Best Laid Plans

by Kristi Rose

  I placed my empty plate on my coffee table then pressed my hands to my temples, frustrated. “I can’t seem to get a handle on all this information. Here’s what we know, let’s start a list. Precious, write this down.”

  She moved to stand at the easel.

  I said, “Put Jenna Miller. She’s suspect numero uno. But there’s also Danika Post. She said she resigned because she wanted an administration position. She wanted Josh’s position but said she knew she didn’t have enough experience. She and Josh had what looks like an unfriendly exchange just minutes before he died.”

  Toby stabbed a piece of pineapple. “And that email you asked me to look for, nope. Never happened. She never sent a resignation email.”

  I pointed to Precious who wrote Danika’s name on the easel pad. “Then what were she and Josh arguing about that morning, and why lie to me?”

  Precious wrote LIAR by Danika’s name.

  We left Levi’s name off the list because I had a paper pinned to the wall that listed out Levi’s claims and evidence.

  Something Leo had said to me when I was the person of interest popped into my head. I gestured to the paper with the evidence we knew of. “If DB will look at the evidence and try to point it to Levi, why can’t we look at the same evidence and try to link to someone else?” I pointed to the easel. “Like to Danika or someone. We also have nicotine poisoning the possible cause of death.”

  Leo tossed a pen into the air and caught it, his expression pulled tight as he thought. “It would have to be a heck of a lot of nicotine. It’s so unlikely, I have a hard time giving this idea weight.” He paused in his game of toss and met my gaze.

  “Unless,” I said and picked up my notebook, flipping through a few pages. “Unless someone knew about Josh’s nicotine habit and used it against him.” I tapped the pad. “Josh was in a nicotine replacement program. He wore a patch, well, likely two patches from the looks of it.”

  Leo sat up. “How do you know he wore two?”

  “I saw their outline through his shirt when he stretched to shake Precious’s hand at the open house.” I sat on the arm of my couch next to Leo. I petted Lady M behind the ears. “And get this. He treated himself to two cigarettes after he gave his ladies the business. If you know what I mean.” I waggled my brows for added emphasis. “Even when he was wearing the patch.”

  Toby asked, “You talking about sex?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Precious said and lightly slapped his shoulder.

  “One question, though, did he smoke after he gave himself the business, too?” I asked. “Because it sounds to me like Josh liked the business a lot. And if he was getting it a lot and giving it to himself a lot, then that’s a lot of cigarettes.”

  Leo said, “I’m guessing by how often you said ‘a lot,’ you think Josh was more than a few times a week guy.”

  “He struck me as the sort of guy who’d have women in every port. Sharing is caring, he’d say. And Josh really liked to show how much he cared.” I made the heart shape with my fingers and put it over my boob like Josh had done. “My impression is that by showing us he cared, he wanted it reciprocated by sharing.” I pointed to my lower lady parts.

  Leo grimaced. “I don’t want to know how you know that either.”

  “His ex-girlfriend told me.”

  Precious, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, paused. “His ex? Last I heard, he was dating Laura Danner, and they seemed serious. I don’t know who he dated before her.”

  “According to Laura, she dumped him the Friday before he died.” I shared her suspicions about Josh and other women based on the empty cigarette packs.

  “That’s flimsy,” Toby said. “A million other things could explain that.”

  We all looked at him, surprised by his lack of paranoia. Typically, he would connect dots no one saw.

  He spritzed himself with Chill, and vanilla mist floated toward me. “What? I watch crime shows on TV too, you know. I love Perry Mason.”

  Precious tapped the marker against the easel with Danika’s name. “Did Laura know who Josh might be giving the business to besides her?”

  I shook my head. “But if I had to guess, and it would be a guess based on no fact, I’d start with Carlie Jacobson. Carlie had gotten ugly with me that Tuesday Josh died. She brought up the sexual harassment. Not Annber, the mom who complained.”

  In fact, I’d probably go through all the Hunter Boot Moms. Acolytes, every one of them.

