L Sellers - The Suicide Effect

Dr. Lucent let out an almost imperceptible sigh. Sula wondered if she asked something stupid. The doctor began to explain in the tone of a tired teacher. “Only half the patients in the trial received the drug, the other half received a placebo, a dummy pill. But I can’t really talk about the results of the trial, because they haven’t been published yet.”

“The company is now recruiting for a Phase III trial, so the Phase II stage must have gone well.”

“It did.”

“Is there more risk involved in studies for mental health drugs? I mean compared to other types of drugs?”

The doctor scowled. “Yes, I suppose. But we supervise the patient subjects very closely.”

“But still,” Sula pressed her point directly, “patients who are depressed sometimes attempt suicide. Have any of your patients ever killed themselves while enrolled a clinical study?”

“It happens.” Lucent met her eyes, unashamed.

“Did it happen during the Nexapra study?”

“No, but I couldn’t talk about it with you if it had.”

Sula switched tracks. “Were there any minorities in your arm of the trial?”

Lucent frowned again. “I’d have to look back at the records to be sure, but I don’t believe there were.” She seemed intrigued. “Why do you ask?”

Sula was ready. “One of the things that got me interested in writing this article was something I read about minorities being under-represented in clinical trials. The article said drugs get approved without a full understanding of how they affect certain racial groups. Do you think that’s true?”

Dr. Lucent put on her lecturer’s voice. “The full effect of a drug can’t be known until it’s been in use in a large patient population for an extended period of time.”

Sula jotted it down because it seemed like a good quote.

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. “Just because there weren’t any minorities in the trial here in Eugene, doesn’t mean they weren’t in the trial anywhere.”

“There’s a substantial Latino population here. Why do you think none of them participated?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps we’re not reaching them with our messages about the study.”

“Where else did the Nexapra trial take place?” Sula wondered if Lucent knew about Puerto Rico.

“I believe there was an arm of the trial in Portland.”

“That’s it?”

“I think so.”

“Portland doesn’t have many minorities either. Not compared to the whole country.”

Lucent leaned forward, a bit defensive now. “The drug still has to be tested in large patient populations. That’s what Phase III trials are for. I’m sure there will be minorities in those studies.” The doctor stood. “That’s all the time I have.”

Sula stood too. “Will you participate in the next Nexapra trial?”

“I currently am.”

“It’s going on right now?” Sula was startled. She thought it would be weeks or months before the Phase III round.

“Yes, it just started. We’re still recruiting, but I’m very optimistic about this study and this drug.”

“Thanks for your time.”

Sula shook her hand and left, troubled by the idea that people were already taking Nexapra again, and so far she’d accomplished nothing, except to lose her job. There was another doctor in Portland who had tested Nexapra, and Sula planned to approach this one differently. First she needed to borrow a cell phone with a blocked caller ID.

From the parking lot across the street, Jimmy Jorgovitch watched the girl come out of the gray building. He liked the way she moved, with long fluid strokes. He liked her looks too but couldn’t place her nationality. Maybe she was part Hawaiian. She had straight dark hair that hung well below her shoulders.

Jimmy followed the purple truck out into traffic on Willamette Street. The bright color stood out nicely in traffic. His subject was both easy to look at and easy to follow. That meant easy money. It was about time. His private detective business had taken a huge hit when the economy went down, and he’d had to supplement his income with security work that involved way too much time on his feet. At fifty-four, he was too old for eight-hour stand-up shifts, but too broke to retire. His cop’s pension only covered the mortgage on his home and his mother’s monthly supply of medical marijuana.

Jimmy had been barely able to contain his excitement when the big guy in the suit hired him for a round-the-clock surveillance job. The man had called and arranged to meet him in a bar, then declined to give his name. He’s put a stack of fifties on the table between them and Jimmy had agreed to take the job.

Afterward, he’d watched the guy get into the black Commander and had jotted down the license. He’d given the plate number to one of his buddies on the force to check out. Jimmy knew exactly who he was working for. He figured the girl was Rudker’s mistress, and Rudker suspected her of cheating on him. Much of Jimmy’s work was about other people’s distrust.

Tailing this chick was a plum assignment. Jimmy had watched her through his high-powered binoculars last night as she changed into pajamas. He liked her long legs, small perky breasts, and allover tan. Jimmy understood that flesh spying wasn’t cool or legal, but since the girl didn’t know and wasn’t hurt by it, he couldn’t resist. Watching her up close on occasion kept him from going stir crazy, sitting in the car on the side of the street.

Today she was on the move, heading back into the center of town. Her stops at the post office, employment office, Mucho Gusto, and Oregon Research Center had been noted in his journal: time of arrival and time of departure for all. He was under strict instruction not to let her detect his surveillance, so he hadn’t followed her into any of the buildings.

Her trip to the post office was the biggest worry. The girl had carried a couple of manila envelops into the main branch and had come out empty handed. Rudker would be upset about that. Jimmy’s assignment also included checking her curbside mailbox-and confiscating anything addressed to the FDA. Stealing mail was a felony and Jimmy had told Rudker he wouldn’t do it. Rudker had then offered a ten thousand dollar bonus for any such envelope Jimmy brought to him.

As much as he could use the money, Jimmy hoped he wouldn’t be faced with the decision. If the shit hit the fan later, Rudker was the kind of guy who would make sure the fan was pointed at someone else. The girl’s mailbox had been empty when he checked this morning, but she’d taken big envelopes into the post office. Rudker would be upset, but what could he have done? Knocked her down in a federal parking lot?

The purple truck made a right on 13th Avenue. Jimmy pulled his ’95 Olds into the next lane and followed her. A bright ball of sun burst through the thin layer of clouds. He fumbled through the clutter on his dashboard for his sunglasses. They weren’t there. He glanced down at the console and spotted them next to an empty drink cup from Taco Bell. By the time he got the shades on, his eyes were already watering.

He looked up and didn’t see the truck. He stayed in the center lane on 13th and glanced down Oak to see if she had turned. He spotted the white canopy crossing 11th. The next street, Pearl, was one-way, going the wrong way. Jimmy passed it, then turned left on High. Now he was two streets away and two blocks behind. Predicting what she would do next was a crapshoot. She may have already parked on Broadway for some shoe shopping. Or she could have turned right on 7th Avenue to head across the Ferry Street Bridge. Or maybe she would stay on Oak and take it all the way to the Fifth Street Market.

Jimmy didn’t have to guess. He saw the truck turn right in front of him onto High from 7th. Now he was only a block behind her. The light changed to yellow and he sped through it. The woman in the minivan next to him honked. Jimmy stayed focused on the purple truck. It passed the Fifth Street Public Market, then parked on the opposite side of the street in front of an old building. Jimmy passed by as the girl got out. In his rearview mirror, he saw her enter the one-story structure. He sped up to Skinner’s Butte Park and turned around. He stopped a block away from the truck and parked on the opposite side of the street. He had no idea what business was located in the building but he would find out.