Nothing Lasts Forever (24 page)

“All right.”

At the first pharmacy Paige went into, she showed her identification and said, “A colleague of mine, Dr. Ken Mallory, was in here Sunday for a prescription. He’s out of town, and he asked me to get a refill, but I can’t remember the name of it. Would you mind looking it up, please?”

“Dr. Ken Mallory? Just a moment.” He came back a few minutes later. “Sorry, we didn’t fill any prescriptions Sunday for a Dr. Mallory.”

“Thank you.”

Paige got the same response at the next four pharmacies.

Honey was having no better luck.

“We have thousands of prescriptions here, you know.”

“I know, but this was last Sunday.”

“Well, we have no prescriptions here from a Dr. Mallory. Sorry.”

The two of them spent the day going from pharmacy to pharmacy. They were both getting discouraged. It was not until late afternoon, just before closing time, that Paige found what she was looking for in a small pharmacy in the Potrero district. The pharmacist said, “Oh, yes, here we are. Dr. Ken Mallory. I remember him. He was on his way to make a house call on a patient. I was impressed, because not many doctors do that these days.”

No resident ever made house calls.
“What’s the prescription for?”

Paige found she was holding her breath.

“Chloral hydrate.”

Paige was almost trembling with excitement. “You’re sure?”

“It says so right here.”

“What was the patient’s name?”

He looked at the copy of the prescription. “Spyros Levathes.”

“Would you mind giving me a copy of that prescription?” Paige asked.

“Not at all, doctor.”

One hour later, Paige was in Inspector Burns’s office. She laid the prescription on his desk.

“Here’s your proof,” Paige said. “On Sunday, Dr. Mallory went to a pharmacy miles away from where he lives, and had this prescription for chloral hydrate filled. He put the chloral hydrate in Kat’s drink, and when she was unconscious, he butchered her to make it look like an accident.”

“You’re saying he put the chloral hydrate in her drink and then killed her.”

“Yes.”

“There’s only one problem with that, Dr. Taylor. There
was
no chloral hydrate in her body.”

“There has to be. Your pathologist made a mistake. Ask him to check again.”

He was losing his patience. “Doctor…”

“Please! I know I’m right.”

“You’re wasting everybody’s time.”

Paige sat across from him, her eyes fixed on his face.

He sighed. “All right. I’ll call him again. Maybe he
did
make a mistake.”

Jason picked Paige up for dinner. “We’re having dinner at my house,” he said. “There’s something I want you to see.”

During the drive there, Paige brought Jason up to date on what was happening.

“They’ll find the chloral hydrate in her body,” Paige said. “And Ken Mallory will get what’s coming to him.”

“I’m so sorry about all this, Paige.”

“I know.” She pressed his hand against her cheek. “Thank God for you.”

The car pulled up in front of Jason’s home.

Paige looked out of the window and she gasped. Around the green lawn in front of the house was a new white picket fence.

She was alone in the dark apartment. Ken Mallory used the key that Kat had given him and moved quietly toward the bedroom. Paige heard his footsteps coming toward her, but before she could move, he had leaped at her, his hands tight around her throat.

“You bitch! You’re trying to destroy me. Well, you aren’t going to snoop around anymore.” He began squeezing harder. “I outsmarted all of you, didn’t I?” His fingers squeezed tighter. “No one can ever prove I killed Kat.”

She tried to scream, but it was impossible to breathe. She struggled free, and was suddenly awake. She was alone in her room. Paige sat up in bed, trembling.

She stayed awake the rest of the night, waiting for Inspector Burns’s phone call. It came at 10:00
A.M.

“Dr. Taylor?”

“Yes.” She was holding her breath.

“I just got the
third
report from the forensic pathologist.”

“And?” Her heart was pounding.

“There was no trace of chloral hydrate or any other sedative in Dr. Hunter’s body. None.”

That was impossible! There had to be. There was no sign of any blow or anything that would have caused her to become unconscious. No bruises on her throat. It didn’t make sense. Kat had to have been unconscious when Mallory killed her. The forensic pathologist was wrong.

Paige decided to go talk to him herself.

Dr. Dolan was in an irritable mood. “I don’t like to be questioned like this,” he said. “I’ve checked it three times. I told Inspector Burns that there was no trace of chloral hydrate in any of her organs, and there wasn’t.”

“But…”

“Is there anything else, doctor?”

Paige looked at him helplessly. Her last hope was gone. Ken Mallory was going to get away with murder. “I…I guess not. If you didn’t find any chemicals in her body, then I don’t…”

“I didn’t say I didn’t find
any
chemicals.”

