The Next To Die Part 27

"Are you Gene Clavey?" Avery asked.

"Yes, sir." He made a token attempt to stand up by leaning forward as he pumped Avery's hand. "Sorry I acted so weird over the phone. My boss was in the room, and I didn't want him knowing about this." He glanced at Sean. "You're the lawyer. I saw you in Keefer's office the other day."

She nodded. "Sean Olson. Yes, I remember. Pleased to meet you."

Again, he inched up for a second, then shook her hand. "They'll be coming out with my food soon. You can order here. Sit. Take a load off."

They sat down across from him.

Gene grinned at Avery. "You know, I've lived in L.A. for over two years, and you're the first movie star I've ever met. It's kind of a kick."

"Well, the thrill's all mine-depending on what you have to tell me. You examined those specimens for Dr. Nathan's clinic?"

Gene nodded. "I saw the newspaper yesterday, and realized why you were asking about those samples a couple of days back." He smiled at Sean. "After you showed up at the lab, I snuck a peek at your business card on Keefer's desk. You folks think somebody stole one of those sperm samples and planted it in the dead woman. The old turkey baster transfer. Am I right?"

"Something like that, yes," Sean said. "The report we received from Dr. Nathan was that all nine of Avery's sperm samples matched."

"It figures." Gene scratched the side of his beard with his big, chubby hand. "Keefer must have covered it up and lied to Dr. Nathan. He's probably afraid you'd sue-and you should."

"Then the samples didn't match?" Avery asked.

Gene chuckled cynically. "h.e.l.l, those nine samples were like a Kellogg's Variety Pack. Only two were from the same donor-you. Someone must have switched the labels on the other seven."

Sean grabbed Avery's arm and squeezed it. He patted her hand, and she didn't pull away. "Do you have proof?" he asked.

Gene took a folder out from under his thigh. "Presto chango. The lab report." He handed it to Sean.

A waitress arrived with a tray of three chili dogs, large fries, and a supersize soft drink. Avery ordered a chili dog and a c.o.ke; Sean asked for a hot dog and a Sprite. Once the waitress left, Sean opened the lab folder. "That's an original," Gene said, nibbling a fry. "The copy I made is in the files at Kurtis Labs. I hear photocopied doc.u.ments don't stand up in court."

"You're a very smart man, Gene," Sean said, studying the report.

He bit into his chili dog, then wiped some food off his beard. "You might not understand the lingo," he said. "Basically, I reported that only two of the nine samples are from the same donor-Avery Cooper. I think it's on page four that I describe the other specimens. But this wasn't just a plain old switcheroo, folks. It's far more-um, dastardly dastardly than that...." than that...."

They waited while Gene took another bite of his chili dog. "h.e.l.l's bells," he said finally. "When you stop to think that some of these samples might have been used to inseminate Mrs Mrs. Cooper, it's d.a.m.n scary."

"What do you mean?" Avery murmured.

"I ran some tests. One of the more healthy bogus specimens was from a black man with hepat.i.tis. So if your wife became pregnant from that specimen, odds are your baby would have been black-a sick little black baby at that."

"And wouldn't the tabloids have had a field day?" Sean remarked.

Gene nodded over his hot dog. "Four specimens were infected with HIV," he said, his mouth half-full. "The other two samples contained a German measles bacteria, which would have insured your baby was born r.e.t.a.r.ded or deformed. Somebody was really out to destroy you and your wife, Avery."

A napkin clenched in his fist, Avery slowly shook his head.

"Do you have any idea when a switch might have taken place?" Sean asked. "An educated guess?"

Gene sipped his c.o.ke. "The two most current specimens-both around mid-September-are yours." He nodded at Avery. "The tampering must have taken place before then."

Sean riffled through her briefcase, then pulled out a folder and handed it to Gene. "This is a list of employees from both the clinic and Kurtis Labs. The ones with stars by their names have either quit or been fired since Avery and his wife started going to the clinic."

Wiping his fingers on his napkin, Gene took the list and studied it.

"If you think anyone there might have been responsible for making the switch, it would really help us a lot. We think it's someone ultra-ultra right wing. Do you know what I mean?"

Reaching for a pen in his pocket holder, he nodded. "Yeah, off the scale. Just on the sunny side of white supremacy. Can I mark on this?"

"Go ahead," Sean replied.

While he scrutinized the list, the waitress returned with their meals. Avery paid the check, then pushed his plate away. He'd lost his appet.i.te. "What about your boss as a possibility, Gene?" he asked. "I mean, he lied to Dr. Nathan about the lab results."

Gene shook his head. "He's too stupid. I read Keefer pretty well. He went into a total tailspin when I told him the results of my tests on those samples. He was genuinely surprised. No, he lied to avoid a lawsuit."

