Crime Stories (17 page)

“Since taking N-Som, I’ve lost fifteen pounds in fat and gained eight pounds in muscle mass. My immune system and healing abilities have increased dramatically. I also don’t get tired. In fact, three days ago I was on a treadmill for eighteen hours.”

The audience murmured its disbelief. Dr. Nikos beamed.

“We were even more amazed by this than you folks are, but we’ve found a reasonable scientific explanation. N-Som stimulates the pituitary gland, increasing production of human growth hormone. Manny may be the most fit human being on the face of the earth.”

A woman at a far table spoke.

“What about dreams? I, for one, wouldn’t give up my dreams for anything.”

Someone else chimed in. “I love my dreams, too.”

There were many nods of agreement, Bill one of them. On most days his dream life was better than his real one.

“The dreams.” Manny’s eyes got a faraway look, and his smile was beatific. “They’re the most vivid dreams you’ll ever have. Even though they only last a few minutes, they seem to go on for hours. And you remember them, every detail, from beginning to end.”

“And when does the stock go public?”

General laughter. Dr. Nikos joined in.

“That depends on the FDA. And actually, the CDER agent responsible for N-Som’s approval is sitting among us. Bill, please come up here.”

Bill shook off the momentary surprise and was beckoned up to the podium. This was unexpected. Though getting in front of groups was part of his job, he liked to be prepared first.

He walked to the stage and Dr. Nikos shook his hand warmly. Manny offered his hand next; his grip was like slamming your fingers in a car door. Bill disengaged himself and Dr. Nikos put an arm around his shoulders.

“May I introduce Dr. William May, from the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research. We shall continue to extend our fullest cooperation to the Food and Drug Administration, and I’m sure once our data is examined, N-Som will be judged even safer than aspirin.”

More applause. Bill felt a tad queasy; he wasn’t sure if his stomach was balking at the crème brulee, or if he was afraid he’d be asked to say a few words. Thankfully, Dr. Nikos wrapped up his speech and escorted Bill back to the head table amid a standing ovation.

“Dr. May, let me introduce my daughter, Dr. Theena Boone.”

Dr. Boone was around Bill’s age, in her mid-thirties, dark and shapely. She had a smaller version of her father’s Greek nose and enough hair on her head for several women. The soft black curls rested on her bare shoulders, and the neckline of her dress made eye-contact an effort.

“A pleasure, Dr. May.”

Bill took her hand and responded in kind.

“Please sit, Dr. May.” Dr. Nikos pulled out a chair for Bill. “I have to be social for a little bit.”

Dr. Nikos and Manny blended into the gathering crowd. Bill sat and faced the woman. He’d neatly slid from one uncomfortable situation into another. Small talk wasn’t one of his strengths.

“Your father is an excellent speaker.”

To Theena’s credit, she seemed completely at ease. As if suddenly being forced into conversation with a complete stranger was normal for her.

“He believes all Greeks should be outspoken; the result of seeing Zorba too many times.”

Unlike her father, Theena didn’t have the slightest trace of an accent. Her voice was low, but soft in an undeniably feminine way.

“He does remind me a bit of Anthony Quinn.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that; he’d be insufferable. I’m to understand that you’ll begin your investigation tomorrow?”

Bill nodded. “It’s not an investigation, really. All I do is review your testing and give a preliminary report to the committee.”

“But you have the power to stop the process before it gets to that, correct?”

“Yes.”

She took a sip of wine, leaving the tiniest trace of red lipstick on the glass. The rim had a complete circle of half moons around it, like a deliberate design. Bill thought of his own wine, back at the other table. A nice Merlot would take off the edge.

“I’ve seen Dr. Nikos lecture before, but this was the first time he introduced Manny. It’s incredible.”

“Yes, we’re all terribly excited. Manny especially. This drug has done wonders for him.”

“Was he the first human test subject?”

Theena’s demure expression flickered.

“Actually, no. There was someone else who began the program at the same time as Manny. But there were… complications.”

“Something to do with the drug?”

“No, nothing like that. It was a personal matter. The N-Som worked fine.” Theena smiled. “I hope you aren’t ignoring Mrs. May to be sitting here with me.”

Bill automatically looked at his wedding band.

“She… died last year.”

“I’m so sorry. Was it sudden?”

Bill almost blurted out a yes. He caught himself in time.

“She was sick for a long time.” The image of Kristen, lying in the hospital bed, filled his mind. “And you? Is Mr. Boone off mingling?”

Theena wiggled her large diamond ring. It caught the light and winked.

“Last I heard he was in Texas. I kept the name because anything is preferable to Stefanopolous. So, how does one get a job at the FDA?”

Bill thought about the long, boring version. After completing his studies at the University of Chicago and his internship at Rush-Presbyterian, Bill was undecided between a residency or private practice. He’d known from a young age that he’d be an M.D., but when the day finally came he realized that he enjoyed learning about medicine more than actually practicing it.

Congress made the decision for him. The year was 1992, and they’d just passed PDUFA—the Prescription Drug User Fee Act, which authorized the FDA to charge drug sponsors for their services, expediting the approval process. Suddenly CDER, which had been impossible to break into, had hundreds of openings for reviewers. Bill had leapt at the chance.

“I was just in the right place at the right time. How about you? You’re a chemist, right?”

“Actually, I’m a pathologist, like my father. Specializing in neuropathology, of course.”

Bill’s confidence slipped another notch. Beautiful, and a brain surgeon.

