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25
It would have been wonderful to stay home the next day, but that was my Saturday on. Even if it were my day off, though, they'd have needed me to open up the pharmacy because Tim would never be available again.
I had to force myself to shower and dress. Breakfast was out of the question, but I got into my car and, wilted from monsoon humidity in the brief interval before the air-conditioning kicked in, headed to Food Go. By the time I arrived at the pharmacy, I didn't know how I'd make it through the day.
Greg Blackstone, who'd heard the news on his car radio, was waiting for me at the pharmacy. "Fill me in, Ruthie. I can't believe what they're saying about Tim Barnard."
"It's true. He tried to drown me last night."
Greg's usually placid expression creased into a rubbery mask of horror, but before I could give him details, my first customer of the day approached the window with three prescriptions in her outstretched hand. "I don't think you should be working today," Greg said as he walked away. "Call around and see if you can get someone to fill in."
Coming from my store manager, this request meant I could have the day off, provided I found a replacement. Before taking care of customers—they were now starting to line up—I got on the telephone, searching for an available relief pharmacist. Luck was with me. I made contact with a recent pharmacy graduate, Louise Rettenberg, who was working as a floater for Food Go, filling in where needed. She had nothing scheduled and would be there within the hour.
Greg sent Karen to work in the pharmacy, and I was energized enough to take care of all the waiting customers before Louise arrived. She was a little shorter than me, with dark hair that she wore in one neat braid. It reached just below the back collar of her store jacket. I was pleased to see her shake hands with Karen when I introduced them. Some pharmacists are condescending toward technicians, which destroys the harmony in our small workspace. If Louise is willing to work full time, I thought, maybe she can replace Tim.
Even though she was familiar with the basic Food Go layout and methods, I spent some time showing Louise the peculiarities of our pharmacy. Since Karen was also new, I didn't feel I could leave right away, but at least the pressure had eased for me.
Just as I was preparing to hand over to Louise, I looked up to see Betsy and Michael at the window. "I hoped you'd be home today, resting up after your ordeal," Michael said.
"It's arranged now," I told him. "I'm about to go."
"We're all meeting in the coffee shop," Betsy said. "Will you join us?"
If I'd given any thought to the people she included, I would have guessed at Denise, so I wasn't surprised to see her when we walked into the coffee shop. The others, sitting where Denise had moved two tables together, were the unexpected ones. Richard Stokes and his wife, Nancy, sat across from Sheila and Denise. Verna and Raymond Branden were at the other table, and Michael held out chairs at that table for his daughter and me. He carried over another chair, placed it at one end of the joined tables, and sat with us.
No one spoke. Ellen, the waitress on duty, took our orders. The others wanted only coffee, but I suddenly realized I was starving and asked for French toast and iced tea. We waited silently for our orders and when they came, Michael gave me just enough time to cut the French toast into bite-sized pieces and eat one or two of them.
"Ruthie, we all need to know what happened," Michael said. "Not just last night, but what led up to it. I thought I was dangling myself as bait to catch the killer and, all the time, you were the one in danger."
Richard spoke up, too, sounding no less petulant now that he knew none of those present had harmed his father. "I don't even know that guy. How did he get into the picture?"
I was too tired to match clichés with him again. "Betsy or Michael can tell you about that."
"Tim and I used to date before I met your Dad," Betsy told him. "He was possessive. I guess that's the best word. He didn't want me to go anywhere or do anything without him, not even with the friends I grew up with."
"I never liked the way he treated Betsy," Michael added. "But I didn't recognize that he was dangerous."
"He could have killed all of us," Richard said. "You should have warned us about him."
We all looked at Richard, wondering if he would ever understand. His sister put her hand on his arm. "Do you think Michael would have endangered his daughter if he'd suspected anything?"
"Not everyone who shouts is dangerous," Nancy Stokes said. We all understood she was referring to her husband, although it wasn't clear whether he realized it.
"I moved up from Tucson to get away from Tim," Betsy continued. "It took him a few months to find me. One of my friends who didn't know about our problems gave him the address."
"And meanwhile you met Dad," Sheila said.
"Yes, meanwhile I met Harry." Betsy's voice had softened. "He seemed so safe. And self-confident enough not to be possessive. The opposite of Tim in every way."
"You really did care for Dad." Sheila's voice held a note of surprise.
"Sheila," Richard said warningly.
"Oh, give it up. Betsy and I have both been through enough." Sheila turned to Betsy. "I didn't understand what it was like for you until I nearly lost Scott. I'm sorry for adding to your unhappiness."
