W Is for Wasted

30

I sat at my desk, wondering what to make of it. I certainly wasn’t going to tell Pearl that Dace might have been saved. She had Felix’s death to deal with and that was enough. She was already blaming herself for the beating that killed him. I picked up my jacket, my bag, and car keys. Ed seemed willing to follow me into the yard, but I couldn’t be sure he’d behave once I was gone. I went back into my apartment and snagged Henry’s house keys. I locked my door, lifted Ed, and tucked him under my arm. He purred happily, perhaps thinking we’d be going through life this way, his warm body pressed against mine. I would have kissed his sweet head, but I didn’t know him that well and I was worried he’d take offense. I unlocked Henry’s door and dropped him inside, a move he also accepted without complaint.

In the car again, I drove along the beach, scanning the grassy areas along the bike path for sight of Dandy or Pearl. I spotted them in their usual place, in the area under the palms, across the street from the Santa Teresa Inn. They’d set up day camp. They had their carts close by, angled against the damp breeze coming off the surf. Both purloined grocery carts were filled with blankets, pillows, and shopping bags that bulged with recyclable bottles and soda cans. There was a redemption center three blocks away and the homeless supplemented their sketchy incomes by turning in glass and plastic for whatever it netted them. Of course, they squandered the money on bad booze and cheap smokes, trusting the good folks in town would see to their room and board.

They’d spread tarps on the grass in the very spot where I’d first made their acquaintance. Dandy was stretched out on his sleeping bag and Pearl was sprawled on a blanket. A third fellow had joined them, and while I didn’t get a good look at him, I wondered if he was going to be a regular now that Felix was gone. I drove past them and pulled into the public lot, where I parked and got out.

The makeshift memorial that had sprung up in the wake of Terrence Dace’s death was looking forlorn. The jars of wildflowers were still grouped together in the sand, but the water was gone and flowers themselves were wilted. The tower of carefully balanced stones had been dismantled. There was no sign of a rock sculpture for Felix, but he’d died in the hospital whereas Terrence had died on the beach. I couldn’t even pretend to understand the unspoken rules for honoring the fallen comrades of those who had no homes.

Dandy watched me approach. Pearl ignored my arrival, except for the face she made, which expressed equal parts disdain and indifference. I suspected she was still miffed at me for not rushing to comfort her during her outburst at the news of Felix’s demise. She paused to light a cigarette and then continued sipping from a soda can that was doubtless laced with whiskey.

I paused on the path within range of them. “Mind if I sit down?”

Dandy moved his backpack. “Make yourself at home.”

He was nicely turned out; fresh shirt, a sport coat only slightly threadbare along the cuffs. As far as I could tell he hadn’t been drinking. Then again, he held his liquor well and he might have been covering. At least there was no pint bottle in sight and when Pearl offered him the soda can, he declined.

As I sat down, Dandy introduced me. “This is Kinsey. She’s a good friend of ours.”

“They call me Plato, the preacher man,” he said. He doffed an imaginary cap and his smile showed a mouth devoid of teeth. Plato was emaciated, a good sixty-five years old, with a frizzy head of gray hair and a long unkempt beard and mustache. His ears were crusty along the edges as though dusted with powdered sugar. His face had that odd red-brown hue that suggested a life spent outdoors without a proper slathering of SPF 15.

I said it was nice meeting him and he said words to the same effect.

That settled, I sat on the section of tarp Dandy’d cleared for me. The ground was damp and hard and even with a layer of plastic and a sleeping bag on top of that, I wasn’t sure how to arrange myself in any semblance of ease. Nor was I clear on how I’d get to my feet again. “I have news about Dace.”

Pearl said, “Whoopee doo,” twirling a finger near the side of her head.

“You’re annoying, you know that? I didn’t have to drive down here looking for you. Are you interested or not?”

Mildly, Dandy said, “Don’t mind her. I’m listening.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “Dace was sober when he died.”

“Well, that’s a load of horse shit, right there,” Pearl said. “We seen him the day before and he was puking his guts out. I know you’re fussy when it comes to body functions, so I won’t say no more except the stuff looked like coffee grounds. You wouldn’t have wanted to get anywhere near the man.”

