The Vanishing Pharmacist

By K.L. Dempsey

The Vanishing Pharmacist, Sequel to The Unholy Vengeance The Vanishing Pharmacist is a multilayered thriller that invites the reader into a world that offers insight into what it means to be a woman in peril. The novel takes you down the dark road of what can happen to a trusted pharmacist who is in conflict with another medical professional who wants her to close her eyes to reality. What begins then is a study in pure evil designed to promote fantasy in the world of a medical doctor against the determined will of the region's most trusted and beloved pharmacist. The decision to challenge a well-known and successful physician changes her life forever when she is suddenly kidnapped. The search for the truth then begins. A journey that will take the readers to the door of the town's most successful investigator, Kate Heller Patterson. Throughout the novel, Patterson demonstrates her special skill in handling treachery and deceit as she travels the countryside in her search for the vanishing pharmacist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781647012496

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Meeting

Kate Heller Patterson looked across the street at the majestic high steeple that was the centerpiece of the only Lutheran Church in Lift Bridge, Michigan. On any given Sunday, she was told 250 people would walk through the nine-foot stained glass doors of that white wood building that had rested on the corner of Main Street and Lift Bridge Avenue for the last 125 years. It was not your typical Evangelical Lutheran Church, just an Independent Lutheran branch made up of a large Icelandic settlement that had found its way to this Michigan town. Today there would be no traffic at the church but rather just a historical part of the town that took particular pride in being listed in Ripley’s Believe It or Not! as one of two towns in the nation with a cemetery located in the town’s center. She had often wondered who made up the residents of that cemetery, since to the best of her knowledge, no members of the current Lutheran Church were buried there.

Shutting her engine off, she exited her Land Rover and walked the few steps to her office, which she had opened two years ago after her marriage to Curtis Patterson, an airlines captain for one of the major companies in America.

Kate Heller Patterson Private Investigator Ltd. had opened under the encouragement of her husband after she had resigned from the Funston Police Department as the first and only female detective. Curtis had built his home before they had married near the only asphalt runway in Lift Bridge, which allowed him to fly his Cessna to Detroit, where he was based.

Opening the door, she walked into the spacious office area, which she had designed, and turned on the lights in her private office while putting her purse on the large white credenza. Two other investigator offices were part of the original floor plan, although only one was presently occupied by her partner, Howard Singer, a former police colleague that she had hired away from the Funston Police Department. She glanced at her calendar, noting the appointment of a Ms. Charlene Cohen, an attorney from Bad River, Michigan, a town that she and Curtis had visited only once during its summer fest over a year ago. She sat down in her leather chair behind her solid oak desk and opened the drawer that held her open files. Pulling the Cohen folder, she laid it on her desk in preparation for the woman’s arrival.

Kate’s window gave her a clear view of the town’s only vertical lift bridge, which was constructed in 1910–1912 and gave origin to the town’s name. The bridge spanned the Pelican River on an abandoned railroad route near the city’s entrance. Kate, remembering the town history, knew that it was decided back at the turn of the century, when the town fathers had decided to build a lift bridge in that location because the Pelican River was considered a navigable waterway even though commercial boat traffic had virtually ceased on the river leading into Lake Michigan. However, the town fathers, not to be denied, had it built only to find that the lift span was operated just once when it was tested. Like the cemetery, it had just become a part of the town’s history, although thanks, in part, to the fact that Lift Bridge was the only rail crossing of the Pelican River from 1912 to 1955, the railroad bridge was modified to accommodate this mode of travel until the line ended in the late 1950s.

Getting up from her desk, Kate walked over to the small cabinet near her window and removed a pound packet of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and filter. Picking up the glass coffeepot, she walked into her bathroom and ran enough water to fill the twelve-cup container sitting on the table near her desk. Satisfied, she started the coffee and returned to her chair and opened up the Cohen file. The woman had visited her office two days ago, concerned that something had happened to her sister, Rachel Cohen Manning, a local pharmacist from Bad River, Michigan, who had seemingly just vanished after finishing her workday at the Bad River Drugstore where she was the head pharmacist.

Kate thought back to when she had met Rachel Manning over a year ago during her visit to the city at the time of the summer fest. It had been a visit to the pharmacy department for her sinus headache when Kate had met the striking petite auburn-haired woman for the first and only time. She remembered the woman’s unusually blue-ocean-colored eyes and, as most men would probably say, with curves in all the right places. Kate had at first encouraged Charlene to just review her concerns with the Bad River Police Department since it was too early to investigate a case of a missing woman that suggested no foul play was involved. However, Kate had agreed to see her a second time when Charlene had called and told her that the police appeared less than interested in assisting in the matter since Rachel’s husband was a sergeant with the Bad River Police Department. Kate well understood the problems that existed within a police department when spousal differences occurred between officers and their wives. Beatings and abuse, while not commonplace, existed on a higher level than general society, along with the higher percentages of divorces. Those calls made on the homes of brother officers were often given professional courtesy treatment, with many wives encouraged to overlook the abuse for the sake of their husband’s career. Kate had reconsidered Charlene’s case, and now looked forward to her visit this morning.