"I'll need you to testify about this lab report," Sean said. "Will that get you in trouble with Keefer?"

Gene grinned at her. "h.e.l.l, ma'am, that's why I'm here. I want to show him for the worthless, lying sc.u.mbag he is. Maybe I'll even get him fired. The s...o...b.. doesn't do a d.a.m.n thing around there except give me c.r.a.p about my weight. He calls me 'UFO,' says it stands for Ugly Fat Oaf Ugly Fat Oaf. Well, okay, now I've caught him in a lie, and this Ugly Fat Oaf is going fry his a.s.s."

Between sips from his soft drink and picking at his fries, Gene Clavey studied the list and mumbled to himself. "Hmmm, no way is it Maggie Freeman, and not Mitch, he's too P-C...." He glanced up from the paperwork. "You know who you guys should be looking for? The part-timer who was holding down another similar job. Probably a nurse working at another clinic, where he or she had access to these unhealthy specimens." He shrugged. "Just a theory."

"It's a good one," Sean said, nodding. "A part-timer who quit around mid-September. That's very good. Thanks, Mr. Clavey."

He reached for his second chili dog. "You're welcome."

The head of administration at Dr. Nathan's clinic had a thing for frogs. A stout woman in her mid-fifties with short blond hair, she wore black-rimmed gla.s.ses and a frog pin on her blouse. The bookcase behind her desk was adorned with ceramic frogs, a philodendron in a frog-shaped planter, seash.e.l.ls glued together to look like frogs, and a frog made out of pipe cleaner and bottle caps. She also had a wall poster of a toad on a lily pad, with a slogan beneath it in script: LEAP AHEAD TO SUCCESS LEAP AHEAD TO SUCCESS!

The frog lady's name was Brenda Dreyfus. She wanted Avery's autograph for herself and three friends. While he scribbled his personalized Best Wishes on Brenda's frog stationery, Sean persuaded her to dig out records on two part-time employees who had quit the clinic in September: Bob Donnellon and Lauren Schneider, both nurses.

"Bob Donnellon worked here as a nurse for three years," Brenda said, consulting his file. "Though some of the guys prefer 'medical a.s.sistant.' He worked part time for both Dr. Nathan and Dr. Konradt. He gave us a month's notice, and his last day here was September third. He now works full time for the Visiting Nurses a.s.sociation."

She took out another tablet of frog stationery and started writing. "I'll jot down the number at the VNA for you."

"And his current address and phone," Sean said. "If you have it."

"I sure do," Brenda said, scrawling on the pad. "Oh, by the way, Avery, could I have one more autograph? This one for Marlys. M-A-R-L-Y-S. Thanks." She reached for another folder. "Okay, onto the next. Lauren Schneider. She worked part time for Dr. Jans and Dr. Nathan. She was here from May twenty-seventh until September fourteenth."

Avery looked up from his writing. "May twenty-seventh?" He turned to Sean. "That's only three weeks after my TV movie aired, the one that ticked off so many people. Joanne and I had been seeing Dr. Nathan for about two months. h.e.l.l, we could have b.u.mped into her."

"Do you have a photo of this Lauren Schneider?" Sean asked Brenda.

The frog lady shook her head. "No, I'm sorry-"

"How about her age? Is her date of birth listed?"

Brenda glanced at the folder. "Um, yes, she's thirty."

Sean turned to Avery. "Any help?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "Joanne might remember. I-" He caught himself, and tried to smile. "I'm sorry...."

Sean patted his arm.

"She worked part time," Brenda said. "And she gave us a week's notice. I don't show another employer listed."

"What about her address and phone number?" Sean asked.

Studying the records, Brenda Dreyfus frowned. "I have a Linden Avenue address in Beverly Hills, but it's no longer current according to this note my a.s.sistant jotted down here. Her last paycheck was sent to a post office box in Opal, Idaho."

While none of the network newscasts yesterday had focused on such a gossipy item as the Dayle/Elsie war, the local affiliates went crazy. Most stations seemed to take Dayle's side. Channel 8 even had an editorial, blasting Elsie and suggesting that she make a public apology.

As Dayle turned off the shower in her trailer bathroom, she could hear Dennis in the next room. He was singing "Do You Know the Way to San Jose?" in a falsetto.

"Hey, Dionne," she called, slipping into her bathrobe. "Where's Ted?"

"Outside, on the phone, making security arrangements for that citadel that used to be your home."

"Have there been any public rejoinders from Just-Call-Me-Elsie?"

"No, not a peep from The Scary Widow," Dennis answered from the other side of the door. "I hear from a couple of sources that she's mega-p.i.s.sed. Seems no matter how it's served, fried or frica.s.seed, Elsie won't eat crow. You came out ahead yesterday." She heard him laugh. "'The widow Marshall,' I loved the way you kept saying that to the press. They ate it up too."

