Fatal Hearts (28 page)

CHAPTER 28

Hayden had just finished dealing with a guy with a blocked salivary duct, and she was still smiling at his reaction to her solution.

He was probably pretty good-looking under normal circumstances but not tonight. The poor guy had been terrified when his face suddenly ballooned while he was eating Chinese food. Of course, he’d freaked out, thinking it was an allergy, and his girlfriend had rushed him to the ER. The expression on his face when she’d handed him a WARHEADS sour candy had been priceless. She’d explained he should keep sucking sour candies to stimulate saliva production until the stone yielded to pressure and got flushed out. She gave him instructions to return if that didn’t resolve the problem, since surgery was occasionally required.

She was just about to move on to the next patient when Marta, the ER secretary, grabbed her. “I’ve got a caller for you—Boyd McBride. Says it’s important.”

Her smile disappeared. Could the tox report be back already?

She followed Marta back to the desk and picked up the phone. “Boyd? What’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you at work, but I need your take on this. And you didn’t answer your cell.”

“You heard from the police?”

“Yeah. The tox report is back. They’re saying Josh had an antidepressant in his system.” He named the drug. Not the most commonly used one, but not rarely used either.

“How much? I mean, was it a ginormous overdose or a little bit or a normal therapeutic dose?”

“That last one,” he said. “The kind of levels you have in your blood when you’ve taken it every day for weeks or months.”

“No.” She rejected the idea instantly. “Josh was not depressed. He was not under a doctor’s care for clinical depression.”

“That’s what I told Morgan, but he pointed out men aren’t all that forthcoming about their mental health.”

“But I’d have seen something. Sure, I know men can present different than women. They don’t tend to seem sad. But they do tend to get irritable. Biggest clue—they lose interest in pursuits they used to find pleasurable. I didn’t see that in him at all. Or fatigue or sleep disruption. He seemed . . . normal.”

“Is there any other medical reason someone might take antidepressants?”

“In some circumstances, but none that apply to Josh.”

“What kind of circumstances?”

“They can be very effective for chronic pain. Certain antidepressants are also used for smoking cessation and as a sleep aid. But I know Josh didn’t have chronic pain and wasn’t a smoker. As far as I know, he didn’t suffer from insomnia either. Besides, antidepressants tend to have side effects that men aren’t keen on.”

“Like what?”

“Loss of sexual desire.”

“You don’t think . . . ?”

“What?”

“What if he knew the meds would curb sexual desire? Given, you know, what I told you, do you think—”

“Oh, God, I hope not.” That would be too cruel. If he’d taken antidepressants to dull his desire for her, and that led to his death . . .

“No,” Boyd said. “No. We were right the first time. He wasn’t depressed.”

She wanted to believe that. Desperately. “Wait, he didn’t even have a doctor here, thanks to the shortage of family physicians. There’s a waiting list a mile long. How would he even get a prescription? It’s not the kind of thing they’re going to hand out at an after-hours clinic.”

“Morgan says he had a prescription that was filled at a downtown pharmacy about six weeks before his death.”

She gripped the telephone receiver tighter. “And who wrote the prescription?”

“Dr. Gunn,” Boyd said.

“Wait,
what
? That doesn’t make sense. You said he’d been taking it for weeks, but he’d only just met Gunn.”

“The cops say Gunn has a medical file for Josh. That he’d been seeing Gunn since shortly after he got here, probably when he had that upper respiratory bug.”

“Um, he saw a doctor for that URTI—me. I advised him on over-the-counter medications for his cough, told him to rest more, cut out the running, and take lots of vitamins C and D. I even made him chicken soup.”

“Then how do you explain the file?”

“It’s got to be faked, Boyd. I know Josh didn’t know Dr. Gunn. Remember that night he got the phone call and wrote down Gunn’s name on my checkbook? He asked me what I knew about him, what kind of practice he had, and I filled him in. At the time, I figured he was interested because of his work at the paper where he covered health issues, so I told him about some of the committee work Gunn had done for the Medical Society and the Regional Health Authority.”

There was silence on the other end of the line as Boyd digested that.

“I’m telling you, Boyd, Josh didn’t know Gunn, and he sure as hell wasn’t clinically depressed.” She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her now throbbing temple. “But now that you say he had that drug in his system, some things make sense.”

