Pool Of Lies Part 10

"Convenient." Rae, dressed in low-key slacks and jacket, followed in Veronica's tracks. She noticed that Veronica still tended to wear flamboyant colors, even on the job-but jeans? Never. Rae wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. Veronica could end up in deep s.h.i.+t for having a civilian in her vehicle. Rae a.s.sumed she must have gotten clearance due to their overlapping interests in the case. What did she mean...pick her brain?

Now, the women stood at the prescription window, Veronica in the lead, Rae, uncomfortable, hanging back as if she were the next customer in line.

Veronica flashed her I.D. "Can you tell me who was on duty April 25th?"

The tall, gray-haired man consulted a calendar on his desk. "A Friday. I was. How can I help you?" He didn't smile.

"Did you fill a prescription for a Morgan Farris on that date?"

Rae watched the man's Adam's apple bob. "I don't think I can answer that," he replied. "The HIPAA law. Patient privacy, you know."

Veronica retained her cool confidence. "Actually, I don't care about Mrs. Farris's prescription. I'm just trying to trace the activities of her nephew. Did a young man pick up a prescription for Mrs. Farris on April 25th?"

"Bayfield-Farris."

"Excuse me?"

"Mrs. Farris uses a hyphenated name. Bayfield-Farris."

"Fine. Did a young man pick up her prescription?"

"Not exactly." The pharmacist twisted in his white smock, his long neck reminding Rae of a turkey.

Veronica bore down upon him with her dark eyes. "What do you mean by 'not exactly'?"

"Isn't this against the privacy rules?"

Veronica smiled, but her eyes were hard as pieces of coal. "I don't want to intrude on Mrs. Bayfield-Farris's medical privacy. I just want to know if her nephew, Kevin Cantrell was here. He was nineteen. About five-ten. Brown hair."

"Was?"

"He's dead. I'm investigating a possible homicide. Now will you help me?"

"Oh, my. I thought you were going to say Mrs. Bayfield-Farris was dead."

"Why is that?"

"B..because..." the man stuttered, "I had to go to the car to get her signature. A Cla.s.s Two substance can't be released to a third party--" He brought himself up short, apparently panicking that he'd revealed too much already. "Oh, this law. It's so difficult to know what one can and can't--"

Veronica interrupted the pharmacist's mental juggling. "So you went to the car and then what?"

"She...Mrs. Bayfield-Farris was slumped over in the pa.s.senger seat. I wanted to call nine-one-one."

"Then what happened?"

The man shook his head. "I knew this was going to be trouble."

"Did she sign for the prescription?"

"She sat up and signed the form. The boy said he was taking her home."

"Thanks for your help," said Veronica. "Can you give me one of your cards in case we have some more questions?"

He pulled a card from a holder on his desk and exchanged it for one of Veronica's.

"Please call me if you think of anything else," added Veronica.

"What's a Cla.s.s Two substance?" asked Rae when she and Veronica were back in the car.

"A controlled substance. Legal, but strong stuff. Now let me ask you one. Why do you suppose she uses her grandfather's surname?" Veronica headed out of the Rite Way parking lot.

"Grandpa Bayfield was an egotistical son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h who threatened to disinherit his daughter and granddaughters if they didn't take his name."

"Your source of that tidbit?"

"Danny."

"How's he doing?"

"Not too bad. He'll probably go home in a day or two." Rae hoped the heart attack was a wake-up call for Danny, but she wasn't about to share this with Veronica.

"He doesn't get anything from the Bayfield Estate, right?"

"I can't discuss that with you, Veronica. But you can look it up. The probate is of public record."

"Rae! I put my b.u.t.t on the line so we could help each other here. Don't give me that confidentiality c.r.a.p."

"You just did that. Not ten minutes ago."

Veronica pulled abruptly over to the edge of the strip mall parking lot and turned off the ignition. "We don't think Danny's involved. Okay? We do believe money is the motive here. It would help to know that Danny doesn't stand to profit from the deaths of his wife and stepson. It would allow us to s.h.i.+ft our focus. Quicker, maybe, if we didn't have to reinvent the wheel. In other words, what you already know may save legwork on our part and maybe help your client."

Rae deliberated. "I know where you're coming from, but I'll have to tell Danny what I'm doing. Let's just say that if I were you, I'd start with the Bayfield financial records. Sam says he gave the kid a check, then never saw him again? I'd ask to see the cancelled check."

"That's why we're going back to Bayfield Enterprises. You've met Sam Garvin, right?"

"You know I have."

"How about the secretary?"

"What secretary?"

"The one that sits at the front desk. Fredricka. She told me Sam Garvin gave her the afternoon off on April 25th, so she never saw Kevin."

"There was n.o.body in the office but Sam Garvin when I was there. What about in Golden? Didn't anybody see anything?"

