Blood Loss

54

Colin and Ren stood in the foyer of MeesterBrandt Pharmaceuticals, waiting for the elevator.

‘Do you think that up there in those offices,’ said Ren, ‘they feel any connection with the rest of the world? Or do they just stare at accounts and see massive figures and think “high five” and keep on trucking?’

‘Keep on trucking …’ said Colin.

‘I’d love to just grab one of them and say, “sorry to bother you while you’re counting your profits, but come with me,” and take them to some broken-down home, where a mother, doped up on antipsychotics, is laying on her sofa watching daytime television, while her three children, diagnosed with behavioral disorders to qualify for disability, are crying because they miss their big brother who’s in prison because he’s been doped up too and went crazy and killed someone and he’s fifteen … and say to this pharma guy “You know those amazing drugs you make? Congratulations, you really are changing lives.”’

People had started gathering around the elevator. Colin was frowning at Ren. She stopped talking. The doors opened and they rode to the thirty-fifth floor. Ren took a deep breath as she got off.

Bring it on, bitches.

Nolan Carr was as close to attractive as he could ever be, and it was money, not taste, that had brought him there. He was well-groomed, he wore the right clothes. His shoes, his watch, his cuff links were high end, but ultimately, he was a plain man with a water-retention problem.

‘Nice to meet you,’ said Ren.

‘Likewise,’ he said, shaking her hand.

Eye-dart to the tits.

Carr shook hands with Colin.

‘Mr Carr,’ said Ren. ‘We’re here because new evidence has emerged that casts doubt on our belief that the deaths of Mark Whaley and Shelby Royce were a murder-suicide.’

‘Oh,’ said Carr, nodding. ‘OK. I had assumed that … what happened was … what happened.’

‘We’re now looking at the possibility of foul play,’ said Colin.

‘I’m not sure how I’m the best person to help you,’ said Carr. ‘I know very little about Mark Whaley’s personal life.’

‘We’re here because we don’t think this concerns Mr Whaley’s personal life,’ said Colin.

‘You think it’s about his professional life?’ said Carr.

‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘You work in a multi-billion dollar industry, and it’s not uncommon in an industry where there’s that much money at stake …’ She paused at his reaction. ‘I’m sorry. Are you surprised by that?’

‘I know you might find this hard to believe,’ said Carr. ‘But MeesterBrandt doesn’t feel that way to me. It feels like a small company to me. I see a company whose staff works very hard to make it a success. I find it hard to see it as part of something sinister.’

Small company, my fat ass.

Colin leaned forward. ‘Did MeesterBrandt have any significant business deals in progress? Anything that might have impacted on Mark Whaley or on the company?’

‘Mark was our CFO,’ said Carr. ‘It’s a behind-the-scenes job, effectively. He was in charge of the financials, but he wasn’t out there making deals, or … he just wasn’t visible.’

‘What kind of relationship did you have with Mark Whaley?’ said Ren.

‘I spoke to another agent about that during the investigation,’ said Carr.

‘That was more about what you suspected about Mark Whaley’s private life,’ said Ren. ‘I’m interested in whether or not you and Mark Whaley got along.’

‘I was his boss,’ said Carr. ‘That was our relationship. We wouldn’t have socialized outside of work, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Did you know that Mark was planning to take early retirement next year to spend more time with his kids?’

‘No, I did not know that,’ said Carr.

‘But you can understand,’ said Ren, ‘how a man one year from retirement mightn’t be the number one candidate for suicide.’

‘A married father caught sleeping with underage girls would always be a candidate for suicide,’ said Carr.

‘Why did you say underage girls, plural?’ said Ren.

‘Well, I hardly suspect this was his first time,’ said Carr.

‘Is there something you know about Mark Whaley and underage girls, Mr Carr?’ said Ren.

‘No. I … it just came out, there’s nothing to it.’

‘Are you familiar with Title 18, United States Code, Section 1001?’ said Ren.

‘No,’ said Carr.

‘It’s a crime to lie to a federal agent,’ said Ren.

‘I don’t know anything about Mark Whaley and underage girls,’ said Carr. ‘I swear to God.’

‘We’d like to get your permission to search Mr Whaley’s office and to take his computer away for forensic examination, please.’

‘That won’t be a problem,’ said Carr. ‘Can I ask what new evidence came to light?’

‘No,’ said Ren.

He paused.

Well, that’s someone who’s not used to hearing no.

‘Could you please take us to Mark Whaley’s office?’ said Colin.

Carr stood up. ‘Yes, absolutely. Follow me.’

‘I find it fascinating,’ said Ren, as they walked along the hallway, ‘I read a quote recently about Henry Gadsden. Who was he again? Merck’s Chief Executive. Thirty years ago, he said he’d like the company to be like Wrigley’s. He’d like to sell drugs to healthy people, because then he could sell to everyone.’

She could see a smirk at the corner of Carr’s mouth. ‘Gadsden was a very successful man.’

‘Was he, though?’ said Ren. ‘Define success in that instance. Couldn’t we all sit down and come up with a diabolical plan? I have no doubt, for example, that I could commit the perfect murder. If I went ahead and did that, would that make me successful?’

Nolan Carr slowed and turned to her.

‘Or,’ said Ren, ‘would it only be successful if I made a huge amount of money from it? Or if I didn’t get caught?’

‘Agent … I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name?’

Asshole.

‘How do you make sense of things?’ said Ren.

‘I’m sorry?’ said Carr. ‘Of what?’

‘Just how people talk about the amazing advances in the pharmaceutical industry, yet the number of people on disability because of mental illness more than doubled in the twenty years since Prozac was launched. And it gets worse when it comes to kids: in the same time period, the increase was thirty-five fold.’

Ren and Colin walked to his SUV. Colin was carrying Mark Whaley’s computer.

