Hounded (8 page)

“I wish it was.”

“Andy, this is nuts. Where did they say it was?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m sure Wallace is going to add it to the list of charges, so he can get it admitted as motive evidence.”

“Motive for what?”

“Murder. Danny informed on you for drug dealing.”

Pete just sits there for a few moments, a stunned look on his face. It’s the first time I’ve seen him appear overwhelmed by events. Finally, “I don’t know what to say.”

“I can understand that. We are up against some wealthy, smart people who want nothing more than to put you in jail and leave you there for a long time.”

“So we need to figure out who, and we need to figure out why.”

“Right. And it all starts with Diaz. I want you to write out everything you know about him. Leave out nothing; email it to me.”

“If he said I was a drug dealer, then I might not know anything about him at all.”

“He may have been forced to do so; we won’t know that for a while. But one thing is for sure: he knew the people who have done this to you.”

I want to know everyone Danny Diaz spoke to on the phone.

Cell phone, home phone … every call in and out.”

If Sam Willis were worried about delivering the information to me, he’s hiding it well. “No problem.”

“How far back can you go?” I ask. Sam can access pretty much anything online, and since everything in the history of the world is now online, that makes him a valuable guy. The fact that he is not legally entitled to do much of what he does makes him even more valuable.

“How far back do you want to go?”

“Since birth, but I’ll take the last couple of months.”

“Give me twenty-four hours,” he says.

“I’ll be happy to give you twenty-four hours, as long as we can start them twelve hours ago.”

“Okay … I’m on it.”

“I want whatever the phone company has got. If he ordered a pizza, I want to know the toppings.”

“They don’t record the content of the calls, Andy. They just know when they were completed and how long they lasted.”

“We clearly have too much privacy in this country,” I say, but I have a hunch that Sam thinks I’m serious.

Sam goes off to do his computer magic, and as he walks out, Laurie walks in. I would make the ‘Sam for Laurie’ trade any day of the week, but I have a feeling that today is going to be an exception. It’s because of what she has in her hand.

A Frisbee.

“Feel like going to the park?” she asks.

My mind is racing. “The park? Are you crazy? It’s seventy degrees out.”

“Does that mean it’s too hot, or too cold?” she asks.

“Whatever. It certainly isn’t Frisbee weather.”

“I thought we’d take Ricky, Tara, and Sebastian to Eastside Park for a little while. He’s been cooped up in the house too long.”

“House-cooping is good; I just read a study on it somewhere. I only wish I had known about it when I was a kid.”

“We’ll be back in an hour or so; you can use a break. And it’ll be good bonding time for you and Ricky,” she says.

“Tell him to come in here and watch the Mets game with me.”

“Did you also see the study about women being more in the mood for sex after throwing a Frisbee in the park? It was in
USA Today
.”

Laurie and I have abstained since Ricky came to live with us. “No, I missed that.”

“The statistics show it to be a real turn-on. Never having actually played Frisbee with a man, I can’t confirm or deny that.”

“What did
USA Today
say happens when the woman is rejected on her Frisbee proposal?”

“It’s quite clear on that,” she says. “Icicle-city.”

“I’ll race you to the park.”

So we go to Eastside Park, Laurie, Ricky, Tara, Sebastian, and me. Within five minutes, we’re throwing the Frisbee on the lower level near the baseball fields, and Ricky and Laurie seem to be enjoying it. Tara and Sebastian have absolutely no interest in the process, and when Ricky throws it near them, trying to get them to jump at it, they just lie there and look at him like he’s nuts.

For myself, Frisbee-throwing has never really had much appeal. I like games that have a beginning and end, and you keep score and come up with a winner. If there’s no winner, how can you mock the loser?

The game of Frisbee, as best I can tell, consists of throwing it, and catching it. If you miss, you pick it up and throw it again, with no apparent penalty. I’m therefore not sure what the incentive is for catching it.

