Terminal Secret Page 22
All eyes were glued to the screen as the collision unfolded.
“Ouch,” Emily responded.
Wallace leaned forward. “You don’t see that every day.”
“They both get up pretty quickly,” Emily added. “The lawyer gets up first. Then the suspect gets up and looks around before she runs off.”
“What’s she looking for?”
“Maybe she dropped the money.”
“If she did, she didn’t look for it very long.”
The tape ended with a view of the empty alley.
“That’s it?” Wallace asked.
“That’s all we have. The police, which is you guys, are collecting all the feeds from other cameras in surrounding buildings. I imagine you’ll have everything you need in a couple of hours.”
“What was the total time from entry to exit?”
“The bank perpetrator was in the building for seven minutes. Four of those minutes were standing in line waiting for a teller.”
“Fast.”
“Anything else?”
“We have the injured lawyer who got a close up of the perp on her way out of the building.”
“Let’s meet him.”
*
The lawyer touched the Band-Aid over his eyebrow. The windowless branch manager’s office was a far cry from the wood-paneled meeting rooms five floors above
Detectives Wallace and Fields walked into the manager’s office and the attorney with the Band-Aid over his eyebrow stood. Introductions followed and Wallace pulled out his detective’s notebook.
“The bank manager and security guard say you saw the suspect.”
“Oh yeah, I saw her,” the attorney said. He touched his brow again and added, “Felt her too.”
“Can you provide a description?”
“Brunette, dark eyes. Thin. Five four or five foot five. Professional attire. Sweater. Skirt. Librarian glasses.”
“Did she say anything?”
“I think we both mumbled a curse or two.”
“Anything else?”
“I’m not sure, but I think she was sucking on a lollipop.”
Wallace stopped writing and his eyes grew wide. He looked at the attorney and then slowly turned his neck towards Emily. “You hear that partner? A lollipop. The second sucker this week.”
“I only saw it for a fraction of a second. It could have been a straw. But I got the impression it was a lollipop. They have a big bowl of them on the counter at the bank. I grab one every once in a while.”
Wallace turned towards Emily. “Did you see the perp grab a lollipop in the bank video?”
“Not that I recall.”
The lawyer repeated his position. “I’m just telling you what I thought it was.”
“When did you see it? Before or after the collision?”
“Before. I opened the back door and stepped up just as this lady was coming out. Those fire doors are thick and they don’t have windows so you don’t know what’s on the other side. At any rate, I was going in, she was coming out, and we collided… and I thought I saw a lollipop.”
“And then?”
“We untangled ourselves. My eyebrow started dripping blood. The woman stood, looked around, and walked off.”
Wallace nodded. “We need to get your contact information. Stay here.”
“I have a meeting in ten minutes with an important client.”
“Postpone it. I’m sure the world of legalese will survive without you until lunch.”
*
An hour and half after the first bank robbery suspect of Detective Emily Fields’ career collided with an attorney, the detective found herself running her gloved hand along the metal staircase in the back alley of the building, her fingers pushing through thick street grime. The scent of urine was strong and she tried to hold her breath. On her second swipe under the edge of the metal step, she brushed away a crushed Burger King cup and a paper bag she hoped she wouldn’t need to open.
A moment later, still on her knees, her gloved hand struck gold. “I think I have it,” she said, pulling the lollipop from a foot-wide crack near the base of the wall and raising it to eye level.
“What the hell kind of lollipop is that?” Wallace asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen one like it before.”
Wallace moved close and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his partner as she twirled the lollipop. At the bottom of the stick, Narten Pharmaceuticals was printed in faded blue letters.
“A pharmaceutical company?”
Wallace put on a latex glove and examined it. “Let’s have it processed for DNA and then take it to our friendly neighborhood doctor.”
Chapter 35
Dr. Lewis opened the Styrofoam top on his chicken lo mein delivered from a basement Chinese bodega on the backside of the Verizon center. The tray of noodles and vegetables in the dish was similar to the last meal consumed by the deceased man on table number two. The contents of the man’s stomach had already been evaluated, registered, and tossed, but the man’s spleen was still sitting in a stainless steel bin at the foot of the table.
Detective Wallace knocked on the double swinging doors and pushed them open before the ME could protest. Dr. Lewis wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood from his desk.
“Detective Wallace and the new detective. How are things turning out in your forced marriage?”
“I’m growing on him,” Emily stated assuredly. “Whether he realizes it or not.”
Detective Wallace shrugged his shoulders and pulled the evidence bag from his jacket pocket. “We have a drug question for you.”
Dr. Lewis looked at the bag and then motioned for his guests to sit at the desk. “Let’s take a look and see what we have.”
Wallace and Emily sat in the wooden chairs on the other side of the desk as Dr. Lewis pushed his remaining lo mein out of the way. He reached into his desk and slipped on a pair of latex gloves. He slowly removed the lollipop from the evidence bag and held it up to the light.
“Interesting.”
“How?” Wallace asked.
