Diagnosis Murder 4 - The Waking Nightmare (22 page)

"Thanks to your leak," Mark said, "Brant stock is nearly valueless now."

"Serves those bastards right," she said.

"Including all the rank-and-file Brant employees who own stock?" Steve asked.

"They're hurting now," Grace said. "But it will bounce back under Sara's leadership."

"You knew Sara would buy back the stock?" Mark asked. Grace nodded. "She was absolutely devoted to her husband. She knows what this magazine meant to him. He would have wanted the family to control the magazine again. Going public was the biggest mistake he ever made. He lost more than his magazine. He lost his soul."

"It must have torn him up, seeing the evidence of what they'd done and knowing what it would cost him to expose their crimes," Steve said. "He had to know the scandal could destroy him and the magazine too."

She nodded. "He managed to hide his pain from everyone, but I could see it."

"His wife saw it, too," Mark said. "She was treating him with Prozac."

Grace looked surprised. "Win didn't believe in taking any drugs except for necessary antibiotics and vaccines. He believed that taking anything else was a sign of physical, mental, and moral weakness. He had a phrase for it: 'abdicating command of your own body'."

"Then he must have changed his views, because he abdicated in a big way," Steve said. "Brant killed himself."

Grace jerked back, her eyes wide, her mouth agape. "What?"

"He wasn't murdered," Mark said. "He jumped out of that plane and stabbed himself."

"Win wouldn't do that," Grace said.

"I guess you didn't know him as well as you thought," Steve said. "Isn't it possible he killed himself rather than face the scandal?"

"He wouldn't have given those bastards the satisfaction," she said. "Then they really would have beaten him."

"Then what would he have killed himself for?" Mark asked.

"Nothing," she said, then seemed to change her mind. "Unless it was for a greater good."

"You mean like throwing himself on a live grenade to save his platoon," Mark said. "Or cutting his rope to save the other climbers on the line."

"His death would have meaning, it could stand as a victory," Grace said. "I can't believe he died this way. I didn't see the slightest hint that he was thinking of ending his own life."

"You didn't see it," Steve said. "Maybe Sara did."

"What difference does it make now?" Grace said. "He's dead."

"If she knew he was suicidal and hid it from us, she could be guilty of fraud," Steve said.

"You can't be serious," Grace said. "She's just lost her husband. How can you even consider tormenting her like that?'

"She was in line for a huge life insurance settlement, which gave her a couple million reasons not to reveal he was suicidal and to encourage us to believe he was murdered," Steve said. "That's a criminal act."

Grace looked more shocked now than she did before. "Oh my God, you're right. He
did
kill himself."

Mark stared at her, trying to understand her sudden change of heart. "Why do you believe it now when you didn't two minutes ago?"

"Because of what he just said." Grace wagged a finger at Steve. "Win was afraid you'd do this, that you'd go after Sara."

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked.

She got up and walked across the outer office to a painting of a whaling ship on stormy seas and lifted it away from the wall to reveal a safe.

Grace quickly spun the combination, opened the safe, and pulled out a sealed envelope.

"I found this in the safe yesterday. There was a note for me from Win attached to it, instructing me to give the envelope to the police if Sara was ever in trouble." Her hand trembled. "I didn't understand what the hell he meant. Now I do."

She handed the envelope to Steve. Mark stood beside Steve and looked over his shoulder. The envelope was sealed with wax and notarized, signed by Winston Brant and the notary on the morning of Brant's death.

Steve took a letter opener from Grace's desk and carefully slit the top of the envelope, then used a rubber glove from his pocket to remove the folded paper inside. It was a handwritten letter from Winston Brant that began with four simple words:

I killed myself today.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I killed myself today.

The alternative was succumbing to my disease— betrayed by the rapid and unstoppable deterioration of my flesh, wasting away until I became a helpless prisoner of my own useless body. My last days would have been a waking nightmare.

