Hypocrisy (22 page)

Dupree looked at her watch. “Let’s get some lunch before we head over to Horizon.”

“Great idea. I’m starving.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

After having a quick lunch at Joshua’s Deli, Dupree and T.J. headed for the Horizon Cancer Research Center in the Bronx.

“I can’t believe you ate that entire corn beef sandwich,” Dupree said. “And that’s after you downed a half dozen kosher pickles.”

“Hey, a growing boy needs his fuel.”

“Well, if you keep fueling your body like that, make sure you’ve got a closet full of fat pants.”

“Aren’t we the witty one today,” T.J. said.

“I’m just messing with you.” Dupree laughed out loud. “Some women actually like chubby men.”

Dupree was relieved that in spite of the seriousness of homicide investigations, T.J. and she could still enjoy a little humor. When a cop is all formal and uptight, it makes the job harder and keeps the blood pressure elevated.

After weaving through traffic for forty-five minutes, Dupree and T.J. pulled into the lot next to the ten-story building where Horizon’s facility was located. They walked in the front door, and without uttering a sound, flashed their IDs as they passed the almost-sleeping security guard. Then they hopped on the elevator. When they stepped off the elevator, the perky receptionist promptly greeted them.

“Good morning,” Dupree said. “I’m Detective Dupree and this is Detective Brown. We have an appointment with Dr. Mason.”

The receptionist held up her index finger. “One moment please, while I call Dr. Mason.”

Dupree noticed that the activity level of the entire facility seemed much less intense than she remembered. During their last visit, the place was a virtual beehive. But today, it appeared that everyone moved around in slow motion and Dupree noticed fewer employees.

Dupree spotted Dr. Mason heading her way.

“Nice to see you both,” Dr. Mason said. “I wish it were under different circumstances.” He motioned with his arm. “Please follow me.”

Trailing behind Dr. Mason, Dupree craned her neck left then right, and confirmed her earlier suspicions: Horizon Cancer Research Center was operating at half-throttle. When the three of them entered Dr. Mason’s office, the stale cigarette odor Dupree remembered from her last visit seemed even more pronounced. She wasn’t surprised. She could only imagine the amount of stress Dr. Mason would have had to endure since Dr. Crawford’s murder.

Before they could even sit down, Dr. Mason said, “Please tell me that you’ve arrested the killer.”

“We do have someone in custody and I feel we have sufficient evidence to prosecute,” Dupree said. “There are a few puzzle pieces still missing, but we’re very close to charging the suspect with murder.”

Normally, Dupree wouldn’t so freely share this much information at this stage of an investigation. But considering the possibility that Mason may have played a role in the conspiracy, she wanted to see how he reacted. He remained rock solid. No flinching. No eye twitches. And no nervous swallowing.

“Fantastic! You can’t imagine the chaos that resulted from Lauren’s murder. Nearly everyone on staff is updating their résumés. They parade in and out of my office all day long and ask if
I’ve found funding or if I’ve made a deal with a competent partner who can get us back on track.”

“And have you made any progress?” Dupree asked.

“I have. Thank God. In fact, I’ve all but decided to make a deal with Hyland Laboratories, the biggest pharmaceutical company in the world. They virtually have unlimited funds—I think they netted sixteen billion last year—and their flagship drug is Camadyacin, one of the most widely used chemotherapy drugs for treating cancer. They have years of research experience and employ a drug development division second to none.”

“We’re so glad to hear that,” Dupree said. “Isn’t Hyland the company that tried to partner with Horizon awhile back, but Dr. Crawford nixed the deal?”

“That is correct.”

“And didn’t they also try to hire Maggie Hansen?” Dupree said.

“They did. But that’s ancient history.

“When do you expect to firm up the deal?” Dupree asked.

