Eric Stewart was a balding, bespectacled, pear-shaped fifty-one-year-old. He had a discouraged look on his face, which made me worry that worse news was yet to come.
David was curious to get some answers. “What have you got?”
Eric let out a sigh. “Not a whole lot.”
“That isn’t what I want to hear,” David said.
“Unfortunately, it’s the truth.”
“Well, tell me what you do have.”
“You already know the cause of death,” Eric said.
That part we were able to figure out without the help of the medical examiner. Gregory had clearly been stabbed in the heart.
David squinted. “What about the time of death?”
“I’d put that at between seven and eight o’clock last night,” Eric replied.
David scribbled a note down on a small pad of paper. “How about fingerprints?”
“There are plenty of prints in this office, but I wouldn’t count on any of them belonging to the killer,” Eric said.
David’s forehead wrinkled. “Why not?”
“Because forensics didn’t find any prints on the murder weapon or the doorknob leading into this office.”
David’s eyes widened. “Wait. They were both clean?”
Eric nodded.
“I’ll bet the killer was wearing gloves,” David said.
“Or they wiped the knife and doorknob down on the way out,” I added.
“Either way, that doesn’t help us,” David said. He let out a groan then turned his attention back to Eric. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
Eric shook his head. “Not at the moment, but the forensics team is still working.”
“All right. Well, let me know if you uncover anything useful,” David said.
“Will do,” Eric replied.
The medical examiner walked back over to the body, leaving David and me alone.
Chapter Four
David grimaced. “That wasn’t the most informative conversation I’ve ever had.”
I didn’t reply to David as my eyes were busy scanning the office for anything that was out of the ordinary. Other than the dead body, of course. I looked at Gregory’s desk, his bookshelf, the windowsill, the doorway, his plushy chair, and the couch that was beside it.
“Sabrina, did you hear me?” David asked.
I remained quiet as I spotted a small object on the carpet beside one of the front legs of the couch.
“Hmm. Interesting,” I said.
David scrunched his nose. “What is? This case? Because frustrating is more the word I would go with.”
I reached into my purse, grabbed a tissue, then bent over and picked up the small object from the carpet. David’s eyes zeroed in on the object.
“Is that a toothpick?” David asked.
I nodded. “But not just any toothpick. Usually, toothpicks are brown. This one is red.” My nostrils flared. I held the pick up to my nose and took a sniff. “And cinnamon-flavored.”
“That’s unusual,” David said.
My eyes scanned the office again quickly. “It sure is.”
“I can’t tell you the last time I saw a red, cinnamon-flavored toothpick.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” I replied. “Although, the color and flavor are pretty uncommon.”
“Wait. If you weren’t talking about the color of the toothpick being strange, then what were you talking about?”
I squinted. “It’s very odd that I found it on the floor in here. After all, I don’t see any other toothpicks in this office.”
“Maybe one of Gregory’s patients dropped it,” David said.
“Or maybe the killer did,” I replied.
David shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to add it to the list of things that we need to find out.”
My eyebrows arched. “We?”
David nodded. “You’re going to help me investigate this case, aren’t you?”
“Wait. Are you really asking for my help?”
David let out a sigh. “Please don’t make me ask again.”
“I won’t. I just want to take a moment to acknowledge what a unique situation this is. I mean, usually I have to do a great deal of arguing with you before you agree to let me work on a case.”
“What can I say? I’m all argued out,” David said. “Besides, even though it has taken me a while, I have finally realized that there is no use arguing with someone as stubborn as you.”
“Is that the only reason you’re agreeing to let me investigate this case with you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. It turns out you have a knack for detective work.” David took a deep breath as he looked at the body once more. “Not to mention that with a case like this, I figure that I can use all the help I can get.”
I smiled. “I agree.”
“So you’ll help me?”
“Absolutely, partner.”
David shook his head. “We’ve been through this before. You’re not my partner. You are an independent consultant who is helping me out with a case.”
“The label isn’t important. It turns out there are far more pressing issues to talk about than what official title you’re going to give me,” I said.
“I agree,” David replied.
“For example, there’s something very strange about this office.”
“You mean, other than the fact that there’s a dead body in the middle of the room?”
I gave him a sideways glance. “Yes.”
“Care to elaborate?” David asked.
“Well, at first glance, this looks like a burglary gone wrong. As a matter of fact, this has all the makings of that—”
“But you don’t believe that this is the work of a burglar?” David asked.
I turned the tables back on him. “Do you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe this was a burglary for a second.”
“Why not?”
“For starters, the only thing that seems to be missing are the bottles of dextramaltin.”
“And you don’t think those are worth stealing?” David asked.
