicked it a few times, frowning at his computer screen. “Yes, she was in Nashville from Friday afternoon until Saturday around noon.”
That information backed up what she and Scott had told me. It also put her near Scott within hours of his death, which was troubling.
“Do you know what time she returned to town on Saturday?” I asked.
He peered at the screen again. “She made a stop in Louisville to have dinner with some clients, so it would have been quite late.”
Ryder said, “I don’t suppose you’d give us the names of those clients so we can verify that?”
“No, not without a warrant. But you can speak with Jared Fisher, another of our reps. He was also present at the dinner.”
Great. Mandi’s boyfriend was the only person we could speak to about her alibi for her husband’s time of death. How convenient.
I said, “Let’s move on to Scott O’Malley. You sent him a cease and desist about not coming back into the building. What exactly prompted you to threaten criminal charges?”
McKay loosened his tie. “He was out of control. He would burst in and rant and rave about ruining this place. I thought he might come in here and try to hurt people, so I had to resort to drastic action.”
Ryder asked, “Was he that angry over losing his job?”
“He was completely unhinged. As manager, I was the one who had the task of letting him go. Let me tell you, it wasn’t a pleasant meeting. After I told him his employment was terminated—and I gave ample reasoning for it—he began shouting and saying all sorts of crazy things.”
“What crazy things?”
McKay paused, glancing away. “Oh, just gibberish.”
“All of it was gibberish? You could make out no words?” I asked.
McKay’s cheeks flushed. “The gist of it was that he was upset over losing his job. He became so belligerent that I had him immediately escorted out by security before he could have the chance to cause anyone any harm.”
“Or the chance to steal any more drugs?” Ryder asked. “That’s one of the reasons he was let go, correct?”
Grimacing, McKay replied, “Yes. He was stealing samples from the other reps’ bags right under our noses. There are dozens of samples unaccounted for.”
“What drugs, exactly?” I asked.
“Levodopa, benzodiazepine, and H2 blockers.”
“In English, please.”
McKay refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely. “Levodopa is used to treat Parkinson’s, benzodiazepine is an antianxiety med, and H2 blockers relieve heartburn. Oh, and a local neurologist complained he was missing some sodium oxybate early last week after Scott made an impromptu call to his office. Sodium oxybate is prescribed to treat narcolepsy. Silver Spruce doesn’t manufacture it, so I assume that’s why Scott had to find another way to obtain it.”
“Do you have an idea why Scott would have stolen those specific drugs?”
Shrugging, McKay replied, “There’s always the danger that a rep will decide to take drugs from the company and sell them on the black market. Meds are so expensive these days, people are being forced to turn to alternative sources to get them.”
I nodded. “Okay, I get that. Would any of these medications be ones Scott might want to abuse? We keep hearing that he was actually taking the drugs he was supposedly stealing.”
McKay frowned. “I wondered that myself, given his erratic behavior. Benzodiazepine, which you might know better as Xanax, one of our competitors’ products, is one I can see someone abusing. However, given Scott’s state of agitation lately, it was clear he wasn’t taking anything remotely resembling benzodiazepine. H2 blockers wouldn’t give you any kind of high, so I doubt he’d bother with those. Levodopa is essentially dopamine, which is an interesting one. It can increase alertness, energy, and confidence, and dopamine is what drives the pleasure center in the brain. I suppose it could give you a boost, but I’m not sure the possible side effects would be worth it. And then sodium oxybate is essentially GHB, so a big yes on that one.”
I frowned. Scott had got himself into some trouble—that was sure. But could the missing drugs be linked to the “dangerous people” he’d told me about? Or was he simply self-medicating to deal with the stress in his life?
Ryder said, “Let’s switch gears here for a moment. What do you know about the relationship between Mandi O’Malley and Jared Fisher?”
“It’s excellent. They fit together perfectly.”
Assuming he didn’t intend that as any kind of innuendo, I asked, “What do you mean by that?”
“He’s training her. When an employee steps into a new position, they work the same geographic area as one of our more experienced reps, but without competition. Mandi has another few weeks with Jared, and then she’ll be
in charge of her own region.”
Ryder got right to the point. “I meant, are they having an affair?”