‘What the fuck was that about?’ said Colin.

‘What?’ said Ren. ‘Nolan Carr’s a lying son-of-a-bitch. I did my research on him. It’s like a six degrees of Kevin Bacon thing. The first pharmaceutical company he worked for had a painkiller that was taken off the market for causing heart attacks and strokes — not before it made hundreds of millions of dollars, of course. The most recent company he worked for — Lang Pharmaceuticals — the one MeesterBrandt bought over — their drug, Cerxus, was meant to have all kinds of side effects, but it’s still on the market, just with a black-box warning. Unlike almost all the antidepressants out there, Cerxus managed to escape without paying fines or settlements because of the side effects. Each time, Nolan Carr walked away with a clean sheet. They couldn’t prove he did anything-’

‘Anything what?’ said Colin.

‘Off-label promotion of drugs, for example,’ said Ren. ‘Getting doctors to prescribe drugs for uses that they haven’t been approved for,’ said Ren. ‘So, say the FDA approves Cerxus to treat depression. That’s great, but Lang’s sales reps fly off like evil flying monkeys and whisper in the docs’ ears, “actually, this really works for insomnia or migraines or whatever” … while stuffing cupcakes in their mouths, tickets for ball games in their pockets … it’s not illegal for the doctor to prescribe a drug for something it hasn’t been approved for. It’s just illegal for him to take money for doing it. And the companies get around this anyway by paying doctors and psychiatrists speaker’s fees and shit like that to say how wonderful the drug is or to enroll patients in trials. The FDA only needs two successful trials to approve a drug. You can run fifty that prove nothing, but if you get two that show your drug works better than a placebo, you’re in luck. It doesn’t even have to be compared to an older drug.’

‘And Nolan Carr was the boss of these companies?’ said Colin.

‘No,’ said Ren. You awkward prick. ‘That’s not the point. He clearly has no problem being involved in all kinds of shit. Do you want some gum?’

‘No,’ said Colin.

Ren took a packet of gum out of her purse, slid out a stick and started chewing it.

‘You were still out of line in there,’ said Colin.

Go fuck yourself.

She was about to get into the SUV. She dropped her gum. She bent down and saw Colin’s feet.

She thought of Laurie Whaley, and the boy at the airport with the fake stomach ache, and Laurie Whaley and her stomach ache, and the feet at the other side of the SUV, and how Laurie had cried out, she was bent double, her parents rushed to her side, as any parent would. And from the passenger side of the SUV — feet. And as Gary said — one looked higher than the other.

Oh my God. Someone was getting out of the SUV. Someone had been inside The Whaleys’ all along.

Cathy Merritt was taken aback when she opened the door to Ren.

‘I need to speak to Laurie,’ said Ren. ‘Can I come in?’

‘You can come in, of course,’ said Cathy, ‘but I’d rather you didn’t speak to Laurie. We’ve already agreed to speak with Agent Ross …’

Fuck Sylvie fucking Ross!

‘I can get Agent Ross here too, if you like,’ said Ren, ‘but I need to talk to Laurie right away.’

I’m not fucking around, bitch. Can you see that in my fucking face? Can you respond to that, you weak fucking bitch? Do you fucking get any of this? I swear to God, I want to punch that fucking face of yours.

Ren’s heart was pounding. She became acutely aware of her firearms, and aware of her fists. She briefly imagined punching Cathy Merritt, pushing her gun against her forehead.

What is wrong with me?

Cathy Merritt looked scared.

Good. I could care fucking less. Fuck you. And let me the fuck in to your house.

Laurie Whaley sat on the sofa beside Ren.

‘Laurie, I’d like to ask you about what happened before you went into the hotel on that Saturday night. We don’t need to talk about what happened in the room, I just want to ask you about the parking garage.’

‘OK,’ she said. ‘But … nothing happened.’

‘I know you told me you had a stomach ache — what kind of stomach ache?’ said Ren.

‘Um … like … what do you mean?’ said Laurie, glancing at her.

Frightened eyes.

‘Was it a sharp pain?’ said Ren. ‘Or did you feel like you wanted to throw up, or …?’

‘A sharp pain, I guess,’ said Laurie. She was staring at the floor again.

‘Can I ask you another question?’ said Ren.

Laurie nodded. Her little fists were clenched, squeezed together, resting on her lap. Her legs were shaking.

Ren reached out and laid a gentle hand on hers.

‘Sweetheart,’ said Ren. ‘Who was in the SUV with you the night you went to the hotel?’

Laurie kept her eyes on the floor. Then she looked up at Ren, her shoulders rigid. ‘In the SUV?’ she said. ‘Dad and Erica and Leo.’

Ren nodded. ‘OK.’ She allowed Laurie some time. ‘Was there someone else?’ said Ren.

‘No,’ said Laurie, shaking her head. ‘No … who do you mean, someone else? Like, who?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Ren. ‘I’m wondering did you notice anything unusual during your trip.’

‘No,’ said Laurie. ‘But … why are you asking me all this?’

‘Because we have a video and it really looks like someone might have been getting out of your dad’s SUV while you had your stomach ache. But — not your dad or Erica, because they were busy looking after you. And Leo was in Erica’s arms. I watched it all. So, I’d like you to tell me who was it that could have been getting out of the SUV.’

Laurie said nothing.

‘I think you know,’ said Ren. ‘You’re not going to get into any trouble for telling me, Laurie. I can promise you that. Was there someone in the SUV that night?’

Tears welled in Laurie’s eyes. ‘Do you have to tell my mom?’

Ren nodded. ‘I do,’ said Ren, ‘but we really need to know, because we have to make sure that we have all the right information so that we can do our job properly.’

Laurie took in a big breath. ‘It was Joshua. My stepbrother, Joshua.’