I shook my head.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” David said. “You’d be surprised what people are willing to take when they are desperate. Especially when they can sell those pills on the black market.”
“Normally, I would agree. But dextramaltin isn’t a compound that produces euphoria. It’s a sedative.”
“There’s a market for sedatives,” David said.
“With the extreme side effects that dextramaltin has?” I shook my head. “I’m not buying it. I mean, look at Gregory’s patients. The ones that we know are miserable and are really upset about what these pills have done to their minds. Which makes me wonder. With that kind of negative word of mouth, who would willingly buy a pill that makes them miserable?”
“Good point.”
“There’s something else. Who would even know that a stash of dextramaltin pills was here in this office?” I asked.
“Gregory’s patients. His assistant. Maybe some family and friends,” David replied.
I held my pointer finger up. “You’re forgetting that Gregory told his patients that they were headache pills. Who would risk breaking into a hypnotherapist’s office for migraine medication when they could go to any pharmacy in town and buy all the over-the-counter pills that they want?”
“True,” David said.
“Besides, go back over that list of people you just mentioned. Friends. Family. Patients. Those are the kind of people who might have another motive for wanting Gregory dead,” I replied.
“I can’t argue with that,” David said.
“That’s not all. Look at the body. He was stabbed in the heart. Now how many burglars do you know who use a knife instead of a gun?”
“There are some that do.”
“Yes, some,” I said. “But don’t most use a gun?”
David nodded.
“The vast majority.”
“So why did Gregory’s killer use a knife?”
“Maybe they didn’t have access to a gun.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “But here’s another theory. The problem with guns is that they leave a bullet behind in the body. A bullet that the crime lab can run ballistics tests on. Oftentimes those tests are all the lab needs to identity the shooter. But a knife can be wiped clean or just disposed of. A knife that is free of fingerprints can’t be traced. That makes it a perfect murder weapon.”
“So wait. Are you saying—?”
“I think the killer grabbed the pills and trashed the office to make this look like a burglary,” I said.
David scratched his chin. “That’s an interesting theory.”
“It’s more than a theory. If this was really a robbery, then the timing doesn’t make any sense. Why come into the office when Gregory was still working? The smarter move would have been to wait until Gregory left for the night. Then the killer could have taken the dextramaltin without having to commit murder,” I said.
David nodded. “You’re right. That is strange.”
Just then, one of David’s deputies called him away.
“Detective Carlson, there’s someone you need to talk to,” the deputy said.
Chapter Five
The deputy led us to thirty-four-year-old Scott O’Connor. Apparently, Scott had been Gregory’s assistant. He was also the one who had found the body and had called 9-1-1.
Scott was five-foot-six with short brown hair, hazel eyes, and a trim body.
“Walk us through what happened,” David said.
“Well, I showed up at work this morning just like normal. Only when I got here, the front door was already open.”
“Was that unusual?”
Scott nodded. “Yeah. I typically got here before Gregory did.”
“What happened next?” David asked.
“I walked into the waiting room, saw that Gregory’s door was open, and went inside. That’s when I saw his body on the ground,” Scott said.
“Was he already dead when you spotted him?” David asked.
Scott nodded. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “After that, I ran over to the phone and called 9-1-1.”
“Anything else?”
“No. I just waited for you guys to arrive,” Scott said. “Who would do something like this?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” David replied. “Now, when did you leave the office yesterday?”
“What are you asking me that for?”
“If we’re going to find out who did this to your boss, it’s important that we get all of the information that we can. Now, please answer the question,” David said.
“I left at five,” Scott replied.
“Was Gregory still here when you left?” David asked.
Scott nodded.
“Does this office use a maid service?” David asked.
Scott nodded.
“Do they come in nightly?” David asked.
Scott shook his head. “No. They only come by once a week.”
“That’s really infrequent. What do you do during the rest of the week, just let the trash pile up?” David asked.
“No. I grab the trash from the waiting room and Gregory’s office just before I leave every night and toss it in the dumpster that is behind the building on my way out.”
“Did you empty the trash yesterday?” David asked.
Scott nodded.
“Do you vacuum the floors before you leave?” I asked.
Scott shook his head. “No. The maid service does that.”
“And when was the last time the maid service came in to vacuum?” David said.
“The night before last,” Scott replied.
“Interesting,” I said. “Do you happen to keep a dispenser of toothpicks in the office?”
Scott shook his head. “No. Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering,” I said.
David fired another question Scott’s way. “How about a security system? Does this office have one?”
Scott shook his head. “No. Gregory didn’t see a need for one.”
“Of course not,” David deadpanned. “When you left last night, was anyone else around?”
“No. Gregory was by himself in his office just doing some paperwork,” Scott said.
“How did you and Gregory get along?” David asked.
“Fine.”
