People in Season (17 page)

‘Let me ask you something, Detective Wong,’ he says playfully. ‘Do you think I’ve lied about anything since you got here?’

Dylan is taken aback, but at the old man’s stone faced challenge he makes a visible effort to retrace his footsteps along the ground. After a cursory circle of the floor, he pictures his movements downstairs, then, placid, he says, ‘Yes. You have. You said you didn’t move anything in the apartment. That’s the lie.’

The old man chuckles and puts his tea down on the dinner table and paces over to a cabinet by the couch. He’s trying to find something that he wants the detective to see, all the glee of a child searching for a medal to show off.
Opening a drawer, the sound of wood sliding on wood, he takes out a small rectangular packet. It’s a deck of cards. He hands them to the detective, who turns them around in his fingers.

‘I gave these to Francis a few weeks ago. Fifty-two cards, as per standard. All there. I remember.’

‘And now?’

‘One of them is missing.’

‘One of the cards,’ Dylan says, dumbfounded.

‘I snooped around his apartment for it. No sign. Just spirited away.’

Enamoured by the clue, Dylan feels a smile growing and asks the only question that comes to mind. ‘Which card is it?’

‘The queen of hearts.’

The smile takes over his face as he sees the landlord’s joy in telling him this. Asking if he can keep the pack, he uses a tissue to put them into a zipper bag. The old man’s finger prints are on them, his own too, Agent Mullen’s, and if he’s lucky, the killer’s. A blonde woman’s perhaps. He plays the note in his head a few times to see if he likes the sound of it, but can’t decide either way. Something about Joanne being involved seems off.

‘It’s always in the last place you look,’ the landlord winks.

Saying goodbye to the old codger, Dylan finds Agent Myers talking to a woman on the street. He’d forgotten about him and honestly, isn’t overjoyed at the prospect of having to talk to the social agent again. The effort of chitchat is far too much for him today. The effort to be rude equally trying. Agent Myers has been braving the rain, asking passersby about the night of the murder, if they heard or seen anything. They canvas the neighbourhood for a while, catching people who hadn’t been caught and learning nothing, until they agree to head back to the car, get some coffee, and plan what’s to happen next. Sitting in traffic with his hands on the wheel, Dylan doesn’t hear it when the social agent says something.

‘I said you seem tired, why don’t you put the drive on automatic?’

Ignoring the question, Dylan asks, ‘What did you think of those two in the office. Joanne and Ava?’

He’s trying to place Joanne at the scene, imagining Agent Mullen inviting her in – the killer was invited, that much is certain – and sitting down with him for a drink. Did she serve it? And slip the poison in? Take the card as a trophy? From his brief talk with her he’s already having a hard time seeing her doing anything so subtle. Joanne would be more inclined to bash her victim over the head and run away in frightened tears. Regardless, he can’t rule her out. She is now the prime suspect.

Agent Myers’ attention goes out the window for a minute, two, five minutes go by as they listen to the wipers swipe away the rain in loud streaks.

‘Ms. Victoria has been a bit high strung. To be fair, you can’t blame her for that. It’s not exactly good publicity for their website is it? A potential murderer in their office? A social agent of UPD services killed for investigating them?’

‘Any publicity is good though, isn’t it? They have an exclusive on all this. It’s in their interest to break the story before anybody else does. You don’t think they’re going to hype it up? Information sells for a lot of money, especially if there’s sex and death involved.’ Dylan shudders at the thought of his whole life turned upside down if the case isn’t wrapped up quickly. His every move would be catalogued and examined. ‘I don’t want to be around when that happens,’ he mumbles.

‘I guess you’re right.’ Agent Myers drops his own idea of the woman and takes on board Dylan’s. Like it was a hat that was passed to him and which seems to fit his head quite nicely, he remarks, ‘She is difficult to talk to. She could barely look at me to be honest. Something in the eyes she doesn’t want us to see. Maybe it’s guilt?’

‘You don’t say?’ Dylan begins to wonder who is leading who. ‘What about Ava? Could she look you in the eye?’

‘Ava O’Dwyer,’ Agent Myers devours the name. ‘Ava has a really nice arse.’

Cringing at the attempt of friendly male banter, Dylan says, ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

‘Oh come on!’

‘I’m a married man,’ he reminds himself.

‘Like that means anything. Your eyes practically popped out of your head when ye met in the conference room. Anyway, other than her posterior, I guess I didn’t really think about her at all.’

‘It’s your job to find UPD in that newsroom and you didn’t think about the goddamn assistant editor at all?’

‘You seem pretty stressed by all of this.’ Agent Myers snorts. ‘What was my first impression of her? She’s got a solid hold of herself. Some people have this kind of fake confidence, a bravado. Well, hers is real.’