As she prepared herself for her first cup of morning coffee, she looked out the window and saw Howard pulling up alongside her Range Rover. She could see he was finishing a cell phone call while he sat in his car. Turning away from the window, she heard the front door opening up with the arrival of Charlene, who had entered and was looking for the receptionist.

Walking out of her office, Kate greeted her client. Good morning, Charlene. Why don’t you have a seat in one of those chairs up front and I’ll be with you in about five minutes? If you’d like coffee, please let me know. We also have water and juice, should you like that.

I’m good to go, Ms. Patterson, so I’ll just have a seat up front, but thank you.

As she waited for Kate, she picked up one of the new copies of Cosmopolitan and had started to read the article on women’s birth control rights when she observed the entrance of a well-dressed man carrying a briefcase and a cane.

The man stopped and looked at her. You must be Charlene Cohen, Kate’s appointment this morning. I’m Howard Singer, Kate’s partner in this firm. Knowing Kate, she won’t keep you long, but if there’s anything you need, my office is just around that corner, he said, continuing to walk directly to his office.

Thank you, Charlene responded, but she already knows that I’m here, so I’ll just make myself at home with the magazine until she calls me. She wasn’t sure if he had heard her, but it really didn’t matter, as she returned to the article.

Kate walked across the office and found Howard already clearing his e-mails. Anything worth reading this morning? asked Kate. I must have had over seventy-five spam messages alone when I got in. You know, we need to upgrade our software to block some of that junk. Can I bring you a cup of coffee, Howard?

Thanks, but I’ve reached my limit, Kate. Say, while you’re interviewing Ms. Cohen, I’ll give our friend Roger a call at Electronics Are Us and see if he can schedule a time to come down and give us a recommendation on new software to block those unwanted spam e-mails.

Good idea, said Kate as she turned from his office and walked toward where Charlene was seated. Charlene, why don’t you join me in my office, and we’ll talk a little more about your sister, Rachel? I’m assuming nothing has changed and that you still have not heard from her?

Getting up, she followed Kate while saying, Nothing has changed, Ms. Heller, and I feel that she’s going to stay missing for a long time. Arriving at her door, Kate asked Charlene to have a seat on the chair directly across from her. She noticed that the room had a distinct feminine appearance yet flush with all sorts of electronic tools. One of the office’s two computers rested within reach of Kate.

Well, I’m glad you came this morning, Charlene, but first, a little review of the house rules. Please call me Kate from this point on, and the only other thing that you need to know is that no decision has been made as to whether we will accept you as a client or, for that matter, if you will want us to take the case, she said. That’s the main purpose of this meeting, to determine if we both are ready to take the next step, so just tell me, first of all, a little about yourself, please.

I’m a practicing attorney for the firm of Baker Goldman Richman in Bad River. We do mostly corporate representation, with a side specialty involving the airline industry. It would appear that making partner should happen in the next year. I’m single, with Rachel being my only sibling. We are very close sisters, with many of our friends even suggesting that we could pass for twins, although I happen to be a year older. Both of our parents are deceased.

You are correct about the twin comparison. I just happened to meet your sister about a year ago when my husband and I traveled to Bad River for the summer fest. We had to stop in the pharmacy for some medication for my sinus headache, and she just happened to help us. Like you, she is a striking woman, only you are taller, if I remember correctly. The specialty your firm handles regarding the airline industry, is that disability cases?

No, we represent family members who are suing airlines for wrongful death due to air disasters. Other than the Chicago firm of Silverman and Stein, we probably handle more litigation on that subject than any other firm. You may remember reading about a recent air ambulance flight that crashed near Spear Lake a few months ago, killing the pilot and two crew members plus the patient that they were taking to a nearby hospital. We represent the families of the crew.

Letting that matter sink in, Kate continued. Tell me about your missing sister, Charlene, and how you first learned about her having gone missing, asked Kate.

Well, to begin with, Rachel graduated from the Michigan State University Pharmacy College with honors. As you might know, this is one of the top ten colleges in the United States for pharmacists. When she graduated, she immediately accepted the position as head pharmacist at the Bad River Drugstore. She later married Mark Manning, who is a sergeant with the Bad River Police Department. They have no children. I first learned of her being missing when the drugstore had called me indicating she had not reported for work the next morning, wondering if she was, by chance, with me.

Kate noticed the beginning of tears, so she handed Charlene a box of tissues resting on her desk. Do you need to take a break? she asked.

No. It helps to just get it all out.

Tell me a little about her husband and what you experience with the Bad River Police Department, asked Kate.

Mark and I have a decent relationship, although I never lower my guard when he’s around, since he fancies himself a ladies’ man, that sort of thing. He hasn’t actually hit on me, but one gets the feeling that it’s on his mind. He’s tall, about six foot two, with premature thick white hair to go with his pale skin. Rachel had told me that he’s called Powder behind his back, a nickname that he doesn’t like.

What does Rachel say to you when you have those girl-talk moments?

I’m not sure what you mean, Kate.

Things like, How is your marriage? Do you spend free moments together? What about your sex life? Maybe some talk about monetary jealously, after she probably makes three times his salary.