McKay’s eyes bulged out. “Of course not! Mandi is—was—a married woman. So is Jared. A married man, I mean. They couldn’t be having an affair.”
Ryder and I shared a glance. This guy was either hiding something or had his head in the sand. I didn’t think he was smart enough to be hiding too much, so I was going with the latter.
“We need to speak with Jared. Where is he right now?” I asked.
“Out on a call.” McKay tapped something into his computer. “Looks like he’s at…Dr. Richardson’s office this morning.”
I turned to Ryder. “I know where that is. Let’s go.”
Ryder said, “Thanks for your help, Mr. McKay.”
McKay jumped clumsily out of his seat. “Please, please. Don’t go barging into Dr. Richardson’s office waving your badge and asking to see Jared. Our relationship with the good doctor is precarious at best, thanks to Scott and his sticky fingers. We don’t need to give him any more reason to forbid us from calling on him.”
Giving me a wink, Ryder said to him, “Don’t worry. We can be subtle.”
On our way out, Daniel hurried from his cubicle and caught my arm. “Hey, Juliet. Could I speak to you for a second?”
“Sure,” I replied. To Ryder, I said, “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”
Ryder left the office, and Daniel pulled me into a supply closet and shut the door.
“What’s up?” I asked, a bit surprised by his choice of venue for our chat.
His forehead was creased with worry. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. Do you have some new information on Scott’s death?”
“Well, since Mandi turned up missing, it kind of put his death in a new light.”
Daniel wiped a hand down his face. “I was afraid of that. I could stomach an accidental or even a purposeful overdose. But I hate to think…”
I put my hand on his arm. “I don’t want to think that someone might have killed Scott, either. But that’s why I’m here, and this time I brought an actual detective with me. I want to get to the bottom of it.”
“As happy as I am to hear that, I feel like I should tell you…” He lowered his voice. “Mandi’s behavior since Scott passed concerns me. Until today, she hasn’t missed a minute of work. She’s not grieving. In fact, Monday night she went out clubbing with some friends. Granted, Scott and Mandi were having marital problems and even had some knock-down, drag-out fights here at the office, but she’s so indifferent to the fact that he died. I know people are worried that something bad happened to her, but…when I heard about her disappearance, I began to wonder if she disappeared on purpose, if you know what I mean. What I’m trying to say is, please be careful—especially if you happen to find her.”
“You think she could be dangerous.”
He nodded, his expression grave.
I smiled. “Thanks for telling me.”
Daniel nodded again, his shoulders slumped like I’d never seen them before. This morning he wasn’t bothering with the suave act like he had at our first meeting. Scott’s wife might not have been grieving, but his former best bud was.
As he put his hand on the doorknob to let us out, I said, “Wait. I have another question about Scott, if you don’t mind.”
He turned back with a sad smile. “Not at all.”
“Your boss told my partner and me that right after Scott got fired, he went off about something, talking crazy. But when we tried to pin down McKay as to what exactly Scott said, he clammed up and got all shifty. He was definitely trying to hide something. Were you around when it happened to hear what was said?”
“No, but I bet I can find out easily enough. McKay is notoriously terrible at holding his liquor. Give me till after lunch. I’ll get it out of him for you.”
—
I filled Ryder in on my conversation with Daniel on our way to Dr. Richardson’s office. As we sat in the parking lot outside, I grew more fidgety by the second.
Ryder looked over at me. “Would you relax? Maya is running a background check on Jared Fisher as we speak, so we should know something here pretty soon. If nothing else, we’ll find out what type of car he drives, so we’ll know if he’s even here.”
“I knew this couldn’t be simple,” I grumbled.
“If investigating were easy, everyone would be able do it, and we would both be out of a job.”
“You should get that put on a coffee mug.”
Ignoring my comment, he studied his phone. “Here we go. Our guy drives a black Range Rover. Can’t miss one of those.”
We glanced around the parking lot, but saw no vehicles like that.
Ryder called Doug McKay and asked him where else Jared Fisher might be if he wasn’t at Dr. Richardson’s office. He gave us the name of another doctor on Jared’s list this morning, but when we went to that office, there was no sign of Jared there, either.
“Now what?” I said.
Ryder shrugged. “We do what we always do when we hit a wall. Find a way around it. Let’s go check out the guy’s house.” He pulled out of the parking lot and headed the short distance to Jared’s home.