But it’s a beautiful day, and being in the park with our rapidly growing family is not unpleasant. I also recognize that there are going to be very few relaxing moments coming up; the intensity of preparing for trial simply does not allow for them.

We take a long detour on the way home and stop at the Fireplace, a restaurant on Route 17. I get hamburgers for Ricky, Tara, Sebastian, and myself, and a salad for Laurie, and we eat at an outdoor table. It’s the happiest I’ve seen Ricky, and that is definitely good to see.

I spill half a cup of soda on my shirt, which sends Ricky and Laurie into absolute spasms of laughter, pointing and generally mocking me. Ricky is laughing so hard that his orange juice starts coming up through his nose, causing even more laughter. It’s nice that my misfortune can bring such joy into people’s lives.

All in all, the day gives me a glimpse into what life is like for normal human beings, which will help me if I ever attempt to become one.

Ricky goes to bed soon after we get home. Laurie gives him a choice of who should tuck him in, Laurie or me, and he chooses her without hesitation. It’s hard to blame him; I would make the same choice.

Tara and Sebastian are completely wiped out from the excitement and exertion of the day. I’m not sure why lying on the grass is any more tiring than lying at home on a dog bed, but it apparently is.

Laurie and I have a glass of wine, and listen to some music, and then we go to bed. I am happy to report that those
USA Today
people really have their act together.

Veterinary medicine is a huge industry.

This year, in the United States alone, people will spend more than twelve billion dollars to provide medical care for their pets. And that number rises every year, both here and abroad. People often brag about how much they spend on their pet’s ailments as a badge of honor, as if it is proof of their love for their dog or cat.

A substantial portion of that is spent on drugs. In fact, almost eighty percent of all dogs receive medication each year. It is certainly no surprise that the drug companies have taken full advantage of this opportunity, and have jumped in with both feet. Research into animal drugs reaches an all-time high every year.

But obviously, all the terrific care and medications in the world ultimately are not enough, and our pets’ lives eventually come to an end. The vast majority of pet owners wind up having them euthanized, after they’ve determined that the animal no longer has an acceptable quality of life.

Euthanasia obviously also requires the administering of a drug. Most commonly, the animal is given a sedative injection, and then a lethal drug is injected into a vein. It can be stressful for both animal and grieving owner.

Daniel Mathis set out to find a better way. Mathis is a highly regarded research chemist for Blaine Pharmaceuticals, a small to midsize company that found a niche in veterinary medicine, and the firm has fared quite well.

The founder and owner, Stephen Blaine, cashed out, selling his business to a private buyer. A new chief executive, Mitchell Blackman, was installed, but except for some minor cost-cutting, life went on as before. Certainly Daniel Mathis did not notice any change; he was valued by Blaine, and by the new owners.

Mathis had seen the euthanasia area as one of special promise. He submitted a proposal to Blackman in which he would set out to develop an easier, stress-free way for a stricken pet to be euthanized. It would not require any injections at all, but would be a pill that could be given conventionally, even in a treat.

Best of all, Mathis was confident this could be accomplished using natural compounds, already found in the body. He believed he could find a combination that would cause the animal’s heart to simply stop beating, with no pain or suffering. And because the compounds would be natural, they would be inexpensive to produce, thus yielding substantial profits.

And he did it. In a clinical trial, the compound was developed, produced in limited quantities in pill form, and given to a sample of animals who were at the end of their lives and ready for medical euthanasia. And it worked, better than Mathis even expected. The end for the aging and afflicted animals was painless and stress free; they simply silently and permanently went to sleep, essentially as the result of a sudden and massive heart attack.

Blackman was of course very pleased with the progress that Mathis reported, and they planned a slow rollout of the drug, starting in major markets, and expanding into smaller ones. International would come later, once it was established in the U.S. The rollout was at least a year away, since more testing was necessary.