“He died of liver and kidney failure.”

Dandy said, “Natural causes in other words.”

“Well, natural if you take into account his heart was enlarged and half his internal organs were shot. He wasn’t drunk. That’s the point,” I said. I turned to Pearl. “Did you talk to him that day?”

“If you want to call it that. I wouldn’t say we communicated. I said, ‘How’s tricks?’ and he mumbled something that made no sense. He was staggering all over the place, and his skin and the whites of his eyes were yellow. He might’ve turned into a werewolf for all I know.”

“What about an odor?”

“You mean did his breath stink aside from puke? Smelled like nail polish remover, but not even Terrence was that desperate.”

“That was the ketoacidosis. And don’t ask me to explain. I’m just telling you what the coroner’s investigator told me,” I said.

Dandy opened the flap of his backpack and rooted through the interior. After a brief search, he pulled out a prescription bottle and passed it along to me.

The pill bottle was two inches high and the cap was an inch across. The vial was sealed in shrink-wrap. “What’s this?”

“His pills. He told me to hang on to them.”

“Why the seal?”

“So it can’t be tampered with. Those are the pills that made him sick, but the clinic didn’t want to hear about it. They wanted them back. Doctor even threatened to come down here after them.”

“A doctor? Who’s this?”

“The fellow who headed up the deal he was in.”

“That seems weird,” I said. I read the label. Not surprisingly, I’d never heard of the drug. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“He said not to. I kept the bottle hid since the day he passed it on to me.”

I shook the container, which rattled lightly. “And these are for what?”

“He had three different meds. One was supposed to knock down his craving for cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe not that particular pill. It could have been the other ones.”

“Like Antabuse?”

“I guess.”

“And he said the pills made him sick?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But that’s how Antabuse works. You have one drink and you get sick as a dog. That’s the point.”

Pearl cut in. “You don’t need to lecture us about Antabuse. We know everything there is to know about that crud. Fact is, Terrence hadn’t had a drink. You said so yourself. So now how do you explain it, Miss Smarty-Pants?”

I read the label again, rotating it in my hand as I followed the line of print. The name of the prescribing physician was Linton Reed, M.D.

Dandy’s eyes were fixed on mine. “What’s that look for?”

“I know this name in another context. I’m just surprised to see it here.”

Dandy said, “That’s from the program he signed up for last spring.”

“Alcoholics Anonymous?”

Pearl made a face. “Not them. It’s this other thing. FDA makes the drug companies jump through hoops before a new one gets approved. He took three pills. One was for booze jitters, but I don’t think that’s it.”

“I take it ‘booze jitters’ means what it sounds like.”

“Of course. Mornings, you know how bad your hands shake before you choke down those first couple of belts of hooch?”

I tried not to look quite as blank as I felt. My hands sometimes shook from anger or fear, but not from DTs.

Meanwhile, she was talking to Dandy. “I think those are the ones that kept him leveled out; preventing mood swings, I guess.”

Dandy said, “Naw, now that’s not what it was. Those curbed his sweet tooth. Remember he talked about all the candy he ate? He couldn’t get enough and he still about passed out. Day he got kicked out of the program, they said he had to turn in his pills, as many as he had left. Terrence wasn’t about to.”

“Why was he kicked out?”

“He missed appointments and complained too much. He was always kicking up a fuss and wouldn’t obey the rules. I’m not saying he wasn’t a pain in the ass.”

“Did you ever meet his doctor?” I asked. I was still trying to get my head around the fact that Linton Reed and Dace had crossed paths.

“Not me, and I hope he don’t get ahold of me,” Pearl said. “Terrence was in St. Terry’s that time? He’s so scared of the man he signed himself out.”

“When was this?”

“June, I think. He left the hospital—”

“More like escaped,” Dandy put in.

“That’s right. He got straight on a bus to Los Angeles,” she said. “He spent a month down there until he figured it was safe to come back.”

“Why was he so scared of this guy?”

“Because he’s the one knew Dace was telling the truth.” She pointed at the pill bottle. “The day he died? When you showed up? We figured that’s what you were after.”

“You mind if I hang on to this?”