“Exciting work?”

Theena laughed, a rich, warm sound.

“I think I’ve developed a permanent squint from looking in the microscope so often. No, it’s not what I would call exciting. But it’s not without rewards, either. What time shall we expect you at DruTech tomorrow?”

“Whenever is convenient.”

“Anytime is fine. Research continues around the clock. Your predecessor preferred to work during the night shift.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “My predecessor?”

“The prior CDER agent. Did you ever find out what happened to him?” Theena studied Bill’s face. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? He was sent by the FDA last month to review some preliminary research, worked with us for a week, and then left without a word. A Dr. Bitner?”

Bill knew Michael Bitner. They’d golfed on several occasions. He’d have to give him a call, find out what had happened.

“Someone call the police!”

The cry came from the other side of the banquet room, followed by shouts for a doctor. Bill hurried through the crowd, Theena on his heels. The activity was centered around the Men’s Room. Bill had to shove gawkers out of his way to get in.

“I’m a doctor! Give me some room!”

At first, all Bill saw was blood. It took his brain a second to register that under all that blood was Dr. Nikos.

Theena screamed.

Bill knelt down, soaking his pants leg. He automatically reached for the carotid artery, then stopped his hand when he saw the gash in the doctor’s throat, deep enough to expose the esophagus. Dr. Nikos was gone, long beyond anyone’s help.

“Over here! There’s another!”

Bill was ushered over to a second pool of blood. In the center of it was Manny. His tuxedo shirt was shredded, over half a dozen wounds covering his abdomen and chest. A scalpel handle protruded from his sternum.

“Tried… tried to save… da…”

Manny coughed, spitting red. Bill tilted Manny’s face to the side so the blood didn’t run down his throat. His pulse was strong, but when Bill tore off Manny’s shirt he didn’t hold out much hope. The guy looked like a lasagna.

Bill left the scalpel embedded, concerned that removal would cause more bleeding. He enlisted four guys with cloth napkins to keep pressure on Manny’s many wounds. He also put Manny’s feet up on a chair to stave off shock.

The paramedics arrived shortly thereafter, intubing Manny and carting him away.

Bill looked around the room, trying to spot Theena. He went back into the banquet hall, the crowd parting for him when they noticed his bloody clothing. He checked her table, the hotel lobby, and finally the parking lot.

She was gone.

T
here were four black and whites already at the 7-11 when I arrived. Several people had gathered in the parking lot behind the yellow police tape, huddling close for protection against the freezing Chicago rain.

They weren’t there for Slurpees.

I parked my 1986 Nova on the street and hung my star around my neck on a cord. The radio was full of chatter about “the lasagna on Monroe and Dearborn” so I knew this was going to be an ugly one. I got out of the car.

It was cold, too cold for October. I wore a three-quarter length London Fog trenchcoat over my blue Armani blazer and a gray skirt. The coat was the only one I had that fit over the blazer’s oversized shoulders, which left my legs exposed to the elements.

Freezing was the curse of the fashion savvy.

Detective First Class Herb Benedict hunched over a plastic tarpaulin, lifting up the side against the wind. His coat was unbuttoned, and his expansive stomach poured over the sides of his belt as he bent down. His hound dog jowls were pink with cold rain, and he scratched at his salt and pepper mustache as I approached.

“Kind of cold for a jacket like that, Jack.”

“But don’t I look good?”

“Sure. Shivering suits you.”

I walked to his side and squatted, peering down at the form under the tarp.

Female. Caucasian. Blonde. Twenties. Naked. Multiple stab wounds, running from her thighs to her shoulders, many of them yawning open like hungry, bloody mouths. The several around her abdomen were deep enough to see inside.

I felt my stomach becoming unhappy and turned my attention to her head. A red lesion ran around her neck, roughly the width of a pencil. Her lips were frozen in a snarl, the bloody rictus stretched wide like one of her stab wounds.

“This was stapled to her chest.” Benedict handed me a plastic evidence baggie. In it was a 3”x5” piece of paper, crinkled edges on one end indicating it had been ripped from a spiral pad. It was spotty with blood and rain, but the writing on it was clear:

#1 YOU CAN’T CATCH ME I’M THE GINGERBREAD MAN

I let the tarp fall and righted myself. Benedict, the mind reader, handed me a cup of coffee that had been sitting on the curb.

“Who found the body?” I asked.

“Customer. Kid named Mike Donovan.”

I took a sip of coffee. It was so hot it hurt. I took another.

“Who took the statement?”

“Robertson.”

Benedict pointed at the store front window to the thin, uniformed figure of Robertson, talking with a teenager.

“Witnesses?”

“Not yet.”

“Who was behind the counter?”

“Owner. Being depoed as we speak. Didn’t see anything.”

I wiped some rain off my face and unbunched my shoulders as I entered the store, trying to look like the authority figure my title suggested.

The heat inside was both welcome and revolting. It warmed me considerably, but went hand in hand with the nauseating smell of hot dogs cooked way too long.

“Robertson.” I nodded at the uniform. “Sorry to hear about your Dad.”

He shrugged. “He was seventy, and we always told him fast food would kill him.”

“Heart attack?”

“He was hit by a Pizza Express truck.”

I searched Robertson’s face for the faintest trace of a smirk, and didn’t find one. Then I turned my attention to Mike Donovan. He was no more than seventeen, brown hair long on top and shaved around the sides, wearing some baggy jeans that would have been big on Herb. Men got all the comfortable clothing trends.