“Yeah, like him dropping dead.”

Hayden winced. “Yeah, that too. But remember what I said about how he seemed to mellow as the summer wore on? More content to sit and sunbathe at the lake and not so insistent about needing to be go-go-going all the time.” She bit her lip.

“Well, if he didn’t know Gunn and he wasn’t voluntarily taking the drug—a point on which we both agree—then who was giving it to him?”

“What about the people at work?” she suggested.

“Dammit. Dave Bradley.”

“What? Dave Bradley? No. Why would Dave Bradley give a noxious substance to Josh?”

“He liked you,” Boyd pointed out. “He liked you so much, he was following you and taking pictures of you.”

Her heart thumped. “What?”

“Josh noticed what he was doing and gathered evidence, which he then used to make sure Bradley cut it out.”

“You’re kidding me!”

“Not even close. I discovered it when I pressed Bradley early on about his shifty behavior. I thought he might know something about Josh’s death, but after he broke and told me about the other thing, I realized he was just freaking out, thinking I’d found digital copies of the incriminating pictures.”

“I can’t believe this!”

“Believe it. By the way, the first thing Bradley did when he heard Josh was dead was ransack Josh’s cubicle to recover the stalking photos before the cops found them.”

“Omigod. I thought he backed off because I finally got through to him.”

“Josh got through to him in the only way a man like that understands.”

“Okay, so Dave Bradley is creepier than I thought he was. But what makes you suggest he might have been involved in giving Josh antidepressants? That doesn’t make sense. To set Josh up like that, he’d need not only the general medical knowledge but the
specific
medical knowledge about how your mother died. Plus he’d have to know Arianna Duncan was Josh’s mother.”

“I don’t have any answers,” Boyd said.

“Also, Dave Bradley couldn’t have done it. He’d only be able to slip Josh the antidepressant on weekdays. If you’re on a therapeutic dose of antidepressant, you can’t miss two days. I’m not sure about this antidepressant, but with some of them, after missing a couple of days, you’d have to back off to the introductory dose or at least a lower dose and work back up.”

“Like I said, I don’t have all the answers. But I do know Bradley is related to Sylvia Stratton somehow. And he’s been coming around Stratton House, evidently to pry background information out of Sylvia about Dr. Gunn after he died.”

“We’re back to Angus Gunn, who knew how Arianna Duncan died and who also knew that Josh was Arianna’s son. I just don’t know how he could have delivered the antidepressants to Josh over that stretch of time.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ!”

“What?”

“It’s
Sylvia
. Sylvia Stratton was the only one in a position to administer the drug every day. Maybe she did it for Gunn. They were old friends.”

Hayden caught her breath with a gasp. “Boyd, do you know what you’re saying? This is Sylvia Stratton we’re talking about. And you’re saying . . . You’re suggesting—”

“That she helped Gunn commit murder? Yes, I do believe it. Although Ray Morgan thinks murder would be a hard charge to make stick, no matter who did it. But think about it, Hayden. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Sense?” Her laugh came out like a sob. “None of this makes sense. Why would she do that to Josh?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Gunn had something on her, something that—”

He broke off so suddenly, she thought his cell phone had dropped the call. “Boyd? Boyd, are you still there?”

“Shit, Hayden, maybe Gunn did know something and Sylvia decided he had to go. And by making it look like suicide, she makes him look guilty of orchestrating Josh’s death.”

“I can’t keep up.” She pressed her temple. “The longer we speculate, the uglier it gets.”

“Look, I’ve gotta go. I walked downtown for supper and now I’ve got to haul ass back to Stratton House.”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t go back there alone. Call Detective Morgan. Tell him everything you just told me.”

“I’ll do that right now.”

“Okay.”

The line went dead.

“Everything all right?” Marta asked, coming back up to the desk.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I need to think for a minute.” She met Marta’s eyes. “Any problem if I take my break early?”

“Good by me. And let me know if I can help.”

“I will.”

Hayden headed straight for the break room. She needed to sit down and think about this. She had the ominous feeling there was a gigantic cartoon anvil hanging over this situation, and she needed to figure it out before gravity kicked in and the anvil dropped, crushing . . .
Omigod, Boyd!

