To Sleep... Perchance to Die Read online

  Using a small flashlight from what Mai called their junk drawer, he examined her mouth and confirmed what he suspected. “You have an infection caused by an impacted wisdom tooth. Have you ever had this problem before?”

  “A few times, but not this bad. I always got better after rinsing with salt water. I’m sure you know my dentist, Dr. Belmont. He’s been telling me for years to have my wisdom teeth out, but I’ve been too scared to do it.”

  “I’d like to take you to my office and get an x-ray. You’re also going to need antibiotics.”

  Gesturing with her hands like a tap dancer during a performance, Frankie said, “Whatever you say.”

  Bret woke Mai, and the three drove to his office where x-rays revealed an infected wisdom tooth in her left jaw. She had three other wisdom teeth that required extraction.

  The sole negative finding in Frankie’s medical questionnaire was a severe allergy to nuts. Bret couldn’t resist saying, “It’s such a common allergy we don’t allow nuts in any form in the office.” With a big smile, “That is, if you don’t count the staff.”

  Mai and Frankie looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. Realizing his attempt at humor was a flop, he cleared his throat and became serious. “How did you find out you were allergic to them?”

  “By almost dying from an anaphylactic reaction. I’ll never forget that day.”

  Mai let out a gasp. “Wow. How did it happen?”

  “I was eating a peanut butter cookie at Sally’s in downtown Willimantic when suddenly my entire body itched, and I began to have difficulty breathing. I guess I fell on the floor twitching all over, at least that’s what they told me because I passed out.” She shivered. “Even now, it scares me just talking about it”

  Bret said, “You don’t have to say any more, although I have to admit I’m curious about how you got adrenaline. It’s the only thing that could have saved you.”

  Frankie answered, “I don’t mind telling you. A man having lunch was allergic to bees and always carried an allergy kit. He used it on me. Saved my life. I found out later he was passing through the area on his way to Hartford. Lucky for me he happened to be there that day.”

  Mai exclaimed, “You certainly were lucky. Of course, you carry an allergy kit now?”

  “I should, but I don’t. I just try to stay away from nuts.”

  “I can prescribe an allergy kit if you want,” Bret suggested.

  “Don’t bother, I’d just forget to carry it.”

  Bret said, “If you change your mind, let me know. In any event, I’ll call in an antibiotic called Clindamycin. Should take care of the infection within a few days. You don’t have a problem with it, do you?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  With Frankie’s immediate condition diagnosed and resolved, Bret recommended a permanent solution to her dental problem. “I’d like you to make an appointment to have your wisdom teeth out with an intravenous anesthesia. We can do it first thing Thursday morning. As you know, it’s my day off, but I checked my schedule, and I’m completely booked every other day next week. Thursday would be perfect timing for the extractions, and I’d be happy to come in for you.”

  Frankie shook her head. Looking at Mai, she said, “I don’t know. Never had anesthesia and nervous about having it. What do you think?”

  “I think you should do what Bret says,” Mai answered, “He’ll take good care of you.”

  “You bet I will,” Bret seconded, “Let me tell you all about it.”

  Frankie’s “Okay,” was reserved.

  He went into the details of removing Frankie’s wisdom teeth.

  When Bret finished, Frankie looked at her two friends with trust in her eyes and said, “All right, it seems I have no other choice. You can schedule the surgery.”

  That afternoon Mai told Bret she was going to the East Brook Mall to replenish housekeeping supplies. She was in her car in a secluded part of the parking lot talking to Jake on her private prepaid cell phone. A window was down to let in air.

  “I could leave him and file for divorce,” she said. “Connecticut is a no-fault State. You don’t have to prove anything, but I can make up a good reason if I have to. It’s not difficult.”

  An automobile drove into a nearby space. “Hold on a minute,” she said, “Someone parked out in the boondocks with me. I’m guessing the driver wants to keep from getting dinged.”

