"I told you. My husband was well-liked by everyone.” She put the pieces together. “Are you suggesting Ford might be behind this?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. Just looking for answers.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I don't think this is an appropriate conversation to be having now. I need to collect myself and my thoughts. My children’s father is no longer living, and I’ve got to find a way to tell them.” Her throat had grown tight and dry, and her eyes wet.
She stepped back inside, closed the door, and latched the deadbolt.
"Maybe you should have been a little smoother about that," JD said.
He was right, but I was convinced Dr. Carlson wasn't squeaky clean. At this point, Ford Hollingsworth had a strong motive. Carlson was indirectly responsible for Whitney’s death. Ford was next on my list of people to talk to.
17
“It’s a shame about the others,” Ford said when we caught up with him at home. “But don’t expect me to feel bad about Dr. Carlson. Guess he got what he deserved.”
I gave him a look.
"What? My wife would still be alive if it weren't for that guy. Do you disagree?"
"Can you tell me where you were at the time of the murders?"
Ford laughed. "You really think I did a drive-by and killed a bunch of innocent people just to get Dr. Carlson?"
"I didn’t mention anything about a drive-by," I said.
Ford gave me a flat look. "It's all over the TV." His eyes flicked between the two of us. “You know, I don't have to say anything to you."
"You're not under arrest," I said.
He laughed. "What could you possibly arrest me for? I’ve done nothing wrong. I was here with my kids. You want to talk tothem?” Ford quipped, “They’re traumatized by the loss of their mother, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind getting harassed by you as well."
"Just doing our jobs."
Ford's jaw tensed. "It looks like karma did your job for you. Dr. Carlson won’t be making any more fraudulent prescriptions to patients. Hopefully, no one else in the neighborhood will OD. With any luck, that pool boy will drown. Wouldn’t that be great? I can certainly tell you he's not going to find employment in this neighborhood anymore. I’m telling everybody I know what was going on between him and Whitney.” Ford paused. "I guess if he turns up dead, you’ll be banging on my door again, right?"
"You would be a prime suspect if his death looks suspicious."
“Why do I get the feeling that every death looks suspicious to you?”
I shrugged. Around here, there was a lot to be suspicious about.
“I wonder how many other wives in the neighborhood he was banging,” Ford said. “I'm sure there are quite a few husbands who would like to put a bullet into the pool boy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to finish cooking dinner for my kids since they no longer have a mother."
He closed the front door and flipped the deadbolt.
Jack muttered as we strolled down the walkway, "Can’t say I blame the guy for being upset. I’d be pissed too. But I don't think he mowed down a bunch of Christmas carolers just to get revenge.” He considered it. “He certainly has the means to hire someone to do it. But I doubt a guy like that went down to the hood and recruited some gangbangers."
We hopped into the Porsche and headed back to the station to fill out reports.
Afterward, we grabbed a few cocktails with the guys on Oyster Avenue. It was a pretty low-key night.
In the morning, Denise called. "Toxicology report came back on Wesley Oliver. There was enough fentanyl in his system to kill an elephant. You think some street dealer got careless when he cut his supply?"
"Possible. Sometimes an overdose is good for business. Lets people know you’ve got powerful stuff."
"Won’t have customers for long if they all die," she said. "By the way, I did a little digging on last night’s victims, looking for connections."
"Find anything?"
