Detective Manor graciously kept her in the loop, sometimes dropping by for coffee and failing that would call. Resolute in digging for details pertaining to Dr. Greg and the clinic, he’d call whenever a question came up he figured she might assist him with.
Holding the two-year-old black and white cat named Sparky, on her lap absentmindedly stroking him, her eyes drifted to the shelf her mind concentrating on the phantom bottle. From the outset, Jenna was convinced a drugged-out junky desperate for a fix, had hit the clinic.
Dr. Greg had been more than her boss and mentor, he was like family, hell he was family! The senselessness of his death sparked renewed anger and the subsequent sadness that followed; annoyed by the sudden tears that slid down her face and she swiped them away. Nuzzling Sparky closer, she told herself it was ok, it was part of the grieving process, was to be expected, and would eventually pass. Honestly, what else could she expect, sitting in the center of the crime scene, the place marking his demise, where she’d found him? Placing Sparky back in his kennel with a final pat, she smiled. He was healing well following his ordeal and would be going home later in the day.
After repairing the cupboard, Frank had placed all the items back inside. Positive it was related, she walked to the cupboard Frank had repaired and opened it to peer inside, hoping it would jog her memory. Now you see it, now you don’t? What was up with that? Hopefully, Linda Farrow might be able to shed some light on the matter. She had a remarkable memory for details, especially dates times and products and was usually one step ahead of them when it came to placing an order. Maybe it was a clue, maybe not but it bothered her. It didn’t mean that whoever the medication was obtained for had killed Dr. Greg.
Meanwhile, Manor was following up on one particularly interesting lead from a local pawn shop. The owner, Joseph Morgan had called when several items he knew were owned by Dr. Greg showed up. A beautiful intricately carved harness that had hung on the wall in one of the examination rooms had caught his eye. Dr. Greg’s explanation about how he’d obtained it, held little doubt it held great sentimental value. He’d said he’d never part with it for any amount of money. That didn’t stop Morgan from trying even though Dr. Greg had remained adamant. It had become a game they shared whenever they met up whether at the clinic or the grocery store.
Dr. Greg had helped him out in a pinch with his dog, Sammy who’d been hit by a car. He’d performed the surgery immediately even though Morgan had explained he could only make payments. Dr. Greg hadn’t hesitated. Dr. Greg would say otherwise, but he felt he owed him a debt of gratitude and if this was a step closer to finding and catching his killer, so be it!
He’d been stunned when his young assistant, full of pride and pleased as punch, showed him the harness a man had brought in only moments before he’d returned to the shop. A cold chill ran through his body. Dragging his business card from under the blotter on the counter, he called Detective Manor. Even though his young assistant had forgotten proper procedure he gave Morgan an exceptional description of the man, one he was sure they’d be delighted to hear.
Manor walked briskly through the door straight toward Morgan. He flipped his badge open and identified himself. “Thank you for the call Mr. Morgan. What can you tell me about this guy?”
Morgan explained and presented the young man in question. Manor asked Doug Martin would be willing to accompany him to headquarters and talk withartists. He’d agreed, intrigued and more than a little excited at the prospect of assisting people in an ongoing murder investigation. Morgan called ahead and and learned they could see the sketch artists immediately that he’d be free for two hours so they headed to the station. Manor was hopeful; this could be the break they needed.