Ignoring the observation of Ava, Dylan criticizes the social agent again. ‘And you aren’t stressed? This happened in your department. One of your guys is down. We don’t know if it was terrorists or some lone mad man, but either way they could be targeting more social agents. Surely the first one they’ll go for is the guy who replaced the one they killed. The one who’s working with the cops to investigate the murder.’

Agent Myers swallows, ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘Well maybe you should start thinking,’ Dylan says, the wheel gripped tightly in his hands. ‘Forget what the bosses say, you’re here at my discretion. Let’s use those brains of yours for more help and less smartarse comments.’

‘It’s just,’ Myers says, ‘why should I be worried? We’re going to be testing the whole office, right? Once we flush out the UPD, that’s that.’

The unsettling fact of the matter is like a cold hand closing around Dylan’s heart. If he can’t find a viable suspect with more than circumstantial evidence, that, as Agent Myers said, will be that. Nonetheless, he defends the need to build a case.

‘You really think it’s that simple. What if they’ve got no connection to the crime?’

Agent Myers disagrees that there’s an issue of concern. ‘Who the hell else would want to kill this guy? You saw that apartment. His life was about as exciting as his wallpaper.’

Dylan doesn’t have an answer for that. He thinks Agent Myers is right. Knows it even. He just doesn’t like it. Not one bit. How many days does he have to figure it all out until it’s taken from his hands and put into the social agent’s? One? Less? Has there ever been a case built that fast? So, they drive in grudging silence, both of them feeling the clock ticking down, until one last thought comes to the detective’s mind.

‘Did that old guy have teeth when we were downstairs?’

‘What?’

‘He had teeth when we were in Mullen’s flat. And he definitely had them at the door of his own, but, I don’t know. Did he? It’s like they just disappeared.’

With no explanation offered, all Dylan can do is wonder, and try to ignore the fact that his time on the case is running out.

The doctor, smiling, lowers himself into his seat, and coolly pulls a workbook he had been writing in closer to himself, out of sight of the men who sit across the expansive desk. Detective Dylan Wong, poker faced, notes the paperwork and decides to try catch a closer look at it whenever they stand to leave. If cases could be solved on feelings, he’d have this man in a cell already.

Earlier, Dylan explained to his colleague, ‘SimperP is the first and only pharmaceutical company operating out of Ireland to be awarded the Public Responsibility Mark, an award created shortly after the UPD reforms to remind companies that they should be as conscious of the psychic environment as the government is.’ He’d read the paragraph from his display, mockingly impressed as he passed his ID to a security guard at the entrance of the building’s parking lot.

‘I wonder how much they paid for it,’ Agent Myers examined a finger nail.

The security guard returned to his booth with the detective’s ID and made a call, handed it back and waved them through. Down the drive, into the concrete belly, Dylan looped around the car park to find a space. The rubber of his tyres screeched on corners, echoing about the dark pit.

‘They’ve got a couple of pending lawsuits, but-sure, what soulless mega corporation doesn’t? Not that I’m an expert. Plenty of out of court settlements, again, nothing exciting. What’s of interest to us is a drug trial overseen by a Doctor Alistair Evans, which is who we want to see today. Hopefully we can get by all the red tape around him.’

‘Why do we want to see him? And why is there red tape?’

Hissing through his teeth, Dylan’s reply was tentative. ‘The drug that killed Mullen isn’t exactly a household product. There are certain chemicals you need particular qualifications to get a hold of. In circumstances like these, the first assumption is that it came from somebody with access. You’d track them by the request records and investigate from there. A few years back there was an outbreak of rape reports in Dublin. Some students in Trinity had copped they could order Rohypnol in bulk and make a tidy profit by smuggling it off campus. That was a real mess. They weren’t doing anything illegal by getting it in. It was standard form that they could have any pharmaceuticals they wanted delivered for their labs. Selling it on is the illegal part. Luckily for us it turned out Trinity students were happy to rat each other out. All they got for it was community service. Rich kids, you know. Agent Mullen’s case is difficult in another way. The drug in question isn’t even available for orders outside the company labs. The only reason we know it came from them is because of recent EU legislation that compels the likes of SimperP to list the make-up of all drugs they consider using in their trials on a public register. That way, whatever desperate individuals sign up, they should have an idea of what they’re getting into.’ Dylan flicked an image of the chemical over to the social agent’s screen. ‘Trace elements of this insidious little number were found in Agent Mullen’s system and a short while ago my man managed to track it down to its source.’

Agent Myers obliged Dylan by way of asking the token question. ‘I take it Mullen wasn’t signed up for any medical trials?’

