William Bernhardt - Death Row

Never mind that. He had a plan, a way to prevent himself from turning back, from becoming a monster. And that was something. However feeble it might be, that was something.

He would salvage his life. By running away from it.

“You sure you haven’t seen this before?” Mike asked.

“Positive,” Chris Hubbard replied. “Sorry. To tell the truth-I don’t get out of the lab much these days.”

Mike dangled the key chain in front of his face. “And you don’t know who it belongs to. Or where it might’ve come from?”

“ ’Fraid not.” Hubbard leaned back, propping his elbows against the lab table behind him. The young chemist’s face seemed utterly without guile. Mike couldn’t imagine that he was lying. “What made you think I might in the first place?”

“Oh, I didn’t really. I just hoped. I know this thing is the key. If I could just figure out what it is.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Mike looked up and saw the short stocky form of Dr. Conrad Reynolds. “I’m just having a chat with Mr. Hubbard, here.”

“Oh?” He seemed immediately interested. “Has there been a development in the Erin Faulkner case?”

“No. That’s why I’m here. I’d like to talk to you later, also.”

“About anything in particular?”

“Just general stuff. Since you’re the head of the plant, and you knew both Ray Goldman and Frank Faulkner. Just to make sure there isn’t anything I’ve missed.”

“I see.” Mike watched the man carefully. He seemed a bit thrown, but Mike couldn’t imagine why. “I’ll be in my office. I’ve got an appointment.” He scurried away, more quickly than seemed natural.

As soon as he was gone, Hubbard cocked his head toward Mike and whispered, “Shrink date.”

“Dr. Reynolds sees a shrink?”

“Oh yeah. Lot of the people here do. We have a doc who comes by once a week to… how do you say it? Commune with the employees. On-site.”

“I didn’t realize chemistry attracted so many psychological ailments.”

“It doesn’t attract them. It creates them.” Hubbard drummed the eraser end of his pencil on the lab table. “You can’t imagine the kind of stress we have, when a new formula can literally mean millions-even billions of dollars in profits. Half the guys in the plant would probably be drooling into a cup right now if it weren’t for Dr. Bennett.”

“Dr. Bennett?” Mike did a double take. “Dr. Hayley Bennett? She’s the company shrink?”

“Yeah. You know her?”

“I sure do. And she never once mentioned to me that she had patients here.”

“Guess it never came up.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, scribbling furiously into his notebook. “I guess it never did. I don’t suppose you’ve had any sudden revelations since the last time we talked. Remembered anything important about Frank Faulkner.”

“Sorry, no. I was just Ray’s Scrabble buddy. I never knew Frank all that well. Dr. Reynolds would be the one to ask about him.”

“They were pretty tight, huh?”

Hubbard hesitated. “Well… they knew each other, anyway.”

Something about the tone of Hubbard’s voice caught Mike’s attention. “Does that mean they weren’t close?”

“I don’t think so. Something was going on between them.”

Mike’s forehead creased. He tried to remember what Reynolds had told him during his interview, or what he’d read in Ben’s report of his interview with the man. “But… Reynolds is the boss. How could Frank function if they didn’t get along?”

“Reynolds is the boss now. Not seven years ago. Only after Frank was gone. He could never have been the boss when Frank was alive.”

“And why is that?”

“Because when Frank was around, Frank was the boss. Of everything. He might not have had the title, but he ran the show. He had the clients, he’d come up with the most successful formulae. He was the big cheese. Acted like it, too.”

“That must’ve created some resentment.”

“No doubt. Especially with Dr. Reynolds.”

“Why so?”

“Because Reynolds had to work with him every day. Reynolds was Frank’s lab assistant, way back then.”

“I thought Ray Goldman worked under Frank.”

“He did. Well, technically, I think he reported to Reynolds. Doesn’t matter, really. We all did whatever Frank wanted. But Reynolds got the worst of it. Frank treated him like a servant. He answered Frank’s phone calls, kept his calendar. Acted like a little lapdog.”

“Reynolds can’t have liked that.”

“I’m sure he didn’t. But what Frank wanted, Frank got. He was King of the Hill. And deservedly so. He was brilliant, you know. His work as a flavorist was revolutionary. Everyone wanted him to work for them. He was drawing down huge bucks.” He paused. “Reynolds was number two. At best.”

Mike drummed his fingers. “Dr. Reynolds didn’t mention any of this to me when I interviewed him.”

“No, I don’t expect he would. I’ve always wondered why the cops didn’t talk to him more. I guess they twigged onto Ray right off the bat and became convinced he was their man.”

“And you think that was a mistake?”

Hubbard shrugged. “Maybe I’m prejudiced. For all his eccentricities, especially when it came to women, Ray was my friend. But if it was my job to come up with an alternate explanation for what happened… I’d give Dr. Reynolds a good hard look.”

“Thank you for coming to see me,” Ben said as he showed Dr. Bennett to the chair opposite his desk. “I’ve been so busy since the hearing I’ve barely left the office. But I know your schedule is packed, also.”

“Oh, not really,” she said, waving a palm. “It’s my afternoon off. After I finished up this morning, I went home to my butterflies.”

“Fascinating hobby.”

“You think so? Sometimes I wonder.” She chuckled. “I’ve been holding a stiletto so long I think I’m developing a callous. What can I do for you?”

Ben glanced at the notes he’d made before she arrived. He wanted the interview to seem spontaneous, conversational. So she would be at ease. So she wouldn’t see him coming.

“I hope this isn’t going to be more about Sheila Knight,” she said. “I really can’t tell you more than I already did. Especially not now.”

Ben followed her meaning. Especially not now that Erin’s lifelong friend was just as dead as she was. “No, it isn’t about her.”

Bennett was wearing her hair down and holding her eyeglasses which, Ben noted, wrought an amazing change in her appearance. She had never been unattractive, but today, she looked downright sexy. “And please don’t press me to reveal any more confidences from Erin Faulkner. Or anything about her and her father. I simply can’t.”

“I understand. It would violate privilege.”

“Twice over.”

Ben slowed. “Twice over?”

“Right. Since Erin Faulkner was my patient. Just as her father had been.”

“Frank Faulkner was your patient?”

“Oh yes. Up to the time of his death.”

“You’ve counseled both Erin and her father? This seems quite a coincidence.”

“It wasn’t a coincidence at all. I first met Erin at her father’s plant. Where I counseled some of the employees. Still do. She remembered me years later when she decided to seek therapy herself.”

Ben sat up straight in his chair. “You counseled for the plant where Frank and Ray both worked? Prairie Dog Flavors?”

She nodded. “On a freelance basis. I came in once a week. Helped the eggheads sort out their problems.”

“I’m surprised that work interested you.”

“Are you kidding? At that point in my career, most of my patients were referrals from the Justice Department. Total scum. Murderers, sex offenders. Lots of sex offenders. Some of the most horrible, twisted people who ever walked the earth. After a few days of that, you’ll welcome the chance to talk to some mild-mannered chemists about their impotence.”