Once Pined

Dr. Shankar looked around at everybody in the room.

“Any comments so far?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Chief McCade said. “I still don’t think the deaths are connected.”

Riley was startled by the comment. But Dr. Shankar didn’t look surprised.

“Why not, Chief McCade?” she asked.

“Cody Woods was a plumber,” McCade said. “Wouldn’t it have been possible for him to have been exposed to thallium as an occupational hazard?”

“It’s possible,” Dr. Shankar said. “Plumbers have to be careful to avoid lots of hazardous substances, including asbestos and heavy metals such as arsenic and thallium. But I don’t think this was what happened in Cody Woods’ case.”

Riley was becoming more and more intrigued.

“Why not?” she asked.

Dr. Shankar clicked the remote, and toxicology reports appeared.

“These killings seem to be thallium poisoning with a difference,” she said. “Neither victim showed certain classic symptoms – hair loss, fever, vomiting, abdominal pain. As I said before, there was some joint pain, but little else. Death came quite suddenly, looking much like an ordinary heart attack. There was no lingering at all. If my staff hadn’t been on their toes, they might not have even noticed that these were cases of thallium poisoning.”

Bill seemed to be sharing Riley’s fascination.

“So we’re dealing with what – designer thallium?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Dr. Shankar said. “My staff is still untangling the chemical makeup of the cocktail. But one of the ingredients is definitely potassium ferrocyanide – a chemical that you might be familiar with as the dye Prussian blue. That’s strange, because Prussian blue happens to be the only known antidote to thallium poisoning.”

Chief McCade’s large mustache was twitching.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he growled. “Why would a poisoner administer an antidote along with the poison?”

Riley hazarded a guess.

“Might it have been to disguise the symptoms of thallium poisoning?”

Dr. Shankar nodded in agreement.

“That’s my working theory. The other chemicals we found would have interacted with thallium in a complex way that we don’t yet understand. But they probably helped control the nature of the symptoms. Whoever concocted the mixture knew what they were doing. They had a pretty keen knowledge of both pharmacology and chemistry.”

Chief McCade was drumming his fingers on the table.

“I don’t buy it,” he said. “Your results for the second victim must have been skewed by your results for the first. You found what you were looking for.”

For the first time, Dr. Shankar’s face showed a trace of surprise. Riley, too, was taken aback by the police chief’s audacity in questioning Shankar’s expertise.

“What makes you say that?” Dr. Shankar asked.

“Because we have a surefire suspect for Margaret Jewell’s killing,” he said. “She was married to another woman, name of Barbara Bradley – calls herself Barb. The couple’s friends and neighbors say the two were having problems, loud fights that woke up the neighbors. Bradley actually has a past record for criminal assault. Folks say she has a hair-trigger temper. She did it. We’re all but sure of it.”

“Why haven’t you brought her in?” Agent Sanderson demanded.

Chief McCade’s eyes darted about defensively.

“We’ve questioned her, at home,” he said. “But she’s a sly character, and we still haven’t got enough evidence to bring her in. We’re building a case. It’s taking some time.”

Agent Sanderson smirked and grunted.

He said, “Well, while you’ve been building your case, it seems that your ‘surefire’ suspect has gone right ahead and killed somebody else. You’d better pick up the pace. She might be getting ready to do it again right now.”

Chief McCade’s face was getting red with anger.

“You’re dead wrong,” he said. “I’m telling you, Margaret Jewell’s killing was an isolated incident. Barb Bradley didn’t have any motive to kill Cody Woods, or anybody else as far as we know.”

“As far as you know,” Sanderson added in a scoffing tone.

Riley could feel the underlying tensions coming to the surface. She hoped the meeting would end without a knockdown, drag-out fight.

Meanwhile, her brain was clicking away, trying to make sense of what little she knew so far.

She asked Chief McCade, “How financially well off were Jewell and Bradley?”

“Not well off at all,” he said. “Lower middle-class. In fact, we’re thinking that financial strain might have been part of the motive.”

“What does Barb Bradley do for a living?”

“She makes deliveries for a linen service,” McCade said.

Riley felt a hunch forming in her mind. She thought that a killer who used poison was likely to be a woman. And as a delivery person, this one could have had access to various health facilities. This was definitely someone she’d like to talk to.

“I’d like to have Barb Bradley’s home address,” she said. “Agent Jeffreys and I should go and interview her.”

Chief McCade looked at her as if she were out of her mind.

“I just told you, we’ve done that already,” he said.

Not well enough, apparently, Riley thought.

But she stifled the urge to say so aloud.

Bill put in, “I agree with Agent Paige. We should go check Barb Bradley out for ourselves.”

