Prayers for the Dead (33 page)

“They’re doing Sparks’s car.”

“So what’s more important right now?”

Again, she was right.
Batting a cool thou, Dunn
. Decker said, “I’ll call them down.”

“No offense, Pete?”

“Not at all.” Decker folded his hands across his chest. “I’ll do a little poking around until they, the coroner and the lab people, get here. Does that scenario meet with your approval, Detective?”

“Touchy, touchy.”

Decker said, “What are you doing Sunday night?”

“I got a heavy date with my video store. It’s two-for-one night.”

“Come for dinner.”

“People’ll talk. Teacher’s pet.”

Decker grinned, threw his arm around Marge. “Let them talk.”

Wordlessly, Shockley slapped
the lobby elevator’s up button, his angry eyes moving between Oliver and Marge. When the doors opened, he stepped in first. The ride up was silent, as was the walk down the hall to his office. The doctor opened the door and walked in. As soon as Marge and Oliver were inside, he slammed it shut.

“Contrary to what you might think, I’m not the CEO of this company.” Shockley was fierce. “I’m an employee and have a
job
to do. If I don’t do it, I’ll have hell to pay.”

Marge said, “We’re sorry about coming in unannounced, but—”

“Sorry? You yank me out of a very important meeting with the Board of Directors after strong-arming my secretary—”

“Sir, we didn’t strong-arm—”

“Scaring her to death, threatening her—”

“No one threatened any—”

“This better be important!”

“Kenneth Leonard’s dead,” Oliver said unceremoniously. “So is Reg Decameron. Both of them were murdered.”

Shockley gasped. “
What!
”

“You want to sit down, Doctor?” Marge said.

A rhetorical question. Shockley had slumped into his desk chair. He tried to speak, but his mouth formed soundless words.

Oliver said, “Detective Dunn and I were called to the scene this afternoon. They were murdered in Decameron’s house. We picked through Leonard’s pocket… for ID. His driver’s license says he’s unmarried. Do you know if he has a significant other?”

“Someone we should notify?” Marge stated.

Shockley’s hands were shaking. He didn’t answer.

Marge walked over to a lacquered cabinet and opened the door. She took down a decanter of amber liquid and a cut-crystal glass. “Pour you a shot?”

Shockley nodded. Marge gave him a finger’s worth of booze, and the doctor bolted it down. His face took on an instant blush, but he still couldn’t seem to find his vocal cords. He held out his empty glass to Marge.

She poured him another round. “Was Dr. Leonard involved in the Curedon trials?”

Shockley drank the hooch. “He…” He cleared his throat. “He’s one of our primary statisticians in our computer department.”

“Medical doctor?” Marge asked.

“Doctor of mathematics. His field is research design.”

Oliver said, “Then he’d be familiar with the Curedon trial numbers.”

“Yes, I’d think so.” Shockley wiped spittle off the corner of his mouth. “Maybe he wouldn’t have the numbers memorized, but he’d know how the trials were going. Ken supervised an enormous caseload. What… what happened?”

Marge said, “Do you know if he has a girlfriend?”

Shockley paused, then shook his head no. “Not that I know of. He kept to himself. Spent more time with his numbers than with people. But that’s usually the case with our design experts. More at home in front of terminals than with cocktails in their hands.”

Oliver said, “We’ll need to talk to some of his co-workers.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to get everything cleared. Security measures. Especially now.”

Oliver and Marge exchanged glances. Oliver said, “How about a little leeway, Doctor. Otherwise, we come back here with subpoenas and warrants and turn this place upside down.”

Shockley frowned, wiped his brow. “I do what I have to do. You do what you have to do.”

Mentally, Oliver counted to ten. Keep the situation under control. Oliver leaned over Shockley’s shoulder. “Do you know what Leonard was doing at Decameron’s house?”

Shockley paused. “No…”

Marge leaned over his other shoulder. “Sir, you’re lying—”

“I’m not ly—”

“Then you’re snowin’ us with half-truths,” Oliver said. “What was he doing there?”

“I swear I don’t
know
!”

“Take a guess,” Marge said.

Shockley started sweating profusely. “Maybe discussing Curedon with Decameron.”

“Why would he go to Decameron’s
house
to discuss Curedon when we have inventions called telephones and fax machines?”