  Precious wrote the names Laura and Carlie on the paper with a question mark.

  “When will the reports from the toxicology come back?” I asked.

  Leo stretched. “I’m off the case. I have to wait until one of the other officers shares the info with me. I can try to login to see if a report’s been filed and read, but DB gets a weekly list of who logins and looks at what.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Toby set his drink aside and reached for his messenger bag resting against the wall by the door. “You need a report. Consider it done.”

  Leo held up a hand. “Maybe not hack with me present.”

  Toby snort-laughed. “Is it hacking when you have the password?”

  Once again, he had our full attention.

  Leo said, “How do you have a password?”

  Toby was clicking away on his computer. “I set up DB’s computer system and tied it into his stereo and cheap-as-all-get-out cameras he bought online. He used the same password for each entry point even though I told him not to. I’m gonna go with his vanity overriding his common sense.”

  We waited a few beats.

  Toby continued, “Yep, DBstheMan is his office password, too.” Toby shook his head. “Civilians. So pedestrian.”

  Leo and I exchanged a smile. Precious patted him on the back.

  Leo said, “But he’ll see he logged in and know he didn’t.”

  Toby gave Leo a look of disgust. “Dude, hackers use a creed similar to hikers. Take your trash with you. I’ll leave no trace behind.”

  He made a few clicks, smiled, then looked at all us with a smug expression.

  “Coming in hot,” Toby said. The printer on my desk began to whirl as it warmed up. “Want anything else while I’m here?”

  Leo shot Toby a look of disbelief. “Just get out.”

  Toby said, “For a cop, you sure are twitchy.”

  “You’re breaking the law,” Leo said.

  Toby spritzed himself, then aimed it at Leo. “He gave me this password. How can that be breaking the law when he literally… Gave. It. To. Me.”

  “Semantics,” Leo said.

  I took the pages from the printer and scanned them but couldn’t make heads nor tails of them. They were in cop code. I handed them to Leo.

  He glanced at the sheets and gave a low whistle. To me he said, “The medical examiner is ruling Josh’s death homicide. Lethal does of nicotine. You said Josh was in nicotine replacement therapy?”

  I nodded.

  Leo’s mouth was a grim line. He flipped through a few pages then said, “This report states that the vape juice vial in Josh’s desk had high nicotine levels. We knew that. But also the water tables were laced with a nicotine powder, too.”

  “And the combination of those two plus his habit was enough to kill him?” I asked.

  Leo continued to study the report.

  Precious plopped onto the couch, her brow furrowed as she thought. “Who on our list was smart enough to know that a patch, some vaping, and a few cigarettes would be enough to do in a chronic smoker?”

  I said, “Maybe the nicotine replacement therapy program puts a person on their max dose and everything he did after like smoking and an extra patch was too much?”

  Leo shook his head, “Except the report says the vial in his desk, the one submitted into evidence and tested, had an unbroken seal. It had never been opened, so it hadn’t been used.”

  Where had the additional nicotine come from?

  I quickly scanned a nicotine replacement therapy si
te. “Precious, you asked who might be smart enough to know? We need to add this person to our list. Boomer Jacobson.” I looked at my friends. “I think it’s time to talk to Josh’s doctor.”

  26

  Monday

  “Okay,” I said and tapped the clear two-way earpiece I’d just inserted. “Can everyone hear me?”

  “Yep,” Toby said. Lady Marmalade cooed in the background.

  Precious shrugged. “I think I can, but you’re also sitting right next to me.”

  “We’ll test again when I get out of the car. Let’s recap the plan—”

  Toby groaned. “We’ve done this three times.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s my butt going in there, humor me. I’ll try to get Dr. Jacobson to open up about Josh. Maybe I can get him a little rattled and he’ll slip up.”

  Precious sighed. “Are we sure we’ll even know if he’s slipped up? We’re looking for a needle in a haystack here.”