Pharmacists are generally well paid, as you guessed, Kate. Although Rachel rarely discussed this, it’s clear to me that she was probably making somewhere in the neighborhood of $115–135,000, which would make her very comfortable when you add the additional $48,000 that her husband reportedly makes. She never made an issue of her salary being a concern to Mark, although one never knows, I guess, said Charlene. They never took vacations since the first year of their marriage, when they went to Las Vegas. Mark is mostly into hunting and fishing with his buddies, while Rachel seemed to live for her work. Their sex life was never really discussed much, although Rachel did say that he had a habit of showing jealousy over her friends that she would meet while at work.

What type of friends? asked Kate.

Well, as you can imagine, she was a popular pharmacist, with a wide variety of physicians who not only called upon her to fill prescriptions for their patients but also, because of the close proximity of many doctors’ offices and the drugstore, often invited her to join them for lunch, sometimes even dinner. She was a male magnet for visiting pharmaceutical reps, plus a natural draw for various consumer and professional organizations that often called upon her for speaking engagements. Compare this to a police officer who, on his best day, might be surrounded by schoolchildren wanting to learn about the one hundred different varieties of drugs now being pushed on the streets and you can guess who comes out looking best in these examples. Rachel tried to handle it well, but as time moved on, Mark reportedly had his buddy officers reporting back to him on every Rachel sighting with any doctor or health worker.

Why no children? Or was that plan on hold? asked Kate.

She told me that Mark changed his mind shortly after they were married and made it clear to her that kids never interested him. He then became fanatical about birth control and even took charge of her pills. This irritated Rachel to the point that she had suggested that he might want to use the 100 percent effective way against pregnancy if he was that worried. When he found out that she was talking about abstinence, it naturally didn’t go over well. On the other hand, he could be charming in his own way, and she could expect a box of candy on Valentine’s Day or flowers on occasion.

Well, I’ve been doing an awful lot of talking, Charlene. Do you have any questions at this point?

If you accept me as your client, will that mean that you’ll be using Mr. Singer to assist you? she asked.

Although I’m the primary owner of this investigating agency, Howard, or Mr. Singer, holds a 25 percent ownership of the business. We review all cases with each other, and under most circumstance, especially in the case of a missing person, we will work together. Do you view this as a concern, Charlene?

No, certainly not, but could you tell me about the cane that he carries but doesn’t apparently need?

It was about two years ago. He was shot while working on a criminal case with me. He took a bullet and was almost killed. He carries a cane as a constant reminder of how lucky he was on that day. I brought him into the firm because other than my husband, he is the most trusted man I’ve ever met, plus damn good at his job, Kate said, smiling. What do you think happened to your sister, Charlene?

At first, I thought Mark had followed her after work and probably was upset over one of her social doctor friends and then just killed her in anger and hid the body. Of course, that would have been virtually impossible, since he had gone hunting on the day that she vanished into thin air. The Bad River Police Department had verified his story, and Mark had immediately volunteered to take a lie detector test just to put any concern to rest. In the end, he had a firm alibi, and the police backed away from continuing to see him as a person of interest. I’m still not totally convinced that he’s as pure as he’s being made out to be, because his alibi still has a hole in it.

How’s that? asked Kate, now sitting up in her chair.

Well, he has changed part of his story that he originally told to the Bad River Police Department. His alibi had been that he had been deer hunting in Albion, Michigan, at the time of her disappearance. He later changed his story to indicate that he had actually been rabbit hunting. Now, obviously, I’m not the typical male gender that does a lot of hunting, but if I were, it would seem to me that I would be able to remember what I had started out to hunt for, don’t you think?

You have a good point, Charlene, but then again, since you are an attorney, I’m sure that you could find a dozen ways to explain away this lapse of memory. Anything else that you can remember that would help locate your sister or what harm might have come to her?

Only what the police found in his vehicle the day that he had returned from hunting, when they told him that his wife was missing. When they talked to him, they had found a blanket, a Towel’s, high-Powered assault 216 rifle, a Desert Eagle .44 Magnum and an AK-47 assault rifle, plus a 10-gauge shotgun. Pretty strong firepower for rabbit hunting in my opinion, said Charlene. When I talked to her colleagues at the drugstore, they had indicated that she had been in great spirits and had not shown any outward signs of stress or concerns about anything. It had been just a typical workday.

Did she eat in or have any scheduled lunches with her health-care friends, such as doctors or pharmaceutical salespeople? Kate noticed that Charlene was searching her mind for something when she answered.

"She had lunch with someone from the Detroit Star, a local support paper to the Detroit News, who, from what I learned, was trying to interest her in writing a column about health care. Her colleagues indicated that she was excited about the possibility of having her own column that the paper reported would reach a circulation of about 150,000 readers. Rachel had told her pharmacy tech that if it was a successful column, the Detroit Star representative had indicated that she might even get her own radio program."

Did all this seem believable to you? asked Kate.

Sure, but I didn’t rule out the fact that Rachel might have been taken in by some hotshot reporter who was looking for a way to just get in her pants, Charlene said. Listen, Kate, this was one smart woman in high demand by a lot of people. She was good at her job, deeply entrenched in the medical profession as a clinically trained pharmacist, and just enjoyed sharing that information with as many people as possible. The truth is, if she made any mistake in her life, it was marrying the wrong guy. In my opinion, she would have been much better off finding someone equal to her station in life.

