The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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Once the movieβs finished, I turn off all the lights, tuck Emily against my side, and watch the glow of the Los Angeles skyline play over the soft curves of her face as she sleeps. When I close my eyes, itβs that image that I carry into my dreams, and not any of the others that have twisted behind my eyes today.
* * *
My first interview of the morning, with Jay MacDonald, establishes two things: one, heβs not in the lifestyle, and two, if this were a murder investigation, heβd be the prime suspect. The receptionist, who patches me through to him when I tell her who I am, answers his phone: βVice President Jay MacDonaldβs office.β
Thatβs not the title Reggie Black gave me; looks like MacDonald got a promotion out of Blackβs death.
But I donβt mention it. This isnβt a murder investigation. Black died from complications from taking an illegal drug, and my focus is on how he got the drugs that killed him, not why anyone would want him dead. Although I suppose itβs remotely possible his assistant gave him the drug to off him, it seems a big stretch, given the four other victims.
βSo, you werenβt ever on the ship,β I say, after MacDonald tells me he flew to Puerto Vallarta to meet Black, stayed overnight to help pitch one of the Mexican telecom prospects, and flew back.
βNo,β MacDonald confirms. βAfter the pitch, Bill and I had a late lunch to go over some things that had come up while he was on vacation. He was going to do a little shopping before he went back to the ship, so I took a taxi to Guadalajara.β
βWhat time did you return to Los Angeles?β
βMy flight got in at ten. Lousy flight. I went straight to bed and was back at the office the next morning. I was working on a big presentation for a client in Texas and taking two days off to fill in for Chris really fucked things up. But we got it done. Our group secretary, Beck, was here with me over the weekend. She can corroborate all of this. Plenty of my coworkers were in over the weekend, too.β
There it is again: the need of the innocent to justify themselves. I donβt actually believe MacDonald had anything to do with Blackβs death, but if this were a murder investigation, and if I was a homicide cop, my Spidey-sense would be tingling.
I note down the times while Emily watches, seemingly fascinated. Sheβs been such a good girl this morning, bubbly and chatty at breakfast as she wheedled her way into listening to my interviews, sweetly submissive since weβve returned to the room, even getting permission before coming up on the couch to sit with me, although I havenβt put her in High Protocol.
βRecruitment sounds like a high-pressure job,β I observe, to give MacDonald an opening.
βIt is. Long hours and a lot of travel. But itβs addictive. I got into it through a summer internship. I was in the mailroom, if you can believe it, but before the summer was out, I knew I wanted to be an executive recruiter. I changed my major, got a business degree, and got damn lucky when Bill hired me out of a call center. That was a sweat shop, let me tell you.β
Iβm not interested in him telling me, not about that. Time to get him focused. βMm-hmm. I understand that Mr. Black had a minor heart attack a few years ago. Were you aware of that?β
βYes. He was off work for several weeks. Not that he stopped working. He wanted me to send him candidate profiles to look at while he was still in the hospital. Reggie put a stop to that, but she couldnβt get him to retire. None of us could.β
βWere you concerned about his health?β
βNot concerned, no. Bill seemed pretty healthy. But our travel schedule is no joke. Bill got bronchitis while we were in Hong Kong last year and it took him weeks to shake it. I think he had to go on three different courses of antibiotics. I remember lying in a hotel room in New York listening to him cough through the wall. He coughed all night. The kind of travel we do, it takes its toll. Great frequent flyer miles, though.β
βYup, I appreciate those, too.β I chuckle, to play along and build rapport, before I throw in one of the hard questions. βOther than antibiotics, did you ever see Bill take any medications?β
βSure. Bill took painkillers pretty frequently. Sitting in front of a computer, in airplane seats and conference rooms, running for taxis, it does a number on your back. I always drove when we traveled because Bill didnβt like driving when he was on Oxy.β
βWhat about non-prescription pills?β
βWhat, like drugs? Sure, Bill toked. Itβs not illegal now, you know.β
I know. βDid Bill mention taking anything while you were in Mexico? Oxy or something he got on the boat?β
βYes, actually. He said the cruise hadnβt been as relaxing as heβd hoped, which didnβt surprise me since heβd done four pitches in eight days. Not really a vacation, is it?β
βNot much of one,β I agree. βWhat did he say heβd taken?β
βI donβt think he said. Just that the cruise hadnβt been relaxing and he planned to spend his last two nights on the cruise really chilling out with a little pink friend. Thatβs what he called it, a pink friend.β
I note that. βDid you know what the pink friend was?β
βI assumed it was Opana,
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