“As a matter of fact, Michael Adelman, the CEO of Hyland, will be in my office tomorrow morning at ten a.m. to discuss the partnership. He’s flying into New York from his home office in Albany. Assuming that we can work out a few kinks, I’m hopeful we can come to terms.” Dr. Mason nervously tugged on his collar. “There is a legal issue, however, that I need to address. Striking a deal with Hyland isn’t as simple as signing an agreement. There is a grueling legal process we have to go through.

“Were you considering any other partners?” T.J. asked.

“Actually, three different pharmaceutical companies joined forces and wanted to form a partnership with Horizon as a team. Ritter-Stone, Global Pharmaceuticals, and Fowler-Paine made a generous offer, and I was really tempted to go with them. But they wanted controlling interest in the project and that was never going to happen.”

Mason blinked excessively. “There was another issue that convinced me to go with Hyland.” Mason, noticeably uncomfortable, adjusted himself in the chair and swallowed several times. “They tried to bribe me.”

“In what regard?” Dupree asked.

“They offered me personally a significant amount of money to sign an agreement with them. They claimed, of course, that it was an
incentive
and made it clear that I could keep the money even if I decided not to consummate the deal. But clearly, they were trying to bribe me.”

“Mind if I ask how much they offered?” T.J. asked.

“One-million dollars.”

“Wow,” T.J. said. “No offense, but that had to be a tempting offer. I mean a
million
dollars.”

“My integrity is worth a lot more, Detective Brown. I had a very successful practice and invested wisely, so money in itself is not much of a motivator for me. Granted, if and when the FDA approves our findings, I expect to earn a fair share of the profits. But make no mistake about it. This is not about money; it’s about finding better treatments, and possibly a cure for cancer.”

Dupree looked in Mason’s eyes the whole time he was talking, searching for any sign that he was nervous or uncomfortable. He passed the test.

“Dr. Mason,” Dupree said, “tell us about Horizon’s connection to Dominic Gallo?”

“He’s the Deputy Director of the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research, a wing of the FDA. In fact, I believe I told you when we last met that he had been working with Lauren for quite some time.”

“Excuse me for asking,” Dupree said, “but isn’t it a conflict of interest for a senior representative from the FDA to work directly with any organization researching and developing drugs?”

“You’re absolutely right, Detective. But not everything in the world is clearly black and white. Lauren had appealed personally to the FDA commissioner and asked permission to work directly with a high-level representative from the CDER. At first, the commissioner turned her down flat. But when he learned the significance of her research and the potential to cure cancer, how could he not support her efforts every way possible?”

“Did Dr. Crawford ask specifically to work with Dominic Gallo?” Dupree asked.

“If my memory serves me correctly, I think it was the other way around. Dominic was very passionate about Lauren’s theories and wanted to work with her throughout the entire developmental process.”

“He sounds like a very dedicated man,” T.J. said. “Did he actually come to Horizon or communicate with Dr. Crawford more by telephone, text, and e-mail?”

“He was a regular visitor. In fact, he’s flying in from Maryland tomorrow morning to meet with Michael Adelman and me. He wants to help us solidify the partnership agreement and help us cut through as much red tape as possible.”

Dupree glanced at her watch. “Well, Dr. Mason, we’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you so much for talking with us again. Good luck with your meeting tomorrow morning.”

“My pleasure, detectives. I hope you have a pleasant day.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Dupree said. “Are you acquainted with Jonathan Lentz?”

“I wouldn’t use the word, ‘acquainted’, but yes, I met him at my last holiday party.”

“Have you spoken to him recently?”

“As a matter of fact, he’s called a couple of times.”

Dupree could tell by the tone in Mason’s voice that Lentz’s calls were unwelcomed. “May I ask why he called?”

“He asked me to rehire Margaret Hansen.”

“And is that something you’re considering?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “At this particular time I’d say, no, but nothing is carved in stone.”

“Thanks again, Dr. Mason,” Dupree said.

Dupree and T.J. couldn’t get to the elevator fast enough.

“Talk about good timing,” T.J. said as the doors closed. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we’re coming back here tomorrow morning to bushwhack Mason, Adelman, and Gallo?”