Well, Charlene, we have spent the last hour together, and you’ve given me all the information that I need at this point. Again, do you have any questions or concerns about what we have talked about today?

No, you have been extremely thorough, and I have confidence that your firm can help me. I hope you will accept me as a client and that you and Howard can find out what happened to my sister.

Well, here’s the deal on that, Charlene. Your missing sister attracts my interest, but I have the twenty-four-hour rule, which means that I will review the details with Howard and sleep on it overnight. You need to do this also, because frankly, our firm is rather expensive because we work toward results, not specializing in hyperbole. If your sister is still alive, we have a limited amount of time to find her. On the other hand, we intend to bring a resolution to every case that we accept. Our fee is two thousand dollars per day, plus a twenty-thousand-dollar retainer.

Charlene didn’t blink but instead reached into her purse and pulled out her checkbook. Writing the check for the retainer fee, she handed it to Kate and said, Tomorrow, if you choose to accept my case, you may deposit the check. Otherwise, you may just tear it up. Getting up, Charlene reached over and shook Kate’s hand. You know, I feel much better after talking to you so much that before I leave town, I’m going to stop at that Starbucks location across town and get me one of those pick-me-up, all-favorite caramel macchiato, with whipped cream. Rachel would usually join me for one, although always being the sister pharmacist, she would remind me that although it would lift our energy temporarily, it would exhaust us in the long run. Smiling, Charlene walked out Kate’s door while waving a friendly goodbye.

Chapter 2

Convinced in Her Mind

It was an east-facing room, and the sun came in through the large bedroom window, casting a large ray of brilliant light across the sheets of Kate’s bed and into the eyes; her now-waking Doberman pinscher, unable to sleep, had decided to wake his master.

Jesus, Channing! Can’t you go back to sleep? mumbled Kate as she turned over and looked at the bedroom clock, which said 5:30 a.m. God, you’re a pest. I’ll be glad when Curtis gets home this Saturday night, and then you two can play all you want.

On the ocean-blue wall facing the bed was a television, and sitting on the carpeted floor near the window was the file folder containing the notes she had taken home after speaking to Charlene Cohen yesterday. After reviewing the case with Howard, she had decided, as she always did, to step back ten steps and sleep on what she had learned before making a final decision. Now, sitting up, she stared at the opposite wall, where the two dozen roses rested in vases on the top of her dresser. Kate knew that she would call Charlene and let her know that they would take her on as a client. However, first things first, she thought, reaching for her cell phone and placing a call to Curtis, who undoubtedly would not be able to take her call, since he was probably somewhere over the ocean and on final approach to Newark airport. As expected, her call went into his voice mail, with the standard apology that he was not available.

Hi, honey! Just a short call to let you know that the flowers are beautiful and that I miss you. Can’t wait until tomorrow night, when you arrive home. Love you!

These trips are bummers, and it never gets easier, she thought while putting her feet on the floor.

Walking over to the window, Kate glanced down toward the cornfield, where she could just make out the very end of the asphalt runway where Curtis would be landing his Cessna twin-engine tomorrow night. The runway was the brainchild of Lincoln Childress, the owner of Lift Bridge’s lumberyard and showroom. His eldest son, Jake, a private pilot himself, had become friends with Curtis and spent his off hours as a gentleman farmer. Together, prior to her becoming Mrs. Kate Patterson, Jake and Curtis had installed enough lights to illuminate the entire runway. It was their secret airfield, and to the best of Kate’s knowledge, Jake didn’t open up the landing field to anyone else but Curtis.

Calling Channing, she opened up the kitchen back door and watched him scamper across the grass until he reached the edge of the ten-acre yard. Looking up into the sky, Kate could tell that this Friday morning was good running weather. She reminded herself that she did some of her best thinking while running, so she took one last look at Channing watering every tree and rushed into the bedroom to put on her sweats. Returning to the kitchen door, she walked outside and called Channing, and together they started to run toward the cornfield, where a dirt track followed the edge of the cornfield for nearly a mile.

Well, today’s subject is Rachel Manning, big fellow, she said to Channing as she picked up her pace, running down the dirt path with the dog at her heels. A kaleidoscope of images raced through Kate’s mind about Rachel as she raced down the small road. Maybe the problem was a jealous husband, an overheated newspaper reporter, or a doctor whose wife didn’t understand him. Or maybe someone else on the police force. Turning around, Kate headed back toward the house and a hot shower, with Channing already having beaten her to the back door. She opened up the screen door and went inside, with Channing following close behind. Locking the door, Kate removed her sweatpants and walked into the master bathroom, removing the rest of her clothes and turning on the shower.

Satisfied that the water was just hot enough, Kate climbed into the stall and let the warm water relax her. Five minutes later, after drying off, she walked into her bedroom and lay naked on her back atop the sheets, with her legs parted and her hands behind her head. She remained awake but her eyes were closed as she thought about Curtis and what they would be doing if he were here. The window and the drapes were open, and daylight was in full bloom. Hearing the grandfather clock strike seven, Kate jumped up and walked over to her closet to retrieve the clothes of the day while passing the six-foot mirror. Although Kate was not vain, she took a moment to examine her body. What did Curtis usually say? she remembered while smiling.