As something in my gut continued to gnaw at me, I absently tapped my fingers on the center console of Ryder’s car.
After a moment, he put his hand over mine to halt my tapping. “Something bothering you?”
I sighed. “Yes. This whole thing feels so twisted and sad. It’s really getting to me.”
“I think this is yet another instance where you’re too close to the case. You want me to handle some of the interviews today? I brought surveillance equipment, so you can listen from the car.”
“Thank you for the offer, but no. I made this mess.”
“You got dragged into this mess. At least you didn’t bumble into it this time.”
I gave him a rueful smile.
He pulled up to the curb and studied the Fisher house for a moment. “You say this is the guy who threw you out of his house last time you talked to him?”
“Yes.”
“Let me try this one solo.”
Realizing he made a good point, I didn’t object. He was only gone for as long as it took him to jog up the sidewalk, knock on the door, ask Jared’s wife a question, listen to her short reply, and jog back to the car.
As he sank into his seat, he said, “The wife says he went into work early this morning.”
“Only he doesn’t seem to be working, because he’s not where he’s supposed to be. I’ll call his cell.” I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed Jared’s number, only to get his voicemail. “So Mandi’s side piece goes MIA around the same time she does. Coincidence?”
“Doubt it. Maybe he’s out trying to find her.”
“Or they ran off together.”
“It’s possible…but why would they walk away from good jobs and nice houses when their semi-secret affair seems to have been working up to this point?”
“If they killed Scott and think they’re going to get caught.”
“They don’t seem to be at the top of the wanted list.”
“Right, because that’s my spot.”
He smiled. “Okay, let’s say Mandi—alone or with Jared—has gone into hiding. You know her. Where would she go if she were trying to disappear?”
I racked my brain, trying to remember what I could about Mandi, her friends, and her family. Who would she turn to if she was in trouble?
“Oh,” I said, as a thought popped into my head. “Scott’s great-uncle Randy has this cabin down by the river that he uses on occasion to get away from his wife. Everyone in the family has a key, including Scott. It’s not quite the type of accommodation Mandi’s used to, but it is secluded.”
“Lead the way.”
Chapter 15
Uncle Randy’s cabin had seen better days. But you couldn’t beat the lovely wooded setting, especially in October when the trees were bursting
with color. There were no vehicles in sight when we pulled up, but I still held to the idea that the seven-mile trek out here was a mere warm-up for Marathon Mandi.
Ryder went up and knocked on the front door while I went around to the back. Dated curtains covered every window, just like I’d remembered, so there would be no peeking inside. The place seemed deserted, so I went back around and met Ryder in the yard.
“No one’s answering,” he said. “I don’t think anyone’s here.”
I blew out a breath. “You know, we’re going to need to quit striking out at some point.”
Ryder threw one arm around my shoulders and steered me toward his car. “Let’s get some lunch and regroup. We’ll come up with something. There are plenty of people we can talk to.”
After taking a few steps, I said, “Oh, wait. You’ve got to see the cellar. It’s creepy as hell. Trust me, this will make it worth the trip.”
“That’s trespassing.”
“Who’s going to know?”
I walked back toward the house and bent down to open the storm-cellar doors. The musty, gamey smell hit me as I descended the rickety steps. It was oddly comforting to know that some things around here hadn’t changed. Every flat surface in the place was littered with animal skins and carcasses in some stage of taxidermy.
Ryder followed me down the steps, a disgusted yet awe-struck look on his face. “Wow. You weren’t kidding.”
“Right? Uncle Randy is a hobby taxidermist.”
“A sucky one.” Taking in the horrors around the room, he walked up to a finished groundhog and peered at its soulless eyes. “What’s up with the eyes? There’s something off about all of them.”
“Yes, there is. He tries, but he’s never been able to quite master the art of it.” I went down the line of animals on one table. “This squirrel is cross-eyed. This fox has two different-sized eyes. Different colors, too. This owl’s eyes are bulging out of their sockets.” I shuddered. “He brought a particularly freaky raccoon to our apartment one time as a Christmas gift. I had to get rid of it. I felt like it was watching me wherever I went because its eyes were looking in two different directions.”
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