Richard Mabry - Lethal Remedy

To her left, Sara sensed Rip shift his weight. Don't do it Rip. Let me handle this. "You didn't answer my question. What's Jack Ingersoll's role in all this?" "Enough questions." Resnick leveled the gun at Rip, apparently thinking he represented the greater danger. Sara plunged her hand into her purse and felt the welcome sensation of cold steel beneath her fingers. Her thumb flipped the safety. No time to draw the gun. Just point and shoot through the purse. Words from her gun safety class came back to her as though the instructor, an ex-policeman, were by her side. "Aim for the middle of the body mass. Don't try to wound." At the moment Sara pulled the trigger, she saw flame spout from the end of Resnick's gun. Glass shattered behind her. Something struck her left side like the charge of a bull rhinoceros, and in an instant Rip's body covered her. "Stay down," he whispered. When Sara finally raised her head, the first thing she saw was Resnick sprawled on the floor, his gun still in his hand. Blood oozed from his chest.

Sightless eyes stared without blinking into the lights above him.

"Nice shooting, Sara. Wonder which one of us hit him." Jack Ingersoll stood in the doorway of the lab, an automatic pistol still pointed at Resnick's body. "I trust you remembered our instructor's words and aimed for his central mass."

Sara had read about it in books, but never thought she'd have the experience. She and Rip were placed in separate rooms at the police station. At first the questions were simple. Soon they became more pointed, the next thrown at her almost before she could answer the last. When the detective in charge read her a Miranda warning, she decided she'd said too much already. She wanted a lawyer. The detective tossed his cell phone on the table. "Be my guest." Sara knew only one lawyer. And for some reason, she trusted him in this situation. He was groggy when he answered, but as soon as she began to explain, he said, "Don't say a word. I'm on my way." The sun was up by the time Sara and Rip headed for the front door of the police station alongside Mark Wilcox. John Ramsey was sitting on a bench in the lobby, and he rose to join them as they walked out. On the sidewalk, Sara stopped and stifled a yawn. "I'm going to call Gloria and have her cancel my patients this morning. I'm getting too old to miss a night's sleep." "Already done," John said. "I called Verna last night when Mark phoned me from the police station. She and Gloria are going to block you and me out all day." Rip stretched. "I guess I'd better make rounds this morning, since Ingersoll is still at the police station. But after that, I'm headed for the on-call room and some sleep." "Why don't we get breakfast first? I'll buy," Mark said. He looked at Sara. "I have some explaining of my own to do, things I didn't say at the police station." Half an hour later, they sat in a corner booth in the Renaissance Hotel's coffee shop, with steaming cups of coffee in front of them. Mark raised his cup in a silent toast. Sara touched her cup to the others and drank deeply. She hadn't been this punch-drunk since pulling an all-nighter to study for the junior medicine final. "Mark," John said, "since I wasn't in the rooms where the questioning was going on, can you fill me in? That is if it's okay with Sara and Rip." "That would be fine with me," Rip said.

Sara nodded, too tired to speak. Mark drained his cup and shoved it aside. "You already know that Resnick is dead. Two bullet wounds in his chest. The autopsy hasn't been done yet, but the medical examiner guessed that one of the shots severed the aorta. Resnick was dead by the time he hit the floor." "I can't say I'm sorry," John said. The others yawned. "Since Resnick was found with a gun still in his hand, and three witnesses agree that he was about to shoot Sara and Rip, there's no real question this was anything but self-defense." Mark waited while a waitress topped offtheir cups. "It just took a long time for the interviews. That's typical in a case like this-separate the witnesses, make sure their stories jibe. But I don't think my clients-" He looked from Sara to Rip. "I don't think they were ever in danger of being charged with anything. This may go to a grand jury, but if it does, it'll be a slam dunk to get a no-bill." "I can't understand how Ingersoll knew to be there at the lab," Rip said.

"Unless he was the one who had Resnick set up the meeting in the first place." "As I understand it, he told the police he'd thought of a modification of Jandramycin that would 'make it more effective,' and he needed to see the journals and records Resnick kept under lock and key in the lab. He showed up, saw Resnick holding you all at gunpoint, and used the gun he was carrying." Mark shrugged. "The story's thin, but he's sticking with it, and I think they'll buy it." "I still think Ingersoll set it all up as an opportunity to shoot Resnick. The lab assistant would be the only one who knew his boss had sanitized the Jandramycin data," Rip said. "And if Ingersoll was a little late shooting Resnick… well, that would get rid of two people who'd become a threat." Sara shuddered at the thought. "I'm surprised he had the gun. I thought he'd stopped carrying it," she said. Mark shrugged.

"His story is that since he developed Jandramycin, he's received death threats from people who accuse him of 'tampering with nature.' So he strapped on his ankle holster, loaded his Glock 30, and started carrying it." "Resnick mentioned his 'contact at Jandra.' But he'd never say who it was," Rip said. "So whoever was using Resnick as their pawn is still out there, still after Sara and me. What can we do about that?" "I wish I knew," Mark said. He turned to Sara. "I don't have any contacts at Jandra any more. I used to be a consultant for that company, but I resigned the day after I was at your house." "Did you-?" "Did I ever give them any information about your hunt for their secrets? No. Never. But I couldn't work for a company that would lie, cover up, and even try to harm others. So I quit." The waitress deposited a large tray beside their table, served their breakfasts, and replenished coffee. When she was gone, Rip said, "So Resnick was the conduit to Jandra? Then why did he feed me information about how two-faced Ingersoll was?" John followed a forkful of eggs with a bite of toast, chewed, and swallowed. "I have a theory about that. Resnick was playing both ends against the middle. He was following orders from someone at Jandra, probably in return for money under the table and the promise of a position with them. But he was also engaged in a bit of back-stabbing, hoping that if he could make Ingersoll go down he'd be chosen to take over the Jandramycin study." John sipped coffee and wiped his lips with a napkin. "Since he was so deeply involved in the project, in his twisted logic he was the person who'd become the senior investigator, not Rip." Sara pushed her plate away, unable to eat any more. She picked up her coffee cup and set it down without drinking. Her stomach felt queasy. Her head hurt. She wanted to awaken to find this was all a bad dream. "Do you think there's any chance the person behind this will be caught?" she asked of the table at large.

"What we've told the police should help point them in the right direction. And Resnick's phone records should lead them to Jandra."

Mark made a writing-in-air gesture to call for the check. "There are a couple of people in the police department who might keep me posted on their investigation. If I can find out, I'll let everyone know." "One question," Sara said. "I called you last night because you were the only lawyer I could think of. I expected you to say something like, 'I'll contact a criminal attorney to represent you.' Why did you come yourself?" "Because two of my friends were in trouble, and I wanted to help." He pulled a dog-eared piece of cardboard from his breast pocket. "I brought the card of a criminal attorney with me." He smiled at Sara. "But I'm glad I didn't need to use it."