You have so much beauty it scares me sometimes. You always look like the day I first made love to you.

Shaking her head, she put on her clothes and talked to the reflection in the mirror. Time to move forward, Kate, she said. She turned and left the bedroom, then started down the hallway to fetch her purse. Opening her leather handbag, she located her Ruger P345 pistol and made sure the magazine was in place.

Since opening her private investigator’s office, Kate had not found the need to carry a weapon, but today seemed to be a good day to change that habit. By the time the cuckoo clock struck eight and Kate had fed Channing, she felt that she had been up half the day as she locked the front door and entered her Range Rover. Fastening her seat belt, she pulled out of the driveway and settled into the drive to her office, which, according to past mornings, should take all of fifteen minutes. Passing the open gates of the Lincoln Childress estates, she remembered the last time she and Curtis had visited the mansion, when, to her shock, Lincoln had cornered both of them, wanting to know when they were going to bring another Patterson into the world. Kate, tongue-tied at the remark, quickly discovered that Curtis was, as usual, up to the challenge.

Well, Lincoln, creating a masterpiece is time-consuming, but I never put the brush away, if you know what I mean.

Kate laughed as she thought back to that moment and knew that the subject of children was certain to come this weekend, as they both wanted a child. As usual with Curtis, he was inclined to accept the responsibility for the empty nest, never assuming that conceiving might be her problem, not his. Putting her hands on the steering wheel in the traditional ten-two-o’clock position, Kate concentrated on the remainder of the short drive.

Howard had arrived early for the meeting that Kate had requested regarding the Cohen case. Already having made coffee, he leaned back in his leather chair and pondered what approach she would be using to support bringing into the office the Rachel Manning case. There were few people that Howard considered worth dying for, but Kate Patterson was one. The woman was a marvel, generous to a fault and responsible for his making detective at the Funston Police Department. She had also brought him over to her investigating firm and had offered him a 25 percent ownership in the business. The two had a history, and it wasn’t his intent to harm that, but he wondered if Kate wasn’t taking on more water than the firm could deal with.

Looking out his office window, he watched as Kate pulled up, shut off the engine on her car, and gracefully got out of the vehicle, the act in itself enough to make most men perspire just admiring her long legs. Turning back to his computer, Howard hit the Ignore button, canceling the information on Mark Manning that he had been looking at. Hearing the jingle of the bell announcing Kate’s arrival, he waited for the daily complaint from her.

Howard, when in the heck are we going to get rid of that stupid bell? I feel like we own a business back in the turn of the century. Can’t we at least hook up a system that just announces the client arriving rather than the tinker-bell operation?

Good morning, Kate. I see the frustrations have been building up while waiting for Curtis, said Howard, now walking out of his office, holding a cup of coffee. Maybe, though, it’s just a hormone imbalance. You know, I’ve heard that it’s easily corrected, since all one has to do is cook with fresh rosemary, garlic, and turmeric spice, all of which incidentally have anticancer properties. Then again, I would also recommend hormone-free meat, poultry, dairy products, and eggs. What do you think?

What I think, Howard, is that you have forgotten that although I’m a woman, I still can handle a weapon, and you may well become a prime target of mine should you continue to push that button. Anyway, my mood is fine, and yes, it will be good to see Curtis tomorrow. Maybe you and I should talk about the Charlene Cohen case, because we’ve got her $20,000 check waiting to be cashed, said Kate, taking a seat in one of the two chairs in Howard’s office.

Where should we start? asked Howard.

Let’s start with Rachel, the missing sister, Kate responded. First of all, the idea that she just vanished isn’t plausible any more than someone asking me to accept a coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidences any more than I accept the idea that she just vanished. People just don’t disappear without someone seeing their movements or have helped them along the way. She may already be dead, which means someone helped her enter eternity or, for whatever is the reason, has closed their eyes to what they have already seen. What we do know is that she got off work without any apparent problem and failed to make it home.

We actually don’t know that, offered Howard, since her husband was hunting. She may have arrived home and was taken immediately by the person waiting for her. What we do know is that her husband didn’t even know that she was gone until he had arrived home later that day and found that the police were waiting for him with the bad news. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one, Kate, since we both know that with her husband being a police officer, the chances are very strong that they are going to close ranks and be protective of one of their own. They will welcome our involvement with the equal joy one welcomes a good case of diarrhea. We would have been no different at the Funston Police Department, and I think you know that.

She thought about that and replied, You’re allowed to leave the plug out of the boat every ten years.

What the hell does that mean? asked Howard.

It’s what my mother once said to my dad, who became concerned about taking his best buddy boat fishing because, once, they took on a little water after he had forgotten to put the plug in, Kate said. We’re not police officers anymore, Howard. This is our business, and we can’t worry about getting a little wet just because we may hurt feelings. We’re allowed to do our job no matter how much water we take on.

I guess that means that you want to go fishing for the Manning woman? said Howard.

Yes, and I will visit the Bad River Police Department to let them know out of professional courtesy we will share any information. It’s Charlene’s feeling that they have concluded that she is simply just a runaway, unhappy wife, nothing more. While I visit them, I want you to find out anything that you can about their marriage, such as if he has hidden girlfriends. And just to be safe, if she is really the sweet sister that Charlene reports her to be.

