Chapter 21
Nora
“I WAS NEVER even supposed to be working the dermatology route,” I tell Thorner ten minutes later. The four of us are seated in one of the conference rooms, Stella and Thorner on one side of the table, Jack and I on the other. “Our previous rep went into premature labor which kickstarted her maternity leave early and left us in a bit of a jam. “I volunteered to handle both routes until a more permanent arrangement could be made.”
“Both routes?” Thorner asks, tapping his pencil rhythmically on the table. “What’s your other route?”
“Geriatrics,” I tell him.
“I see.” He nods, leaving me wondering what exactly he sees. How could he possibly see anything just from that one word. “So, how long were you handling both routes?”
“Oh,” I think back, “probably almost eight weeks. Then the rep on maternity leave announced she wasn’t coming back, and I put my foot down, said it was too much for one person to handle long term. That’s when Ian moved Stella over to dermatology.” I take a sip of the bottled water Jack grabbed me from the vending machine.
“And when did you start giving Ian the Minoxidil?” he asks casually. I spit out the water in my mouth.
“W-what?” I sputter, grabbing a fistful of tissues from the box on the table and attempting to blot my chin and shirt dry. “I did not give Ian Minoxidil. I would never do that.”
“I see,” he says again.
“I don’t think you do see,” I inform him. “You seem to think that the only possibility here is that someone else gave Ian those sample pills. Did you ever stop to consider the fact that he may have just taken them himself? He’s the boss. He probably could've found a way to steal them if he really wanted to.”
“Too bad he’s dead.” Thorner’s mouth dips as his eyebrows raise. “So it’s not like we can ask him.”
“Still,” Jack declares, “by my tally that’s three potential suspects. Do you really think that you can prove beyond a reasonable doubt that one of these two women did this?”
Thorner narrows his eyes at Jack, but Jack is unflappable—staring straight back at him with no sign of backing down.
Thorner clears his throat and looks away.
“Fine,” he barks.
Just like that Stella’s handcuffs are removed and Thorner heads on his way. Sure before he leaves he promises that this isn’t over, but Jack’s point remains—he simply doesn’t have enough proof to hold us. Presumably he’s going to attempt to get some (maybe get a warrant so he can check our bank records for any influx of money that might look suspicious or interview a few of our coworkers to see if they’ve observed any suspicious behavior on our parts), but for now we’re good.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you married a cop,” Stella announces as soon as the door shuts behind Thorner. “I’m pretty sure that violates my Miranda rights.”
“And I’m pretty sure that Miranda rights only apply to people in police custody,” I reply dryly.
“Well, still,” Stella huffs, giving Jack the side-eye, “a little warning would’ve been nice.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “Although in my defense, we just wanted information. We weren’t planning on using anything against you.”
Stella considers this. “Is that your story too, police officer man?”
“I’m actually a detective,” Jack corrects, but Stella waves this away, waiting expectantly for an answer. Jack shakes his head, but nods. “Yes, I just wanted whatever information you had to share that could help us solve the case. I don’t consider you a person of interest in either Ian’s murder or this whole pharmaceutical drug trafficking business.” He turns to me. “I do, however, still really want to talk to Cleo.”
“Cleo?” Stella asks, leaning forward in interest. “What do you want to talk to her for? Is it because I told you she was having an affair with Ian? Do you think she killed him?” Jack and I exchange a look. “You do! Don’t you?” Stella exclaims. “Well then you should know that she left right after I got off the phone with you.”
“She’s not here?” Jack clarifies.
“Nope.” Stella shakes her head. “But I heard her tell Ian’s assistant that she was headed to Doctor Polter’s offices.”
“Doctor Polter!” I exclaim. “But he’s a plastics’ guy.”
Stella gives me an apologetic shrug. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s not like I could stop her.”
“So what,” I mutter irritably, “she thinks because Ian’s dead, she can just promote herself?”
“Hey, that sounds like motive!” Stella cries evidently all too eager to declare Cleo guilty. I don’t particularly like Cleo, but that doesn’t mean I want her to go to jail for my crime.
“I don’t think Cleo killed Ian,” I say hastily.
“We just think she might have some information that could be helpful to the case,” Jack adds. “Just like you did.”
“Oh.” Stella looks disappointed. She doesn’t like Cleo either. It’s hard to like someone who is constantly putting you down. “Okay, well, good luck with that I guess.” She taps her fingernails on the table. “How about me?” she asks. “Should I be doing anything to, you know, counteract whatever that Thorner guy is going to try and bring against me?”
“Just hang tight for now,” Jack tells her. “He’s got nothing on you guys but a little bit of circumstantial evidence.”
