Sidney Sheldon - Nothing lasts forever

Paige picked up the telephone and called the state pharmaceutical board.

“This is Dr. Taylor,” Paige said. “Last Sunday, a friend of mine left a prescription at a pharmacy. She asked me to pick it up for her, but I can't remember the name of the pharmacy. I wonder if you could help me.”

“Well, I don't see how, doctor. If you don't know …”

“Most drugstores are closed on Sunday, aren't they?”

“Yes, but …”

“I'd appreciate it if you could give me a list of those that were open.”

There was a pause. “Well, if it's important …”

“It's very important,” Paige assured her.

“Hold on, please.”

There were thirty-six stores on the list, spread all over the city. It would have been simple if she could have gone to the police for help, but Inspector Burns did not believe her. Honey and I are going to have to do this ourselves, Paige thought. She explained to Honey what she had in mind.

“It's a real long shot, isn't it?” Honey said. “You don't even know if he filled the prescription on Sunday.”

“It's the only shot we have.” That Kat has. “I'll check out the ones in Richmond, the Marina, North Beach, Upper Market, Mission, and Potrero, and you check out the Excelsior, Ingleside, Lake Merced, Western Addition, and Sunset areas.”

“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.

“Inspector, 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.”