"Yeah, it was pretty good, wasn't it?" Dayle said, emerging from the bathroom. She sat at her vanity and vigorously worked a towel over her wet hair. "Did Nick Brock call today?"

Dennis was ensconced on the sofa with the ever-present clipboard in his lap. He munched on a Kit-Kat bar. "Nope, no messages from Opal, Idaho, and Mr. Golden Buns."

She turned to him. "Did I tell you Nick was in Opal?"

"Sure did." He glanced at his clipboard. "Listen, The Hollywood Walk of Fame Award dinner next week, it'll be packed with press folk. Might be a good idea to attend. John McDunn indicated he's available, if you'd like."

She stopped drying her hair for a moment. "I'll think about it. Thanks."

"There are several events coming up, and it wouldn't hurt to be seen with John at your side. It's good for appearances-for the movie, I mean."

She caught his eye in the mirror. "I know what you meant, Dennis."

"Just trying to help." He consulted his clipboard. "Um, a reminder. I'll be here Monday, but I'm not working Tuesday. I have to help Laura move. She's getting an apartment closer to mine."

"That's nice," Dayle replied. "Listen, you can go over all this with me on Monday. It's late. You don't have to stick around."

Dennis stood up. "Oh, before I forget, a friend of my parents is coming from out of town. He's like an uncle. I've cleared it with security and Ted. He's visiting the set Tuesday."

"Remind me on Monday. Let me know what time so I can look for him."

"Midmorning. But that's okay, Dayle. Don't make a fuss. I only wanted to let you know that he'll be on the set. No biggie."

She shrugged. "Okeydoke. No biggie." She started to brush her hair and smiled at him in the mirror. "Now, go on. Get out of here before I give you something to do. Have a great weekend."

At a stoplight on the way back to her office, Sean glanced over at Avery and caught him gazing at her. He smiled tentatively, then turned toward the window. The light changed, and she moved on. They were tired, and hadn't said much for the last few miles. As the streetlights flickered on against the darkening sky, Sean didn't want this car ride to end.

Avery had talked to his wife's doctor this afternoon. Apparently, Joanne was better, eating more and responding to the nurses. In a strange way, this news made Sean feel sad, and more alone. Avery was due back on the set Monday. He'd asked if she needed his help over the weekend. Sean had said that she didn't know yet. She found herself trying to think of an excuse to be with him tomorrow or the next day.

But there wasn't much to do. They'd uncovered enough circ.u.mstantial evidence to establish reasonable doubt. Actual proof of a conspiracy now depended on what Nick Brock could find in Opal, Idaho. Unless Sean decided to join him in Opal, all she and Avery could do now was wait.

She should have been happy tonight. They were on the verge of exposing these criminals and proving Avery's innocence. But she was on the verge of losing him too.

Sean switched on her indicator and began to slow down as they approached the parking garage where Avery had left his car this morning.

"Don't stop, keep going," he said urgently.

He didn't have to explain. Sean glanced at him, and out the pa.s.senger window, she saw a white Corsica parked across the street. Two men sat in the front seat. Sean stepped on the gas.

"We'll go back to my office," she said. "We'll call a taxi to meet you around back." She checked her rearview mirror. The Corsica hadn't moved yet. "This weekend, I want you start shopping for a bodyguard, okay? What time are George and Sheila expecting you tonight?"

"They have theater tickets. I'm going home."

"Alone?"

He chuckled. "Don't worry. I have a dozen reporters and a lynch mob camped out by my front gate. I won't be lonely."

Sean turned into the alley by her building, then parked around back. As they climbed out of the car, she let him carry her briefcase. They started up the back stairwell. "Listen, Avery," she said. "I want to apologize for snapping at you this morning-you know, in the car?"

He paused on the landing and smiled at her. "It's okay."

"I didn't mean to imply that I have it a lot worse off than you. What you said was right. Our situations are are similar-in many ways. I don't know why I was so disagreeable." similar-in many ways. I don't know why I was so disagreeable."

"Maybe you were just setting some boundaries," Avery said. They started down the hallway to her office. "I probably had it coming. I was a bit too familiar last night."

Sean gave him a questioning look. "When?"

"Here. After we read the fax, I hugged you. It was inappropriate."

She opened her office door. "It felt nice, Avery," she admitted. "I think I just got a little scared."

For a moment, he gazed at her in the darkness of her office. He set down her briefcase, then touched her arm. "All this time, you've never been unfaithful to him, have you?"

Sean shook her head. Her first instinct was to step back, but she didn't.

"And he hasn't been able to hold you or kiss you?"