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Chapter 60: Digging Deeper
Back in the car, Bernie turned to Theodore with a questioning look. "What now?"
Theodore frowned, his expression troubled as he weighed their options.
"How about we split up?" Theodore considered for a moment, then spoke with quiet determination.
"You're Cynthia Moore's neighbour and know her well. Ask her again this afternoon. I'll go find Dr. Martinez."
Bernie turned away and chuckled dryly. "I don't know her that well either. Actually I'm more familiar with Dr. Martinez. Why don't you finish asking your questions, and I'll go find the doctor instead?"
After a brief silence, Bernie's curiosity got the better of him. "Why investigate Dr. Martinez anyway?"
Theodore shook his head. "It's not Dr. Martinez I'm after, it's the nurse who cared for the deceased."
He paused, consulting his mental notes. "Also, we need to visit the Oil Workers Union to see if they provided any subsidies for David Moore."
Hearing that he wouldn't have to face Cynthia's questions again, Bernie visibly relaxed.
As if afraid Theodore might change his mind, he quickly started the car and headed toward the clinic.
This time, they waited half an hour before Dr. Martinez could see them. The doctor was finishing up with the little boy they'd encountered earlier.
When the boy emerged with his mother, his face lit up at the sight of Theodore and Bernie. Bernie immediately crouched down and wrapped the child in a warm hug.
The mother followed behind, quietly dabbing at her eyes before forcing a brave smile.
Theodore approached her gently and learned the devastating news: the little boy had leukaemia.
After the mother and son left, Theodore shared what he'd discovered. Bernie fell silent, the reality striking him.
"Make sure to watch Little Sullivan's toys carefully," Theodore said quietly. "Don't let him come into contact with anything questionable."
With this living example before him, Bernie listened with far greater attention than he had before.
The two men met with Dr. Martinez again, and with his assistance, they were introduced to the nurse, Mary.
Mary was one of the community caregivers, responsible for three patients simultaneously, and four when David Moore was alive.
At the mention of David Moore's name, Mary's face twisted with unmistakable disdain.
She told Theodore that David Moore had been the most difficult patient she'd ever encountered.
"He didn't just hit and scream at his wife , Cynthia," she said bitterly.
"He treated the caregivers the same way. Spitting, throwing things, shouting at the top of his lungs. Every caregiver who looked after him went through it."
Her voice grew harder. "If it weren't for Cynthia begging us to stay, no one would have been willing to take care of David Moore at all."
According to Mary, David had been completely uncooperative with his treatment.
"Honestly? It's better that he's dead. It's a relief for Cynthia, too." Mary's assessment was harsh but delivered matter-of-factly. "David didn't deserve her."
Theodore leaned forward slightly. "Was he uncooperative from the beginning, or did something change along the way?"
Mary, with years of experience in patient care, immediately grasped Theodore's meaning.
"David Moore got what he deserved," she said without hesitation.
"He went from having a bad attitude to having a worse one, and then it became absolutely unbearable."
Her expression darkened as she recalled a specific incident. "One time, father and son were playing together happily, but David suddenly started screaming at the top of his lungs. Scared the poor child so badly he cried uncontrollably."
She shook her head in disgust. "From that day forward, the boy never dared get close to his father again. Wouldn't even enter David Moore's room. He didn't even spare his own child."
After saying goodbye to Mary, Bernie walked alongside Theodore toward their car.
"I'm starting to suspect the person she's describing isn't the same man I knew at all."
In Bernie's memory, David Moore had been genuinely kind.
"We used to send Little Sullivan to his house regularly, right up until about a year ago when Sullivan started school and didn't need supervision anymore."
The contrast between his recollections and Mary's account couldn't have been starker.
Theodore shook his head thoughtfully.
"Her evaluation isn't reliable. She was already fed up with caring for him. Even if David had treated her kindly, her assessment wouldn't have changed."
Bernie felt a pang of sadness hearing someone else's view of David Moore differ so dramatically from his own memories.
"Where to next?" he asked.
Theodore pulled out his notebook and sketched the layout of the Moore family's rooms from memory.
"We need to verify whether what Cynthia Moore told us is actually true."
Bernie suggested they use his house for testing, since all the houses in their row shared basically the same floor plan.
They drove to Bernie's place, where they found Mrs. Sullivan and Little Gertie were out.
After conducting their experiment, complete with shouting and wailing, they had their answer.
The sounds were barely audible in the bathroom, and with even the slightest background noise, they would be completely inaudible.
This seemed to support Cynthia's explanation.
Next, they headed to the Oil Workers Union to confirm the deceased's benefits.
They received a warm welcome at the union hall.
This wasn't just because of Councillor Santos's influence; the oil workers had developed a genuine respect for Theodore and Bernie personally.
The workers saw them as men willing to endure tremendous pressure in pursuit of truth, embodying the cowboy spirit of standing up to power and fighting for justice.
A union director dispersed the crowd of workers that had gathered around them and escorted them to his office.
After learning the purpose of their visit, he called in the relevant personnel to answer their questions.
David Moore's workplace accident had been officially classified as a work-related injury with the union's help.
The union had paid $4,000 in compensation plus short-term relief equal to 50% of his salary for six months.
The Oil Company had also provided corresponding compensation through union negotiations.
These payments came with a standard disclaimer clause that required the worker to waive their rights to any subsequent claims.
For that period, these had been exceptionally generous compensation terms, and the union had done everything possible for David Moore.
During his two debridement surgeries in 1955 and 1958, the union had also helped reduce the surgical costs.
These weren't empty promises; the union presented archived documentation proving every claim.
The director concluded by mentioning that on the day of David Moore's funeral, the union had given his widow a funeral allowance of $400.
Leaving the union building, the two men found a small restaurant for lunch.
After their meal, Theodore and Bernie began visiting pharmacies near the community, specifically looking into the medications Cynthia Moore had recently purchased.
They soon discovered what they were looking for at a pharmacy half a mile from the neighbourhood.
Ten days earlier, someone had purchased sleeping pills commonly known as 'Red Devils', red capsules containing secobarbital as the primary ingredient.
The Red Devils were fast-acting and powerful, capable of rendering someone so deeply asleep that they wouldn't wake up if the sky fell.
A single capsule provided 6-8 hours of uninterrupted sleep.
As a prescription medication, Red Devils required proper documentation.
The name registered for the purchase wasn't Cynthia's; it was listed under the deceased, David Moore.
Seeing 'David Moore' on the pharmacy record, Bernie described Cynthia to the pharmacist, but the employee denied she had been the purchaser.
Theodore thought for a moment, then described Mary instead. This time, the employee confirmed it was her.
Bernie looked at Theodore with confusion.
Without explanation, Theodore flipped forward through the records and quickly located another purchase under 'David Moore's' name.
He finished reviewing one record book, then asked the employee if 'David Moore' had used other names to purchase Red Devils or other prescription drugs.
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