Dandy said, “Sure thing. Terrence knew what you did for a living. He hoped you’d look into it proper if something happened to him.”

“Nothing happened to him except he died,” I said. “At least as far as the coroner’s office is concerned.”

Pearl said, “The man was fifty-three years old! He enrolled in that drug deal and went straight downhill. Don’t you listen? Same thing happened to his friend Charles.”

“Charles was in the same program?”

“Not both at the same time. Terrence went in later, after Charles died.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? How many times have we talked about Dace and this is the first I’ve heard.”

“We didn’t know what he died of. He said they’d claim ‘natural causes,’ which is what you just said. He stole those pills and I’m passing them along because he told me to,” Dandy said. “You ought to look into it.”

“Look into what? He’d been trashing himself for years, in prison and out. You can’t do that and then turn around and express surprise at the damage you’ve done.”

Pearl said, “Pills aren’t the only thing he stole.”

I looked at her with interest. “You’re talking about medical charts.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because I have them.”

“He sent you those?”

“He sent them to himself in care of Harbor House. One of the volunteers made a point of giving me his mail.”

Dandy said, “Well, I’ll be. Good for him. We didn’t know where all that stuff went, especially when them Boggarts walked off with his cart.”

“How’d he manage to steal charts? Those are usually kept under lock and key.”

Dandy smiled. “Easy. He made an appointment at the clinic. They put him in a room to take his clothes off before the doctor came in. Nurse left his chart in that slot outside the door. He waited until she left. He opened the door and made sure wasn’t nobody in the hall. Then he took his chart, put it in his shirt, and walked out calm and easy as you please.”

“They figured it out pretty quick, but Terrence was gone by then,” Pearl said.

“He stole another couple of charts as well,” Dandy said.

“Well, I know that. The man was a regular kleptomaniac,” I said. “How’d he manage to steal the other two?”

Pearl laughed. “This is good. This is my favorite story. Remember he had that shirt and glasses belonged to Charles?”

“In his duffel with the picture ID,” I said. “Green-and-yellow plaid.”

Pearl pointed to show she approved. “So Charles was laying out at the coroner’s a few days before they figured out who he was. Terrence had already took his ID. He figured nobody ever looked a homeless man in the face, so he put on the green-and-yellow-plaid shirt and glasses Charles was wearing when he had his picture took. He made an appointment in Charles’s name, went into the clinic flashing the photo ID, and pulled the same thing. Stole the chart off the back of the door.”

“He did it twice?”

“He did it three times, counting his. Different doctors work different days, and the nurses work different shifts. He made sure he smelt bad enough that everybody was in a hurry to get away from him.”

I could feel my smile fade. “It’s all in there, isn’t it? Proof he got sick. Proof he told the doctor. All his lab work. Everything.”

Dandy said, “Yes, ma’am.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Dandy said, “I don’t know, but there’s bound to be some remedy, don’t you think?”

“If I can figure out what it is.”

I slipped the pills into my shoulder bag and struggled to my feet. I dusted off the back of my jeans and turned toward the parking lot. “I should warn you, his youngest daughter’s in town. Anna. Twenty-six years old. Long dark hair, blue eyes. She’s a piece of work.”

Pearl piped up as I was walking away. “Hey. You have any spare Seconals?”

“I left ’em in my other jacket,” I said, as though she just happened to catch me without. She rattled off a list of acceptable substitutes, Nembutals among them, but I didn’t have those either. I gave her five bucks for cigarettes with strict instructions she was to share with Dandy and the preacher man. I knew it was bad form, but given her true preferences, I didn’t think the sin was too great.

As I returned to my car, I glanced at my watch, surprised that it was close to 1:15. Had I eaten lunch? I thought not. I drove home. A check of the loaf of bread I had on hand showed no signs of green. After a brief search, I came up with a jar of Kraft Olive & Pimento cheese spread. I popped off the top, took out a small spatula, and made what I think of as a hand sandwich. I held a piece of bread in my left palm, slathered it with cheese spread, and then folded it in half. I snagged my shoulder bag, locked up, and dined in style as I was crossing the patio. I guess a hand sandwich could be considered fast food. Four bites.

