Manor watched patiently as forensics went over the green Taurus. As suspected, it had been stolen. The owner, a seventy-year-old man was relieved when officers turned up at his door explaining they’d found his vehicle and it was currently in the impound lot but would be released in a few days. When asked if he had any idea who had stolen his vehicle, he’d explained they’d retired early that night and his wife had forgotten the keys in the car. He hadn’t realized it was missing until the following morning when he got up.
They showed him sketches of the man they believed responsible but he’d never seen anyone resembling the man hanging around. Although another dead end it was part of the process of elimination and Manor could shift his focus elsewhere. With tears in his eyes, the man explained how relieved he was his car had been found and said, “It isn’t much, but it’s what I’ve got to get the Mrs. around to her appointments.”
Two days later, Manor received a call from another precinct informing him they had an individual matching the thief’s description in custody on unrelated charges. Manor wanted in on the interview and headed out.
After a lengthy interrogation, Harold Mallard confessed to the car theft, being near the clinic, but only because his ex-girlfriend lived a few blocks away. Because of a restraining order, he’d hid out until he figured the coast was clear so he could drop by unannounced. When asked whether he’d seen anyone else in the vicinity of the clinic he put two and two together figuring they might try to hang the murder wrap on him, immediately began screaming for a lawyer. Hurry up and wait, the name of the game. Manor hoped the thief might have witnessed someone in the vicinity of the clinic or seen something that could give them a solid lead.
Manor continued with his investigation, going over all the salient points uncovered so far when his cell phone rang. It was Detective Murdock. After meeting with his lawyer, the perp had agreed to talk if he received a plea bargain. He went on to describe seeing an average clean cut looking dude on foot racing toward Main Street. He hadn’t thought much of it because he didn’t seem out of place. He did recall the dude wearing jeans, a black hoody with a purple logo on it sporting a man bun. That more than anything caught his attention because he thought they were pretty damn stupid looking. Then he’d gone about his own business and forgot about him. He also mentioned the guy was constantly swiping at something on his clothes, both the jeans and the front of his hoodie and he’d thrown something in the bushes across from the clinic. That’s all he had, but it was something,
Manor immediately raced to the clinic. Fortunately the weather had been dry since the murder and he hoped that whatever the perp had thrown away was still there.
Getting out of his car, he dawned rubber gloves and began walking along the brush using a stick to move limbs or branches out of the way. His search lasted for over an hour before he spotted something. The foam inside the box appeared to be shaved into two large oval sections. He bagged the box and headed to the clinic.
Linda Farrow was manning the reception desk. “Looks like you found something,” she remarked as he walked toward her.
“Might have.” Pulling the box from the bag he asked, “Does this look familiar?”
“Oddly enough, it does. It’s Alprazolam -benzodiazepine is used as an anxiolytic and tranquillizer are otherwise known as Xanax.”
“So it would no doubt have street value,” Manor remarked thoughtfully.
“It’s used in chemotherapy for nausea. It’s also highly addictive as I’m sure you already know. We had one box left and I’d forgotten about it. We use other products instead and this was left over from a batch obtained six months ago.”
“Thanks. Appreciate the help,” Manor smiled as he returned the box to the brown bag and headed out. Definitely drug-related crime and if so, they wouldn’t have any compunction about killing Doctor Greg.