Instead I saw how I could spare myself and my family the slow, unbearable torture of my certain demise. I saw how my death could be used to vanquish my enemies and assure my loved ones of a happy and prosperous future..

I decided to leap out of an airplane and stab myself in the heart before I reached the ground. I wanted my last moments to be filled with the exhilaration of life, floating above the earth, the wind and the sun in my face.

But there were other considerations as well.

I wanted to die in an extraordinary way that would draw enormous attention to me and more importantly, the three men on the airplane. I believed the intense scrutiny by the media and law enforcement would reveal the crimes committed by those men for all to see. I hoped the ensuing scandal would remove those parasites from the company, lower the stock price, and allow my family to assume control of the magazine that was, in so many ways, an extension of myself

If you are reading this, then I have failed and my loving wjfe Sara has become entangled in my vengeful machinations. For that I am deeply sorry... and solely responsible. She had no part in this whatsoever. Nobody knew what I intended to do.

Suicide was my choice, one I made alone in the solitude of my own hopelessness and as an act of fury at the cruel unfairness of my affliction. Perhaps I failed to save my company, but I surely conquered my fate, forging my own destiny instead of blithely accepting the horrific one chosen for me.

I face my death satisfied that 1 died as I lived... on my own terms.

Winston Brant

Sara Everden was quiet for a long time after she read the note, then she handed it back across her desk to Steve, who sat beside Mark in the same chairs they'd been in that morning.

"He had ALS," she said.

"What's that?" Steve asked.

"Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease," Mark said. "It's an incurable disease of the nerve cells of the spinal cord that results in the gradual loss of muscle function."

"It starts in the extremities and then becomes more insidious, until you can't speak, swallow, or breathe," she said. "The mind, however, stays sharp, trapped in a body that no longer functions. It's like being buried alive."

It was a horrible death for anyone but especially for a man who prized his physicality as much as Winston Brant. There was only one way Brant could overcome this obstacle, Mark thought, and he took it.

Steve glared at Sara. "When were you going to tell us this?"

"Never," she said.

Her unapologetic reply only made Steve angrier. "When did he tell you he was going to kill himself?"

"He didn't, though I suppose I probably should have realized he'd never allow himself to die this way."

Mark glanced at Steve, shaking his head slightly, signaling him to back off. If Steve continued attacking her, she'd shut up and throw them out before they got the details Mark wanted.

"When did he find out he had ALS?" Mark asked softly, trying to be as nonconfrontational as possible.

"Only a few weeks ago." Sara sighed heavily. "Win was feeling weak and lethargic. He tried to hide it from everyone, even me. As if a wife wouldn't notice, especially one who practices medicine. He denied anything was wrong, of course, but finally he agreed to see a doctor, as long as it was me and nobody knew about it."

"Why was he so concerned about anyone knowing he was seeing a doctor?" Mark asked.

"His reputation was based on his strength, his physical abilities," she said. "He didn't want anyone to suspect for a moment that he experienced weakness of any kind."

"Didn't he realize he was human?" Mark said.

"You wouldn't believe how many times I tried to remind him of that," she said. "I don't think he finally accepted it until the moment he decided to kill himself."

She opened a drawer in her desk, pulled out a file, and opened it in front of her. "I suspected a thyroid condition, something simple and easily treatable. But then the blood work came back."

Sara handed Mark the lab results. He took them with his free hand and studied them intently.

"The tests show elevated levels of creatine phosphokinase and aldolase," Mark said, which he then clarified for Steve's benefit. "They're enzymes in the muscles. As muscles lose mass, the enzymes enter the bloodstream. It doesn't specifically indicate ALS, though the results are certainly troubling for a man of his physical fitness."

"So I did a battery of tests." Sara slid more pages in front of Mark to review as she talked. "Including a muscle biopsy, a spinal tap, and an MRI."

Mark studied the stack of test results and, after a time, nodded grimly. "It's pretty conclusive."

"I still didn't want to believe it," Sara said. "But Lisa Klink and Morgan Gendel confirmed my fears."