  “Yeah, but we have Josh the magnet to help us.” I was hoping Josh would be a trigger for Dr. Jacobson. If Josh was the player Laura thought, then maybe Carlie was who he was playing with? Was she the only one? The way Josh had used a simple conversation to touch me uncomfortably, coupled with how he’d touched others, my guess was no, he fooled around with several women.

  I opened the door of Precious’s SUV. “Hang here, be ready to rescue should I jack this up.”

  She touched her temple. “Visualize succeeding. Know what information you want and picture getting it. We outlined a strategy, stick to it.”

  “I picture a little birdie delivering all information. How nice and simple would that be?” I closed the door and headed for Dr. Boomer Jacobson’s general medicine office which was housed in the end unit of the strip mall on the side of Wind River being commercialized. Dark tint covered the windows to allow for a client’s privacy.

  Toby had done as much digging, also called hacking, as he could but was unable to access Boomer’s medical records. Scary the police were easier to hack than a small-town doc. What he found was Boomer graduated middle of his class, made a decent wage, and had a high mortgage. He and Carlie had two kids who attended VGS.

  Inside, with one other person in the waiting room, I approached the receptionist.

  “Hi, Samantha True, I have an appointment. New Patient.” I handed her my identification and insurance card. This mining trip was gonna cost me in deductibles. I made a mental note to search the web if I could write it off as a work expense.

  The receptionist, a young woman barely out of high school, with coffin-shaped nails painted purple and stick straight blond hair handed me a thin stack of papers and a clipboard with a pen on a chain. “Fill these out and bring them back when you’re done.”

  “I had hoped these were online so I could get them done in advance,” I said with a smile.

  She didn’t even feign interest. “Dr. Jacobson is old-school. Nothing is online.”

  This included social media accounts as well; I’d learned. Boomer didn’t ask his clients to review him on Yelp or like on Facebook.

  I filled out the forms. My pretense for being there was residual hip pain from being hit by the car. I reminded myself to add a slight limp.

  I blew out a breath.

  “Why are you panting?” Precious asked. “You know what I realized? We don’t have a safe word. Like what if you need help, how will I know? So say something. Anything, and we’ll call that the safe word.”

  Toby said, “Or yell ‘I’m hit.’ Or ‘bad guy, bad guy’ or—”

  Dr. Jacobson opened the door to his back-office space and smiled at me. “Samantha, right? You can fill that out back here.” He gestured for me to precede him into the back area.

  Boomer Jacobson had wispy blond hair with a hairline slowly creeping back, and the ever-so-slightly emerging spare tire pressing against the golf shirt he wore under a white lab coat.

  He led me down a short hallway. “On a scale of good or bad, which one brings you here?”

  Did anyone answer good? And if so, why were they seeing their doctor?

  “Bad, I think.” My parents taught me not to lie. Uncertainty was how I circumvented that.

  Toby said, “Bad? You need help?”

  Dr. Jacobson said, “Bad, how?”

  Precious said, “Sam, we need to know. Are you good or bad because I think we’re all confused here?”

  There were too many people talking to me, and I got frazzled. “Quiet,” I said sharply.

  Dr. Jacobson reared back. “I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry. I hit my head when I was hit by the car and sometimes putting my thoughts in sequence is hard. What I meant to say is when I let myself be quiet, that’s when I notice how much my hip is hurting. This is where the car struck me.” I touched my hip.

  He held open the door to an exam room with the standard patient examination table, but also two chairs in front of a small desk. Dr. Jacobson gestured for me to take a seat on the exam bed. He stood in front of me. “How would you describe it? A throb, an ache, sharp pain?”

  “A dull throb, but persistent enough to be annoying.”

  From there he did the standard muscle and strength testing. Afterward he stepped back and studied me. “It looks to me like this is just the natural process of healing. Make sure you get lots of protein and iron in your diet. If it continues, I can refer you to a specialist.”

  I gave him two thumbs up. “Sounds good. I’ve never been hit by a car before, and I didn’t know what to expect for healing. It feels like it’s taking forever, and I’m ready to get back out there and run.”

  “If you’re patient now, you’ll have fewer problems when you start running,” he said.