If Sylvia primed Josh to die from sudden cardiac arrest, she had to have been doing the same thing with Boyd over the nine days that he’d been here. All those free-range eggs and fresh-squeezed juice and organic fair-trade coffee—she’d bet her bottom dollar that it was spiked. Probably not with the same drug. That would be too obvious. But there must be dozens of pharmaceuticals that could put someone with latent LQTS in danger. And once the pump was primed, all that would be needed was a shock or a startle.

She grabbed her phone and called Boyd’s number, but the line was busy. He was probably on the line with Detective Morgan. Thank God for that, at least.

He said he’d walked downtown. How long would it take him to get back to Stratton House? Not long. If he ran—oh, God, she hoped he didn’t run but knew he would—ten minutes, maybe.

And would he really wait for Ray Morgan?

No, of course he wouldn’t. This was Josh’s life they were talking about. He wouldn’t shy away from confronting Sylvia. She might be an imperious freaking dragon, but she was a tiny woman in her sixties. Probably late sixties. Unless he calmed down enough to reason it through and realize she’d been drugging him too, no way would Boyd postpone confronting her.

She’d reached the staff room, but instead of entering it, she turned and hustled back to the desk. “I have to leave,” she called to Marta. “It’s an emergency. I’ll explain later.”

CHAPTER 29

The run back to Stratton House did nothing to cool Boyd’s rage. Nor did the fact that he still couldn’t get through to Ray Morgan.

He stood outside the service entrance of Stratton House, key in one hand, phone in the other.

He should wait until he could reach Morgan. Hell, he should wait for Morgan to arrive on the scene. But he wasn’t going to.

He’d tried Morgan’s cell first, of course. A couple of times. But it just kept routing him to voice mail. Then he’d tried the switchboard, who’d transferred him to a phone that rang endlessly.

He dialed the station again. This time, he told them Morgan hadn’t picked up and could they put him straight through to his voice mail. They did.

“Morgan, I tried to reach you, but I guess you must be off checking your hair or trimming your cuticles or something. I wanted to tell you I think I’ve figured this thing out. I’m pretty sure it was Sylvia Stratton who slipped the drugs to Josh. It’s so freaking obvious. She’s the only one who saw him every day, and she had the perfect delivery mechanism, that sensational free B&B breakfast. I still don’t know why, but I aim to find out. And . . . uh . . . you might want to come over here.”

He ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. He let himself in and went straight to the back of the house, where he knew he’d find Sylvia in her study.

She looked up at his entrance, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline. “Detective, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She pushed away from her keyboard. “I take it you didn’t encounter Mrs. Garner, or she’d have reinforced that I don’t entertain guests back here.”

“The forensic toxicology report on Josh came back today.”

“Did it?” She leaned back in her leather chair. “I should have thought Dr. Walsh could help you sort through it, but if you require my help—”

“Why did you do it?”

“Excuse me?”

Boyd felt the reins on his rage start to slip. “Why did you kill my brother?”

Her eyebrows shot up again. “My dear boy, I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

“The antidepressants. I know you went to a lot of trouble to make it seem as though they’d been prescribed by Dr. Gunn, but I know for a fact that Josh never met Dr. Gunn until days before he died. Hayden can confirm that positively. But you and Gunn were cozy. I’m thinking you had a role to play with my mother too. The birth, the adoption, the obliteration of the trail. I know it. Don’t goddamn sit there and deny it.”

She sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead as though he’d given her an inconvenient headache. “Okay, yes, I did it.”

He’d been prepared for anything but a flat-out admission. And now that it was out there, an undisputed fact, he felt totally gutted. Dizzy.

“But why?”

“You are as blind and stupid as that brother of yours, Detective. I eliminated Josh not because of who your mother was but because of who your father is.”

Who in the hell would make Sylvia Stratton kill— “The Senator.”

“Congratulations. You reached the correct conclusion in a matter of weeks, where it took your brother months.”

His father was the Senator
. Oh, my God.

“He knew about the Senator?”

“He suspected. You see, I knew where he kept that diary of his. I usually managed to snag it every few days to read about his sleuthing efforts.”

Rage flared anew. “You destroyed the diary.”

