After that Laytner went into a deep depression. Several articles noted how he went from courting press attention to a relatively reclusive existence. He went through an expensive divorce, moved from Richmond back to Tuttle County to be near his parents, and basically went into hiding. Or so it seemed.
After suspending operations for over a year and a half, he’d hired back a few key members of his former staff, and went back to work developing a new biologic. This time, however, he kept a much lower profile and avoided talking specifics with the press. From what I read, I could tell only that the drug he was developing had application in cardiac care management, but I couldn’t tell exactly what its function might be.
This had to be the drug Dr. Davenport was consulting on—but I needed confirmation. Since Mrs. Winterthorne and Faye had been so sure Donna Lopez knew everything there was to know about Arthur, I decided to call her up and see if she could shed any light on his involvement with Invigor8. She confirmed that, yes, he had been involved in the patent-development process for a new drug Invigor8 was developing.
“Had been?” I asked.
“Just last week Arthur quit the study. Walked away from some good money, too.”
“Do you know why?”
“Not really. I just know that Arthur was supposed to read through their research data and give his opinion on the efficacy and safety from a cardiac standpoint. He had binders full of research he was going through. Then last week, real suddenly, he told me to box them all up—he was done with it. Said not to throw it away because of confidentiality, that someone from the company would be coming over to the office to collect it.”
I asked her if she knew how Invigor8 felt about him leaving the study.
“The head of the company, Brandon something-or-other, came to the clinic himself demanding to see Arthur.”
“Was he upset?” I asked, thinking of Susan seeing Dr. Davenport arguing with a bald man on the street.
“Oh yes. He said he couldn’t accept that Dr. Davenport didn’t want to continue on the project. He wouldn’t even take back the boxes of research files. He said he knew Arthur would change his mind. I had to lug them back into the storage closet myself.”
“When did he come by? What day?”
“Must have been late last week.” She thought for another second. “Yes, it was a week ago Tuesday—I remember because Arthur spends all day on Tuesdays in the cath lab. I think Mr. Laytner thought I was fibbing. I even took him back to Arthur’s office to show him it was empty.” She was quiet for a moment and then it sounded like she pressed her mouth right into the phone to say, “Do you think that man could have had something to do with all of this?”
I didn’t want to start the rumor mill going any more than I probably already had so I said, “I’m just trying to gather as much information about Dr. Davenport’s life as I can. You never know when something is going to be relevant.”
“That makes sense,” she said thoughtfully. “You know, now that you say that, I think there is something else I should mention. Something I didn’t think was important before, but now I’m not so sure.”
I had a feeling I knew what she was going to say, and I was right. Donna told me the same basic story about Libby and Bennett Nichols that I’d heard from the others.
“How did Libby take it when he ended things?”
“Ended things?”
“Yeah, when he broke it off.”
“I didn’t know he had,” she said. “I mean, it wasn’t like he told me everything, but as far as I knew, Arthur and Libby were still seeing each other right up till the very end.”
It was close to noon by the time I got off the phone with Donna, and Coltrane, who was enjoying having me home during the day, nosed the bell I had hung on the front door to let me know he wanted out. I had taught him to do this in a single twenty-minute training session involving repetition of the phrase “ring the bell” and a handful of Pup-Peronis. As a former police dog, he was such a smart boy. I often thought that if I had the time, I could probably teach him to go get the paper, make my morning coffee, and do my laundry.
In addition to being smart, Coltrane was a big dog and got cranky if he didn’t get his exercise, so I slipped on my shoes and leashed him up. The air had the beginnings of a fall chill, and I could tell by the extra spring in Coltrane’s step that he appreciated the lower temperatures and decreased humidity as much as I did. Summers were long in Tuttle Corner and the fall was short—but boy was it nice.
As Coltrane and I walked around my block, I noticed how many houses had already set out their pumpkins and hay bales. The Washingtons had three of those huge inflatable Halloween figures set up on their lawn, and as