Chapter 3

Powder

Kate pulled up to the section marked Visitor and sat for a few minutes, observing the Bad River Police building and the traffic flow coming and going. It appeared larger than that of the Funston Police building, where she had once worked, even though Bad River’s population was considerably smaller. She noted the information sign that directed visitors to the administrative offices, and a newly added reference to where the shooting range section of the building was located. Kate got out of her vehicle and walked directly to the front entrance and found that the doors opened automatically, leading into a large open section of busy activity. The reception area was in the center of the room and manned by what seemed to be a young police cadet. Walking up to the desk, Kate was greeted by the young woman.

"You appear lost. Can I help you, miss?

Actually, you can. I’m looking for Chief Ramsey’s office. He’s expecting me. My name is Kate Heller Patterson.

Pointing to her left, the cadet said, Just follow the corridor past the water fountain. At the end, just turn right, and it will be the second office. When you go in, there will be a secretary named Sandy who will take over from there.

Kate thanked the girl and started her walk down the hallway while checking the time on her watch, which said 9:30 a.m. Right on schedule, she thought to herself. She heard the sound of the vibration from her cell phone as she was about to turn the corner. Stopping, she checked the incoming phone number and recognized it as that of Charlene Cohen, who was probably calling to see if she was going to cash her check. Time for that later, she thought as she reached Chief Ramsey’s door and pushed it open. Kate found the secretary’s desk empty but noticed the purse and eyeglasses remaining, as though the woman had probably just taken a restroom break. She could see the faint glow of a light coming from the back office area and assumed that Chief Ramsey was hard at work.

Hello? Anyone home? Kate called. No answer. Walking a few steps closer to where the light was coming from, she was about to call a second time when she felt a presence behind her.

You must be looking for me came the voice of Ramsey as he walked through the door that Kate had left open. Sorry, I didn’t expect you for another ten minutes, he said.

Kate looked at the police chief, finding him to be average size, a good-looking male neatly dressed in his police uniform, with the two stars on each collar. That’s all right, Chief Ramsey. I’ve developed a reputation of always being early. Thank you for finding time in your busy schedule to see me, said Kate, turning to shake his hand.

My pleasure, Ms. Patterson. So if you will follow me, we’ll go into my office and talk about what might be on your mind. And I’d feel more comfortable if you would just call me Phil. As they started to walk to his office, he said, I understand that you are the owner of Kate Heller Patterson Investigations. What type of cases would require investigations in such a small town like Bad River? By then they were inside his office, and he offered her a seat directly across the desk from him.

Well, the town isn’t actually that small, Chief Ramsey, said Kate, choosing to call him by his official title. And when you consider that we draw clients from a fifty-mile radius, we actually are busy enough to almost warrant two other investigators besides myself, although at the present time we only have two.

What do you investigate, if I may ask? inquired Ramsey.

Well, as I’m sure that you can understand, we live in a cheating society, where infidelity is common, with adultery and being unfaithful an everyday occurrence. Those requested investigations by the public are enough to fill our days without the added requests of companies that employ us just to look into personal injury fraud. You might be surprised that we even get requests from some law enforcement agencies outside of this immediate area to look into employees on workman compensation who are unable to work yet still hunting white-tailed deer in North Dakota. Kate could detect a little uncomfortable feeling developing with the chief.

Looking at his watch, Ramsey said, Well, what can I help you with today, Ms. Patterson?

I have a ‘black swan’ event, Chief Ramsey, and I need your help in solving it or, if you wish not to help, at least providing you with a heads-up that we are investigating it. You are familiar with what a black swan event is, correct?

No, and I’m assuming that this is some sort of joke.

It’s hardly a joke, Chief, unless you consider a missing person something funny, which, in my case, being a former detective with the Funston Police Department, I know that you wouldn’t. The black swan theory is a metaphor that describes an event that is a surprise to the observer, has a major impact on lives, and after the fact, is often inappropriately rationalized with the benefit of hindsight. Let me give you an example. Take the 9/11 attack in 2001. It was a shock to all common observers. The ramifications continue to be felt in many ways. Increased levels of security exist all over the country from state to state. In some cases, we have even taken preventive strikes.

You’re confusing me, Ms. Patterson, as to what this has to do with my department.

For the first time in its history, Chief Ramsey, Bad River has its own black swan event, and when it gets out into the general public, we will have a town panic. You see, the disappearance of Rachel Cohen Manning isn’t, in my opinion, just the case of a wife wanting to experience the forbidden fruits that her male counterparts often take a bite of. She has vanished, period, and we’ve been hired to find her regardless if she is on this earth alive or not. The shock of a disappearing young professional pharmacist from the quiet streets of Bad River will have the citizens arming themselves for fear of a second event until this is solved. The preventative strike that could happen is that someone who just rings a doorbell could get hurt until this case is solved. So with that in mind, Chief, I respectfully would like to see a copy of your police report covering your internal investigation of her husband, Officer Mark Manning.

You know, Ms. Patterson, that I can’t do that without a court order.