Betsy nodded her thanks and continued. "When Tim found me, I told him it was over. He didn't believe it." She turned to me. "That's why he transferred from Food Go in Tucson and moved up here."
"But that must have been at least a year ago," Denise said. "Before you married. I don't understand why Tim waited so long to kill Harry."
"That's why Betsy and I never suspected him," Michael said. "He remained friendly; he never threatened her or Harry."
Betsy's face reddened slightly. "He'd convinced himself that it was nothing personal, that I married Harry for his money. I don't know what changed his mind about that."
It was time for me to explain, but I asked for Betsy's permission before I talked about her prescriptions. "Everyone's been asking the wrong question all along," I told her. "Detective Moreway, your Dad, Richard. All of them wanted to know what prescriptions the various people in the Stokes family were taking."
"That was the wrong question?" Richard's voice was surprisingly quiet.
"Yes, the question should have been, 'Who knew what medicines all of you were taking?'" I turned to Betsy again. "When you went to your obstetrician and learned you were pregnant, you came here with the prescription for Stuartnatal 1 + 1, the prenatal vitamin. That was on July eighteenth, a Saturday. It was my day off, and Tim filled your prescription."
"How do you know that?" Richard demanded.
"His initials were on the computerized record. I never gave it a thought, but Tim knew immediately what that prescription meant. Until your pregnancy, he could convince himself he was a self-sacrificing lover. He even told me he'd 'agreed' to a marriage of convenience so Betsy could have all the material things she deserved."
"That's just what he said when he met Harry last year," Betsy said.
"Tim had no trouble believing you still loved him. In his eyes, Harry was an old man and no threat. Maybe Tim thought you'd come back to him one day. The baby changed all that. It probably made the marriage real for the first time. I'm convinced that's what drove him over the line."
"He never said anything to me," Betsy told us. "We'd known each other for so many years, I was foolish enough to think he'd congratulate me. That young man took the written prescription from me. Joey, the one who was killed. I could see Tim by the computer, but he never came over to the window."
"He must have handed you the filled prescription," I said.
"No, Joey brought it to me. Tim just stood there and never even glanced up."
Michael and I looked at each other. We were the only ones there who knew that Arizona law required the pharmacist, not the technician, to physically give the script to the patient. Well, that was the least of Tim's legal incursions.
"So Joey knew something was strange even then," I mused aloud.
"Surely Tim didn't risk killing him just for that," Michael said.
"No. But Betsy caught the summer cold that was going around and a week later, she brought in prescriptions for a cough mixture, Tusssi-Organidin DM, and for penicillin."
"He talked to me that time," Betsy said. "My throat was sore, I was terribly congested, and I was coughing. Tim seemed very sympathetic and recommended the Food-Fed decongestant." She thought for a moment. "He even asked after Harry."
"Did he ask whether Harry was sick, too?"
"Yes, he did."
"That must have been when the idea first took shape in Tim's mind," I said. "Harry filled all his prescriptions here, so Tim knew Harry had high blood pressure and diabetes, and that it was dangerous for him to take decongestants. All he had to do was wait for Harry to come in and recommend that he take his wife's Food-Fed."
"But surely that's not a foolproof way to kill someone," Raymond Branden said.
"No, not guaranteed but Tim knew if it worked, no one could ever prove foul play. And when Harry came in on the twenty-seventh, he had new prescriptions—increased dosages for his high blood pressure and diabetes medicines."
"Yes." Betsy's voice had a tinge of sadness. "He was so upset emotionally because of the baby and our arguments, it must have thrown him off balance physically as well."
"Your dad and I discussed all of this before, but we were looking at it from the wrong angle." I wasn't going to admit that, like the police, I'd suspected Betsy of giving the decongestants to her husband. Her eyes met mine and I could see she understood.
"But why did Tim kill Joey," Denise asked. "And why did he go after Scott and you?"
"It would have been a perfect crime if he stopped after Harry's death," I said. "But Joey was a bright young man who wanted to go to medical school. He was always asking questions and reading package inserts." At the Brandens' blank looks, I explained that package inserts are information sheets that tell all about the drug and its possible side effects.
"Joey knew more about medicine than most pharmacy technicians," I continued. "He would have realized something was wrong when Tim wouldn't hand Betsy's prescriptions to her and didn't discuss the drugs with her. But we were both accustomed to Tim's attitude problems. Joey would have known the omission was illegal, but I doubt if he gave it much thought at that point."