  “Your wife’s a runner, right?”

  In my ear, Precious said, “Now we’re getting to the meat and potatoes.”

  “She’s more a swimmer than a runner.” Jacobson raised his brows. “You know my wife?”

  “Carlie, right? My niece is going to VGS, and I was tasked with being the school photographer.” I grimaced.

  Jacobson snapped his fingers then pointed at me as recognition hit. “That’s right. You were with Josh when he died. I thought I recognized your name.”

  I closed my eyes, wishing I could un-see that day. “It was awful.” I shook my head sadly. “I wasn’t crazy about the guy, but the way he passed did not look fun.” I rubbed my hands up and down my arms to wipe away the heebie-jeebies.

  Jacobson backed away to sit in a chair. “Creepy to think that someone we knew and my wife saw almost daily was murdered.”

  Once again, I stretched the truth. I figured if this became a rumor, it couldn’t hurt Levi’s case at all. Glancing toward the door to make sure it was closed, I lowered my voice. “Well, I heard… You know my dad owns the newspaper, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, I overheard that maybe Josh wasn’t killed, but that he overdosed on nicotine. If that’s such a thing. They’re only holding the kid until all the tests to confirm the overdose are in.”

  Jacobson’s eyes went wide. “He died from nicotine poisoning?”

  I nodded.

  Jacobson’s shoulders sagged in relief and, as if he’d realized what he’d done, quickly said, “I supposed I imagined something gorier.” He made like he was stabbing the air.

  As if, buddy.

  Everyone with a lick of sense knew if Josh had been eighty-sixed with a knife, that would have been in the paper and I would be more than a person of interest.

  I sat in the opposite chair. “Is it possible for someone to OD on nicotine?”

  Jacobson scratched his temple. “I suppose, if there were other factors. Typically, too much nicotine makes people sick, and when that happens, they cease engaging in the nicotine activity making them ill.”

  I said, “If a person is trying to quit smoking, what would they do?”

  Jacobson leaned back in his chair and said, “Most people try to stop by chewing nicotine gum an
d going cold turkey, but then they fail. Nicotine replacement therapy, though, has shown some success. Trouble is, the triggers of smoking don’t get addressed, just the cravings.”

  I said, “Like Josh, rumor is he smoked two cigarettes after,” — I cleared my throat — “sex. Hypothetically, if a person did that while wearing two patches, would that cause an overdose?” I left out how Josh’s water had traces of nicotine.

  Jacobson shook his head. “Hypothetically, that person would need more. But not much more would be my guess. Two patches?” His look was questioning.

  I nodded and held up two fingers. “What more can a person do besides gum and patches?”

  Jacobson rubbed his face, “Nasal sprays, lozenges, and inhalers like Josh used.”

  Pictures flashed through my mind “Josh had an inhaler?”

  Toby said, “I’m on it.”

  Jacobson’s eyes went wide and he waved off my question. “Nicotine poisoning is rare. Nicotine as a murder weapon is even more rare. I think there are only a few cases, and the victim was poisoned over time. Plus, a few cigarettes here and there while wearing the patch isn’t going to tip the scale.”

  I smiled. “What if, hypothetically of course, that person was giving the business to a host of women. Smoking, using the patch—”

  “Yeah, that’s a lot of nicotine, but again, I think they’d be getting sick and wouldn’t be up to doing the business, as you put it. Maybe if that person were injected with a large dose at once, then I could see all the additional activity and patching would compound the effect.”

  Because Josh died from nicotine poisoning, that brought me back to square one. Where did the fatal dose come from? My who and where.

  Boomer stood in front of me with a mini flashlight. “I’m going to look into your mouth, ears, and at your eyes.”

  “But it’s my hip,” I said trying to keep my voice from reflecting my freaked-out state. An ear exam would produce my earpiece and I doubt I could pass that off as a large chunk of ear wax.

  “Standard practice,” Boomer said and lifted his brows expectantly as he pointed the flashlight beam toward my mouth.