I peered in Henry’s screen door and saw him standing at the counter, unloading groceries. I tapped. He leaned over and unlatched the door so I could let myself in. He said, “Have a seat. I’m almost done.”

I found myself peering down the hall. “Where’s Anna?”

“Out looking for work.”

“Enterprising of her. What’s she have in mind?”

“I’m not sure. She went through the classified ads and circled five or six possibilities. Two were downtown, so I told her she could borrow the station wagon.” He sat down. “You’re not big on cousins.”

“Not that one, at any rate,” I said. Ed appeared and hopped up into my lap, the little suck-up. I was sure he was just as attentive to Anna behind my back. I rubbed his ears so he’d like me better than her.

Henry said, “I haven’t seen you since Dietz arrived. I’m looking forward to catching up.”

“Too late. He’s gone again. He took off this morning with his son Nick . . .” I could tell from Henry’s expression, he’d forgotten Dietz had two sons.

While Henry emptied the last brown paper bag and put canned goods away, I took a few minutes to refresh his memory. That recital segued into an account of the latest developments in the drama that had begun to unfold three nights before in my argument with Dietz about Pete.

By the time Henry joined me at the table, I’d skipped from the subject of Pete Wolinsky to Aaron Blumberg’s report about Dace’s death. I also filled him in on the charts I now had in my possession. I reached into my shoulder bag, removed the pill bottle, and put it on the table. “Those are the pills Dace took that he swore were making him sick. Check out the doctor’s name.”

Henry picked up the bottle and read the label through the clear plastic wrap. “Linton Reed was Dace’s doctor?”

“Looks that way.”

“Doesn’t that beat all?”

“I don’t know if it means anything or not. Probably not.”

We tossed the subject around to see what made sense. Like me, Henry was puzzled by the odd crossroads where Terrence Dace’s death intersected Dietz’s surveillance of Linton Reed and Mary Lee Bryce. “There almost has to be something going on there,” he said.

“You think? I can’t decide. It could be just what it looks like: Dr. Reed supervised Terrence Dace’s participation in the drug study and he’s also Mary Lee Bryce’s boss. Big deal.”

Henry said, “Put it that way and it doesn’t seem so strange.”

“Then again, according to Dandy and Pearl, Dace was scared to death of the man.”

“Has anybody else confirmed all this talk of Dace going downhill?”

“Just Dandy and Pearl.”

“You think they’re reliable?”

“If you’re asking if I believe them, I do. They may drink a lot, but they don’t make things up. He must have been getting sicker or he wouldn’t have died.”

Henry weighed the matter. “Maybe.”

I thought about that for a moment. “What’s that word for things that happen at the same time?”

“Synchronicity. Eight across in a crossword puzzle two days ago,” he said. “Which is an instance of synchronicity.”

I laughed. “That’s right.”

“Carl Jung came up with it. He didn’t believe in random events. He believed in a deeper underlying reality.”

“And I believe in the Easter Bunny. How deep is that?” I said. “You have any cookies? I tend to think better when I’m hyped on sweets.”

Henry got up and removed a cake tin from the cupboard. He placed it on the table and opened the lid. “Spice cookies. New recipe and one of my better efforts.”

I ate a cookie and then said, “I mean, what if Dace was right and the pills made him sick? As Pearl points out, he was only fifty-three years old, which makes death a bit premature, don’t you think?”

“I guess you could ask Dr. Reed.”

“Oh, right.”

“I’m serious.”

“Don’t think so. If he had a problem with Dace, he’s not going to tell me.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask.” When he saw the look I was giving him, he said, “I’m playing devil’s advocate.”

“I can’t go hunting him down to quiz him about Dace. He doesn’t know me from Adam. Even if I talked my way into his office, he could say anything . . . medical gobbledegook . . . and I wouldn’t know the difference. How would I explain why I’m so interested in this stuff?”

“You could ask about the program. Tell him how much you appreciate what he tried to do for your dear departed cousin.”

“Oh, please. I know I’m a good liar, but I’m not that good.”

Henry held up a finger. “But as you so often say to me, you want to be good at lying, it’s practice makes perfect.”

“I practice,” I said crossly.