"Then why did Joey want to see Denise and my dad?" Betsy asked.
"We know Joey was aware of the various precautions for different drugs. He certainly heard us talk to patients over and over during the two years he worked at Food Go. And he always asked why some drugs couldn't be taken with others. Joey's parents told me something was bothering him after Harry's death, something that affected his eating and sleeping habits. He must have heard Tim recommend the Food-Fed and it must have been on his mind."
"If Joey hadn't been killed, I'd suspect he was the one who recommended the decongestant and that he did it by mistake," Michael said.
"Impossible," I told him. "The first month Joey worked here, he would suggest over-the-counter remedies for customers. I caught him at it and warned him never to do that again. He argued with me, complaining that I underestimated him, that he only recommended drugs he was familiar with. I had to explain the state pharmacy board's views on consultations to him. And I told him even I don't recommend specific over-the-counter drugs because we can be sued if something goes wrong. I always show customers where things are and name two or three possibilities. And then I advise them to check with their physicians."
"And did that little lecture stop Joey?" Michael asked with a smile.
"After he heard it two or three times, yes. It's a long time since Joey did anything of the sort, and I'm sure he didn't with Harry."
"Besides," Sheila said. "If the recommendation to take that decongestant came from Joey, he'd still be alive."
Richard was ready to argue again. "Only if you assume my father's and Joey's deaths were connected."
"I admit it's an assumption," I told him. "But remember the night Joey was killed, he had met with most of the principals in this case. I think it's a valid assumption that he saw Tim, too."
"But why did that awful person try to kill Scott and then you?" Nancy Stokes spoke up for the first time. I saw her husband glare at her and watched her shrink back in her seat. But the question had been asked, and despite Richard's reaction to his wife's mild attempt at independence, I was going to answer her.
"My questions about his relationship with Betsy and his feelings when she married someone else were getting too close. I even told him I was convinced Betsy's pregnancy had initiated the chain of events. Then he slipped up when he claimed to have heard nothing about Scott but knew the accident happened in Tempe. I didn't realize it at the time, but he must have figured I would remember his words later on. So, he came to my house to see how much I really knew. He might have left without the attempt on my life." I looked apologetically at Betsy. "But I hesitated when he tried to find out the reason for my questions about you."
"And Scott?" Nancy asked again.
"Scotty regained consciousness this morning," Sheila told her. "He's not thinking too clearly yet. But he confirmed that when Betsy first left Tucson, Tim had threatened to get anyone who took his place in her life."
"I wish I'd known that," I said.
"You wouldn't have wasted time suspecting me," Michael said.
Startled, I turned too quickly toward him, giving myself away. But his eyes had that teasing brightness I remembered so well. I managed a light smile, embarrassed at being understood.
"Detective Moreway told me about your lapse of memory," Michael continued. The others looked puzzled, but neither one of us explained.
"The part that bothers me," I said, "is having to get the details from TV and the papers. In books, the police come around and wrap up everything for the participants."
"You expected Tim to confess?" Betsy asked.
"I don't know what I expected, but it feels unfinished."
"Tim will never admit he's wrong about anything. The police will have to rely on your testimony and on Scott's."
"But that's only attempted murder." I could hear the dismay in Denise's voice. "Harry and Joey deserve vengeance."
Everyone was quiet. I know I was thinking how doubtful it was that Tim would ever be implicated in Harry's death. But there was Joey, and Detective Moreway was married to his sister. "Don't worry," I assured Denise. "Now that the police know where to look, they'll surely find evidence linking Tim to Joey's murder."
This seemed the signal to break up. The Brandens were the first to leave, and then Richard pulled his wife away without saying goodbye. Sheila shook hands with the rest of us, and I was pleased to hear the warmth in her voice when she told Betsy she'd call soon.
After a few awkward moments while Michael picked up the check and paid at the register, Denise said she'd better be clocking in for work. Betsy and I stood in the doorway of the Food Go coffee shop.
"I want to thank you, Ruthie. Dad told me you were the one who realized I might be in danger last night."
"We were both lucky."
She smiled at me with that same sweet expression I'd first noticed at her house a few days before. Then she looked toward her father, who was approaching the doorway. "Dad, let me have your car keys and I'll get the air-conditioning started."
We both looked after Betsy as she walked out into the Food Go parking lot. "I think she'll be all right now," I said.
"Yes," Michael agreed. "But I'll be coming up from Tucson every few weeks to check on her." He took my hand and the blue eyes looked steadily at me. "And on you, too," he said.
THE END
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