“Okay.” Stella nods.
“There is one other somewhat unrelated thing we need from you, though” he says carefully. “Something I think might loosen Cleo’s lips a little bit.”
“Of course, anything you need,” Stella enthuses. “Just name it.”
***
“THANKS FOR STANDING up for me back there,” I tell Jack as he puts the car in cruise control on the highway. As I speak my fingers fiddle nervously with the clasp of the manila envelope he gave me to hold onto, this one containing the photo of Ian and Cleo. Stella gave it to us at Jack’s request.
“Don’t mention it,” Jack replies with his typical gruffness. The man can never seem to accept any show of gratitude. Maybe I should kiss him again. You know, purely as an expression of my gratitude. “You really didn’t know Ian was on that stuff?” he asks before I can get completely lost in a fantasy where I tell him I’m going to get an appropriate you’re welcome out of him if it’s the last thing I do, but then end up kissing him until he’s the one thanking me.
“Uh,” I reply dazedly, shaking my head to focus back on him, “no. I didn’t know. With his money I sort of assumed he got a hair transplant.”
“Hmmm,” Jack buzzes thoughtfully.
“I should tell you,” I add carefully, “that Minoxidil is also a drug that I give out to some of my doctors’ offices because it treats high blood pressure. So, even though I’m not on the dermatology route anymore I still have access. I wasn’t sure if I should tell Detective Thorner that or not.”
Jack swears softly. “That’s not great news,” is all he says, though. We’ve reached our exit and he turns his blinker on, merging onto the off-ramp.
“Yeah, well, drug trafficking charges seem like nothing compared to the whole murder conviction that’s starting to feel inevitable.” I’m being flippant on purpose. Flippancy is my current defense against fear.
Jack’s head whips around so fast to look at me that the car shifts with him, hitting a rumble strip that reverberates through my body.
“It’s not inevitable,” he insists. “Besides, if things really get out of hand, remember, there’s always Antigua.”
I force a smile, though in truth his words make me feel empty. “You can’t just leave Joy,” I say, then immediately feel stupid. Maybe he wasn’t planning on coming with me on this last-ditch effort move to Antigua. “Not that you’d have to come with me,” I correct quickly. “Obviously.”
Jack shoots me an amused look. “I suppose not,” he agrees and my heart sinks to the floorboards. It was stupid of me to think that just because we shared a kiss not too long ago, he might actually come with me to start a new life in a foreign country. “Then again, I am your husband. It would be a bit weird of me not to go with you. So I guess we’d just have to bring Joy with us. I think she’d like the warmer weather.”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face, so I turn to look out the window before Jack can see and get any ideas about me wanting to flee to Antigua with him.
I wish I could have even a brief reprieve from this whole murder coverup so that I could sit down and process through the tangle of emotions I have when it comes to Jack Reynolds. With the way things are going right now, I’m at a loss. Every time I think I’ve gained even an iota of clarity on the matter something new crops up to confuse me. It’s like when one of my balls of yarn gets tangled up and I fix one knot only to find another down the line. Most of the time I end up having to take scissors to the yarn before I can use it again.
I don’t want to take scissors to whatever it is that is pulling me closer to Jack.
“So, uh, what exactly are we going to ask Cleo?” I ask, ready for subject change.
“We’re going to ask her how long she’d been having an affair with Ian,” Jack says matter-of-factly, like asking this question is akin to asking her if she has any plans this weekend.
“Right and she’s going to tell us that why, exactly?”
“She might not,” Jack admits. “But it’s not the answer that I’m really after. I just want to spook her by letting her know that we know about it. Spooked people mess things up. It’s the same thing the security guard tried to do to us with that photo on my dashboard—spook us into making a mistake.”
“What mistake are you expecting her to make?”
“I want to know if she had any part in moving his body,” he explains. “If she did, chances are she’ll contact anyone else who may have helped her. We need to know if Connie and that security guy were involved or even just how many other players there are in this mess.”
“And then what?” I say morosely. “Not like we’re the type of people who are willing to kill a bunch of other people just to cover our tracks.”
“True,” he admits, nabbing the manila envelope off my lap with one hand and setting it in his own. “But I’m hoping we can find a way to come to a mutual understanding.” He taps the folder. “Whoever did this tampered with a crime scene. There has to be a reason they risked doing that. Here’s the medical building,” he adds, bringing the conversation to a close as he pulls into a spot. “Alright, let’s do this.” He reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze. My heart gives a little flutter in my chest. I could live out my days in Antigua with this man.
You know, if things really came to that.