“The point is, for all you know, this is a case of bungled communication. Maybe Dace misunderstood. Maybe he got the dosages mixed up. Some doctor explains what he’s prescribing and half the time you tune him out. That’s why the pharmacist goes over it with you a second time when you pick up the medication.”

I made a noncommittal response to indicate I wasn’t quite buying it until I had another cookie.

“How would I know if he’s telling the truth?”

“How do you know anyone’s telling the truth? You listen to what he has to say and then corroborate it with an outside source.”

“I love it when you come up with a big hot plan I’m supposed to implement. You talked me into Bakersfield and look how that turned out.”

“Then you’ll do it?”

“Possibly.”

Henry said, “Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”

“Anything else on your mind?” I asked. “You have that look like there’s more.”

“Anna. Regardless of how you feel, this is her father we’re talking about. I think she should be told what’s going on. If you don’t mind, I’ll bring her up to speed.”

“Just keep her out of my hair.”

• • •

I didn’t give a shit about Anna, but I had to admit he had a point in the matter of Dr. Reed. Dandy and Pearl thought he was treacherous, but that didn’t make it true. The idea of calling him made my palms damp. Knowing how much I didn’t want to make the call, I sat right down at my desk and went to work. Put off anything you don’t want to do and the avoidance becomes only more burdensome. It took me several tries to connect with his office. I started with St. Terry’s, asking someone in administration about the process by which patients with drug and alcohol problems were recommended for participation in experimental drug trials. That netted me a blank. I asked who might know and right away everyone pitched in, handing me off from person to person so as not to have to deal with me themselves.

The call was transferred from one department to another, which forced me to repeat myself. The rehearsal was doubtless good for me because by the time I’d been connected to the proper office in the Health Sciences Building at UCST, I’d told my tale so often I almost believed it myself. In point of fact, much of what I was saying was the truth, give or take. I simply embellished according to what I sensed might be persuasive to the person I was chatting with.

Within the first few words tendered by the department secretary, I was aware of her chilly manner, which didn’t sit well with me. This was the first impediment I’d come up against. Her telephone greeting consisted of her identifying herself and the department in a cadence so staccato it was off-putting in itself.

I had to roll right over her, infusing my voice with a wholly manufactured warmth. I said, “Hiiiii, my name is Kinsey Millhone. I’d like to set up an appointment with Dr. Reed, if I may.” I’d managed to stretch the word “hi” across two syllables and three musical notes.

There was a pause during which she marshaled her defenses, her job apparently being to ward off all who approached. “And this is in regard to what?”

“A family member died recently. This was Terrence Dace. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the name, but I believe he was enrolled in a research study of Dr. Reed’s. I’d appreciate any information he’d be willing to share.”

Two beats of silence before she said, “Your name again is what?”

“Kinsey Millhone, with two L’s. Terrence Dace is my cousin. The rest of the family lives in Bakersfield and they’ve asked me to find out what I can about his last days.”

Whereas before, I’d hoped not to have to talk to Dr. Reed, I was now determined to get in to see him.

“I see,” she said. “Of course, I’m not sure Dr. Reed would be at liberty to discuss a patient currently in his care.”

“My cousin’s dead. He’s been in Jesus’s care for the past two weeks.”

That turned out to be a showstopper, so I went on. “I’m not asking about his medical problems. For heaven’s sakes! That would be his own private business, wouldn’t it? I want to know how he was doing . . . I guess you could say, spiritually. The family’s very religious. His daughter came all the way down here out of concern. I’m sure you can imagine how upset they were when he passed so unexpectedly.”

“I understand. Unfortunately, Dr. Reed won’t be in the office again until Thursday and I’m not sure he has anything available. I’d have to take a look at his calendar and he’s with someone at the moment.”

“Thursday’s fine. What time would work best for him?”

I’m sure she was panting to say that what would work best for everyone would be for me to fall in a hole and die. With palpable skepticism, she said, “It’s possible he has a nine o’clock appointment open, but I’d have to check . . .”

“Perfect. Nine on Thursday. I’ll be there. Thank you so much. I really appreciate your help.”

I hung up, which left her in the lame-ass position of not having my contact number so she could call me back and cancel.