“So you two didn’t have any problems?”
Scott shook his head.
“Do you know of anyone who did have problems with him? Like one of his current or ex-patients?” David asked.
Scott nodded. “I can think of a couple of patients who had a bone to pick with him.”
“What are their names?” David asked.
“Well, Gavin Zeller was one,” Scott said.
My eyes widened. “Gavin Zeller?”
Scott nodded.
“How about the other one?” David asked.
“Wally Tuttle,” Scott said.
My jaw nearly dropped.
“Are you sure that you have those names right?” I asked.
“Yeah. Why?” Scott replied.
Instead of delving into how I knew both Wally and Gavin, I gave Scott a vague answer.
“I just wanted to make sure you had the correct names,” I said.
A look of curiosity came to David’s face. “Do you happen to know what Wally and Gavin were bitter about?”
Scott nodded. “Wally came into the office yesterday morning all worked up. He demanded to talk to Gregory.”
“About what?” David asked.
“He said that Gregory had messed up his mind. That Gregory had some serious explaining to do,” Scott said.
“And then what?” David asked.
“Gregory came out of his office, told Wally off, and warned him that if he didn’t leave the premises right away, that he would call the police,” Scott said.
“What did Wally do then?” David asked.
“Thankfully, he left,” Scott said.
“What about Gavin?” I asked.
“He called the office shortly before I left for the day,” Scott said.
“And what did he say?” I replied.
“He launched into this tirade about the delusions that he thought the headache pills were giving him and how Gregory’s treatments were messing with his head,” Scott replied.
“What did Gregory say to that?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, I was the one to take the call. I told Gavin that Gregory was in a session, then I hung up on him,” Scott replied.
“Was that the end of it?” I asked.
Scott shook his head. “No. He called back again and again until Gregory finally came out of his office and took the call.”
“What happened next?” I asked.
“Gregory told Gavin that he was just going through a rough adjustment period and that his mind would settle down if he just kept sticking with the treatments,” Scott said.
“Did Gavin agree?” I asked.
“Not at all. Gregory finally had to hang up on him. Thankfully, Gavin didn’t call back after that,” Scott said.
David scribbled another note down on his pad then fired a new question at Scott. “Do you know of anyone else who might have had a reason to want Gregory dead?”
Scott nodded. “Actually, yeah.”
“Who?” David asked.
“His wife,” Scott replied.
“Were they having marital problems?”
“Oh yeah.”
“What kind?” David asked.
“The kind that breaks up a couple,” Scott replied.
David squinted. “Can you be more specific?”
“Gregory was cheating on his wife,” Scott said.
“With who?” David asked.
“Kayla Green,” Scott said.
“How do you know that?” David asked.
“Gregory didn’t really mak
e any effort to hide his actions,” Scott said.
David scribbled another note down on his pad.
I took the lead. “Are those all the people you can think of who had a beef with Gregory, or does anyone else come to mind?”
Scott scratched his chin. “Now that you mention it, I saw something weird when I came into work yesterday morning.”
“How weird?” I asked.
“Well, as I walked through the parking lot on the way to the building, I spotted Gregory and another man having a tense conversation,” Scott replied.
“Did you recognize the other man?” I asked.
“I did,” Scott replied.
“Do you want to tell me his name?”
“I can’t remember his name. The only reason I recognize him is because his face is on a bunch of billboards around town. You know, the ones that say ‘Invest your money the right way with Night And Day Wealth Management.’”
“You mean Doug Stevenson?” I said.
“I just told you. I don’t know the guy’s name,” Scott replied.
I pulled out my phone and searched for Night And Day Wealth Management. A photo of Doug Stevenson came up. I held out the phone for Scott.
“Is that him?” I asked.
Scott nodded. “Yeah. That’s the guy.”
Most people knew Doug from his billboards. I was familiar with him for another reason. Ever since David and I spotted Doug’s car pulling out of the parking lot of the old banquet hall on Treasure Cove Lane a few weeks ago, we suspected him of being a member of the secret society that was operating in town.
“Do you know what Gregory and Doug were talking about?” I asked.
Scott shook his head.
“So Doug wasn’t a patient of Gregory’s, then?” David asked.
“No,” Scott replied.
“Hmm,” David said. He scribbled another note on his pad of paper then glanced at Scott again. “Just for the record, where were you last night?”
“Me?” Scott asked. “Why do you want to know that?”
“It’s just standard procedure,” David replied.
“Oh. I was at home,” Scott said.
“Alone?” David asked.
“Yes,” Scott said. He then grimaced. “Can I go now? The sight of Gregory’s body is really creeping me out. I could really use some fresh air.”
Daley Buzz Cozy Mystery Boxed Set Page 45
