Rejected
Part 4
Larry Ashby stalked around his house, muttering to
himself. Where the Hell did that cop come
from? How could he have known? Could that bitch have called him? No, that
wasn’t possible! No one knew where he would strike next. He was the Phantom in
Black. No one knew who he was!
He walked into his bedroom and stared at the pictures
thumb-tacked to the wall. Their eyes looked back, ridiculing him. He could
almost hear them laughing as they pointed to him.
He
shook his fist at them. “Shut up! Stop laughing at me!”
Poor little scar faced Larry. Why are you such a
wimp, Larry? You’re so pathetic! Why on Earth would WE want to be friends with
YOU? Go back to the dungeon where you belong, little boy. Hide your face in the
shadows with the rest of the weasels. We’re too good for the likes of YOU!
“I’m
not a wimp and I’m not a weasel, either! I’m a human being, just like you!”
The
faces glared down at him. Are you
kidding? You’re nothing but a pitiful little clerk. Nobody wants you! Nobody
likes you! Scurry away, you little rat. We’re much too busy for you!
They
all thought they were so high and mighty! Well, he showed them, didn’t he? He’d
teach them to make fun of him. His arms hung to his side as he clenched his
fists.
“You shouldn’t have laughed at me. It’s not nice to laugh
at people. It’s mean, and now you have to be punished.”
He reached up and traced the red lines that ran down the
length of the first three pictures. “You’re not laughing at me any more, are
you? You aren’t so special any more, are
you? Now who’s the ugly one? Your precious friends couldn’t help you, could
they? You’re all alone now, just like me.”
Larry shook himself and forced his thoughts back to the
present. It was getting late. He had to get ready for work. Part of him was
afraid to go, but he knew that if he didn’t show up, it might look suspicious.
Not that anyone really cared, mind you. He was just a cog in a great big wheel.
But he hadn’t missed a day in over three years. If he didn’t go to work, one of
his nosy co-workers just might report it to the cop, and that’s the last thing
he wanted.
He’d seen that old coot, Barnes, talking to the
lieutenant after he’d taken care of that slut, Jeannie Gordon. When Barnes came
back down to the mail room, Larry asked him what the cop said. The old geezer
just laughed in his face.
“Don’t worry, Ashby. He just asked about Jeannie Gordon.
I told him we didn’t travel in the same circles and aimed him at the execs. So
don’t get your panties in a wad. He’s not going to come after anyone with a
rubber hose. He’s not interested in us. Christ, you’re such a chicken-shit!”
Larry had just growled under his breath and stomped off.
Barnes would get his, sooner or later. After he finished with those hoity-toity
executives, he’d go after scumbags like Barnes. He smiled now as he imagined
the expression on the old goat’s face. We’ll
see who’s a chicken-shit, won’t we, Barnes?
Starsky walked slightly ahead of Hutch as he led him to
the offices in the Jewelry Accounts department. Apparently, Dobey had spent most
of the morning putting a lid on all the media in the city. So far, the news of
Sabrina’s death hadn’t made it to O’Neil’s. If anyone in her department asked,
they would simply be told that she’d called in sick. Hutch plainly wanted to
break the news to her co-workers himself.
The Gerard stayed back as Hutch walked up to the
receptionist’s desk. In his hand was a piece of paper, with all the employees’
names on it. He quietly asked for Michelle Gerard, and the receptionist pointed
to an office to the left. The detective knocked and was admitted, with Starsky
close behind him.
“Mrs. Gerard, I’m Lieutenant Ken Hutchinson with the
BCPD. I’m afraid I have some bad news. Sabrina Abernathy was attacked in her
condominium last night. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but she died early
this morning.”
Michelle paled and slumped back against her chair. “Oh, my God! Was it- was it the same maniac that killed
Jeannie and Tom?”
“I’m sorry to say that it was. I know this is quite a
shock, but it’s vital that I talk to you. Do you think you could answer a few
questions for me? It’s really important.”
She pulled several tissues from a box on her desk and
wiped the tears from her face. “I don’t know how I can help, but I’ll try. What
did you want to ask me?”
Hutch sat and motioned for Starsky to do the same. He
kept his voice gentle, but firm.