She looked at him a moment. “You found something?”

“Just a trace of trichloroethylene.”

She frowned. “What would that do?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. It’s an analgesic drug. It wouldn’t put anyone to sleep.”

“I see.”

“Sorry I can’t help you.”

Paige nodded. “Thank you.”

She walked down the long, antiseptic corridor of the morgue, depressed, feeling that she was missing something. She had been so sure Kat had been put to sleep with chloral hydrate.

All he found was a trace of trichloroethylene. It wouldn’t put anyone to sleep. But why would trichloroethylene be in Kat’s body?
Kat had not been taking any medications. Paige stopped in the middle of the corridor, her mind working furiously.

When Paige arrived at the hospital, she went directly to the medical library on the fifth floor. It took her less than a minute to find trichloroethylene. The description read:
A colorless, clear, volatile liquid with a specific gravity of 1.47 at 59 degrees F. It is a halogenated hydrocarbon, having the chemical formula CCl CCl :CHCl.

And there, on the last line, she found what she was looking for.
When chloral hydrate is metabolized, it produces trichloroethylene as a by-product.

“I
nspector, Dr. Taylor is here to see you.”

“Again?” He was tempted to turn her away. She was obsessed with the half-baked theory she had. He was going to have to put a stop to it. “Send her in.”

When Paige walked into his office, Inspector Burns said, “Look, doctor, I think this has gone far enough. Dr. Dolan called to complain about—”

“I know how Ken Mallory did it!” Her voice was charged with excitement. “There was trichloroethylene in Kat’s body.”

He nodded. “Dr. Dolan told me that. But he said it couldn’t have made her unconscious. He—”

“Chloral hydrate turns into trichloroethylene!” Paige said triumphantly. “Mallory lied when he said he didn’t go back into the apartment with Kat. He put chloral hydrate in her drink. It has no taste when you mix it with alcohol, and it only takes a few minutes for it to work. Then when she was unconscious, he killed her and made it look like a bungled abortion.”

“Doctor, if you’ll forgive my saying so, that’s a hell of a lot of speculation.”

“No, it isn’t. He wrote the prescription for a patient named Spyros Levathes, but he never gave it to him.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he
couldn’t
have. I checked on Spyros Levathes. He has erythropoietic porphyria.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a genetic metabolic disorder. It causes photosensitivity and lesions, hypertension, tachycardia, and a few other unpleasant symptoms. It’s the result of a defective gene.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Dr. Mallory didn’t give his patient chloral hydrate because it would have killed him! Chloral hydrate is contraindicated for porphyria. It would have caused immediate convulsive seizures.”

For the first time, Inspector Burns was impressed. “You’ve really done your homework, haven’t you?”

Paige pressed on. “Why would Ken Mallory go to a remote pharmacy and fill a prescription for a patient he knew he couldn’t
give
it to? You’ve
got
to arrest him.”

His fingers were drumming on his desk. “It’s not that simple.”

“You’ve got to…”

Inspector Burns raised a hand. “All right. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll talk to the district attorney’s office and see whether they think we have a case.”

Paige knew she had gone as far as she could. “Thank you, inspector.”

“I’ll get back to you.”

After Paige Taylor left, Inspector Burns sat there thinking about their conversation. There was no hard evidence against Dr. Mallory, only the suspicions of a persistent woman. He reviewed the few facts that he had. Dr. Mallory had been engaged to Kat Hunter. Two days after she died, he was engaged to Alex Harrison’s daughter. Interesting, but not against the law.

Mallory had said that he dropped Dr. Hunter off at her front door and did not go into the apartment. Semen was found in her body, but he had a plausible explanation for that.

Then there was the matter of the chloral hydrate. Mallory had written a prescription for a drug that could have killed his patient. Was he guilty of murder? Not guilty?

Burns buzzed his secretary on the intercom. “Barbara, get me an appointment with the district attorney this afternoon.”

There were four men in the office when Paige walked in: the district attorney, his assistant, a man named Warren, and Inspector Burns.

“Thank you for stopping by, Dr. Taylor,” the district attorney said. “Inspector Burns has been telling me of your interest in the death of Dr. Hunter. I can appreciate that. Dr. Hunter was your roommate, and you want to see justice done.”

So they’re going to arrest Ken Mallory after all!

“Yes,” Paige said. “There’s no doubt about it. Dr. Mallory killed her. When you arrest him, he—”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

Paige looked at him blankly. “What?”