Well, actually, you can, Chief Ramsey, since he hasn’t been charged with a crime. Under the filing request of the freedom of information statute, you are obligated to provide any information requested unless it has been sealed with a court order. So if required, I will fill out one of your forms on that subject and submit it to the administrator of the village in the proper fashion, which, in turn, they will forward back to you so that you can send the requested reports to my office. Please don’t interpret my request as suggesting in any way that Officer Manning has done anything wrong. My guess is your office has already determined enough facts to suggest that he isn’t a person of interest.

Chief Ramsey, getting up from his desk, reached in his file drawer and pulled the required form and handed it to Kate. Good luck, he said as he walked away from his desk, now leaving her to find her own way out.

Realizing that the meeting was over, Kate left the chief’s office and passed the still-unoccupied secretary’s desk and started to walk toward the entrance of the police station. Suddenly, she turned and noticed that Chief Ramsey was talking to another police officer. The conversation seemed heated, with Ramsey placing his finger into the officer’s chest, giving what appeared to be direct orders. The officer was much taller than Ramsey, but from the distance, Kate couldn’t hear the conversation, so she continued her walk out the front door and to her Land Rover. Sitting in the car, she reached for her cell phone and dialed Charlene Cohen’s phone number.

Hello, this is Charlene, came the sleepy tone of her voice.

Charlene, this is Kate. I noticed that your phone number came up on my caller I.D. but you didn’t leave any message. Did I just wake you up?

No, not at all. Just sitting at the kitchen table, trying to get some of yesterday’s work done. Ever feel like the day just doesn’t have enough hours?

Every day’s like that with me, said Kate. Say, we’ve decided to take you on as our client, if you haven’t changed your mind.

That’s good news. I was hoping that you would, since no matter what is going on, she needs my best effort to find out what has happened to her. What do you think our chances are that she is still alive, if you’re even willing to guess at this point?

Well, since you haven’t heard a word from her, and since you two were close sisters, my professional opinion is that it’s unlikely that we will find her alive, unless whoever has taken her has decided to keep her captive for a future ransom or another type of self-gain. But this, I can assure you, Charlene: we will find your sister and the person who has taken her. Some of the questions that we must ask you may not make sense, but I can assure you that each is asked in order to find Rachel, never to embarrass. She paused a bit. You’re a beautiful woman, Charlene, much like your sister, but unless I’ve missed something, you are not married, correct?

Not married, not seeing anyone, and certainly not a lesbian. My biggest problem is that I’m stuck in neutral while all the guys seem revved up and ready to have sex the minute they open the car door, plus I’m always tired after a day’s work. I hope that was not too long an explanation and answered your question.

Actually, it was just what I was looking for, said Kate. One last question, and then we leave any others for when we meet next, which should be early next week or sooner. Did you ever have to represent any case in court where Manning had to appear either as a police officer, or any personal civil suit that would have put you two in the same courtroom?

None at any time, responded Charlene.

Thanks. Call me if you have any questions, said Kate as she waved goodbye.

*****

Howard Singer was still in the office when Kate arrived, and he was on his cell phone. She remained standing until he finished, then said, I just finished visiting Chief Ramsey and gave him a heads-up that we have the Rachel Manning case. Although he didn’t seem particularly happy about it, I don’t think he viewed us as a problem. What about you?

Nothing yet, but you have something by your office door.

Kate looked over and saw two dozen red roses in expensive, decorative vases. Wow, my mother had it all wrong about forgetful men. Curtis knows how to keep the flames burning, and he is as steady as they come.

Think it would work for me? came Howard’s voice.

Absolutely, Kate said, especially if you don’t give her those flowers that the guy sells on the street corner.

Opening up the door to her office, Kate carried the flowers in and laid them on her six-foot wooded shelf, where she stored all her research books. Sitting down at her desk, she picked up the desk phone and called the Bad River Drugstore where Rachel had worked.

Bad River Pharmacy, this is Edith.

Edith, this is Kate Patterson. Could I speak to your head pharmacist, please?

You mean Rachel Manning?

No. I understand that she’s out of the office. Any pharmacist or manager will do, said Kate.

Kate waited as Edith searched for the right person.

Joe Fisher, I’m the lead pharmacy tech.

Joe, my name is Kate Heller Patterson. I’m a private investigator hired by Charlene Cohen, the sister of Rachel. I would like to stop over today and ask a few questions concerning Rachel. Would you be available, or someone else from your pharmacy staff that I could talk to?

I’ll be here until seven tonight.

That’s fine, Joe. It won’t take up much of your time, so I should be there around 2:00 p.m., said Kate. Now placing the phone back on its cradle, Kate walked over to Howard’s office and let him know where she would be later in the afternoon. Howard gave her his standard thumbs-up sign and continued working on the internet as she left the office for her car.

*****

Kate looked at the rubber rat and shook her head. A fifteen-foot-tall inflatable ugly rodent was the kind of thing that one had a tendency to remember. This particular one on a smooth stretch of Michigan highway smiled maniacally in front of the unfinished store. The building, surrounded by at least ten men that would have made any motorcycle gang proud, carried various, different threatening signs pointing out unfair labor practices. Kate could tell from past experience that the store was being built by nonunion workers who had upset the rank and file, because those paying the bills had the gull to hire Mexican workers at half the hourly rate. It gave her déjà vu and a serious sense of the creeps remembering how that scruffy-looking rat had once appeared at her high school as teachers went on strike, delaying her graduation a full month. At that time, the signs had pointed out the teachers’ concern for the kids yet forbade crossing their picket line for an education being taught by willing replacements.