“Mrs. Gerard, it’s come to my attention that there was an
incident a few days ago, involving Sabrina and a male employee. I’m not sure
which department he’s in, but Sabrina was with several of her co-workers when
the incident happened. I’m hoping you were there, also. You were talking when
this young man walked up and tried to take part in the conversation. He invited
you all out for coffee. You apparently thought he was simply making
conversation and refused. As he was leaving, he knocked some items of Sabrina’s
desk. He was very humiliated by what happened. Do you remember that incident,
Mrs. Gerard?”
“Yeah, I really felt sorry for poor Larry. He tries so
hard to fit in, but it just makes him look awkward. But what could that
possibly have to do with Sabrina’s death?”
Hutch exchanged glances with Starsky then turned back to
Michele. “You said his name was Larry? Do you know his full name and the
department he works in?”
“Of course; it’s Larry Ashby. He’s worked in the mail
room for over four years now. But Larry would never hurt a fly! He’s always the
first to help when we have something urgent to mail. He’s a sweet young man!”
“Do you know if he’s here this morning?”
She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know, honestly.
It’s a little early, though. Larry usually makes his first rounds around ten,
and again at two. Bill Barnes delivers the mail first thing in the morning, but
Larry is responsible for all out-going mail. During the busy seasons, the mail
is sent out twice a day instead of just once.”
Hutch signaled to Starsky with his eyes as he got up. “Thank-you for your help, Mrs. Gerard. I’m sorry for your
loss. Oh, we haven’t released the news of Sabrina’s death to the media yet. I’d
appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention it to anyone else for a while.”
She nodded shakily. “All right, if that’s what you want.
But, surely you don’t think Larry-“
Hutch put his hand up. “Right now, all we want to do is
ask him some questions.”
He waited until they were out in the hall before turning
to Starsky. “Do you know this guy?”
“Yeah, I know him. He’s like a fixture around here.
Christ! Of all the people in this building, Larry’s the last one I’d finger.
He’s never given anyone a bit of trouble.”
Hutch put a hand on his shoulder. “Remember what I said?
This guy isn’t going to stand out. Whatever’s going on is in his head. I think
we need to talk to him as soon as possible. Where’s the mail room?”
Starsky walked off. “Come on; I’ll show you.”
They took the elevator down to the basement. Starsky
turned left and walked along the hallway. He led the detective through a metal,
fire-proof door and into a large room. Several employees scurried between large
baskets made of canvas, sorting through mail and putting it into smaller carts
for delivery. Some of the clerks looked up when Starsky and Hutch entered, but
most of them didn’t. This was their domain. Down here, below the elaborate
offices and plush carpeting, they were the rulers.
Hutch recognized William Barnes and touched Starsky on
his arm. They made their way to where the older man stood.
“Mr. Barnes, do you remember me? I’m Lieutenant
Hutchinson.”
“I remember. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
“We’re looking for Larry Ashby. I’d like to ask him a few
questions. Is he here?”
Barnes glanced briefly at Starsky then shrugged. “He’s
here somewhere, I guess. He didn’t call in today. Why? What do you want with
that little wimp?”
Hutch’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the older man. “I
take it you don’t care for him.”
“He’s a mamma’s boy. He jumps every time you yell boo at
him and runs off with his tail between his legs. He’s always upstairs trying to
rub elbows with the execs instead of doing his job down here. Why O’Neil keeps him
around I’ll never know.”
“Did you ever see him talking to Jeannie Gordon or Tom
Rowan?”
Barnes laughed scornfully. “He’ll talk to anyone that
will listen to him. He follows those execs around like a puppy dog. Maybe he
wants to be one of them, I don’t know. I think they put up with him because
they’re too nice to tell him to get lost. The little wimp’s got too much
against him to ever make it out of the mail room, though.”
“I don’t understand. What does he have going against
him?”
“Have you seen him? He’s a scrawny little punk, with
scars all over his face. I think they’re from when he had chicken pox as a kid,
or something like that. Anyway, he’s nothing but a timid little mouse. He
doesn’t have the back bone to make it as an exec.”
“Have you seen him this morning, Mr. Barnes?”
“Nah, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably
upstairs, mooching coffee from one of the secretaries. They all like to mother
the little creep.”
