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

Gray?…Yeah, that;s the one. Well, if and when she dies I want you to get the autopsy warrant…And, Charlie, If I was you I’d do it now, because it’s just a matter of time…Thanks Charlie.”

“How bad is she?”, asked Wallace.

“It’s bad. She’s in a coma. Two doctors are working on her. One believes she had a stroke. The other seems to think she’s in a diabetic coma.”

“What do you think Doc?”, asked Wallace. “Her blood sugar is extremely low, somewhere around thirty nine. They’re pumping glucose into her right now, but it doesn’t look good.”

“Will she make it?”

“She could. Anyway, there’s nothing either one of us can do right now. I’m sure you have other things to do. I sure do. I’ve got to cut open that guy over there that was strangled. You’d think the cord around his neck is the thing that killed him. But, no. The State wants to know everything about his condition at the time of death. Listen if anything happens to Mrs. Gray I’ll call you. Will you be in your office?”

“Yeah Doc…Like you, I’ve got to follow up on the guy on the slab, Vergasi.”

Back in his office Wallace called Sheldon Hamilton in Philadelphia. When he was connected Hamilton came on the line. “Hi Bob, whats up?”

“Vergasi bought it.”

“No shit, how?”

“Right now it appears he was strangled.”

“What do you need?”

“Information if it was his family that did him in.”

“I’ll get right on it, give me a couple of days and I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks Sheldon, bye.”

Wallace called the photo lab. “This is Captain Wallace. Are the photo’s ready that were taken of the dead body this morning on Houston alley?”

“They’re in the dryer right now Captain.”

“When they’re ready send them up and I mean all of them.”

“Yes sir.”

Bill O’Neil walked into the office. “Everything's done at the hospital as far as the Vergasi case”, he said as he placed a white paper bag on the Captains desk.

“What’s this?”, asked Wallace.

“Coffee.”

“I don’t see any donuts.”

“They were out.”

“Bullshit…you’re just too cheap to buy any.”

“No, really, they were making a new batch, but I figured you wanted me back here as soon as possible.”

“You know I’m going to check. I’ll call and see if you’re telling the truth.”

“Go right ahead. Anything new on Vergasi?”

“No. I got feelers out in Philly. I might hear something in a couple of days.”

“What about the Gray woman?”

“I guess she’s hanging on. Doc Edwards seems to think she’ll die.”

“If she does, do you have enough evidence to arrest her husband?”

“That’s going to depend on the autopsy. If the examination of her body comes up negative, then we’ve got nothing.”

“Alright, if you need me I’ll be in my office. At least there I can drink my coffee without inhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke”, said O’Neil as he left.

“Bitch, bitch, bitch, you’re worse than a woman.”

As O’Neil left, Sergeant Kelly entered. “Here’s the photo’s you wanted Cap.”

“Good let me seem them.” Wallace examined each eight by ten glossy black and white print. He saw Vergasi’s body draped over a chain link fence, hanging there like a limp sack of garbage. Another picture showed a close up of the man’s face. Vergasi had a look of pain combined with disbelief as if he couldn’t understand what had happened to him. Another photo revealed the agony as he attempted to breath, to fight to live.

Wallace handed the photographs back to the Sergeant. “Give these to Lieutenant O’Neil and tell the I.D. Officer he did a great job.”

“She, Captain. That I.D. Officer is Shelly Camp.”

“Fine, Tell Officer Camp.”

“Yes Sir.”

Wallace reached for the Styrofoam cup filled with coffee. He took a sip, found it lukewarm, made a face then decided to drink it anyway. To him coffee gave him an excuse to smoke and he reached for another cigarette and as he did the telephone on his desk began to ring. He picked up the receiver and said, “Hello.”

“You might be interested to know that Grace Hodges Gray died approximately one hour ago”, said Doctor Edwards.

“Damn, damn, damn. Where’s the body?”

“Still in her bed. Right now Doctor Gray’s lawyer is protesting the autopsy warrant. Charlie Warren called for one of the prosecutors to examine and enforce the warrant.”

“Will the prosecutor enforce it?”

“He should, you have the probable cause. Two wives, both dead after being in a coma. Besides, no prosecutor is going to go against a court order signed by a judge.”

“Let me know what happens.”

“No problem, just stay close to your telephone.”

For Wallace time seemed to stand still. He tried to keep his mind off of Grace Hodges Gray and her death, a death he felt certain he should have prevented, but didn’t. Now, he sat, waiting for a legal decision on a autopsy warrant. Much depended on the autopsy. In fact, the findings would either indicate murder, or another wife of Doctor Vernon Gray dying of natural causes while in a coma.

In order to kill time and keep his mind off of waiting for Doctor Edwards telephone call Wallace opened the Vergasi file and wrote a reminder to review all reports, photographs and intelligence information necessary in order to close the cases of Judge Pierpont and Nuncio Vergasi. When he was finished he got up, went to the window and looked down at the street below. Then, he paced back and forth occasionally glancing at the silent telephone on his desk. Then it rang. Its ring startled him, but he quickly reached for and lifted the receiver. “Major Crime Squad, Captain Wallace.”

“Robert?…The county Prosecutor enforced the autopsy warrant. I can’t get to an examination of Grace Hodges Gray until tomorrow morning. Do you want to be here or do you want to tell me what to look for in particular”, said Doctor Edwards.

