twenty-four hours, they would have a good idea about the doctors’ routines.
Chapter 16
Pinewood
Nikki burst through the kitchen door, waving a folder. “This is unbelievable!” The dogs were yapping in response to her brisk entrance. She stopped for a moment and gave each of them the required hug, rub, and scratch.
Myra hurried from the atrium. “What is it? Is everything all right?”
“Where is Charlotte?” Nikki was almost breathless.
“She’s at Dr. Falcon’s. She’s getting a full workup.”
“How long has she been off those meds?” Nikki asked as she tossed the folder on the kitchen table.
“Almost two weeks. Why?”
“Some of it is a cytochrome P450 inducer. Also known as phenobarbital—but this is some kind of synthetic version. Other pills were Adderall. And Adderall is in the same class as cocaine and methamphetamine!” You could see the loathing in Nikki’s eyes.
“What?” Myra was horrified. She looked as if she was going to start shaking at any moment. Charles came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.
“Let me take a look at those lab results.” Charles calmly opened the file and began reading. “Turmeric. Ginkgo biloba. CoQ10. Nothing out of the ordinary there. But yes, the phenobarbital seems to have been in half the vials. All different milligrams. And the Adderall is in three of them.” He continued to study the results.
Myra clutched her pearls. “Those bastards! They were doping them up!”
“They were indeed. The phenobarbital is probably what was making Charlotte foggy. Then they would introduce the Adderall every other day to give her a feeling of euphoria,” Charles noted. “They put her on a pharmacological roller coaster.”
Nikki chimed in, “That’s what they must have been doing while working in Mexico. Coming up with a concoction they could package and sell.”
Myra was on the verge of fury. “To think poor Charlotte was taking all that medication. It could have killed her!”
“That’s exactly what I think happened to Lorraine Thompson,” Annie, who had joined them in mid-conversation, surmised. “She probably got confused about her dosage and took too many of the phenobarbital pills at once. We need to get Maggie on this immediately.” Annie immediately sent a text to see how soon Maggie would arrive.
Coming through the door now, Maggie pinged back.
Soon after, the rest of the sisters arrived, and they all made a beeline to the war room.
They took their seats as Charles began. “We have the findings from the drug analysis. To say they were poisoning their patients would be an understatement. They carefully plotted the dosing to keep the patients off balance.” Charles went through the list of drugs, dosages, and frequency, explaining each drug’s purpose and the dangers and side effects. Everyone roared in disgust, and shouts of revulsion filled the room.
“Looks like that story about Lorraine Thompson and Marjorie Brewster just might have legs, after all!” Maggie shouted. “Annie, I’ll get on both of them stat!”
“Good. Start with the Thompson alleged suicide. Charles received some intel on Corbett, and Sasha is tailing him now. Apparently, he is heading to Sag Harbor. Within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, we should have a good idea as to his routine, associates, and acquaintances. That should give you time to get in touch with the Thompson family and get out there,” Annie said to Maggie.
Maggie took copious notes, then opened her laptop and pulled up the folder with the file containing what she had already written on the story. “Good thing I save everything,” she said with glee.
“You’re not kidding,” Annie teased her.
“I’m not a hoarder,” Maggie whined. “It’s research!”
“Uh, I don’t think those People magazines you have piled on your chairs in the office count as research,” Annie kept chiding her.
“It’s pop culture,” Maggie halfheartedly protested.
“Culture, indeed.” Charles smirked. “Surely you jest.”
The sisters hooted with laughter. Maggie was always an easy target as the brunt of a joke.
Then the room quieted, and the group began to focus again.
Chapter 17
London
Eileen woke up at her usual 5:30 A.M., glad she had been only three hours away from London the night before. No jet lag or time-zone change. She grabbed a jogging suit, donned a fanny pack similar to Sasha’s, then put her hair in a ponytail and pulled it through the opening in the back of her New York Yankees baseball cap. Aviator sunglasses hung from a Croakies strap around her neck. She snapped her fake Apple watch on her wrist. It looked like every one of them, but hers was different. It was a direct line of communication to Avery.