‘No. It appears he wasn’t that stupid.’

‘Or that desperate,’ Agent Myers considered, inhaling deeply. ‘So whoever killed him was either working here, or knows somebody who works here. Could it have fallen into the wrong hands by mistake?’

‘Maybe. Either that or it was sold. I’m sure there are a lot of people out there who would love a drug that kills and makes it look like an unfortunate heart attack.’

‘Like this case wasn’t big enough already.’

‘A real hot potato,’ Dylan agreed, privately amused. ‘As it turns out, this guy, Doctor Evans, he already has a bit of trouble brewing under him. He oversaw a set of medical trials that may or may not be connected with the deaths of some subjects, on top of which he has a sexual harassment suit pending. This would be where the red tape comes in. Any inquiries regarding his legal problems are to be directed to the companies solicitors and any new accusations tend to be met with pre-emptive lawsuits, slander, unfounded evidence, that kind of thing.’ Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose and said forebodingly, ‘And so on, and so forth...’

‘We shouldn’t be here...’

They were parked in the underground lot of the inner city building when they felt the weight of the corporation baring down on them.

‘Our bosses certainly won’t be happy. I have a back door into his office. I don’t know how well it’ll go down,’ Dylan said. ‘An unpaid parking ticket. Of all the suits against him, this one slipped through the net. Well, we can get up to his secretaries desk with it anyway. Maybe into his office if we’re lucky.’

‘He’s not going to admit anything.’

‘What time is it?’ Dylan asked, irritated with the man’s cynicism.

‘Threeish.’

‘I’m just covering all the bases,’ he explained, unbuckling his seat belt. ‘Is he involved with all of this? I don’t know. Maybe he has a shady associate he’d like to direct us to. Maybe his secretary knows something about him. Maybe he’s a mad man and is waiting for an excuse to admit he likes killing. People are people. They do all kinds of things for all kinds of reasons. Usually for the wrong ones. I just emit the pings and wait for them to bounce back. You can wait in the car if you like. I’ll be back by three-thirty.’

There was no mistaking it, he was offering Agent Myers a chance to save his own skin, letting him know that this wouldn’t be the best career move of his life. But Agent Myers, to Dylan’s surprise, just smirked at the get out of jail free card he was being handed and threw it out the window.

‘It sounds fun. I’d like to meet him.’

‘Don’t introduce yourself unless they ask. I’ll do the talking. Hopefully you won’t have to say your name.’

He gave Agent Myers another breath to reconsider the decision, and finally nodded, resigned to having the social agent in tow. They would storm the castle together. Like battle hungry grunts, they emerged from the car and after an elevator ride, some confused directions through the labyrinthine building, constructed as if to keep only an elect few comfortable within its walls, they were sat outside Doctor Evans’ office patiently waiting by the rude medical clerk to find out if they’d be let in. The fanfare they imagined accompanying their charge was all but gone. Half an hour went by and their attack on the keep seemed to be more a case of holding it under siege. They had nothing to say to each other, cautious as they were of the clerks ears. Agent Myers thumbed through the stack of medical magazines. The door to the doctor’s office remained shut, and another forty minutes disappeared. Just as Dylan was about to ask how much longer they’d have to wait, the clerk’s phone rang. It had been an hour and a half. She remained silent as she held the phone to her ear, choosing a spot just behind Dylan’s head to focus on as she listened to a lengthy monologue. The detective squirmed to move out of her sight. Only then did she really notice him. Seizing a gap between the voice’s sentences to inform it that the two policemen were still outside, in a piercing mousey squeak she explained specifically that they wanted to talk to him about an unpaid parking ticket. The laugh that came from the speaker was so loud the clerk had to hold the phone away from her ear. Dylan’s teeth were about to crack. Noticing this, the clerk suppressed a smirk as she told them to head in. Agent Myers thanked her graciously, and Dylan grunted, happy to ignore her as he leered through the door.

Doctor Evans was standing at his chair as they entered. ‘Gentlemen,’ his hand sprung forward to meet them as they reached his desk. ‘Our lawyers won’t be happy I let you in, for, what was it? A parking ticket. I couldn’t help myself. I’m starved for entertainment.’

Crisp in his reply, Dylan took a seat when it was offered. Agent Myers, following his lead, went one step further and reached to take a mint from the bowl on the desk. ‘I thought doctors were supposed to have lollipops.’

Dylan had wanted to elbow him.

Ignoring the social agent now, he peers across the barren expanse and sends a humble message to the doctor. ‘This is a little embarrassing. I shouldn’t really be here, for a parking ticket of all things. But I saw your name and the company you work for, and I thought, well if anybody can help me out here, it’d be you. My young fella’s working on a science project, you know,’ he taps on his pad and flicks an image over to Doctor Evans’ screen. It’s the chemical make-up of the drug that killed Agent Mullen. ‘And it got us really stumped. Maybe you could tell me what it is?’

