Black Notice - Cornwell Patricia. Страница 49

"You were out that day," she said to me. "And you had misplaced your appointment book and we looked everywhere with no luck. So by Monday I was obsessed with finding it because I knew how much you need it. I thought I'd check the morgue again.

"And I went in there before I'd even taken my coat off," she went on, "and here's Chuck at six-forty-five in the morning sitting at a desk with the pill counter and dozens of bottles lined up. Well, he looked as if I'd just caught him with his pants down. I asked him why he was getting started so early, and he said it was going to be a busy day and he was trying to get a head start."

"Was his car in the parking lot?" Marino asked.

"He parks in the deck," I explained. "His car wouldn't be visible from our building."

"The drugs were from Dr. Fielding's case," Rose resumed, "and out of curiosity I looked at the report. Well, the woman had about every drug known to man. Tranquilizers, antidepressants, narcotics. A total of some thirteen hundred pills, if you can believe that."

"Unfortunately, I can," I said.

Overdoses and suicides typically came to us with months, even years, of prescription drugs. Codeine, Percocet, morphine, methadone, PDC, Valium and fentanyl patches to name a few. It was an unbearably tedious task to count them to see how many were supposed to have been in the bottle and how many were left.

"So he's stealing pills instead of washing them down the sink," Marino said.

"I can't prove it;" Rose replied. "But Monday wasn't god-awful busy like it usually is. The overdose was the only case. Chuck avoided me as much as he could after that, and every time drugs came in with cases, I wondered if they'd gone in his pocket instead of down the drain."

"We can hook up a VCR where he's not going to see it. You've already got cameras down there. If he's doing it, we'll get him," Marino promised.

"That on top of everything else," I said. "The press about that would be awful. It might even go out on the wire, especially if an investigative reporter started digging and found out about my alleged refusal to take calls from families, and the chat room, and even the subterfuge of running into Bray in a parking lot."

Paranoia pushed against my chest and I took a deep breath. Marino was watching me.

"You're not thinking Bray's got something to do with this," Marino said, skeptically.

"Only in the sense that she helped put Chuck on the road he's on. He himself told me the more bad things he did, the easier it got."

"Well, I think Chuckie-boy's on his own when it comes to stealing prescription drugs. It's too easy for slime like him to resist. Like the cops who can't resist pocketing wads of cash at drug busts and shit like that. Hell, drugs like Lortabs, Lorcet, not to mention Percocet, can go for two to five bucks a pop on the street. What I'm curious about is where he's unloading the stuff"

"Maybe you can find out from his wife if he's out a lot at night," Rose suggested.

"Honey," Marino replied, "bad people do stuff like this in broad daylight."

Rose looked dejected and somewhat embarrassed, as if afraid that her being so upset had sent her spinning threads of truth into a tapestry of conviction. Marino got up to pour more coffee.

"You're thinking he's following you because you're suspicious of his drug dealing?" he asked Rose.

"Oh, I guess it sounds so far-fetched when I hear myself say it."

"Might be someone involved with Chuck, if we want to keep going down this path. And I don't think we should dismiss anything right now," Marino added. "If Rose knows, then you do," he said to me. 'Chuck sure as hell knows that:' "If this is tied in with drugs, then what's the motive if Chuck's involved in our being followed? To hurt us? To intimidate us?" I asked.

"This much I can guarantee," Marino replied from the kitchen. "He's mixed up with people who are way out of his league: And we're not talking small amounts of money. Think how many pills come in with some of these bodies. Cops have to turn in every bottle they find. Think of all the leftover pain medication or who-knows-what in your average person's medicine cabinet"

He came back into the living room and sat down, blowing into the cup as if that really would cool his coffee in a hurry.

"Add that to the shitload of other stuff they're actively taking or supposed to be taking and what do you get?" he went on. "That the only reason Chuckie-boy needs his job in the morgue is to steal drugs. Hell, he doesn't need the pay, and that may have something to do with why he's been doing such a shitty job over the last few months."

"He could be taking in thousands of dollars a week," I said.

"Doc, you got any reason to think he might be hooked up with your other officers, getting somebody to do the same thing? They get him the pills, he gives them a small cut'

I have no idea."

"You got four district offices. You steal drugs from all of them, you're getting into really big bucks now," Marino said. "Hell, the little shit may even be involved in organized crime, just one more drone bringing stuff to the hive. Problem is, this ain't shopping at Wal-Mart. He thinks it's so easy making deals with some guy in a suit, some foxy woman. This person moves the merchandise along to the next person in the chain. Maybe it's eventually traded for guns that end up in New York."

Or Miami, I thought.

"Thank God you alerted us, Rose;" I said. "rhe last thing I want is anything flowing out of the office and ending up in the hands of people who will hurt others or even kill them."

"Not to mention, Chuck's days are probably going to be numbered, too," Marino said. "People like him usually don't live too long."

He got up and moved to the end of the couch, closer to Rose:

"Now, Rose?" he gently said. "What's making you think what you've just told us has anything to do with Kim Luong's murder?"

She took a deep breath and turned off the lamp next to her as if it was bothering her eyes. Her hands were shaking so badly that when she reached -for her mug, she spilled some of her tea. She dabbed the wet spot on her lap with a tissue.

"On my way home from the office last night, I decided to pick up shortbreads and a few other things," she began, her voice getting shaky again.

"Do you know exactly what time this was?" Marino asked.

"Not to the minute. Around ten of six as best I can say."

"Let me be sure I've got this straight," Marino said, taking notes. "You stopped at the Quik Cary at about six o'clock P.m. Was it closed?"

"Yes. Which irritated me' a little because it's not supposed to close until six. I thought ugly thoughts, and now I feel so bad about that, too. Here she is dead in there and I'm mad at her because I couldn't get cookies…!" she sobbed.

"Did you see any cars in the lot?" Marino asked. "Any person or persons?"

"Not a one," she barely said.

"Think hard, Rose. Was there anything that struck you at all?"

"Oh, yes;" she said. "And this is what I've been trying to get at. I could see from Libbie that the market was closed because the lights were out, so I pulled into the lot to turn around, and I saw the closed sign on the door. I got back on Libbie and hadn't gone any farther than the ABC store when this car was suddenly behind me with its high beams on."

"Were you headed home?" I asked.

"Yes. And I really didn't think anything until I turned on Grove and he did, too, staying on my bumper with those darn lights about to blind me. Cars going the other way were flicking their lights up and down to tell him his high beams were on, in case he didn't know. But he clearly intended for them to be on. By now I was getting frightened."

"Any idea what kind of car? Could you see anything?" Marino asked.

"I was practically blinded, and then I was so confused. Immediately I thought of the car in my parking lot on Tuesday night when you came by," she said to me. "And then your telling me you'd been followed. And I started thinking about Chuck and drugs and the sort of horrible people who get involved in that."