She turned at the next road marker, passing a gas station, a tiny box of a convenience store, and followed the road down to Main Street, where the Bad River Drug-store took up an entire block. Pulling up to an open parking spot in front of the store, she got out and put two quarters in the meter. Kate turned from the meter and began the short walk to the front of the store and was about to go in when she noticed a black-and-white Bad River police car parked directly across from the drugstore. The officer inside made a good show of doing paperwork, but with Kate being a former cop, it was her guess that the car was watching who entered the store, not just finishing the paperwork from some written ticket. Walking inside, she approached the pharmacy station and looked for Joe Fisher. The young girl directed her over to the section where the vitamins were, indicating that he was stocking the shelves.

She found the man in the next aisle. Excuse me. Are you Joe? asked Kate.

Looking up, he got off his knees and stood straight up, which put him at eye level with Kate. You’re the private investigator that wanted to speak to me, am I right?

Nice-looking young man, she thought. Clean-cut, no tattoos, body piercings, probably attending some pharmaceutical college. Yep, that’s me.

I’ve reserved the conference room for us so that no salespeople will interrupt us. You don’t need a flu shot, I assume, said Joe, pointing to a display table a few feet away, which featured a sign calling attention to the young stud Joe Fisher. In part, the sign encouraged getting a flu shot, and the winner of the drawing was to be awarded a dinner for two hosted by the new intern, Joe Fisher.

Very good promotion idea, Joe, said Kate, but regretfully, I’ve already had the shot.

The kid’s going to go far, she thought, but dinner was not in the cards since she already had a guy waiting for her who was already ahead of the curve with the two dozen roses. She followed Joe to the end of the store and through swinging doors, which took them into a room with a twenty-foot table.

This is a massive room, Joe. What do you have here, regional meetings?

Actually, what we have almost every other day is a free lunch courtesy of the many pharmaceutical reps who visit us to promote their latest version of Jalyn Caps.

Kate laughed. Tell me what they do, she said, although she had a pretty good idea.

They help men with enlarged prostates improve their flow. It’s a German-produced product that is one of the best on the market, but you didn’t come here to learn about that stuff, so ask away whatever is on your mind and then we can get back to that flu shot, he said with a smile.

Kate gave Joe her best smile before asking, "Tell me about Rachel Manning, the senior pharmacist that’s not here today. How long have you known her?

Joe looked at Kate as he was attempting to frame his answers. She interviewed me for this job, so I’ve known her the last three years. As you probably already know, she graduated with honors from the Michigan State Pharmacy College, where, incidentally, I’m also attending and will graduate from next May with my doctor’s degree in pharmacy studies.

Doctor’s degree. I thought a pharmacist was just a pharmacist, said Kate.

They are, but the world has changed once again, since today pharmacists are being required to do much more than fill prescriptions. Take that flu shot as example. The pharmacy colleges now require that you obtain a doctorate, and part of the reason is that we now give a number of shots to the public. Rachel’s a great pharmacist and had, or still has, a wonderful following of dedicated patients, doctor friends, and business associates in the health industry.

How old do you happen to be, Joe?

I’m twenty-five and will be twenty-six upon graduation.

You actually look a little older, Joe, which is a good thing in your business. How old would you guess Rachel to be?

She told me that she was approaching thirty.

Did you ever sleep with her, Joe?

What kind of a question is that? he asked, now getting angry. She’s married, for God’s sake!

It’s the type of question, Joe, that you will be asked if she turns up dead, and she might. I’m investigating what happened to her, Joe, on behalf of her sister, Charlene. It’s a puzzling case, Joe, because even to this day, the police have no special person of interest, and at last count, everyone seems to feel that she just walked away with probably some guy that she might have been interested in. You’re probably not that person, and I know that, but you can help me find that person. So I don’t need you to go sensitive on me, just help me, all right? Was she close to anyone that you can remember? Although, I’m looking for a male interest, let’s not forget the new world we live in either.

You mean a lesbian interest, I take it? said Joe.

That’s correct, but again, I’m only attempting to reduce the potential candidates that may have done her harm, not focus on any particular one at this time. If there is any chance that we have of finding her alive, it’s important to look under every rock.

In my opinion, Ms. Patterson, Rachel never moved away from her image of being a true professional. She was a beacon of light in a world often made up of pretenders. I’m sorry that I can’t be more helpful, but it is what it is. We had Snow White wearing the pharmacist’s white coat, nothing else.

Well, Joe, you’ve actually been a great help, but I have one other big favor to ask of you, and I’ll be gone, said Kate, starting to stand up.

What’s that? asked Joe.

Do you retain any records of the individuals who visit your pharmacy? Like, keep a log?

"No, but we have other ways. You see, Rachel had a policy that required each client to leave a business card in order that we could maintain a database of our accounts. That way, we