Again, Shockley wiped his brow. “I haven’t the faintest idea—”

“Do you know, sir,” Marge said, “that every time you lie, the corner of your left eye twitches?”

“Why are you pressing me? I don’t have
answers
!”

“Twitch, twitch,” Oliver said.

Marge said, “Well, if you don’t have answers, Dr. Shockley, maybe you have questions. Like what happened to the Curedon data that Dr. Decameron was going to show us?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Maybe we should just bring him in for questioning,” Oliver said to Marge.

“Under whose authority!” Shockley tried to bellow. Instead, it came out a bleat. “You have no authority here!”

“Yeah, buddy, tell that to the judge.” Marge brought out a pair of cuffs.

“This is absurd!”

“Stand up!”

“I will not—”

“Ah, so you want to add a resisting arrest charge to the others?” Oliver said.

“What other charges? What am I under arrest for?”

Marge said, “Obstruction of justice—”

“This is absurd!”

“You’re repeating yourself,” Oliver said. “Stand up.”

“But I don’t know
anything
!” Shockley was dripping sweat. “I swear to Jesus I don’t know what Ken was doing with Reginald. For all I know, they could have been lovers!”

The room fell quiet.

Oliver said, “Is that statement conjecture based on Reggie’s lifestyle or do you know something definite, Doc?”

Shockley was panting, tried to slow himself down. “Well. Ken wasn’t married… and I don’t think he had a girlfriend.”

Marge said, “You didn’t answer Detective Oliver’s question, sir. Do you know that for a
fact
?”

“No.”

“So let’s drop that angle and assume the murders had something to do with Fisher/Tyne. Maybe Leonard was telling Decameron something in private. What might that have been?”

“I don’t—”

“Twitch, twitch, twitch,” Marge said. “Let’s try again. What would Leonard say to Decameron in person that he couldn’t say over the phone?”

The room was silent. Shockley buried his head in his hands, then looked up. “Maybe… maybe, he got wind of something.”

“And what might that be?” Marge said.

“That the Curedon project’s being axed.”

Again, no one spoke. Oliver tried to hide his astonishment. Marge looked up for a moment, disguising her surprise.

Shockley said, “It was supposed to be hush-hush. But sometimes it’s hard to keep secrets around here. Especially since e-mail is easily retrievable if you know the right code words.”

Oliver said, “Why are you eighty-sixing Curedon? I thought the trials were going well.”

“They were until a couple of months ago.”

“The increase rate in mortality,” Marge said.

“Yes. How’d you find out about that?”

“Decameron. He told us it was data error.”

“No… it is
not
data error.” Shockley took a deep breath. “It’s not that Curedon’s a total bust. It still has potential. Lots of potential. But with the recent numbers and with Azor Sparks gone… no longer able to guide us through the bumps… the board has had some substantial doubts about the drug. Some want to cut the losses while they’re still manageable.”

A long silence.

Marge said, “Why would Leonard, a statistician and research designer, care if you axed Curedon?”

“I don’t
know
!” Shockley looked beseechingly at Marge. “It doesn’t make sense. Because he was the one who’d been interpreting the numbers for us. As a matter of fact…”

Shockley turned his desk chair around to his credenza and jerked open a file drawer. With trembling hands, he went through a number of folders.

“What are you looking for, sir?” Oliver asked.

Shockley didn’t answer, kept plowing through papers. Finally, he fished out a sheet.

“Oh, thank you, God!” He handed the paper to Marge. “The payoff for being organized. Here. You don’t believe me, take a look for yourselves.”

A personal memo from Leonard to Shockley. Dated two months ago. Regarding Curedon trials. Skimming through the statistical mumbo jumbo of correlations, variants, and r-squares, Marge read the conclusion. Mediocre results with slight but not significant differences noted between Curedon and current market medication. Leonard’s signature graced the bottom of the page. Marge handed the memo to Scott.

“This is dated over sixty days ago,” Oliver said. “Why didn’t you tell us about this memo when we first came here a couple of days ago?”

“Because first of all, I had no intention of revealing internal policy to you. And second of all, which is the truth… at that time, I was so stunned about Azor’s death that frankly I forgot about it—”

“Doctor—”

“It’s true!”

Oliver said, “You refused to show us Curedon’s data. Is this what you were hiding? The fact that the numbers weren’t great?”