Chief McCade obviously felt insulted.

“I won’t allow it,” he said.

Riley knew that the FBI team leader, Agent Sanderson, could overrule McCade if he chose to. But when she looked to Sanderson for support, he was staring daggers at her.

Her heart sank. She instantly understood the situation. Although Sanderson and McCade hated each other, they were allies in their resentment of Riley and Bill. As far as both of them were concerned, agents from Quantico had no business being here on their turf. Whether they realized it or not, their egos were more important than the case itself.

How are Bill and I going to get anything done? she wondered.

By contrast, Dr. Shankar seemed as cool and collected as ever.

She said, “I’d like to know why it’s such a bad idea for Jeffreys and Paige to interview Barb Bradley.”

Riley was surprised at Dr. Shankar’s audacity in speaking up. After all, even as the chief medical examiner, she was brazenly overstepping her bounds.

“Because I’ve got my own investigation going!” McCade said, almost shouting now. “They’re liable to make a mess of it!”

Dr. Shankar smiled that inscrutable smile of hers.

“Chief McCade, are you actually questioning the competence of two agents from Quantico?”

Then, turning toward the FBI team leader, she added, “Agent Sanderson, what do you have to say about this?”

McCade and Sanderson both stared at Dr. Shankar in open-mouthed silence.

Riley noticed that Dr. Shankar was smiling at her. Riley couldn’t help smiling back at her in admiration. Here in her own building, Shankar knew how to project an authoritative presence. It didn’t matter who else thought they were in charge. She was one tough customer.

Chief McCade shook his head with resignation.

“OK,” he said. “If you want the address, you’ve got it.”

Agent Sanderson quickly added, “But I want some of my people to go with you.”

“That sounds fair,” Riley said.

McCade scribbled down the address and handed it to Bill.

Sanderson called the meeting to a close.

“Jesus, did you ever see such a pair of arrogant jerks in your life?” Bill asked as Riley walked with him to their car. “How the hell are we going to get anything done?”

Riley didn’t reply. The truth was, she didn’t know. She sensed that this case was going to be tough enough without having to deal with local power politics. She and Bill had to get their job done quickly before anyone else died.

CHAPTER NINE

Today her name was Judy Brubaker.

She enjoyed being Judy Brubaker.

People liked Judy Brubaker.

She was moving briskly around the empty bed, straightening sheets and plumping the pillows. As she did so, she smiled at the woman who was sitting in the comfortable armchair.

Judy hadn’t decided whether to kill her or not.

Time’s running out, Judy thought. I’ve got to make up my mind.

The woman’s name was Amanda Somers. Judy found her to be an odd, shy, and mousy little creature. She’d been under Judy’s care since yesterday.

Continuing to make up the bed, Judy began to sing.

Far from home,So far from home —This little baby’s far from home.

Amanda joined in with that small, reedy little voice of hers.

You pine awayFrom day to dayToo sad to laugh, too sad to play.

Judy was a bit surprised. Amanda Somers hadn’t shown any real interest in the lullaby until just now.

“You like that song?” Judy Brubaker asked.

“I suppose so,” Amanda said. “It’s sad, and I guess it fits my mood.”

“Why are you sad? Your treatment’s over and you’re going home. Most patients are happy to go home.”

Amanda sighed and said nothing. She put her hands together in a prayer position. Keeping her fingers together, she moved her palms away from each other. She repeated the movement a couple of times. It was an exercise Judy had taught her to help the healing process after Amanda’s carpal tunnel surgery.

“Am I doing this right?” Amanda asked.

“Almost,” Judy said, crouching beside her and touching her hands to correct her movements. “You need to keep the fingers elongated, so they bow outward. Remember, your hands are supposed to look like a spider doing pushups on a mirror.”

Amanda was doing it correctly now. She smiled, looking rather proud of herself.

“I can really feel it helping,” she said. “Thanks.”

Judy watched Amanda continue to do the exercise. Judy really hated the short, ugly scar that extended along the lower part of Amanda’s right hand.

Unnecessary surgery, Judy thought.

The doctors had taken advantage of Amanda’s trust and credulity. She was sure that less drastic treatments would have worked as well or better. A splint maybe, or some corticosteroid injections. Judy had seen too many doctors insist on surgery, whether it was needed or not. It always made her angry.

But today, Judy wasn’t upset just with the doctors. She felt impatient with the patient as well. She wasn’t sure just why.

Hard to draw out, this one, Judy thought as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

During their whole time together, Amanda had let Judy do all the talking.

Judy Brubaker had plenty of interesting things to talk about, of course. Judy wasn’t much like the now-vanished Hallie Stillians, who’d had the homey personality of a doting aunt.

