Page 26 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

“This is theU-100dose,” she said, tapping a finger on the screen. “U-100is thego-toinsulin for the majority of diabetics, and according to the report the ME got from Columbia Presbyterian, it’s the one Curtis Hellman has been using all his life.”

She pointed to a second vial and clicked on it. Another page came up. The headline said “U-500:Not For Ordinary Use.”

“This is theU-500,” she said. “It’s five times more potent than what Curtis needed. It could have killed him, and yet he injected it into his own arm. So your first question is going to be, was he trying to kill himself, or was somebody trying to do it for him?”

“Hopefully, you have the answer,” Kylie said.

“We got lucky,” Selma said. “The paramedic who answered the 911 call grabbed the vial and the syringe that Curtis had used. The label saidU-100, but when they sent the insulin to the lab it turned out to beU-500. The hospital immediately called the FDA, because if the drug company was putting the wrong label on a dose that would be deadly for most people, the feds can shut them down immediately.”

“Clearly that didn’t happen,” Kylie said, “or it would have beenfront-pagenews.”

“Exactly,” Selma said. “The FDA determined that the bottle labeledU-100was from one drug company, and theU-500insulin that was inside was a proprietary formula from a different company.”

“So our source was right,” I said. “Somebody switched the insulin and tried to kill him.”

“That’s what it looks like,” Selma said.

“Was it reported?” Kylie asked.

“No. The FDA contacted Curtis. They were trying to ascertain where along the chain from manufacturer to injection the compromise occurred, but he refused to cooperate, so they dropped it.”

“Just like that? No investigation?”

“It’s not their job. Once they determined that the drug companies were not at fault, Curtis’s overdose was no longer their problem. I read their summation. The doctor who wrote it cautioned that it could have been an attempted homicide, but it also could have been attempted suicide, and it’s possible that Hellman was too embarrassed to talk about it.”

“Somebody should tell that doctor to stick to medicine, because he sucks at criminology,” Kylie said. “If Curtis wanted to punch his own ticket, he’d have injected the superstrength shit into his body straight from theU-500vial. He wouldn’t go through the trouble of transferring it to alow-octanebottle.”

“But somebody did,” I said. “And if the paramedic hadn’t brought that vial in to be analyzed, it would probably have gotten lost.”

“More like Brooke would have destroyed it as soon as she got home,” Kylie said.

“Slow down,” Selma said. “Last night, you said Brooke was the only one who had the means.”

“That’s what our source told us.”

“Oh, really? I can just hear Sonia Blakely now. ‘Your source, Detective? Did you ask your source if the Hellmans have a maid? Does your source know how many days or weeks the insulin was sitting around the house? Did any guests drop by during that time? And who delivered it from the pharmacy? Did the doorman sign for it?’ I’m sorry, guys, but unless I can prove that Brooke Hellman hadexclusive accessto that vial, we don’t have a case.”

“Let’s talk about motive,” I said. “Two dead brothers, a shit ton of money. Who gets it all?”

“The wills haven’t been filed yet, so nothing is official, but I made a few calls,” Selma said. “With Warren and Curtis both gone, the entire company, which is valued at a half billion or more, all goes to Brooke.”

“Bingo,” Kylie said.

“Not so fast. That may be a motive formeto kill somebody, but Brooke already has more money than she needs. She had a hefty stockpile when she met Curtis. Since they’ve been married, she’s added to her own personal wealth, and looking at her credit card and checking transactions, she’s pampered and well cared for. Her husband didn’t deny her anything. If we try to convince a jury that she farmed out a double homicide for money, we will be laughed out of 100 Centre Street. Sonia Blakely beat us when we had all the answers. If we’re going up against her a second time, we better have all our ducks in—”

Kylie’s phone rang, cutting Selma off. It wasn’t her standard ringtone. It was the one I knew she’d set up for Shane.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s my...” She decided not to finish the sentence. “Sorry, Selma. I’ll make it quick.”

“Go ahead, take it,” Selma said.

She stood up, turned away from Selma, and answered the call. “Hey, babe, I’m in the middle of a meeting, and I really can’t—” She stopped. Her tone changed. “Yes, this is Kylie MacDonald.”

She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. Is he okay?”

Selma and I could hear only one side of the conversation, and we were doing our best to fill in the blanks.

“I’m a detective with Red,” Kylie said. “Don’t sugarcoat it for me. I want to know what happened. Break it down for me.”

---