“Exactly.”

“Now let’s get back to the precinct. It’s time to squeeze Cassano’s
huevos
,” Dupree said.

“I’m drooling just thinking about it,” T.J. said.

“You have no idea how many one-liners are popping into my head.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Just hanging down there with you, partner.”

When Dupree and T.J. dragged their weary bodies through the front door of the precinct, they spotted Captain Jensen having a conversation with Detectives Mark Wells and Craig Parisi.

“What’s the latest?” the captain asked Dupree. “Commissioner McVay is up my ass all-day-long.”

“Wow,” T.J. said, “I didn’t know the commissioner was a proctologist.”

Jensen glared at T.J. “Best button your lips, Detective.”

“Lots going on, Captain,” Dupree said. “I’ll have a full report by the end of the day.”

“Just give me the abridged version for now.”

Dupree told the captain everything T.J. and she had discovered over the last couple of days; Lentz’s connection to Gallo and Cassano; the unusual circumstances surrounding Tesler’s murder; Dr. Mason’s involvement with Hyland Laboratories and Gallo; the apparent romance between Lentz and Hansen. She gave him a recap of all the major facts, but decided to tell him privately about the suspicious letter she’d received.

Captain Jensen handed Dupree a plain white envelope. “This ought to make your day.”

At first, Dupree ignored Jensen’s outstretched hand, remembering the last letter she’d gotten. Feeling uneasy, she gingerly tore open the envelope and felt relieved to find Maggie Hansen’s bank statement and cell phone records. “You
did
make my day, Captain.”

“That’s just the beginning,” the captain said. “Parisi’s got an early Christmas gift for you.”

Parisi grinned from ear to ear. He stood and pushed his thinning hair out of his eyes. “Since Ivan Tesler’s murder, Wells and I, along with a few police officers, have been canvassing the neighborhood, hoping that someone saw or heard something. We thought that it was a bust, but then Tesler’s next door neighbor, a John Richardson called headquarters. He said that he saw a large man leaving Tesler’s home at nine p.m., the night Tesler was murdered, and that the guy looked like he was in a hurry. That’s about thirty minutes before Tesler called 911 for help.”

“How can the neighbor be sure of the time?” T.J. asked.

“Because he claims that he walks his dog every night at precisely nine-o-clock and that he’s been doing it for twelve years.”

“Did he see what kind of car the suspect was driving, or get a license plate number?” Dupree asked.

“Richardson said it was dark and he wasn’t sure what the guy was driving. But it looked like a full-size Chevy pickup truck.
When the suspect started the truck and turned on the lights, Richardson memorized part of the plate number.”

“Hold on a minute,” Dupree said. “Why would he even think to do that? What led Richardson to believe the driver of the truck was up to no good?”

“I asked Richardson the same thing and he told me the guy just looked out of place.”

“Did you run the partial plate number?”

“I gave the info to Brenda—the Wizard of Oz—and she worked her mojo.” Parisi grinned again. “Guess what? The truck is registered to Oscar Cassano.”

Dupree felt her heart thumping in her ears. “Thanks, Craig.”

“My pleasure. I hope you nail this son-of-a-bitch.”

Parisi went about his business and T.J. was busy shuffling through a pile of papers.

“Hey, Dupree,” the captain yelled. “Got a few minutes for me?”

She looked at her watch. “I can do better than that. I’ll give you five.”

She asked T.J. to sit tight and said she’d be back soon. She turned to leave, but T.J. stopped her. “Are you going to tell him about the letter?”

“If I can get a word in edgewise.”

Dupree followed Jensen down the hallway to his office.

Once seated, Jensen picked up an envelope lying on top of his two-drawer file cabinet. “A FedEx driver delivered this about an hour ago. I was going to leave it on your desk until I noticed that the sender is Margaret Crawford. She’s Dr. Crawford’s mother, correct?”