Judy Brubaker was at once plainer and more flamboyant, and she usually wore a jogging suit instead of more conventional clothes. She loved to tell stories about her adventures – hang gliding, skydiving, scuba diving, mountain climbing, and the like. She’d hitchhiked across Europe and much of Asia.

Of course, none of those adventures had really happened. But they made for wonderful stories.

Most people liked Judy Brubaker. People who might find Hallie a bit cloying and sugary enjoyed Judy’s more plainspoken personality.

Maybe Amanda just doesn’t take to Judy, she thought.

For whatever reason, Amanda had told her almost nothing about herself. She was in her forties, but she never said anything about her past. Judy still didn’t know what Amanda did for a living, or if she did anything at all. She didn’t know whether Amanda had ever been married – although the absence of a wedding band indicated that she wasn’t married now.

Judy was dismayed by how things were going. And time really was running out. Amanda could get up and leave at any moment. And here Judy was, still trying to decide whether to poison her or not.

Part of her indecision was simple prudence. Things had changed a lot during the last few days. Her last two killings were now in the papers. It seemed that some smart medical examiner had detected thallium in the corpses. It was a worrisome development.

She had a teabag ready with an altered recipe that used a little more arsenic and a little less thallium. But detection was still a danger. She had no idea whether the deaths of Margaret Jewell and Cody Woods had been traced back to their rehab stays or to their caregivers. This method of killing was becoming riskier.

But the real problem was that the whole thing just didn’t feel right.

She had no rapport with Amanda Somers.

She didn’t feel like she even knew her.

Offering to “toast” Amanda’s departure with a cup of tea would feel forced, even vulgar.

Anyway, the woman was still here, exercising her hands, showing no inclination to go away just yet.

“Don’t you want to go home?” Judy asked.

The woman sighed.

“Well, you know, I’ve got other physical problems. There’s my back, for instance. It’s getting worse as I get older. My doctor says I need an operation for it. But I don’t know. I keep thinking that maybe therapy is all I need to get better. And you’re such a good therapist.”

“Thank you,” Judy said. “But you know, I don’t work here full time. I’m a freelancer, and today’s my last day here for the time being. If you stay here any longer, it won’t be under my care.”

Judy was startled by Amanda’s wistful gaze. Amanda had seldom made eye contact like this with her before.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Amanda said.

“What what’s like?” Judy asked.

Amanda shrugged a little, still looking into Judy’s eyes.

“Being surrounded by people you can’t fully trust. People who seem to care about you, and maybe they do, but then again, maybe they don’t. Maybe they just want something from you. Users. Takers. A lot of people in my life are like that. I don’t have any family, and I don’t know who my friends are. I don’t know who I can trust and who I can’t.”

With a slight smile, Amanda added, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Judy wasn’t sure. Amanda was still speaking in riddles.

Does she have a crush on me? Judy wondered.

It wasn’t impossible. Judy was aware that people often thought she was gay. That always amused her, because she’d never really given any thought to whether Judy was gay or not.

But maybe it wasn’t that.

Maybe Amanda was simply lonely, and she’d come to like and trust Judy without her even realizing it.

One thing seemed certain. Amanda was emotionally very insecure, probably neurotic, certainly depressive. She must be taking quite an array of prescription medicines. If Judy could get a look at them, she might be able to come up with a cocktail especially for Amanda. She’d done that before, and it had its advantages, especially at a time like now. It would be good to skip the thallium recipe this once.

“Where do you live?” Judy asked.

An odd look crossed Amanda’s face, as if she were trying to decide what to tell Judy.

“On a houseboat,” Amanda said.

“A houseboat? Really?”

Amanda nodded. Judy’s interest was piqued. But why did she have the feeling that Amanda wasn’t telling her the truth – or at least not the whole truth?

“Funny,” Judy said. “I’ve lived in Seattle off and on for years, and there are so many houseboats in the waterways in these parts, but I’ve never actually been on one. One of the few adventures I haven’t had.”

Amanda’s smile brightened and she didn’t say anything. That inscrutable smile was starting to make Judy nervous. Was Amanda going to invite her to visit her on her houseboat? Did she even really have a houseboat?

“Do you do at-home visits for your clients?” Amanda asked.

“I do sometimes, but …”

“But what?”

“Well, I’m not supposed to in situations like this. This rehab center would consider it poaching. I signed an agreement not to.”

Amanda’s smile turned a little bit mischievous.

“Well, what would be wrong with your paying me a simple social visit? Just stop by. See my place. We could chat. Spend some time together. See where things go. And then, if I decided to hire you … well, that would be different, wouldn’t it? Not poaching at all.”