Hutch rolled his eyes at Starsky, shaking his head. “OK,
thanks for your help. Look, when he comes in, don’t tell him that we’re looking
for him. I don’t want to scare him off. We only want to ask him a few
questions.” He handed the clerk his card. “Here’s my number. If he comes in,
call me right way, understand? It’s vital that we talk to him.”
“Sure, but you’re wasting your time. Larry’s scared of
his own shadow. There’s no way he’ll be able to tell you anything useful.”
Hutch scowled with disgust. “Just call, OK?”
Starsky kept quiet until they were back in the elevator.
“If you ask me, Larry’s been going after the wrong people. Barnes makes him
look like an angel.”
“Yeah, well, I took an oath to protect and serve, and
that even includes assholes like Barnes.” He looked around the main lobby. “I
don’t think we’ll have any luck chasing him down here. He knows this building
like the back of his hand by now. Anyway, as long as the people are here,
they’re safe. He won’t go after anyone in the open like this. Let’s get down to
the station and fill Dobey in on the situation. Besides, I want to learn
everything I can about Larry Ashby before I go after him.”
He patted Starsky on the stomach. “Cheer up, Starsk. This
nightmare is almost over.”
“Like the man says, it ain’t over till the fat lady
sings, Hutch. We still gotta get him behind bars and before we can do that, we
gotta find him.”
Hutch’s grin was feral. “Oh, we’ll find him, Starsk,
believe it.”
He put his arm on Starsky’s shoulders and walked out of
the building. Neither man saw the figure skulking in the corner. Larry Ashby
glared at the two departing backs with fire in his eyes.
Hutch flipped through the file on his desk, scowling as
he reviewed the scant information. He looked over at Starsky.
“Well, this is all we can find on Larry Ashby. He was
charged with making harassing phone calls and making a public nuisance of
himself, but his public defender worked out a deal and he got probation.
There’s a mention of some trouble when he was younger, but his juvenile records
were sealed when he turned eighteen. I can try to get a warrant to open them,
but that will take days. I don’t think we have that much time. The only thing
of interest is a note that he spent some time in
Starsky frowned. “
“That’s what I thought, too. I called the institution
earlier, but the psychiatrist in charge of his case was out. He’s supposed to
call me back soon.”
“Nothing about this guy makes sense. What made him go
from making phone calls to killing people? That’s a pretty big jump.”
Hutch shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Maybe his doctor can shed
some light on that for us.”
“So, what do we do, just sit and wait for the guy to call
back?”
The blond grinned. “You know me better than that. Dobey’s
on the line with Judge Harmon as we speak. He went to bat for us with Garvey;
let’s hope he does the same with Ashby.”
Starsky nodded slowly as realization dawned. “You want a
warrant for Ashby’s house. Do you honestly think you’ll find anything?”
“It worked with Garvey. Maybe Larry likes to keep
trophies, too.”
“What if he’s there?”
“Then we take him in for questioning before we search his
place. I hope he is there, truthfully. I don’t like the idea of him being loose
on the city. I’d rather have him in a cell where I can keep an eye on him.”
Starsky grinned wickedly. “Then what are we waiting for?
Let’s go.”
Larry
Ashby’s address was listed as
Hutch looked around. “Damn, it doesn’t look like
anybody’s home. Before we go in, let’s see if his neighbors can tell us a
little more about him, and hopefully where he could be. If he comes back while
we’re looking through his stuff, it might just send him over the edge.”
He
motioned to the house next door. “Let’s start here. If nobody’s home, we’ll
spread out.”
He
walked up a narrow sidewalk to a house that was a carbon copy of Larry’s, only
this one was painted a light blue. Hutch knocked and waited for a moment then
stepped back as an elderly woman opened the door.
“Yes,
may I help you?”
“Yes,
ma’am, I’m Lieutenant Hutchinson with the
“Yes, I know Larry. He’s a nice boy and a good neighbor.
Why are you looking for him?”
“There have been some problems at O’Neil’s, where he
works. We were hoping he could help us with the investigation.”
The elderly lady shook her head sadly. “Oh, that’s such a
shame. I know how much he loves his job. But, I don’t know if he’s home right
now. He’s so quiet that you really don’t know he’s there most of the time.”