“What time tomorrow morning?”, asked Wallace. “I like to start early, say seven thirty.”

“I’ll be there. But if I’m late I’m under the opinion that her husband used insulin to kill her.”

“I’ve got her chart right in front of me. Doctor Gray was treating her for Transient Ischemic Attack. Alright, needless to say, I’ll be checking for everything. See you in the morning.”

It was dark as Captain Wallace walked to his car parked in the police parking lot. As he unlocked and opened the door to the Ford, the offensive smell of stale cigarette smoke reminded him to buy a new air freshener. He then placed the key in the ignition, started the automobile and drove slowly off of the lot. He then headed for Timber Lane to check on Elaine’s house.

Wallace walked slowly through the back yard checking the back door and rear windows. Finding everything secure he walked to the front of the house. He tried the front door, checked the windows and satisfied began to walk to his automobile. When he reached the Ford he looked across the street at Joan Applewhite’s and noticed that it was dark. There wasn’t a light on anywhere. “Poor kid. Now she’s out of a job. Still, she’s young, intelligent and good looking. She’ll be all right. Wonder where she is tonight?”, he thought to himself.

On the way home he stopped and bought two cheap, strong cigars. He planned on smoking them as Doctor Edwards opened the corpse. Wallace hated the smell of body acid as it left the cadaver.

Once at home Wallace showered then dressed in a tank top and kahki shorts. He walked into the kitchen barefoot. There he selected a frozen dinner, read the cooking instruction, placed it in the microwave oven, entered the desired time and pushed the start button. As the time ticked off he walked to his small library and removed a folder. Opening it he removed the case called, “Kenneth Barlow, The First Documented Case of Murder By Insulin”, he then carried it into the kitchen.

Wallace took a seat at the table and began to read. He had read this case three times. Still, he wanted to not just read this time, but to study. In particular he wanted to study Kenneth

Barlow. He knew that Barlow had killed his wife, using insulin. Hopefully, his study would give him an advantage if and when he arrested Vernon Gray. He did notice a similarity between William Archard who killed his wife in 1956 and Kenneth Barlow who murdered his wife in 1957. They both injected the insulin in the buttocks of their victims. Yet in Barlow’s case the injection of insulin into his wife’s buttocks is what helped convict him because scientific examination of tissue from Elizabeth Barlow’s buttocks resulting in the pathologist finding large amounts of insulin.

“The question is, does Doctor Gray have knowledge of the Barlow and Archard cases or, like most murderers believes that he is smarter than the police and medical science?”, Wallace asked himself.

He closed the folder,and placed it across the table. Taking the now hot dinner out of the microwave oven he sat and ate. As he was eating his telephone rang and he got up and answered it.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to eat my dinner.”

“Oh…Am I disturbing you?”

“You know damn well you are.”

“Good…Now you know how I feel…Anyway I just called to tell you don’t eat anything greasy for breakfast tomorrow. When I open Mrs. Gray I don’t want you puking while I’m trying to work.”

“You love to bother me don’t you, you bastard?”

“Just getting even…See you in the morning.”

“Good night Doc.”

 

Chapter Ten

Robert Wallace walked into the hospital morgue at seven fifteen in the morning. He carried the usual white paper bag, only this time the bag contained three Styrofoam cups of coffee and three donuts. When he entered he saw Doctor Edwards seated at his desk reading the autopsy report he had written on Nuncio Vergasi.

The pathologist looked up when he saw Wallace. “Good morning. Just the man I want to see. Do you have any idea what I’m supposed to do with Vergasi’s body?…Normally, we hand the remains over to the family, but in this case it is my understanding that it was the family that killed him”, said Wallace.

“How come you’re so damn chipper in the morning?”, asked Wallace.

“Normally, I’m not. But, this morning I get to have the cheap ass breakfast you bought and later I get to watch you retch and hopefully vomit as I do my work.”

“You are a mean spirited son of a bitch.”

“True sir…Very true”, said Edwards as he reached into the bag and removed a coffee and donut.

“There’s a lot riding on this autopsy Doc.”

“Well look at it this way. A person is not normally healthy one day and dead of hypoglycemia the next.”

“I thought she was suffering from something else.” “You mean the Minnie Strokes? As far as I know that condition does not cause hypoglycemia.”

“I see that you think the same way I do, that the victim died with an overdose of insulin”, said Wallace.

“No. You think as a policeman. I think as a pathologist. I ran a blood test when her body arrived yesterday. It’s called a C- Peptide Test. It’s used to measure and to tell the difference between insulin produced by the body and insulin injected into the body. You see because man-made synthetic insulin does not have C- Peptide a person with low blood sugar level from taking too much insulin will have a low C-Peptide level. In Mrs. Gray’s test the level is low enough to produce hypoglycemia.”

“Excellent.”

“Well, at least I know what I’m looking for. I need further tests and of course examination of her organs. Anything you want me to look for in particular?”

“Yeah…The injection point on her body.”

“Well rule out her arms. They ran I V’s in her. I don’t think the mark will be in a place that is noticeable. I’m thinking he tried to hide the fact that a needle was used”, said Wallace.

Doctor Edwards walked over to where the body rested on a metal table. He pulled back the sheet that covered the cadaver. Wallace noticed that the remains lay face down. “How come you have