“I did. Unfortunately, you weren’t obliging enough to keep a record of your own investigation lying around. I had to resort to a listening device in your room.”

His room? The room where he and Hayden had made love?

“Yes, I can see it’s sinking in. I heard the two of you. I always suspected that girl’s morals left something to be desired. I’m sure she got up to the same thing with your brother.”

He let Sylvia’s disparaging words roll off his back. Clearly, she was trying to infuriate him. He needed to stay focused, figure this out. Why was she telling him all of this? Unless—

She opened the top drawer to her desk and pulled out a snub-nosed revolver. It looked small, but he didn’t doubt it was deadly.

On the other hand, seriously? She was going to
shoot
him? She was a poisoner.

“Put that away, Sylvia.” He felt as though he had to raise his voice over the rapid, painful hammering of his heart. “You’re a stealth killer, not a shooter. That’s far too messy.”

“You’re right. Mostly. But I think I proved I don’t mind a bit of blood with Dr. Gunn.”

So she
had
killed the poor bastard.

“I did, however, give him a little anesthetic beforehand. Something that clears the system very quickly, not that they’re apt to look for it anyway. Not with so obvious a suicide.”

Oh shit.
It finally clicked. She’d surmised Arianna’s long QT syndrome. Her success at killing Josh proved her suspicion correct and that he’d inherited it. Which meant Boyd also had it. So, naturally, she’d primed him for cardiac arrest too. The same orange juice or scrambled eggs or whatever she’d used to deliver the drug to Josh, she’d also used on him. His pulse leapt and staggered.

Shit, shit, shit.

He needed to keep her talking. Morgan would get that message anytime and come racing over. Hopefully.

“So how are you going to deal with me, hmm? You’re waving that gun around and I haven’t obliged you by dropping dead.”

“No, you haven’t. As I said from the beginning, you’re a tougher customer than young Joshua.”

“How did you kill him? Was it the exertion of the run?”

She smiled. “No. You two were far too fit for that. I used a snake.”

Boyd felt the blood drain from his face. “A snake?”

“Yes. Your brother was kind enough to regale me with tales of your shared phobias over breakfast one day.”

He glanced around, trying to see if she had a snake stashed somewhere. That might just do it. He was fucking terrified of snakes.

Keep her talking.

“So, what? You put a snake in his car?”

“In the thermal bag, right beside his water bottle. It was just a tiny, harmless snake, hardly big enough to qualify, but it did the trick. He probably arrested the moment his hand touched it.”

She was crazy. Batshit crazy.

Keep her talking.

“Then you slipped back and liberated the snake?”

“Obviously.”

“And you were trying to do the same to me.”

“Of course. Mrs. Garner’s car alarm. The doll. But you’ve proved nothing if not resilient.”

“Then how do you propose to kill me without using that gun?”

She smiled. “I thought I’d save the gun for Hayden.”

“
What?
”

“You’ve dragged her too far into this, Detective. Josh was clever enough to keep his investigation private, but you’ve been leaning on her this whole while.”

For the first time, real terror took serious root. He’d thought he could handle Sylvia, but he hadn’t counted on her targeting Hayden.

“You’ll never get away with it.”

“Of course I will. There was a break-in. You suffered a cardiac arrest trying to defend me and Hayden.”

“But Hayden’s not here.”

“You think I can’t get her here?”

“But Mrs. Garner . . . she’ll know there was no break-in.”

“Perhaps the burglar will shoot her too.”

Jesus.
The woman was genuinely crazy. She’d kill
Mrs. Garner
?

Of course she would. She’d already killed her longtime friend.

Fuck!

“You don’t need to do this. Hayden . . . she doesn’t know enough.”

“But, Detective, you just told me that she knew for certain Josh and Angus hadn’t met until very recently.” She got up and walked around the desk to stand a few feet away.

Oh, Jesus!
He’d sealed Hayden’s fate.

“That’s right.” Sylvia cocked the hammer on the little revolver. “She’s as good as dead, and it’s your fault.”

Boyd’s world whirled. He was as good as dead.

He had to take her out before she could get to Hayden. And if he couldn’t get the gun from her, maybe he could at least force her to shoot him. If the gun went off, the nurse upstairs with the Senator would call 911 and Sylvia’s plan would fall apart.

He lunged at her.