  A woman with a child exited and walked hand in hand to the mall. Mai waited until they were out of range before continuing with her proposal.

  “After the divorce and waiting a respectable amount of time, we could begin to see each other publicly.”

  Jake listened without interrupting.

  “My parents back in Macao would never find out about us.” Although Jake was sensitive about his mother’s passing, she was obligated to say, “And there’s nothing stopping us on your side of the family.”

  Mai took a breath before continuing. “When I devised our plan of using Bret as a sexual beard, it was to be until we found ourselves in a position like the one we’re in. It’s time to scrap it.”

  After a delay, Jake replied, “Believe me, I’d like nothing more than to do what you say, but don’t forget your uncles. Without them in the picture, you could get a divorce, and we could start over someplace else. But doing that now, so soon after your parents left the country, would raise their suspicions. It would seem that you were waiting for the right time to dump Bret and hook up with me. They’d see through the scheme.”

  Mai sighed.

  “It was you who said they would kill us if they found out we were going against your family’s wishes. Sure, they may not be paying as close attention to us as when your parents were around, but we can’t assume they’ll ignore us altogether. It has to look as if you and Bret broke up because of what he did. Maybe cheated on you or caused some sort of a scandal.”

  Exasperated by their plight, Mai agreed, “I know, I know. I’ve been purposely ignoring them in my thinking. My uncles don’t have grudges against Jewish people like my parents have and probably would tolerate our being together under the proper circumstances.”

  She gave another sigh, “You’re right, though, if they suspected we were doing something underhanded, they’d find us no matter where we went. Once, they bragged about how their connections allowed them to track down some guy who double-crossed them and fled to Chicago. I can guess what they did to the man when they found him. And they have people here that might be watching me and reporting to them.”

  Speaking in a harsh manner, Jake said, “Look, you know how I hate the thought of Bret living with you, touching you,” his anger was evident, “having sex with you. Truth is, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to bear it. But now isn’t the time to do anything rash.”

  “So we do nothing?”

  “Yes. For the time being, we do nothing. Don’t give up hope. A solution is going to pop up. I can feel it.”

  Neither spoke.

  After a while, Mai said, “Jake?”

  “Yes?

  “I’ve been struggling to keep some bad thoughts from my mind. No matter how hard I try, they keep coming back.” She took deep breaths, “There may be something we can do, but we’d need more courage than we’ve ever needed before.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She explained, “Bret had to take Frankie Grimaldi to the office today.”

  “Why?”

  “Frankie has bad wisdom teeth. On Thursday he’s going to sedate her and take them out.” She paused, “I can’t help thinking that if something bad were to happen to Frankie during the procedure and it was Bret’s fault, we would be rid of him. We could spread the word he didn’t like her because she’s a lesbian and thought she was interested in me. He would be blamed for what happened.”

  Jake was about to utter, “Not that lesbian thing again,” when he had a eureka moment. “Hold on. I think I’ve got it.”

  “Got what?”
/>   “I’ll tell you when I’ve worked out the details.” Aware Bret played tennis on Sunday mornings, he said, “Call me tomorrow when Bret’s at the club.” His voice couldn’t conceal his excitement, “Just remember my words that we’ll find a solution to our problems.” He ended the call.

  Jake recognized an exploitable opportunity. In an instant, he visualized a way for Mai and him to be together with society’s and her uncles’ approval. Murdering Frankie and framing Bret . . . what Mai wanted . . . was feasible. It required poisoning the anesthetic drugs Bret used and the help of Corrie Hunter. Corrie’s help was critical.

  Jake went to his office and reviewed Frankie’s chart. He had been contemplating a specific solution to their problem, but the chart indicated a backup to his plan that would ensure the result he wanted.

  From the office he went to the University of Connecticut campus. He had the key to the pharmacology laboratory, and it held the poison he needed. Grace Putnam gave him the key so he could visit her when she worked in the lab. Although they stopped seeing each other, she had neglected to ask for its return. It was on his key ring.