Judy smiled. She was starting to appreciate Amanda’s cleverness. What she was suggesting would still be bending the rules, if not breaking them outright. But who would ever know? And it certainly suited Judy’s purposes. She’d have all the time she needed.

And the truth was, Amanda was starting to fascinate her.

It would be exciting to get to know her before she killed her.

“That sounds marvelous,” Judy said.

“Good,” Amanda chirped, not sounding the least bit sad anymore.

She reached into her purse, took out a pencil and notepad, jotted down her address and phone number.

Judy took the note and asked, “Do you want to make an appointment?”

“Oh, let’s not get all regimented about it. Sometime soon would be fine. During the next day or two. But don’t stop by unexpected. Call me first. That’s important.”

Judy wondered why that was so important.

She’s certainly got a secret or two, Judy thought.

Amanda got up and put on her coat.

“I’ll check myself out now. But remember. Call me.”

“I’ll do that,” Judy said.

Amanda walked out of the room into the hall, singing some more of the lullaby, her voice sounding happier and surer now.

No need to weep,Dream long and deep.Give yourself to slumber’s sweep.

As Amanda’s voice vanished down the hall, Amanda sang the rest of it quietly to herself.

No more sighs,Just close your eyesAnd you will go home in your sleep.

Things were going Judy’s way after all.

And this killing was going to be special.

CHAPTER TEN

Riley tried to ignore the tensions inside the FBI vehicle as she and Bill headed out to interview the wife of a poison victim. She thought that Barb Bradley could be a viable suspect. The fact that she delivered linens struck her as possibly significant. If the woman made medical deliveries, maybe she’d also had access to Cody Woods, who had admitted himself to a hospital and died there.

It was obvious that nobody in Seattle law enforcement was happy with the presence of two agents from Quantico. But then, none of those working on this case seemed happy with each other either.

Maybe the local animosity is catching, Riley thought. She had already found herself annoyed with both of the agents that Sanderson assigned to work with them. She told herself it was an irrational feeling, but her dislike persisted.

In spite of all that, it was good that she and Bill were going to interview Barb Bradley right away.

Are we going to really get lucky and solve this thing today? she wondered.

She knew better than to get her hopes up. Breaks like that were few and far between. It was more likely that progress was going to be slow and tough, especially due to all the infighting and power plays in the air.

The rain had ended and the air was starting to clear.

At least, Riley thought, that could help make the trip more pleasant.

Agent Jay Wingert was driving, and Riley and Bill were sitting in the back seat.

Wingert had the physique and good looks of a male fashion model – and the same complete lack of personality. Riley couldn’t imagine that there was a single thought in that well-formed head with its perfectly groomed hair.

Agent Lloyd Havens was sitting in the passenger seat. Lean and wiry, he sported a pretentious pseudo-military posture and spoke in short, abrupt sentences. A chronic sneer didn’t add to his charm as far as Riley was concerned.

Havens turned toward Bill and Riley.

“I thought you guys were here in an advisory capacity,” he said. “To help develop a profile. Not to actually investigate the case. Agent Wingert and I are the team on this.”

Riley heard Bill grumble and hurried to get in a reply first.

“Interviewing a suspect can help us develop a profile,” she said. “We need as much information as we can pull together.”

“Seems like overkill, the four of us interviewing Bradley,” he said. “Might spook the suspect.”

Riley was surprised to hear him say so. After all, Sanderson had insisted upon sending all four of them. But she couldn’t disagree. Four was definitely going to be a crowd.

“Agent Paige, Agent Jeffreys,” Havens added in that clipped, official-sounding manner of his. “No need to trouble yourselves. Agent Wingert and I will do the interview. You can wait in the car.”

Riley exchanged shocked glances with Bill. Neither one of them knew what to say.

Is this brat really giving us orders? Riley thought.

Then it occurred to her that this was Sanderson’s idea, and Havens was acting on his instructions. Maybe it was Sanderson’s way of making his guests from Quantico feel thoroughly unwelcome.

Havens continued in his brazenly self-assured tone.

“Unusual case for a serial. Poisoning’s not at all typical. A lesser-used method. Strangulation is much more common. After that, attack-type weapons – knives, guns, blunt objects, and the like. Up close and personal, that’s the usual serial killer for you. This doesn’t fit the usual parameters.”

He was directing his comments to Riley, as if giving her a lecture on criminology.

A mansplainer if ever there was one, she thought with rising distaste.

And of course, he wasn’t saying anything that she and Bill didn’t know already.

“Oh, but there are always outliers,” Riley said, fully aware of her own condescending tone. “Agent Jeffreys and I have seen all sorts. Our last serial killer shot people completely at random, purely for the love of killing.”

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