Daniel Annechino - Hypocrisy

“Furthermore, I don’t need the money. My house is paid for and I have enough invested to last me three lifetimes, even if I live frivolously, which by the way, is a far cry from my frugal lifestyle.

“Granted, there would be a payoff once the research is completed, everything approved by the FDA, and we begin production and distribution of the drugs. I’d get 5% of the bottom line. So, knowing that Lauren was the most qualified person in the world to finish the research and get the treatments approved, why, pray tell, would I want her out of the way?”

Dupree didn’t have an answer. She looked at Parisi, who was little more than an ornament. “Would you mind providing a copy of your employment contract for us to see?”

“Signed and notarized,” Mason said.

Dupree and Mason were engaged in a stare down. “One more question,” Dupree said. “It is my understanding that Dr. Crawford didn’t want to gouge anyone with outrageous prices for the drugs and was adamant about making the treatments available to anyone who needed them, regardless of their financial situation. If you had proceeded and established a partnership with Hyland, wouldn’t Adelman insist that you price the drugs consistent with demand? Let’s be honest. Wouldn’t a dying cancer patient, riddled with pain, pay anything for a treatment that would extend their life, improve their quality of life, and possibly cure them? Wouldn’t they sell all their worldly belongings, and beg, borrow and steal every penny to pay for the treatments?”

“Absolutely. Adelman would have liked to charge an exorbitant price for the treatments. He’s a businessman. However, in Lauren’s infinite wisdom, she set up a provision in Horizon’s operating charter that limited the price on any drug or treatment directly resulting from her research. Consequently, there is a cap on pricing.”

Mason shook his head, staring past Dupree. “I’m having a hard time accepting this mind-boggling story. You think you’re a good judge of character and then find out…”

“You’re free to go, Dr. Mason. Just remember to get me a copy of your employment agreement. And I’d also like to see Horizon’s Operating Charter.”

Dupree looked at Parisi. “Would you be kind enough to escort Dr. Mason to the exit.” Dupree squeezed Parisi’s arm. “Thanks for all your help. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Well,” T.J. said, “this has been quite a morning.” Dupree and he were sitting in Captain Jensen’s office, waiting for him to return from a meeting with the police commissioner. Adelman and Gallo were on their way to the county jail where they’d be held until arraignment in the morning. Hansen was still in the precinct lockup awaiting a transfer to a women’s facility.

“I think we’re going to make the captain’s day,” Dupree said. “If full confessions from Adelman and Hansen don’t moisten his loins, nothing will.”

“Do you think Gallo will cave in?”

“I guess it depends on how his attorney advises him,” Dupree answered. “Personally, it really doesn’t make much difference. He can proclaim his innocence till doomsday. But in the end, considering the solid evidence against him, there isn’t a jury in the world that’s going to let him off the hook. He’s dead meat.”

“What do you think is going to happen with Horizon?” T.J. asked.

“That’s a complicated issue. The only thing I know for sure is that someone has to follow through. Dr. Crawford’s research is far too important and consequential for it to just go away.”

“How about Mason? Do you think he’s totally innocent?”

“Well,” Dupree said, “we have nothing concrete, but I still think we need a covert operation to surveil his activities.”

“I agree.”

Dupree could barely keep her eyes opened.

“So, Amaris, you’ve been talking about taking a vacation as soon as we closed this investigation. Got something planned?”

“Thinking about flying to the west coast for a week or so.”

“Do you have family or friends out there?”

“No, but a couple of years ago, I attended a law enforcement conference in Sacramento and met a homicide detective working out of San Diego. She had solved two serial killer cases in less than two years and got major national press. In fact, she was the keynote speaker at the conference. Having so much in common—two women working in what is basically a man’s world—we bonded rather quickly. We’ve kept in touch via telephone, texting, and e-mails. Long story short, she’s been trying to get me to the west coast for a while now; wants me to meet her hubby and kids. So, I’ve been checking airfares and I may just surprise her.”

“Are you talking about Sami Rizzo?”

“You know who she is?”

“Every cop in the free world knows who she is. She was in the spotlight for months.”

“I know,” Dupree said. “She’s a rock star.”

Just then, Captain Jensen entered his office, out of breath.

“Am I late for the party?” the captain said, glancing at his wristwatch. He lumbered to his desk and moaned when he sat down. “Back’s not feeling great today. Can’t understand why I’m so tense.”

“Sorry to hear that, Captain,” Dupree said “You can make it feel a whole lot better by telling me that your interviews this morning yielded a strong lead. Commissioner Ryan just knocked the snot out of me. I guess Mayor Brooks is driving him nuts—calling five times a day to get a progress report on the Crawford murder investigation. Don’t know how much more I can take.” He adjusted himself in the chair and let out a painful moan. “Whoever coined the phrase, ‘shit flows downhill’, must have been in law enforcement.”

Dupree and T.J. exchanged glances and smiled like Cheshire cats.

“I think we’re going to make your back feel a whole lot better,” Dupree said.

After updating the captain on the status of the soon-to-be-closed investigation, Dupree and T.J. finished some reports, neither having much to say. Dupree’s body was achy and drained of energy and her brain felt like scrambled eggs. She couldn’t wait to get home and submerge herself in a hot bath, drink a glass or two of wine, hop in bed, and sleep till noon. But before she could earn this privilege, she had two more tasks on her “To-Do” list.

“Should we give Hansen the bad news?” Dupree asked, breaking the silence.

“There’s no time like the present,” T.J. said.

Before they even reached lockup, Hansen spotted them and came charging towards the front of the cell, holding onto the bars like a crazed gorilla.

“Did you talk to the DA.?” Hansen said, almost panting.

“We did indeed,” Dupree said.

“And?”

“You’re good to go. Conspiracy to commit murder will be reduced to accessory to murder.”

Hansen’s face relaxed and she smiled victoriously. “Thank you.”

T.J. looked at Dupree.

“Don’t celebrate quite yet, Ms. Hansen,” Dupree said. “There’s still the matter of Jonathan Lentz’s murder that we have to discuss.”

“ What ? Jonathan was murdered ?”

“Sad isn’t it?” Dupree said. “Why did you do it? Why did you bash his brains in? Was it because he gave up Gallo and that threatened your little scheme?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Hansen said.

“Oh, I think you do.”

“I haven’t seen Jonathan—”

“Save it for the jury,” Dupree said. “You see, you were smart enough to wipe the champagne bottle clean but you forgot one important detail.”

Hansen stood silently, her rosy cheeks turned chalk white.