Blood Loss (29 page)

She said very seriously, ‘You mustn’t pretend to be sick, just because you don’t want to be here. It is dangerous. What if you really were sick, and mama just thought you were pretending?’

The little boy stared at his feet.

‘Now, sit up here beside your mama, read your book.’

She smiled at Ren.

‘Beautifully done,’ said Ren.

The mother laughed. ‘He is a trying child.’

Ren went to YouTube. She put on her headphones and watched Shep Collier’s speech. She watched it again.

Nothing. What am I supposed to be hearing here, what am I supposed to be seeing?

She watched it again. She took off the headphones.

Nothing.

Ren drove down I-70 toward the office. She was thinking about Shep Collier. He was framed. He had clearly been stepping on toes.

And what about Mark Whaley? What had he done?

She dialed Gary’s cell.

‘Gary, it’s Ren. There’s something going on with Shep Collier, but I don’t know what. He stuck to his story, but it seems to me that he has no choice. He was dancing around something. I think he was implying that I should watch his press conference, but I did, several times, and I got nothing. He must be under surveillance. If I was listening in, everything he said was solid, it sounded like he was giving me nothing. But I think he was giving me something. I just … don’t know yet what that is.’

‘So, it was a wasted trip …’

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘I don’t think so. I’ve built up a trust with him … to some degree.’

‘That’s great, Ren.’ His voice was flat.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Ren dialed Colin’s cell phone. ‘Colin? It’s Ren. Will you come with me to MeesterBrandt headquarters on Monday?’

‘Why?’ said Colin.

‘I need your charm to talk to the boss.’

‘Well, it’s in no short supply,’ said Colin.

‘R-O-T-F-L,’ said Ren.

‘Why are you calling me now?’ said Colin.

‘Why not?’ said Ren.

‘Hey, hold on,’ said Colin. ‘Naomi wants to talk to you.’

‘Hey, girl,’ said Naomi. ‘We missed you the other night! Heard about your fender bender. Get your ass out here. You owe me. We’re in … where are we, Col?’

‘I can’t,’ said Ren. ‘I’ve got to—’

‘I’m not taking no for an answer,’ said Naomi.

‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to,’ said Ren. ‘I gotta go!’

She’s more nuts than me.

Ren’s phone beeped with a text:
It’s Saturday night. Do you know where your tutu3 is?

Ren laughed and texted back.
Tutu3 – love it. Am back.

Paul Louderback replied:
Drinks it is!

Paul was sitting in a Larimer Street bar, with a lite beer in front of him.

‘Girl’s drink,’ said Ren.

Paul smiled. ‘Ouch. Your face is worse than I thought.’

‘I look like a thug.’

‘Let me get you a glass of champagne to counter that.’

‘Then I’ll look like a moll.’

‘Why I oughta …’ He called the waiter and ordered the drink.

Ren sat down. She filled him in on Shep Collier.

‘The thick plottens,’ said Paul.

Ren nodded. ‘It sure does.’ She could hear her cell phone vibrate.
I bet that’s Ben.

She stared into her drink.

‘Where have you gone?’ said Paul.

She turned to him.

‘You look serious,’ he said.

‘Paul, I think you need to go back and work things out with Marianne.’

‘What?’ said Paul.

‘I hope I’m not being too blunt … ’
But I feel sorry for Marianne, I feel bad for being in on a secret that she isn’t.

‘But … I thought …’

Me and your protégées could share?

‘What did you think?’ said Ren.

‘I … don’t know,’ said Paul. ‘Maybe that you and me could try and … maybe we could work.’

The romance.

‘You and Marianne still love each other,’ said Ren. ‘It’s obvious.’
Her cry for help is echoing all the way to Denver.

Paul stared down at the table.

‘It sounds to me like Marianne only left you as a last resort.’

He looked up. ‘Maybe.’

Then how did you let it go so far?
‘It’s not too late, is it?’ said Ren.

‘Maybe not,’ said Paul. ‘I … I wasn’t there for her. I can see that now. Or the girls. They are spending more time with me now than they were when I was living with them. They have hours of my time in a row …’

‘And look how happy they are,’ said Ren. ‘At least with that part of it. Go call Marianne. You can work this out.’

‘What about her … new man?’ said Paul.

‘I think her old man is the one she wants,’ said Ren. ‘That old man is her husband. For better or worse …’

Paul said nothing.

‘Men need sex to feel loved,’ said Ren. ‘And a lot of women need to feel loved to have sex. I’m not one of them, but you get the picture. I think you thought I’d solve the sex end of things for you, and maybe Marianne thought her new man would solve the emotional end of things for her. We look elsewhere for the things we’re not getting at home …’

‘I think you’re being harsh on everyone with all that,’ said Paul. ‘I wasn’t just interested in you for sex.’

‘I actually know that,’ said Ren. ‘I don’t think you’re that much of an asshole. But, I also know that you were never really looking at me as a serious contender …’

‘And neither were you looking at me …’

‘That’s probably true,’ said Ren.
Yet how foolish was I to let it muddy the waters for so long?

‘So,’ said Paul.

‘So,’ said Ren. ‘Without managing to do each other any great harm, we’re not really good for each other, are we? We’re in that strange gray area. But, despite being someone who I think is wonderful, well, I think you’re going to have to be someone else’s wonderful.’

She thought of the inscription on the little blue hardback.

‘But you are beautiful, Annie, and you are wonderful, and you are joyful.’

She smiled at Paul Louderback.

You can be someone else’s. I’d like to be someone’s Annie.

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.’