The House on Timber Lane by Robert F. Clifton (top business books of all time .txt) 📖

the responding officers that two men had come into his home armed with guns and hypodermic syringes which they used to inject him and his current wife, Zella in the buttocks. They made off with five hundred dollars. But none of Zella’s jewelry which was in plain view in her bedroom. At the scene of the crime the police found two puncture wounds in Zella’s buttocks (later amended to four upon examination after her death) but none in William. Zella was dizzy, but not comatose when the police arrived and she corroborated her husband’s statement about the robbers, although she never saw them, as they put a pillow case over her head. After the police left she gradually lapsed into a coma and had convulsions, from which she died the next day without gaining consciousness. During a search of the house and surroundings the police found a hypodermic needle in a bathroom drawer and a half-used vial of long-acting insulin in a nearby field. The investigating police officer in Los Angeles, Sergeant Harry Andre drew the coroner’s attention to the insulin vial. However, because no poisonous substances were found in Zella’s body and no method of measuring insulin was readily available except in research laboratories he had no evidence that she had died from insulin poisoning. Zella’s death was officially attributed to bronchial pneumonia.”

Wallace closed the file folder and then placed it in his briefcase. He turned off the desk lamp, got up from the desk and went to bed.

The next morning he walked into his office at headquarters carrying the usual bag containing two containers of coffee and two donuts and his briefcase. He took off his blue blazer and hung it up then took a seat and read the reports that awaited his approval. As he did lieutenant O’Neil walked in and took a seat.

“Nothing to report of any interest Cap”, he said. Wallace pointed to the white paper bag on the desk. “The lemon donut’s mine. You get the jelly donut.”

“What again? You always get the lemon.”

“As I told you before, I suggest you stop at the donut shop and get what you want, you cheap bastard.”

“Hey, you know I have a large family to support.”

“That’s not my problem. That’s what happens when you’re an Irish Catholic playing Vatican roulette with your wife.”

O’Neil laughed as he reached into the bag and took out the coffee and donut. “Anything new?”, he asked.

“Yeah… Remember I told you that I might be on to something?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Right now I’m almost certain that Doctor Vernon Gray murdered his first wife and is getting ready to kill his second wife.”

“What evidence do you have?”

“None…That’s my problem.”

“How does he do it?”

“He uses overdoses of insulin.” “How does that work?”

“Insulin reduces the amount of glucose in the blood. If the brain is deprived of too much glucose the body goes into shock, resulting in a coma and then, death.”

“Sound’s nasty.”

“It is.”

“And, you think the doctor killed his first wife that way?”

“The information I have is that she was in excellent health, went into a coma and later died in the hospital.”

“Wasn’t an autopsy done?”

“No…In fact Gray had his wife cremated less the twenty-four hours of her death.”

“Alright…That gives you suspicion, but not probable cause. You mentioned that he’s trying to kill his present wife.”

“He did and he’s doing it now.”

“I’m playing devil’s advocate. Give me the evidence.”

“Again. I don’t have any, but I’m certain that he tried killing her with arsenic. Her secretary saved her by insisting that she be tested.”

“Looks to me that right now, you’ve got nothing, but a bunch of suppositions”, said O’Neil.

“Right. But I’m sinking my teeth into his ass and I’m not letting go until he’s convicted.”

“Good luck…Any orders?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll be in my office. Thanks for the coffee and donut.”

“Get the hell out of here.”

“Good luck”

Wallace open the brief case and took out the printed copy of the Journal Of The Royal Society Of Medicine. Placing it on his desk he found the place he had marked with pencil and began to read:

“The second death to come to the attention of the authorities was that of Juanita, William’s fifth wife. She and William had lived in Las Vegas, Nevada where William had gone to live soon after Zella’s death. Junita was discovered in a coma on March,12, 1958. Only two days after she and William were married, and less than two years after Zella’s death in los Angeles. Like Zella, Juanita was taken to the hospital but died only a few hours after being found and without gaining consciousness. Her doctors attributed her coma to a self-administered habituate overdose. This was not confirmed by blood analysis as the methods for measuring barbiturates were too difficult to do routinely. She also had a low blood sugar for which there was no obvious medical explanation. In light of what subsequently emerged Junita’s coma was almost certainly due to insulin, but once again, the crucial test was not done.”

Wallace butted the cigarette he had been smoking. “All well and good. I know the bastard killed using insulin. They mention tests…Where in hell is the information on the tests?”, he said aloud as he thumbed through the copied pages of the case he was studying. Finally he found what he was looking for, Immunoassay. He lit another cigarette and began to read again. “Immunoassay uses antibodies to measure substances in blood in a test tube. It can be used to detect substances in thin sections of tissue removed at operation or autopsy without measuring their actual concentration. This technique is known as immuno histology and identifies substances that react with the antibody to the exclusion of everything else.”

Wallace reached for the telephone, dialed the number and waited. A female voice came on the line. “Nautilus Beach hospital, how may I help you?”

“Give me the morgue please, Doctor Edwards.”, said Wallace.

“One moment please.”

Robert heard the receiver being lifted, then he heard the doctor’s voice. “Doctor Edwards.”

“What do you know about immunoassay?”

“You again…Will you please find someone else to bother.”

“Answer the question. What do you know about immunoassay?”

“As much as I have to know.”