  Potent drugs and poisons were kept in a metal cabinet that was supposed to be locked at all times. Although research students who used the cabinet were given keys, they tended to keep it unlocked for convenience of access. There was an excellent chance he would find the cabinet unlocked. If not, he would jimmy it open taking care not to damage it.

  Pharmacology grad students had busy social schedules. Other than Grace, no one worked in the lab on a Saturday afternoon after two or three o’clock. She was the sole user at that time, because she wanted the privacy. Jake had spent several Saturday afternoons with her as she worked on a project before a date.

  While getting coffee at a local Storrs bakery, he had run into her. She mentioned leaving for a semester of research at Roche Pharmaceuticals in Basel, Switzerland. With her out of town, the lab should be empty after three p.m.

  A rectangular two-story building housed the pharmacology, chemistry, and physics laboratories. In addition, there were offices for professors and others in charge. Since research areas were available at all times, Jake could enter the building without anyone thinking it unusual.

  The upper half of the door of the second floor laboratory was frosted except for a clear area with the name Pharmacology Laboratory painted in black. The room was dark. Wearing rubber gloves, Jake unlocked the door and let himself in. Turning on lights might prove risky, so as a precaution, he brought a Mini Maglite for illumination. He found it wasn’t necessary since the late afternoon light shining through the windows provided good visibility.

  Jake went to the drug cabinet, and, as expected, found it unlocked. It contained labeled bottles and jars. He checked several until he found what he was looking for, a small jar containing a white powder labeled Potassium Cyanide. It was the potent and quick killer he wanted.

  Taking care not to disturb the contents, Jake removed the rubber stopper. He wore a surgical face mask as breathing in a miniscule amount of the powder could be fatal. With a tiny spatula and a vial meant for drawing blood, he transferred a teaspoon of cyanide from the jar to the vial. When the transfer was complete, he closed both containers and rinsed the spatula and rubber gloves with hot water. Before returning the cyanide to the cabinet, he tapped the jar with the spatula handle to level the powder. He was confident a casual observer would not notice a change in the jar’s contents. If it were discovered a portion of the cyanide was missing and unaccounted for in the log book, sloppy record keeping would be blamed. Graduate students were not known for meticulous records.

  Keeping the gloves on, Jake placed the vial, spatula, and face mask in his pants pocket and walked to the entrance door. Opening it a few inches to ascertain the hallway was empty, he heard footsteps on the tile floor. Gripped by fear of being discovered, he closed the door and looked for a hiding place.

  He made for a utility closet. It was tiny, and the stored mops, brooms, and buckets filled it with an odor of mildew. The door was thin and would allow him to hear what was happening in the room. It might be uncomfortable, but no matter the wait, he would remain in the closet until whoever was working in the lab left. His worry was the student might require something in the utility closet and find him hiding. If discovered, he’d be forced to take drastic action. A thick broom handle, the type that screws into a large push broom, was propped in a corner and could be employed if necessary. Jake took solace in the fact that such an encounter was unlikely.

  The footsteps stopped at the entrance door. Trying to control his breathing, Jake was on the verge of hyperventilation and could feel the beating of his heart as if it rested on the outside of his chest. He considered praying, but the hypocrisy deterred him.

  Opening the utility door a crack gave him a view of the main entrance. The handle of the lab door turned a few times before it squeaked open.

  “Dumbasses. Always leaving the room unlocked,” a deep male voice said.

  It was the security guard doing his routine check of the offices and laboratories. Jake had met him a time or two. Friendly, but Jake wouldn’t want to mess with him. He watched as the guard peeked into the room and saw no one. The noise of jingling keys signaled the man was locking the door before continuing his walkthrough of the building. With a sigh of relief, Jake left the closet and tiptoed to the entrance. He listened with his ear to the door. When confident the guard was gone and the hall was clear, Jake exited the laboratory taking care to lock the door. He took the stairs to the ground floor. Before leaving the building, he removed the rubber gloves, pocketed them, and went to his car parked in the adjacent lot. On the drive to his condo, he flung the laboratory key into a wooded area. The gloves and mask were destined for a MacDonald’s trash bin.