“What else can you tell us about him? Does he have any
friends or relatives that he might be visiting?”
“I know he doesn’t have any family in town. His father
passed away a few years ago and his mom is in a nursing home. Poor thing, she
doesn’t even remember Larry any more when he goes to visit. Alzheimer’s, you
know.”
“What about friends? Is there anyone close by that he
socializes with?”
“Not really. Larry’s painfully shy, you see. The poor thing
had chicken pox when he was a teenager, and it left some horrible scars on his
face. He’s so self-conscious about it. That’s why the job at O’Neil’s was so
good for him. He had to associate with people all the time. It helped bring him
out of his shell a little, you see.”
“You sound like you know him pretty well, Mrs.--.”
“It's Mrs. Blankenship, Gertrude Blankenship. Well, Ella,
his mother, owns that house. She and Fred moved in when they were first
married. When Fred died, Ella paid the house off with his insurance money, so
it was free and clear. We’ve been neighbors for almost thirty years. Now, Larry
lives in the house alone. Ella deeded the house over to Larry when her health
went down. She said she wanted to make sure he always had a place to live, even
after she was gone.”
“Then he doesn’t have any brothers or sisters?”
“No, Larry is an only child. Ella had a terrible time
with him and the doctor said she shouldn’t have any more children. But she
didn’t mind. She doted on Larry. He was her whole life and after Fred died, he
was a real comfort to her.”
Hutch looked around for a moment. “OK, thanks, Mrs.
Blankenship. I appreciate you talking to us. You’ve been a big help.”
As they walked off, Starsky shot a puzzled look to the
detective. “Were you just being nice or was she really that helpful?”
“So far, he fits the profile. He’s a loner, we’ve already
heard how shy he is, and he’s self-conscious about those scars. It also sounds
like he was pretty sheltered while he was growing up. When his mother’s illness
left him alone in this big, bad world, Larry couldn’t cope, so he snapped. She
was probably the reason why he didn’t go after anyone sooner.”
Hutch knocked on the paint-chipped front door and waited.
There was no sound from the interior of the house. He exchanged looks with the
psychic and knocked again.
“Larry Ashby? This is the police. We’d like to talk to
you.”
There was still no sound and no movement from inside.
Starsky turned to the detective.
“So, what do we do now?”
“We see if we can find another way in. I can break the
door down if I have to, but the department frowns on unnecessary expenses. Not
that I’m too worried about it, but if Larry does happen to be innocent, we’ll
be responsible for any damage done to his home. Let’s go around the back.”
Starsky snorted. “Yeah, right.
You just don’t want that nice old lady to see you break Larry’s door down. She
might come after you with a rolling pin or something.”
“Very funny, Starsk. You’re a
regular comedian. Come on.”
They walked around back and found another door. Although
this one was locked also, the latch was old and rusty. Hutch threw his shoulder
against the wooden door once then stood to one side as it swung inward.
He waited for a few seconds then called out again. “Larry
Ashby? This is the police! We have a warrant to search this residence.”
When there was still no answer, he turned to Starsky.
“OK, stay close. I don’t trust this guy. If he’s our man, he could be hiding
behind any of these doors.”
Starsky made a motion with his hands. “After
you, Lieutenant.”
Hutch took his gun out then they walked slowly through
the house. The living room, bathroom, and first bedroom offered no clues about
their inhabitant. It was obvious to the two men that Larry lived alone. The house
was sparsely furnished and immaculate. Nothing was out of place.
Starsky unconsciously kept his voice down. “It doesn’t
look like anybody lives here. I mean, there’s no empty bottles, no dirty
dishes sitting on the coffee table, and it doesn’t even look like he’s sat on
the couch. This guy takes the phrase neat freak to a whole new level.”
Hutch looked around and shuddered slightly. “Yeah, it’s
almost spooky. Come on; let’s see if his bedroom’s any different.”
Still holding his weapon, he headed for the second
bedroom. The door was closed, but not locked. He turned the knob and shoved the
door inward, pushing Starsky behind him. Aiming his gun defensively, he stepped
around the door and looked behind it. Then he crossed over to the closet and
opened it, looking for any sign of Larry Ashby. Finally, he checked under the
bed. He let his breath out slowly and turned to the psychic.