“Well, I haven’t seen one of these in person.”
“Probably because you deal with dead patients.”
“And yet you came to me with your question, Detective. Should I just assume you couldn’t find a medical professional with live patients to interrupt?”
Wallace smiled. “Didn’t mean it as an insult, Doc. What can you tell us?”
“It’s commonly referred to as a morphine lollipop,” Dr. Lewis replied.
The detectives looked at each other.
“But they don’t really contain morphine. They used to. Now they use Fentanyl, which is about a hundred times stronger. One of the strongest pain medications on earth. It’s usually used by cancer patients. Terminally ill cancer patients with extreme pain issues.”
The hair on the back of Wallace’s neck stiffened. He again glanced at Emily, eyebrows raised, and she nodded with understanding.
“Terminally ill cancer patients?” Emily asked.
“Usually. If they’re being prescribed correctly.”
“That’s some mean candy.”
“You definitely don’t want a child to get a hold of it. Where did you find it?”
“We think someone who robbed a bank this morning dropped it on their way out of the building.”
“You should be able to process DNA off it.”
“Samples are already on the way to the lab for DNA analysis. What else can you tell me about the drug?”
“I think one of the main side effects is rapid tooth decay.”
“Just like real lollipops,” Emily stated.
“Worse,” Dr. Lewis responded. He flipped his glasses to the top of his head and removed a magnifying glass from another desk drawer. He peered intently at the lollipop from end to end and then hummed quietly for a moment. “You know, I’m pretty sure these have serial numbers on them.”
“If it has a number, then we can locate the owner. We
can solve this case before dinner,” Emily said.
“I didn’t see any serial number. Just the pharmaceutical company’s name,” Wallace said.
The doctor started to hum again and continued for a moment with his eyes dancing over the medication. “Detective Wallace, do you remember the old Tootsie Pop commercial?”
“Sure, how many licks does it take to reach the center of a Tootsie Pop lollipop?”
“In this case, it’s how many licks does it take to reach the serial number…”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not at all. I believe the serial number is on the stick, under the medication. If I remember correctly, these things had a bit of a run as a black market, designer drug of the week. The first version of this medication didn’t have a number at all. Thieves were stealing and reselling them. It became a bit of a problem, particularly on the West Coast. In response, the DEA required a way to trace the drug so they added a serial number. Of course, the pharmaceutical companies put the serial number on the handle end of the stick and the thieves just cut the number off. So the drug companies changed the location for the number. And for us to take a look at it, we are going to have to crack the remaining portion of the medication and remove it from the stick.”
“I’m sure you have a hammer somewhere in this dungeon.”
Dr. Lewis, a man with incredibly thick skin, smirked. “I keep the hammer in my toolbox. But I do have other power tools at my disposal.” Two minutes later, with the broken portion of the lollipop in an evidence bag, Dr. Lewis read the number off the end of the lollipop stick.
“I assume you can do something with this number?” Wallace asked.
“Give me a minute. With a little luck and help from a friend, I can tell you where this prescription was filled and by whom.”
Chapter 36
Amy Conboy walked through the old green doors and into the lobby of the eighty-year old apartment she called home. A block off Connecticut Avenue, a quarter mile north of the National Zoo, her subsidized apartment building was being eyed by a half-dozen developers looking to lure more upscale customers. A wrecking ball, followed by a year of construction, and another old brick building would be replaced with glass and steel, for triple the current rent. Quadruple for a top floor unit with a squinter’s view of Rock Creek Park.
Amy checked her mailbox and closed the small metal door, a handful of bills the only correspondence. For now, at least, they were bills she could pay. It was amazing the freedom money could buy. Freedom from worry. Freedom from stress.
Amy stepped aside and pressed her back against the wall as a young man from an apartment on the first floor made his way outside with an aging mountain bike frame on his shoulder. Amy glanced at the young man’s glutes as he exited and then she headed in the direction of the old elevator. In the small foyer area near the elevator door, she pressed the up button and smiled at the mixed-race couple sitting on the chairs in the corner.
The couple looked at each other, nodded, and stood.
“Amy Conboy?” the black man asked, approaching with a badge held high in his large palm.
Amy looked down sheepishly at the stack of mail in her hands, all with her name and address on them. Denial was futile.
“Yes.”
“You’re under arrest for bank robbery.”
As she was being read her rights, the female officer stepped behind Amy and gently cuffed her wrists.
Chapter 37
Detective Wallace opened the door to the observation side of the interrogation room and Dan Lord entered. A small table ran the length of the room under the large two-way mirror. A small electronic console filled the corner, replete with video and audio recording capabilities. Six chairs were pushed against the back wall.
“Cozy,” Dan said.
“Better than the other side of the glass,” Wallace responded.
“No doubt about that.”
Emily stepped into the room, smiled at Dan, and then pulled Detective Wallace to the corner. She opened a folder she carried in her hands. Detective Wallace peeked into the folder and then whispered into Emily’s ear.