Mark only knew Dr Klink, a top rheumatologist at UCLA Medical Center, from listening to her fascinating talks on antiphospholipid antibody syndrome at medical conventions. But he knew Dr. Gendel well, a highly respected neurologist Mark personally recruited five years ago to join the Community General staff.

"Telling Win he had ALS was the hardest thing I've ever had to do," she said, her voice barely a whisper, tears welling in her eyes at the memory.

"Did anyone else besides you and his doctors know?" Mark said.

She shook her head, the motion spilling her tears. "He was adamant about that. Not even our kids knew. He was afraid of what it would do to the company if word got out. Someone with an incurable, muscle-wasting disease is hardly a winning image for a magazine that celebrates a man's ability to exceed his physical limitations. Circulation could fall drastically. And even if he'd only told the board, it would have been just the excuse they needed to push him out completely."

Mark could imagine what Brant saw in his limited future. If he'd let the disease take its course, he would have watched helplessly while his body and his life's work deteriorated around him. Every day truly would have been a waking nightmare for him. Brant knew he only had a short time before his symptoms became obvious and he lost the ability to do anything for himself. It made sense that he would use those precious weeks for one last, decisive victory, to give his death meaning and purpose.

"You've lied to us every time we've seen you," Steve said. "Do you really expect us to believe you didn't know what he was going to do?"

"I don't care what you believe," Sara said, giving Steve an icy stare. "Win committed suicide, so you have no official standing. His health was a private matter and I'm under no obligation to share anything with you. I did so as a courtesy, which you have abused. We're finished now. Tomorrow I'm burying my husband and we're going on with our lives."

She gathered up the papers, placed her husband's medical file back in her desk, and slammed the drawer shut.

Mark and Steve got up from their seats.

"I need to take this note from your husband," Steve said. "I'll get it back to you in a few days."

That was Steve's good-bye. He went directly to the door without looking back.

Mark lingered for a moment, reached across her desk, and gently took Sara's hand. He could feel her hand shaking, ever so slightly.

"I apologize if anything we've said or done today has upset you," Mark said. "I can't imagine what you've had to endure over the last few weeks. The last thing I want to do is add to your pain."

"I appreciate it, Mark," Sara said.

"If there is anything I can do to help you or your family, please don't hesitate to call."

He let go of her hand, gave her his warmest smile, and left the office.

* * *

Steve was waiting for Mark outside, leaning against the car, his arms crossed over his chest, his cheeks red with anger.

"Why didn't Amanda discover Brant had ALS when she did her autopsy?"

"If he was in the earliest stages of the disease, the muscle wasting wouldn't be immediately noticeable," Mark said. "And she wasn't looking for indications of anything like ALS in his blood work. Unless the disease was further along, it's just not something that would arise in the course of a routine autopsy."

"The guy was stabbed after jumping out of an airplane," Steve said. "There's nothing routine about that."

"There is if you're looking at the immediate cause of death, not the circumstances surrounding it," Mark said. "From Amanda's view, the cause of death wasn't a big mystery."

"Well, there's no mystery left anymore. We know how Brant was killed and why it happened," Steve said. "Satisfied now?"

Mark frowned. "Not really."

"You got the answers you wanted. Everything makes sense. What could possibly be bothering you now?'

"I don't know," Mark said. "Why don't we start with what's bothering you."

"I'm fine," Steve said.

"You're furious."

"I just hate being lied to," Steve said. "If I could throw her in jail for that, I would. She wasted a lot of our time for nothing."

"If wasting a person's time was a criminal offense, I could be sent to prison for life."

"Why did she lie to us?" Steve said. "That's what I still want to know."

"Because she wanted to preserve her husband's memory as an icon of physical adventurism and masculinity," Mark said.

"While she buys up Brant Publications stock, which suddenly costs as much per share as a Krispy Kreme donut. Those aren't the actions of a grieving widow."