“I wasn’t hiding anything.” Shockley sat up. “Yes, I was aware that Curedon was going through some rough spots. But with Azor on our team, I felt confident that we could overcome our problems. Now, with him gone, the board has recommended reevaluating the project. We had Kenny run some new correlates. We didn’t like the results.”

“Let’s back it up,” Marge said. “Why would Leonard go to Decameron’s house? Why not just call him?”

“I don’t have any notion why.”

“Maybe he was trying to warn Decameron.”

“About what?” Shockley asked.

“About not getting in Fisher/Tyne’s way, because it could lead to tragedy.”

“You’re speaking hogwash—”

“It didn’t lead to tragedy?” Oliver asked.

“We had nothing to do with anyone’s death,” Shockley protested.

Marge said, “When can we talk to Leonard’s co-workers?”

“I’ll try to get clearance for you by tomorrow. After I’ve broken the news to them.”

“And they’re too scared to talk.”

Shockley said, “You don’t have warrants, you may not trample over our rights—”

“Gettin’ kinda feisty, sir,” Oliver said.

“Get out of here!”

“You’re not being very civic-minded—”

“Get out of here before I have you
thrown
out by security!” Shockley reached for the phone.

Oliver grinned. “I don’t think he’s bluffing, Detective Dunn.”

“Doesn’t look like it.” Marge saluted him. “Thanks for your time.”

“I don’t get it.” Oliver opened the door to the unmarked. “Fisher/Tyne is a multibillion dollar company. You’re telling me that they don’t honestly
know
whether or not a drug is going to work before they invest millions of bucks in it?”

“I don’t know, Scott.”

“Margie, it ain’t all a crapshoot.”

“No, of course not.” Marge leaned against the car. “Maybe Curedon looked good in Azor’s lab, but not in Fisher/Tyne’s lab.”

Oliver frowned. “C’mon, Marge. Curedon must have passed some test for them to buy up its rights and pay Sparks an enormous chunk of change.”

Marge shrugged. “Maybe it was effective with animal data, but not with human beings.”

“Not according to Decameron, Fulton or Berger. It was a miracle drug with their patients.”

“Except that it had problems lately. Besides none of the doctors is an objective party, Scott. If any of them were promised a percentage of profits…” Marge stopped midsentence, staring at a brunette in a black suit speed-walking toward them. She saw Marge staring at her, and waved. Marge waved back.

“Who?” Oliver asked.

“Don’t know.”

The brunette reached the car, breathless, her large chest heaving with each intake of oxygen. She seemed scared. She looked around, talking to them with head turned, blue eyes scanning over her shoulder. “Are you the police?”

Oliver nodded.

“May I see some identification?”

They took out their shields. The brunette rubbed her hands as she examined their badges. “Does your visit have anything to do with Kenneth Leonard? Has he talked to you at all?”

No one spoke.

Marge said, “Are you friends with Dr. Leonard?”

Again, the woman kneaded her hands. “Maybe I should take a ride with you.”

Oliver opened the door for her. She slid in the back of the unmarked, and so did Marge. Oliver started up the car and drove off the parking lot. He parked a few blocks down from Fisher/Tyne.

Nobody spoke, then the brunette asked, “Is Kenny all right?”

Marge and Oliver exchanged looks.

The brunette’s eyes moistened. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marge said. “Do you have a name?”

The woman’s lower lip quivered. “Belinda Sands.”

“You were his girlfriend?” Oliver asked.

The woman didn’t answer. It was then that Marge noticed a wedding band on her finger. She said, “You were having an affair with him.”

Belinda jerked her head toward Marge, eyeing her in wonderment.

“Your ring,” Marge said. “Leonard wasn’t married.”

“Oh.” Belinda studied her nails. “It’s been over for a while. But we remained friends.”

“Do you also work in Research Design?” Oliver asked.

“Accounting.” Belinda hid her face in her hands, pulled them away, and wiped tears from her cheeks. “Something was going on with him.”

Marge said, “Tell me.”

“I hadn’t spoken to Kenny in a while,” Belinda said. “As I said, the affair was over… long over. It didn’t even last very long. Maybe a couple of months. I swear that’s all.”

Marge nodded. “What about Kenny, Belinda?”