"The house sits on the edge of a field. There aren't any close neighbors. We've canva.s.sed the area and come up with a big, fat zero."

"Thank you for sharing," Rae said, trying to keep sarcasm to a minimum. "So, why am I here?"

Veronica started up the engine and headed out of the parking lot, turning right onto Simms. Rae waited for an answer to her question.

"I told you the real reason you're here is for me to pick your brain. I know my strengths and they don't lie in the area of financial matters. Who would you recommend to do an audit of Bayfield Enterprises...that is, if I can convince my boss and the D.A. that we have probable cause."

"Me."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"But there's a problem--" Rae was cut short by a beep from Veronica's cell.

Veronica grabbed the call. Rae listened, but couldn't tell anything from the one-word responses from Veronica.

The conversation over, Veronica reversed directions and seemed to be headed back to her office.

"Change of plans?"

"Kevin's tox screen is in."

"And?"

"Positive for cocaine and meperidine."

"Meperidine?"

"A synthetic narcotic."

"So he died of a drug overdose like his mom?"

"I need to see that report. Are you serious about doing some work for us?"

"Better believe it."

Jeffco deputy sheriffs had been questioning Danny for a week. In his hospital room. He couldn't seem to keep from answering their questions with questions.

"When was the last time you saw or spoke with Kevin Cantrell?" This one was a sawed-off peewee in plain clothes, with a head of retreating blondish fuzz. Gus Collins. He had an Adam's apple that bobbled up and down when he spoke.

"You guys must not exchange notes," Danny lobbed back.

"I'll read you a couple of your answers: 'Not since my wife's funeral.' Then there was 'Oh, yeah, now that you mention it, Pat Keech and I ran into him once doing the renovation estimate.' This was after you were told Mr. Keech had remembered seeing the boy."

He crossed a stubby leg and fiddled with his sock, pulling it up in his boot. "Thought your memory might be improving. Word is you're set to go home today."

"Who told you that?" Danny asked pleasantly, sitting there on the bed in his street clothes, an overnight bag at his feet.

Sarcastic son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h. Danny could almost hear the words rattling at the back of the cop's throat. But the guy just nodded and ground his teeth into a mean grin.

"When did you say Kevin died?"

"I didn't. When do you think he died?" asked Grumpy.

They both turned toward the doorway as Rae entered, followed by Sandy. Danny's transient memory checked in long enough to remind him that Sandy had given him explicit instructions on his last visit: Do not answer any questions. Refer them to me.

Oops.

Behind Rae and Sandy there was someone else in the doorway. The hot-looking Latina from Lakewood P.D. Veronica. No memory problem there. Maybe, after he'd fully recuperated, he should explore the option of older women.

Veronica gave Grumpy the high sign. Just a quick frown and tilt of her head told Danny she was not pleased with what she saw.

"Hey guys. I think we're short a couple of chairs, but Deputy Colon here was just leaving." Danny hoped his a.s.sessment wasn't overly optimistic.

"Collins," replied Grumpy-Gus. He offered his business card to Sandy.

Sandy followed suit with his own card. "Any questions you have for Mr. La.s.siter should be directed to me."

"Not necessary," Veronica interrupted, grabbing both cards. "Deputy Collins, we need to talk. Now."

Danny had the feeling that, hopefully, he was now off the hook.

"Your paper work is waiting at the front desk," said Sandy after the two cops had departed.

Danny put his wobbly legs in gear and reached for his bag, but Sandy beat him to it. The three headed out the door, down the long corridor.

"Why isn't Josh here?" Danny asked as they neared the elevator.

"Not so fast, Mr. La.s.siter."

He recognized the voice of Miss Ko as she hurried toward him with an empty wheelchair.

"Sit," she commanded.

"That's not one I know. Play dead, maybe. I've had some practice with that one."

Rae and Sandy stifled giggles.

"Sit in the chair, Mr. La.s.siter. I have to wheel you out. It's regulations."

He looked at Miss Ko, all one hundred pounds of her and knew she could friggin' well put him in that chair if she chose. She was healthy, fit, and her eyes held a purposeful glint.

"Get in the d.a.m.n chair, Danny," said Rae, still throttling laughter.

He settled in, and they rode down the one floor in silence. After his processing, Miss Ko wheeled him through automatic doors into the sunlight. Seemed like a pleasant hospital, if you had to be in one. Locust trees brightened a Tru-green lawn and pansies nodded in the gentle May breeze. Things Danny hadn't noticed when he'd been taken through the emergency entrance. He took a deep breath, choked on somebody's exhaust, and asked again, "Where's Josh?"

"Home waiting for you," Rae said as she held the door of Sandy's BMW while Sandy put his night case in the trunk.

Miss Ko was retreating with the wheelchair without even a goodbye.

"What, no kiss?" Danny called after her.