Mathis had one concern, which was that the drug could have human application. Many human drugs are also widely used by veterinarians, especially antibiotics and pain medications. The only difference in production is that the composition of animal meds is not required to be as precise.

But this drug was different. Human euthanasia has always been a hotly debated topic among medical professionals, bioethicists, etc. This drug would make suicide much easier to accomplish, and therefore could create controversy. Mathis discussed it with Blackman, and they agreed that they would have to get their legal ducks in a row before moving forward. It was another reason that the rollout would not be commenced quickly.

Once the first phase of testing was completed, even the limited production of the drug was halted. There were seventeen pills remaining unused, and Mathis considered destroying them, but was advised by his legal team that he should keep them secure in his office.

And then came that horrible day, almost a year ago, when he discovered that they were gone, along with the records of his work. He went straight to Blackman, and they agonized over what to do. Blackman thought that he might be mistaken, that the pills could have been destroyed. Or more likely, the pills and records were misplaced, and would turn up later.

Also, Blackman pointed out with some accuracy, they could not be sure the drug would work the same way on humans as on animals. Not all drugs did, and certainly no human tests had been conducted. Perhaps the natural compounds would be harmless to humans. Mathis was positive that his drug would be equally lethal in humans, as it was in animals, but Blackman was not convinced.

Mathis went along with the ultimate decision not to say anything. He believed it to be a business decision; if the worst happened and these pills fell into human hands, the revelation of the company as the source could provoke lawsuits large enough to destroy the company ten times over.

So Mathis did and said nothing.

Except worry.

Emails have ruined my life.

Okay, that may be an exaggeration. Maybe they haven’t ruined it entirely, but they’ve certainly had a very negative effect on it.

First of all, they control me. My computer beeps whenever I receive an email, and I am incapable of ignoring it. I can’t help but going over and checking it out, despite the ninety-nine percent probability that it’s going to be of no interest to me.

Sometimes it’s a banker in Nigeria, trying to figure out a way to get me eight million dollars, or it’s a company trying to sell me something, or it’s my bank or credit card company telling me my statement is available for viewing.

Those things are uninteresting, but much preferable to the emails from people I know. Those are the ones that have caused a complete overhaul in my entire social structure.

Prior to emailing, my relationships were built on leaving messages on people’s phone machines, and having them leave messages on mine. That way we could stay in touch, without ever having to actually interact.

But email messages are different. They have actual content, with questions that require answers. Often they send me links to long articles, or seemingly endless videos, which I feel an obligation to read and watch.

Even though it seems technology driven, all of this has the effect of adding depth to relationships, or at least it does to mine. Unfortunately, I’m not a big fan of depth in relationships; I like to keep my friends in the shallow end of the pool.

Then there are the acronyms, collections of letters that I never understand, but that apparently represent words too long to type out. My least favorite is LOL, which I have come to understand means “laugh out loud.”

I used to think the emailer was instructing me to “laugh out loud,” which struck me as rather arrogant. But I was then informed that it means they are laughing out loud as they type. Somehow I have trouble picturing that, because I have never actually read anything remotely funny that was followed by an LOL.

This morning I am extra vigilant listening for the email sound, because I want to know everything that Pete knows about Danny Diaz. And it shows up bright and early; I guess wearing an ankle monitoring bracelet promotes a strong work ethic.

According to Pete, Danny Diaz had a rough life. He grew up in Paterson’s inner city, raised by his mother, who Pete believes was in this country illegally. Danny’s father was not in the picture, and he had no siblings, so Danny was left alone when his mother died in a car accident.

The seven-year-old Danny was bounced around through the system, in various foster situations, and once he turned eighteen set out fending for himself. Not trained in any vocation, he did mostly odd jobs, and it was a struggle to get by.

Danny married Sophia, but she died in childbirth, leaving him to take care of their newborn son, Ricky. At that point, his lack of money took on a far greater importance. He began to discover that some of his friends, who were working somewhat outside the confines of the justice system, were finding food and shelter easier to come by.