  That evening he met with Corrie Hunter. She was on the couch in his living room holding a glass of wine. Jake sat across from her. He could tell by her constricted pupils she had fortified herself before coming to his place. After evaluating her state of mind by engaging in small talk, he deemed her capable of understanding what he was about to ask.

  “I need your help.”

  Corrie gulped a swallow of wine. “Me?” she said, bringing the glass to her lap. “What is it?”

  Jake explained his scheme, her role, and the danger involved. There was the risk she would decline to help, or worse, threaten to expose him. He thought it minimal because of her dependence on him as a source of drugs.

  When finished, he sat back in his chair, eyes fixed upon her. Corrie seemed unsure of what to make of the proposal until her eyes widened, and she said, “Wow. That takes real balls. You can count me in.” She added, “There’s a price for my help.”

  Jake expected a monetary demand and assumed a poker face. “How much?”

  Corrie answered, “Fifty thousand.”

  “Fifty thousand dollars? How the hell did you come up with that?” Jake feigned shock.

  Corrie shrugged, “Oh, I don’t know. It just seems reasonable for what I have to do.”

  Jake pretended to be thinking. After what he deemed the proper amount of time, he shook his head as if what he was about to say was against his better judgment, “All right. I’ll agree to it.”

  The risk Corrie had to take was tremendous and failure would be catastrophic for all. The money was worth the prize he and Mai sought and was less than he had been prepared to pay. If Corrie became a liability, he’d deal with her the same way he did with Larry Reid and planned to do with Frankie. Adding another murder to his count wouldn’t make a difference. For him, murder had become a reliable method of solving problems.

  Jake had anticipated the need for the help of his friend Carlton to pay Corrie. He called Carlton the following morning . . . Sunday, but Carlton said to call anytime . . . and when he answered, he was at the stables grooming his favorite horse for a day of polo.

  Jake made his second request for money. “This time it’s got to be a secret deal. It’s important the mo
ney can’t be traced. I’ll need it in about six months.” Being vague, “That’s when I have to turn it over.”

  He had not told Corrie she’d wait six months before getting her money. If he had, she might not have agreed to help. Things had to cool before he gave her anything. Less chance of someone discovering the payoff and raising questions about why she received it.

  “That’s going to take time. I’ll get back in a few days.” Carlton ended the call.

  When Mai phoned that morning, Jake said, “Come to my condo right away. We’ve got a few hours before Bret returns from tennis.”

  Jake outlined his plan as they sat at a small round table in the breakfast nook. Mai nodded several times.

  When he finished, she asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes,” he said, “It’s what I think you want.”

  Mai lifted her head and fixed on Jake. She said nothing.

  He continued, “The opportunity has fallen into our lap.” Looking into her eyes, “It’s a road we’ve taken before.”

  Mai gave another nod.

  “I’m leaving it up to you,” he said, “If you say it’s a go, we do it. If you say no, we do nothing and wait for another opportunity.”

  The final responsibility for carrying out the plan rested on Mai’s shoulders. She straightened in her chair and said, “You’re right. We have an opportunity and should take it and do what you’ve outlined.” Mai’s expression hardened, “It’s a go.”

  At the office the following morning before the first patients were scheduled, Corrie Hunter stood at the Formica counter in the hall outside the utility room. She was reviewing a printout of the weekly schedule. The other staff members were performing routine tasks in preparation for treating patients when the doctors arrived.

  As Pearlie Perez passed, Corrie said for her to hear, “The nerve of that woman.”

  Pearlie stopped and turned to Corrie who was pleased her co-worker took the bait, “What are you talking about? What woman?”