“We can’t arrest Dr. Mallory.”

“But why?”

“We have no case.”

“Of course you have!” Paige exclaimed. “The trichloroethylene proves that—”

“Doctor, in a court of justice, ignorance of the law is no excuse. But ignorance in medicine
is.
”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple. It means that Dr. Mallory could claim he made a mistake, that he didn’t know what effect chloral hydrate would have on a patient with porphyria. No one could prove he was lying. It might prove that he’s a lousy doctor, but it wouldn’t prove that he’s guilty of murder.”

Paige looked at him in frustration. “You’re going to let him get away with this?”

He studied her a moment. “I’ll tell you what I’m prepared to do. I’ve discussed this with Inspector Burns. With your permission, we’re going to send someone to your apartment to pick up the glasses in the bar. If we find any traces of chloral hydrate, well take the next step.”

“What if he rinsed them out?”

Inspector Burns said dryly, “I don’t imagine he took the time to use a detergent. If he just rinsed out the glasses, we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

Two hours later, Inspector Burns was on the phone with Paige.

“We did a chemical analysis of all the glasses in the bar, doctor,” Burns said.

Paige steeled herself for disappointment.

“We found one with traces of chloral hydrate.”

Paige closed her eyes in a silent prayer of thanks.

“And there were fingerprints on that glass. We’re going to check them against Dr. Mallory’s prints.”

Paige felt a surge of excitement.

The inspector went on, “When he killed her—if he did kill her—he was wearing gloves, so his fingerprints wouldn’t be on the curette. But he couldn’t very well have served her a drink while he wore gloves, and he might not have worn them when he put the glass back on the shelf after rinsing it out.”

“No,” Paige said. “He couldn’t, could he?”

“I have to admit that in the beginning, I didn’t believe your theory was going anywhere. I think now maybe Dr. Mallory could be our man. But proving it is going to be another matter.” He continued, “The district attorney is right. It would be a tricky business to bring Mallory to trial. He can still say that the prescription was for his patient. There’s no law against making a medical mistake. I don’t see how we—”

“Wait a minute!” Paige said excitedly. “I think I know how!”

Ken Mallory was listening to Lauren on the telephone. “Father and I found some office space that you’re going to adore, darling! It’s a beautiful suite in the 490 Post Building. I’m going to hire a receptionist for you, someone not too pretty.”

Mallory laughed. “You don’t have to worry about that, baby. There isn’t anyone in the world for me but you.”

“I’m dying for you to come see it. Can you get away now?”

“I’m off in a couple of hours.”

“Wonderful! Why don’t you pick me up at the house?”

“All right. I’ll be there.” Mallory replaced the telephone.
It doesn’t get any better than this,
he thought.
There is a God, and She loves me.

He heard his name called over the PA system: “Dr. Mallory…Room 430…Dr. Mallory…Room 430.” He sat there daydreaming, thinking about the golden future that lay ahead of him.
A beautiful suite in the 490 Post Building, filled with rich old ladies eager to throw their money at him.
He heard his name called again. “Dr. Mallory…Room 430.” He sighed and got to his feet.
I’ll be out of this goddam madhouse soon,
he thought. He headed toward Room 430.

A resident was waiting for him in the corridor, outside the room. “I’m afraid we have a problem here,” he said. “This is one of Dr. Peterson’s patients, but Dr. Peterson isn’t here. I’m having an argument with one of the other doctors.”

They stepped inside. There were three people in the room—a man in bed, a male nurse, and a doctor Mallory had not met before.

The resident said, “This is Dr. Edwards. We need your advice, Dr. Mallory.”

“What’s the problem?”

The resident explained. “This patient is suffering from erythropoietic porphyria, and Dr. Edwards insists on giving him a sedative.”

“I don’t see any problem with that.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Edwards said. “The man hasn’t slept in forty-eight hours. I’ve prescribed chloral hydrate for him so he can get some rest and…”

Mallory was looking at him in astonishment. “Are you out of your mind? That could kill him! He’d have a convulsive seizure, tachycardia, and he’d probably die. Where in hell did you study medicine?”

The man looked at Mallory and said quietly, “I didn’t.” He flashed a badge. “I’m with the San Francisco Police Department, Homicide.” He turned to the man in bed. “Did you get that?”

The man pulled out a tape recorder from under the pillow. “I got it.”

Mallory was looking from one to the other, frowning. “I don’t understand. What is this? What’s going on?”

The inspector turned to Mallory. “Dr. Mallory, you’re under arrest for the murder of Dr. Kate Hunter.”