But one thought nagged at the back of his mind: If Oraloxin works so damn well, why is Parminder Singh dead?

33 - Portland, Oregon

33

Portland, Oregon

Cohen sat hunched over a copy of the Portland Tribune spread open on his desk. He rarely read the paper at work but while walking through the reception area, a headline from the front page had jumped out at him.

Just as Cohen finished reading the article a second time, Leetch breezed into his office. His ruddy round face beamed. “I should get a photo of this.” He pointed to the paper on Cohen’s desk. “The Portland taxpayers would be tickled pink to see they’re paying for you to catch up on obits and game scores.”

Cohen ignored the barb and held up the paper. “Rome, did you see this?”

Leetch plopped down in the chair across from Cohen. “I didn’t see nothing!” He pressed the joke. “If anybody asks, I’ll swear you were out on surveillance.”

“This.” Cohen shook the paper and tapped the headline on the bottom of the page: FLESH-EATING BUGS BREED INSIDE SEATTLE HOSPITALS.

Leetch reached forward, pulled the paper from Cohen’s hands, and read the article. He tossed the paper back onto Cohen’s desk and whistled. “Great! Like we didn’t have enough to worry about out there—” he pointed vaguely out the window—“without a plague that you can pick up by going to see the doctor.”

“I think there’s a connection, here,” Cohen said slowly.

“Oh. Of course you do, Seth.” Leetch tapped the headline on the desk. “You think this flesh-eating bug is what did in Carol, don’t you?”

Cohen nodded.

Leetch sighed. “And you still think our hitter deliberately infected her with it?”

“You keep calling him our hitter. What if he came to Portland to spread this,” he nodded to the paper, “and Jimmy and Frige just happened to get in his way?”

Leetch shrugged. “Whatever Dennis Tyler was in town for, it was his first appearance in some time.”

“Oh?”

“I just tracked down a cousin of his in Fresno. According to this cousin, Tyler disappeared about four years ago during a solo sailing trip off the coast of Mexico. They never found the body. Or the boat. The cousin figures Tyler is probably dead.”

“Why probably?”

“Apparently, old Dennis had a big-time gambling problem. Owed a number of people some serious coin.” Leetch rubbed his thumb and index finger together rapidly. “The cousin thinks there’s a chance Tyler faked his death and just sailed away from all that debt.”

“Did his cousin say who Tyler owed?”

“Not by name.” Leetch grinned. “But if he owed the kind of people it sounds like he did, then there’s a good chance his boat sailed head-on into a gale-force Sicilian storm, if you know what I mean.”

Cohen rolled his eyes.