Henry picked up the bottle and read the label through the clear plastic wrap. “Linton Reed was Dace’s doctor?”
“Looks that way.”
“Doesn’t that beat all?”
“I don’t know if it means anything or not. Probably not.”
We tossed the subject around to see what made sense. Like me, Henry was puzzled by the odd crossroads where Terrence Dace’s death intersected Dietz’s surveillance of Linton Reed and Mary Lee Bryce. “There almost has to be something going on there,” he said.
“You think? I can’t decide. It could be just what it looks like: Dr. Reed supervised Terrence Dace’s participation in the drug study and he’s also Mary Lee Bryce’s boss. Big deal.”
Henry said, “Put it that way and it doesn’t seem so strange.”
“Then again, according to Dandy and Pearl, Dace was scared to death of the man.”
“Has anybody else confirmed all this talk of Dace going downhill?”
“Just Dandy and Pearl.”
“You think they’re reliable?”
“If you’re asking if I believe them, I do. They may drink a lot, but they don’t make things up. He must have been getting sicker or he wouldn’t have died.”
Henry weighed the matter. “Maybe.”
I thought about that for a moment. “What’s that word for things that happen at the same time?”
“Synchronicity. Eight across in a crossword puzzle two days ago,” he said. “Which is an instance of synchronicity.”
I laughed. “That’s right.”
“Carl Jung came up with it. He didn’t believe in random events. He believed in a deeper underlying reality.”
“And I believe in the Easter Bunny. How deep is that?” I said. “You have any cookies? I tend to think better when I’m hyped on sweets.”
Henry got up and removed a cake tin from the cupboard. He placed it on the table and opened the lid. “Spice cookies. New recipe and one of my better efforts.”
I ate a cookie and then said, “I mean, what if Dace was right and the pills made him sick? As Pearl points out, he was only fifty-three years old, which makes death a bit premature, don’t you think?”
“I guess you could ask Dr. Reed.”
“Oh, right.”
“I’m serious.”
“Don’t think so. If he had a problem with Dace, he’s not going to tell me.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to ask.” When he saw the look I was giving him, he said, “I’m playing devil’s advocate.”
“I can’t go hunting him down to quiz him about Dace. He doesn’t know me from Adam. Even if I talked my way into his office, he could say anything . . . medical gobbledegook . . . and I wouldn’t know the difference. How would I explain why I’m so interested in this stuff?”
“You could ask about the program. Tell him how much you appreciate what he tried to do for your dear departed cousin.”
“Oh, please. I know I’m a good liar, but I’m not that good.”
Henry held up a finger. “But as you so often say to me, you want to be good at lying, it’s practice makes perfect.”
“I practice,” I said crossly.
“The point is, for all you know, this is a case of bungled communication. Maybe Dace misunderstood. Maybe he got the dosages mixed up. Some doctor explains what he’s prescribing and half the time you tune him out. That’s why the pharmacist goes over it with you a second time when you pick up the medication.”
I made a noncommittal response to indicate I wasn’t quite buying it until I had another cookie.
“How would I know if he’s telling the truth?”
“How do you know anyone’s telling the truth? You listen to what he has to say and then corroborate it with an outside source.”
“I love it when you come up with a big hot plan I’m supposed to implement. You talked me into Bakersfield and look how that turned out.”
“Then you’ll do it?”
“Possibly.”
Henry said, “Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”
“Anything else on your mind?” I asked. “You have that look like there’s more.”
“Anna. Regardless of how you feel, this is her father we’re talking about. I think she should be told what’s going on. If you don’t mind, I’ll bring her up to speed.”
“Just keep her out of my hair.”