“Can you do a test using it?”

“Certainly, do you have a victim?”

“Not yet.”

“Then call me when you do and stop bothering me.”

“Are you busy tonight?”

“Why?”

“How about I pick you up and we have dinner together?”

“I shouldn’t. I hardly know you and I don’t know what your attentions are. People might talk.”

“You crazy bastard, what time?”

“Make it eight and good by.”

 

Chapter Nine

Robert Wallace sat at the table in Elaine Benson’s kitchen. As he listened to her, he occasionally alternated taking sips of coffee then a draw on a cigarette. It seemed to him that he had heard the same words from her over and over. Nothing that she was telling him was new. Grace Hodges Gray was bed ridden, too sick to socialize, let alone pay attention to her Philadelphia enterprise.

“I’m telling you Robert, he’s killing that woman. What are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do about it?”

“So, you’re going to sit there and let him kill again”, said Elaine.

“May I remind you that we saved her once before when he was trying to poison her with arsenic.”

“Then, I guess I’ll have to talk to Joan again.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you. We were successful that time. This time he’ll be watching her, trying to see what she knows. Sending her back to question his medical practice with his own wife again is putting her in jeopardy.”

“Nonsense…all she has to do is suggest that Grace see Doctor Parlin again in Philadelphia…You see Robert…I don’t need probable cause.”

“Suit yourself…If anything happens to that young woman it’s on you, not me.”

“Well, I can see that I can’t convince you that I’m right. By the way I’ll be away for a week or ten days. At least during that time we won’t be arguing.”

“Hey, have a nice time”, said Robert as he got up out of the kitchen chair.

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I’m going and why?”

“O.K…Where are you going?”

“Las Vegas.”

“Again?”

“Yes…Remember I told you I met a guy at the convention.”

“Vaguely.”

“Well, he sent me a ticket…I fly out tomorrow.”

“Again, have a nice time.”

“Will you keep a check on the house?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you Robert.”

“Bye…I’ve got to get to work.”

“I’ll see you when I get back.”

Elaine turned to the sound of the ringing telephone. “You’d better wait. This might be for you”, she said. She picked up the receiver and said, “Hello. I was right it is for you”, she said handing him the telephone.

“Hello?”

“Cap? Bill. A patrolman walking his beat found a dead body hanging on a chain link fence, Care to guess who it is?”

“No, tell me!”

“Nuncio Vergasi.”

“No shit?...How did he die?”

“Right now it looks like he was strangled.”

“A mob hit?”

“Everything points that way.”

“Alright, I’m on my way. Where’s the body?”

“At the morgue.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

As Wallace drove his own car to the hospital morgue his thoughts again returned to Grace Hodges Gray. “Just as soon as I wrap up this Vergasi case, I’ve got to get her away from her husband. If I don’t…She’s dead.”

At the morgue Wallace stood looking at the now, naked body of Nuncio Vergasi. A thin, black silk cord used to kill him was embedded in the soft tissue of his throat. In death his face was a combination of red and purple, indicating that the man had suffered as he tried to breath, Wallace looked at the sightless, bulging eyes and the dried spittle on his lips.

“He doesn’t look so tough now, does he?”, asked O’Neil.

“No…That type of hit was probably made inside an automobile. They had him sit in the front passengers seat. The killer sat behind him. After he was dead they drove down this wide alleyway, removed him from the car and hung his body on the fence.”, said Wallace.

“Why the fence?”, asked O’Neil.

“They wanted him found. They are telling us that in their opinion they have settled the score for the death of Judge Pierpont. This way in their minds the investigation of Vergasi and the Macaluso family should end, at least here in Nautilus Beach.”

“Well, at least they saved us a lot of work. The Pierpont case is closed.”, said O’Neil.

“Just about. Wrap up all the loose ends, photos, fingerprint the body and gather all reports. I’ll be back at the office trying to figure out the Philadelphia connection.”

Wallace left the morgue and took the elevator to the main lobby of the hospital. Walking out of the elevator he noticed a nurse heading for the revolving doors. He hurried to catch up with her. Once outside he called her name. “Mary! Mary Higgins!.”

The nurse stopped turned around and smiled. “Well, well, fancy meeting you here”, she said sarcastically.

“Hey are you still angry about that dinner date? Believe me I got called out on a case”, said Wallace.

“And, I’m the Mother Superior” Mary responded.

“Where are you headed now. How about we have breakfast”, asked Wallace.

“Breakfast, instead of dinner? How thoughtful of you. Knowing you...you must want something. Now what is it? The last time you called me you wanted to know the condition of Doctor Gray’s wife. What was her name? Lillian? Now you probably want to know about Doctor Gray’s wife that was admitted last night. Well, once again Robert, you can go to hell”, said Mary Higgins as she walked away.

Wallace raced back inside the hospital and took the stair steps two at a time as he hurried to the morgue. When he got there he saw Doctor Edwards seated at his desk. “Doc…I just got word that Grace Gray was admitted here last night. I need you to check on her condition and if it’s what I think it is you have to contact Charlie Warren.”

Doctor Edwards picked up his telephone and dialed a number. Wallace stood and listened as the doctor spoke. After he was finished. He hung up and dialed the number for the County Coroner. “Charlie?…Doc Edwards here…Remember the case I told you about?…One Grace Hodges