“OK, it’s clear.”
He started to say more, but stopped when he looked at
Starsky’s expression. The brunet was staring at the wall opposite the bed.
Slowly, his eyes traveled up and down the wall.
“Oh, my God.”
Hutch covered the distance in two strides. He looked at
the photos tacked to the wall then turned to Starsky.
“Well, it looks like we have our answer. Don’t touch anything.
I’m going to call for the lab boys. I want them to take this place apart. And
I’m going to put out an APB on Larry. It’s time we got him off the street.”
Starsky simply nodded and kept his eyes on the pictures.
He didn’t notice when Hutch left the room or when he returned. The blond
stepped closer to him, speaking softly.
“What’s going on, Starsk? What do you see?”
The psychic’s eyes remained riveted on the pictures. “I
see him, not now, but when he was young. I see how it was for him. He almost died.
That’s strange, considering it’s just a childhood disease, but he was thirteen
when he got it. The fever got so high that he almost went into convulsions. His
mom sat with him for days, bathing him in cool water to get the fever down and
to help stop the itching. She even put mittens on his hands, to keep him from
scratching. It didn’t help, though. The scars were still bad. They’re not just
on his face, they cover his whole body. He was self-conscious of them from the
start. His parents tried to help, but they didn’t know how deep the scars ran.
His mom told him that it didn’t matter. It didn’t change who he was, but it
did. He was already shy, but now the scars made it worse. She told him that
nice people didn’t make fun of others, but the kids at school made life Hell
for him. They called him Scarface. He didn’t have many friends before, but now
he was all alone.
His mom tried to make up for it. She doted on him. She
tried to replace all the friends he didn’t have any more. His dad was ashamed
of him, though. It wasn’t the scars, they didn’t matter to him. He thought
Larry’s mother was turning him into a mamma’s boy. He tried to toughen him up,
but Larry only thought of it as abuse. When his dad died, Larry was glad. It
was one less person that was tormenting him.
When his mom started getting sick Larry tried to deny it
to himself. He was working at O’Neil’s by then. He liked it, even though he had
to mingle with the other people. Most of them were nice. They didn’t make fun
of him and even told him that he was a good worker. But then there were the
others. He tried to make friends with them, but they were too busy. They
pretended not to laugh, but he could see them pointing at him and giggling when
they thought he wasn’t looking. Once again, he turned to his mother. She told
him not to pay attention to them. She said they were just being ugly and not to
let it bother him. But it did. When his mom got worse, he divided his time
between work and taking care of her. At first, it was easy. He made sure she
had everything she needed before he left for work and called her several times
a day. But gradually she got worse. He was worried that she would start to cook
one day then forget she had the stove on, so he rigged it so that she couldn’t
turn the gas on. He didn’t want to put her in the nursing home, but he didn’t
have a choice. She sneaked out of the house one night when he was asleep and
got lost. She was gone for two days. He was frantic. He searched the city and
finally found her in a shelter. The people there tried to find out who she was,
but she didn’t have her purse with her. He realized that he couldn’t take care
of her any more, so he put her in the home. He was devastated. The only person
in the world that loved him had been taken away. That’s when he started hearing
the voices. They were making fun of him, taunting him about his face and his
shyness. His mom wasn’t here to ward them off any more. Finally he snapped. The
people that laughed at him weren’t nice and they had to be punished. So he
punished them.”
Starsky finally turned away from the pictures and
shuddered. Exhausted, he slumped against the wall.
Hutch caught him by the shoulders. “Are you OK?”
Starsky shook his head. “No. I could feel his pain, and
his anger. There are more secrets, but they’re locked deep inside his mind.” He
turned agonized blue eyes on the detective. “We have to talk to his
psychiatrist now. He can tell us more about Larry, and why he was really in the
institution. It wasn’t just for the depression. There’s something more
sinister, and a lot worse, hiding in his subconscious.”
“OK, we’ll go as soon as the lab boys get here. It
shouldn’t be long.”
Starsky looked around, his face stricken. “I have to get
out of here. I can hear them again; Jeanie and Tom and Sabrina. I can hear them
screaming.”
Hutch grabbed him and gently pushed him out of the house.