“Don’t mind me,” Dan interrupted.
Wallace scowled and Emily placed the folder on the table next to a group of other folders differentiated only by the scribble on the tabs.
“So, who’s behind the glass?” Dan asked.
“Her name is Amy Conboy. A suspect in a bank robbery this morning.”
“A bank robber?”
“Yep.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“Funny you should ask,” Wallace said. He grabbed one of the folders off the table, flipped it open, and showed Dan the photos of the morphine lollipop.
“Our bank robber here was seen leaving the premises of the BB&T Bank on Thirteenth and F, with a lollipop between her lips.”
“A lollipop?”
“That’s right. A morphine lollipop.”
“Fentanyl,” Emily corrected.
“Are we assuming this is the same flavor lollipop as the woman who pushed Carla the waitress into the path of the Circulator bus?” Dan asked.
“We don’t know for sure. Maybe if you trained cardio a little harder you would have been able to run her down and we would have the answer to that question.”
“It wasn’t the cardio that got me, it was a blunt object. I assume the morphine lollipop isn’t for shits and giggles. They probably don’t write prescriptions for those very often.”
Wallace nodded at the woman seated behind the two-way mirror. “We don’t know exactly what medical ailment she has yet, but the logical choice is cancer. We’re working to meet with her doctor. But we do know she has a legal prescription for the morphine lollipop and that prescription allowed us to locate her.”
“It still doesn’t help us prove the woman who pushed Carla had a morphine lollipop. In fact, the chances are probably slim. A bank robber is quite different from a murderer. There’s a big jump in malevolence between the two.”
“True. The lollipop itself doesn’t prove a link between the bank robber here and the woman in Georgetown. But the lollipop is not the only M.O. This woman here, she also shared the chameleon gene with Carla’s pusher.”
“How’s that?” Dan asked.
“The woman on the other side of the glass there, well, she entered the bank as a tall blonde and she left the building as a much shorter brunette. Sound familiar?”
“Indeed. From a blonde to a brunette.”
“She made her escape dressed as a legal professional.”
Dan looked through the glass at the woman seated at the table.
“And there’s something else,” Emily stated.
“I can hardly wait,” Dan said.
“If we assume both the lollipop girls are felons, and that they both have cancer, we potentially have a third person to add to the list.”
“Another lollipop?”
Wallace answered. “Nothing that cut and dry. But last week we pulled the body of a woman and her minivan from the canal, just west of Georgetown.”
“I saw it on the news.”
“Are you aware it was the same morning as the sniper killing in Spring Valley?”
“I didn’t. And I had no reason to make the connection between the two.”
“Well, the woman who perished in that one car accident also had cancer. Terminally ill, metastasized cancer.”
“You now have my undivided attention.”
“And she may have had help, after the fact.”
“An accomplice,” Emily added.
“A cleaner.”
Wallace explained the demise of the minivan and the man in the old Ford van who bought the bicycle from the Duke of Junk.
“Did anyone at the junkyard see this so-called cleaner?”
Wallace nodded at Emily to add the exclamation point on the evidence. She reached for a folder on the table, grabbed a photo from inside, and held it up for Dan. “This is the guy who bought
the bicycle from the junkyard. We knocked on every door for three blocks around the junkyard before we got this off a surveillance camera in front of a Navy Annex building. You can’t identify the driver but it’s pretty evident that the guy is wearing glasses and a baseball cap.”
“This time it’s the Yankees. This guy has no loyalty at all. Did you get the tags?”
“We did. Dead end. Stolen off a similar van last year.”
“So he’s a planner. People usually don’t steal license plates a year in advance.” Dan rubbed his hand across his cheek. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m excited.”
“About what?” Wallace said.
“About working our cases together. We’re all looking for the same person.”
“That’s what worries me,” Wallace retorted.
“Why’s that?” Emily asked.
“Because Dan doesn’t share information very well.”
“That’s not fair. You only have a sample size of one. You can’t blame me for not sharing information in the Nguyen case. I was looking for someone who murdered my relatives and you were trying to put me in jail.”
Wallace smirked and the room fell silent. “Here’s your chance to make things right. Let’s work this case together, as you say. I invited you here for this interrogation out of professional courtesy. I didn’t have to invite you, so don’t go pissing in the pool.”
“I’ll keep my bladder in check.”
Wallace glared at Dan.
“Oh, and I thought you might want to know they found the three Spanish speaking perps from the other night. All dead. All shot sitting in a car off Georgia Avenue. The guy with the tattoos on his hands still had multiple arm fractures in need of medical treatment.”
“Not anymore.”
Detective Wallace nodded.
“Then I don’t have to worry about them coming back around,” Dan added. He turned his neck and glanced over at the woman at the table in the interrogation room on the other side of the glass. “Are we going to ask her questions, or just leave her sitting in there?”
“Stay here with Detective Fields. Let’s see what she has to say.”
“Make sure she knows her rights before you get started,” Dan said as Wallace pulled the door open.