Bad
Medicine is the sequel to Bad Fall, which I shared on my Dellani Oakes blog starting in 2013. (Coming later this year). Frank Atherton is
former Army. For the last few years, he's been enjoying the quiet
predictability of working as assistant administrator of a large
nursing home facility in Ohio. He meets and marries Dr. Marka
Ventimiglia and is blissfully happy—until one night when he gets a
call from the facility. One of the residents is dead and the police
have reason to believe it wasn't old age, but murder, which sent Mrs.
Sullivan to her grave.
Frank
and Marka arrived at the facility after the police but before the
coroner. They walked into the main building and took a left. Mrs.
Sullivan's apartment was at the far end, near the fire exit door.
Kathy stood in the hallway, holding Mr. Tate in her arms. He was Mrs.
Sullivan's neighbor and close friend. Rumor said they were more than
friends. Marka went over, hugging him and Kathy.
Hands
in his pockets, Frank wandered into the apartment. The police were
taking pictures. One of the uniformed officers stopped him a few
steps in.
"Is
this a crime scene, officer?"
The
young man handed him a pair of booties. "Don't touch anything,
Mr. Atherton."
"You
didn't answer my question."
"Detective
Sutherland will answer your questions, sir." He pointed across
the room.
A
black haired woman in her mid-forties, looked up from her position a
few inches from the body. She wore nitrile gloves and paper booties and seemed to be inspecting the dead woman's face.
"Well?
Is this a crime scene?" Frank asked.
"I
know you don't usually go to all this trouble when a resident dies,"
the detective said quietly. "Can we talk privately?"
"Yeah."
He led her out onto Mrs. Sullivan's patio. "What's up?"
"First
of all, I'm Frieda Sutherland. I'm with the state police." She
took off her glove, offering her hand.
Frank
shook it. "Director Frank Atherton. Called in the big guns, huh?
Why are you here?"
"The
township department isn't equipped to handle a full scale murder
investigation, Mr. Atherton."
"What
makes you think it's murder?"
"You
don't think her death seems at all unusual?" She took out a
notepad and pen.
Gesturing
with open arms, he indicated their surroundings. "In case you
haven't noticed, this is a retirement facility. We have residents die
fairly often. We don't usually involve the police."
"Your assistant called because he thought it was suspicious. She was just at the
doctor's office today and declared in perfect health. The doctor said
he expected her to live at least another ten years."
"Dr.
Kinkaid always says stuff like that."
"But
he doesn't usually write it in his notes. Yes, Kenny got the medical
record for me already."
That
was within his assistant's purview. It annoyed Frank, but he accepted
it. "Okay, so the good doctor says she was fine. Not the first
time he's been wrong. Won't be the last."
"I
think she's been poisoned," Detective Sutherland said quietly.
"There's a weird foamy substance under her face. The techs took
samples, but I want to take up the carpet before we leave."
"Really?
This room was just carpeted two months ago."
"Don't
get sticky on me, Mr. Atherton."
"You
really think she was murdered? Why?"
"Kenny
tells me that Mrs. Sullivan was loaded. She left the majority of her
money to her youngest son."
"Her
son died last year of cancer."
"I
know. The rest of her money comes to the facility. Pull the right
legal strings, the facility could get the entire amount."
"Yeah,
or nothing. Are you seriously saying that someone here murdered Mrs.
Sullivan to get the money?"
Detective
Sutherland didn't say anything. She gazed up at him with dark,
unblinking eyes.
"What?"
Frank took a step back. "Do you think I killed her?"
"You
have motive, Mr. Atherton. If you got that money for the facility,
there would most certainly be a raise in it for you."
©
2016 Dellani Oakes
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