“Here, you can go sit in the car. I’ll be out as soon as I can.”
As soon as the team from the crime lab arrived, Hutch
quickly gave them their orders and went back to the car. Starsky was slumped in
the passenger seat, his head against the seat and his eyes closed. He didn’t
open them when Hutch got in the driver’s side.
“Are you OK?” Hutch laughed self-consciously. “I’m sorry.
I keep asking you that. Is there any thing I can do for you?”
Starsky moved his head from side to side. “Just get us
out of here. I don’t care where you go, as long as it’s away from him.”
Hutch put the car in gear and took off. When they were a
few blocks away from Larry’s neighborhood, he picked up the microphone on the
radio.
“Adam-14 to Dispatch.”
“This
is Dispatch, go ahead Adam-14.”
“Minnie,
this is Hutch. Has Dr. Solomon called back yet?”
“Yeah, he called about twenty minutes ago. He said he’d
be in his office until five if you want to talk to him.”
“Good, call him and tell him we’re on our way, will you?
Tell him it’s about a former patient of his and that it’s extremely important.
You know which patient I’m talking about, right?”
“I know. Gotcha, Hutch. Dispatch over and out.”
Hutch put the mike back on its hook and glanced over at
Starsky. “Are you going to be up to this? I can drop you somewhere if you’d
rather sit this one out.”
“I can’t. I have to know what he’s hiding. It’s so far
down in his subconscious that he can’t even think about it. Maybe it will help
us stop him, or at least, understand him better.”
Hutch sighed. “OK, but if it gets to be too much let me
know. I can protect you physically, but I have no idea how to protect you
emotionally. This is a whole new ball game for me.”
Starsky grinned wryly. “Well, this whole thing hasn’t
exactly been SOP for me, either. I’ll be all right, Hutch. If we can get to him
before he kills someone else, a few more nightmares will be worth it.”
With a slight shake of his head and a shrug, Hutch
continued on the route to
“And you’re certain Larry Ashby is the person you’re
looking for?”
“Doctor, there was no way we could misinterpret the
photos in his bedroom. Now, I know that communication between you and Larry is
confidential, but anything you can
tell us will help.”
“Very well, I’ll tell you what I can without violating
Larry’s confidence. What did you want to know?”
Hutch glanced at Starsky then proceeded with his
questions. “Larry wasn’t just in here for depression, was he?”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“Can you tell us his diagnosis?”
Instead of answering, Dr. Solomon fixed Starsky with a
pointed look. “I don’t believe we were introduced.”
Hutch cleared his throat. “Sorry, this is my associate,
David Starsky. He’s consulting with us on the case.”
“Then he’s not a police officer?”
“No, Mr. Starsky is a civilian attached temporarily to
the department.”
“I see. But, as such, he’s still bound by the ethics and
regulations of your department, correct?”
Hutch ran a hand over his face. “He won’t divulge
anything we say here, Doctor. He’s here to help, not leak information to the
media.”
When Solomon still looked skeptical, Starsky spoke
calmly. “I work in the same agency as Larry, Doctor. The three people he killed
were friends of mine. We’re not out to crucify him. We want to understand so we
can help him, and do it before he hurts anyone else.”
Solomon sighed. “Very well, Larry was diagnosed with
clinical depression, complicated by delusions and auditory and visual
hallucinations.”
“What was his treatment?”
“He was given intense psychological counseling and
started on a regimen of medications.”
“How long was he here?”
“He was an inpatient for two years then was seen as an
outpatient for another three years.”
“When did he stop coming in?”
“When his mother’s condition started
deteriorating. I urged Larry to continue therapy, but he said he didn’t
have time. It took all of his energy and concentration to work and take care of
her. He continued his medications, though, so I thought he might be all right,
even without the counseling.”
“And when was the last time you heard from him?”
Dr. Solomon avoided Hutch’s eyes. “Six months ago.”
Hutch grimaced. “You haven’t had any contact with him at
all in six months? Then how can you be sure that he’s still taking his
medication?”
Solomon studied his fingernails. “I can’t.”
The blond’s jaw clenched. “Do you mean to tell me that
this guy came in depressed, seeing things and hearing things, and when he
suddenly drops out of sight, you do nothing about it? I thought it was your
responsibility to follow up on your patients, Doctor.”
