Page 73 of Playing Along

Nora

“I WAS NEVER even supposed to be working the dermatology route,” I tell Thorner ten minutes later. The four of us are seated in one of the conference rooms, Stella and Thorner on one side of the table, Jack and I on the other. “Our previous rep went into premature labor which kickstarted her maternity leave early and left us in a bit of a jam. “I volunteered to handle both routes until a more permanent arrangement could be made.”

“Both routes?” Thorner asks, tapping his pencil rhythmically on the table. “What’s your other route?”

“Geriatrics,” I tell him.

“I see.” He nods, leaving me wondering what exactly he sees. How could he possibly see anything just from that one word. “So, how long were you handling both routes?”

“Oh,” I think back, “probably almost eight weeks. Then the rep on maternity leave announced she wasn’t coming back, and I put my foot down, said it was too much for one person to handle long term. That’s when Ian moved Stella over to dermatology.” I take a sip of the bottled water Jack grabbed me from the vending machine.

“And when did you start giving Ian the Minoxidil?” he asks casually. I spit out the water in my mouth.

“W-what?” I sputter, grabbing a fistful of tissues from the box on the table and attempting to blot my chin and shirt dry. “I did not give Ian Minoxidil. I would never do that.”

“I see,” he says again.

“I don’t think you do see,” I inform him. “You seem to think that the only possibility here is that someone else gave Ian those sample pills. Did you ever stop to consider the fact that he may have just taken them himself? He’s the boss. He probably could've found a way to steal them if he really wanted to.”

“Too bad he’s dead.” Thorner’s mouth dips as his eyebrows raise. “So it’s not like we can ask him.”

“Still,” Jack declares, “by my tally that’s three potential suspects. Do you really think that you can prove beyond a reasonable doubt that one of these two women did this?”

Thorner narrows his eyes at Jack, but Jack is unflappable—staring straight back at him with no sign of backing down.

Thorner clears his throat and looks away.

“Fine,” he barks.

Just like that Stella’s handcuffs are removed and Thorner heads on his way. Sure before he leaves he promises that this isn’t over, but Jack’s point remains—he simply doesn’t have enough proof to hold us. Presumably he’s going to attempt to get some (maybe get a warrant so he can check our bank records for any influx of money that might look suspicious or interview a few of our coworkers to see if they’ve observed any suspicious behavior on our parts), but for now we’re good.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you married a cop,” Stella announces as soon as the door shuts behind Thorner. “I’m pretty sure that violates my Miranda rights.”

“And I’m pretty sure that Miranda rights only apply to people in police custody,” I reply dryly.

“Well, still,” Stella huffs, giving Jack the side-eye, “a little warning would’ve been nice.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “Although in my defense, we just wanted information. We weren’t planning on using anything against you.”

Stella considers this. “Is that your story too, police officer man?”

“I’m actually a detective,” Jack corrects, but Stella waves this away, waiting expectantly for an answer. Jack shakes his head, but nods. “Yes, I just wanted whatever information you had to share that could help us solve the case. I don’t consider you a person of interest in either Ian’s murder or this whole pharmaceutical drug trafficking business.” He turns to me. “I do, however, still really want to talk to Cleo.”

“Cleo?” Stella asks, leaning forward in interest. “What do you want to talk to her for? Is it because I told you she was having an affair with Ian? Do you think she killed him?” Jack and I exchange a look. “You do! Don’t you?” Stella exclaims. “Well then you should know that she left right after I got off the phone with you.”

“She’s not here?” Jack clarifies.

“Nope.” Stella shakes her head. “But I heard her tell Ian’s assistant that she was headed to Doctor Polter’s offices.”

“Doctor Polter!” I exclaim. “But he’s a plastics’ guy.”

Stella gives me an apologetic shrug. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s not like I could stop her.”

“So what,” I mutter irritably, “she thinks because Ian’s dead, she can just promote herself?”

“Hey, that sounds like motive!” Stella cries evidently all too eager to declare Cleo guilty. I don’t particularly like Cleo, but that doesn’t mean I want her to go to jail for my crime.

“I don’t think Cleo killed Ian,” I say hastily.

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