Doctor Evans stares at the policeman, studying him like a cadaver. ‘I’m not a chemist. My job is mostly entails quantifying the side effects of drugs we test, making sure nobody gets hurt.’

‘I’m sure you’re very good at protecting the interests of your volunteers,’ Dylan says, ‘but maybe you’ve seen something like it? My young fella you know, he’s real smart. We found this pill on the side of the street, near a playground actually, and it didn’t look like a painkiller to me. I thought maybe it could be something bad, figured I’d bin it, but the lad, he’s a real curious type and I’m always trying to find new ways to encourage him, so I tell him about our crime lab, how I could take him with me while we go get it tested. Well, you can imagine how stupid I felt when the lab guys couldn’t tell us what it was. I mean, there goes my lad’s interest in science. Not very impressive showing him how men in white coats are as dopey as we are. If I don’t get some kind of an answer he’s more than likely going to become a lawyer – touch wood...’

Amused, Doctor Evans says, ‘I see.’

‘So I was thinking maybe some smart guy who hasn’t paid his parking tickets would be able to help me out here. Renew my young fella’s faith in science. God knows I can’t get him to mass.’

As the doctor’s hand makes a fist, only a knuckle moves, rising and falling in place, a piston in the machine. He swipes the image off his screen. ‘Like I said, I wouldn’t know about these things. I’m just a low level supervisor, really.’

The chair’s black leather squeaks to contradict his claim. The office is the size of a throne room. The furnishings around them are sparse in the echoing chamber, the assorted pieces of art that cover the walls have been chosen for their price rather than any aesthetic value, and the window, an indicator of prestige in and of itself, reveals the prime location SimperP occupies. Hazy and grey through the downpour, central bank isn’t too far off.

‘Assuming this,’ Dylan ignores the doctor’s claim to ignorance, ‘Assuming it was a drug that came from here, it’d be mighty bad for it to just be found on the side of the street. I mean, someone would have had to have lost it. People get fired for things like that. Or worse. I’d expect there’d be an internal investigation into the matter.’

And the doctor, visibly digesting the thought, salivates. Though Dylan wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the doctor’s mouth is actually watering, for all the surface movement it would seem he’s just talking to an amiable wall. Letting a crack appear on his countenance, in a somewhat teasing, somewhat warning manner, the doctor comments, ‘I’m sure there’s worse places it could be found. You wouldn’t want to find out that your son, for example, had swallowed it.’

Agent Myers, who has been sitting quietly up to now, shifts in his chair, stealing a sly look at Dylan. There isn’t much of a reaction to see.

‘So you’re saying that it’s dangerous?’ Dylan asks, glossing over the vague threat in the hopes of entrapping the doctor.

And Agent Myers, barely twitching this time, shifts his attention back to the doctor, who grins at the attempt.

‘It’s unidentified, or so you tell me. I wouldn’t want any unidentified pill making its way into the hands of a child.’

‘Ah,’ Dylan says, understanding displayed on his face. ‘I see what you mean.’

‘I’m sure that you’ll be filing a report on its discovery soon enough. When you do you’ll know if it’s registered to us or not. Like you said, it’s a serious matter. If you want you could let me keep this on file and I’ll let our legal team know we might need to look into it soon.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t trouble yourself,’ Dylan says, rising to stand over the man, who somehow manages to cut an imposing presence from his seated position. ‘I’m sure our lab people have already been in touch with your lab people.’

‘But you decided to make a trip down here anyway,’ Doctor Evans leads.

‘The parking ticket. This is a second notification for the late fee,’ Dylan flicks the warning from his pad onto the doctor’s screen. ‘I wouldn’t put that one on the waiting pile. These kinds of things can add up, put a blight on your record. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.’

‘Thank you, officer...’

‘Wong. Detective Wong. It was my pleasure.’

‘And the man who wanted a lollipop...?’

Taking a step away, Dylan tries to save the social agent from revealing himself, but finds that the effort is sabotaged.

‘Agent Myers, UPD services. Your co-operation’s appreciated.’

Ready to grab Myers by the ear and drag him out to the car, Dylan makes sure to keep his hands pocketed, hiding the tight fists they’ve become. To his amazement the man continues to talk, seemingly enjoying his exchange with the doctor.

‘Nice watch,’ the social agent comments as he grips the doctor’s hand.

‘Thank you,’ Doctor Evans says. Surprised by the compliment, he admires the black-silver piece, confused as to how it got there. ‘It was a gift.’