Solomon protested loudly. “I did! I called him, both at
home and at work. I went to his house, but he was never home. I even left
messages at the nursing home for him to call me, but he never returned my phone
calls.” He bristled defensively. “We have over three hundred patients in this
facility and only ten psychiatrists. A large majority of our patients are
violent and require constant observation. Larry Ashby passed all of his
assessment tests before he was released and was determined as a low risk to
himself and to the community. We simply do not have the resources to keep up
with every patient that has been discharged. I did the best that I could!”
“Well, it wasn’t good enough, Doctor.” Hutch took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “I want to
know the real reason why he was admitted to
“I don’t know if I can tell you that.”
“Doctor, I know the law. Any communication you had with
Larry during his treatment is confidential, but the circumstances surrounding
his admission are not. Now, why was
he admitted?”
Starsky stiffened as images from Solomon’s mind flashed
across his subconscious. He held the psychiatrist’s eyes with his.
“Doctor, how did Larry Ashby’s father die?”
Hutch shot an astonished look at Starsky then switched
his attention back to the doctor.
Solomon fidgeted in his chair. “He fell and struck his
head on the kitchen counter. He suffered a major skull fracture and died from
complications derived from swelling of the brain.”
Hutch raised an eyebrow. “That must have been one Hell of
a fall.”
“In layman’s terms, he hit his temple on the corner of
the counter. That part of the skull is very fragile, especially as we get
older. It was an unfortunate accident.”
“Where was Larry when this accident happened?”
Solomon’s voice was subdued. “He was there.”
Starsky nodded slowly. “They were fighting, weren’t
they?”
Solomon looked uncomfortable. “Larry and his
father didn’t get along. Fred thought his son was weak and was constantly
berating and criticizing him. He was from the old school, where men were tough
and boys didn’t cry. They argued that day, but Larry was not directly
responsible for his father’s death. The court ruled it as an accident.”
Hutch glared at the doctor. “But it exacerbated Larry’s
condition, didn’t it? You said his ego was very fragile. The court may have
ruled that it was an accident, but Larry could have blamed himself, couldn’t
he? Or, the conflicting emotions he felt after his father’s death could have
sent him over the edge. He hated his father for what he did to him, but he
loved him, because he was his
father.”
“You’re merely speculating, Lieutenant, and practicing
armchair psychology. I can’t tell you the specifics, because that would be
violating doctor/patient confidentiality. Suffice it to say, Larry was cleared
of all complicity in his father’s death. That’s all I can tell you.”
“All right, doctor, we’ll leave it at that for now. But I
want a list of all of Larry’s medications. I’ll check with the drug stores in
the vicinity and try to establish exactly when he stopped taking his
medication.”
“Don’t you mean, if
he stopped taking it? We don’t know for sure that he has.”
“I don’t have time to waste on semantics, Doctor. Could
we have the list, please?”
Dr. Solomon grumbled as he walked over to a large filing
cabinet. He unlocked it then took out a file. Shielding its contents from the
other men, he withdrew a sheet of paper and took it to a copy machine in the
back of his office. He returned a few minutes later and handed Hutch the paper.
“This is all of Larry’s medications, including the dosage
and schedule of administration. As you can see, the pharmacy listed at the
bottom of the page is Albright’s Drugs. However, it’s possible that Larry
changed pharmacies after we stopped treating him. That’s not against
regulations.”
“Well, it’s a place to start, anyway.” Hutch got up with
Starsky right behind him. “Good day, Doctor.”
After they were out of the building and back in the car,
Starsky shook his head in astonishment. “Can you believe that guy? If Larry
killed those people, you’d think Solomon would want to cooperate as much as
possible.”
Hutch shrugged. “It’s the almighty dollar, Starsky. He’s
worried about a lawsuit. If Larry Ashby is apprehended and charged with three
counts of first degree murder, and if he’s convicted, any of the victims’
families can sue
“So he’d be willing to risk more lives just to keep the
public from knowing he let a psychotic like Larry Ashby go?”
“I’m afraid so. That’s why we have to find Ashby before
he kills again. Let’s go. I want to check the drug store out before it closes.”
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