Chapter 9
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Sam sat on the stiff chair as she waited for Dr. Emerson Barkhurst to finish with a patient. Dr. Barkhurst worked in Sports Medicine and his lobby reflected his interests. There were framed photos of Dr. Barkhurst with various sports legends all along the walls. The magazines on the tables were Sports Illustrated, Runner's World, and ESPN. It was no wonder that he and Martin got along.
"Agent Spade, Dr. Barkhurst will see you now." The receptionist announced as she stood behind the counter.
Sam stood up and followed her down a hall and into an office with large windows that looked out onto Central Park. Dr. Barkhurst was sitting behind a large oak desk and was on the phone. He held a finger up to Sam indicating that he was almost done with the phone call.
Sam sat down on the leather chair in front of the desk and gave Dr. Barkhurst an annoyed look. He finished his phone call and hung up.
"Sorry, Carol said you were here to talk about Martin?" Dr. Barkhurst asked in a deep baritone voice. "What's going on? Is he okay?"
"He's missing. Dr. Barkhurst, according to Charlie he told you about Martin's condition and that you said you were going to check on him." Sam replied as she leaned back and crossed her legs.
"Please, call me Emerson. Yes, I saw him yesterday afternoon."
Emerson sat on the coffee table and had a wooden tongue depressor in Martin's mouth. He looked at Martin's throat and then pulled the depressor out and said, "Well, you are sick."
"Astute diagnosis, you went to medical school for that?" Martin replied with a sly grin as he leaned back onto the sofa.
"Well, you know I only went into medicine for the chicks and money." Dr. Barkhurst replied laughing.
"I figured as much." Martin commented as he bunched the quilt around his shoulders like a giant cape. "So, doc, what's your prescription?"
"Rest, drink plenty of fluids…." Martin rolled his eyes and Emerson laughed, "Yeah, I know but really those are the best things for you. Sorry."
Martin smiled and said, "Well, thanks for coming by to check up on me. At least if my boss asks I can honestly say I did see a doctor."
"Glad to help." Emerson started packing his medical bag. "Think of it this way: now you can have that girlfriend of yours fuss over you. Hey, you never told me: did she like the tickets to the Knicks game?"
"Well, we're not together anymore." Martin replied softly.
"Oh, sorry about that." Emerson said gently. "Oh, well, there are plenty of fish in the sea and all that right?"
"Yeah, sure." Martin said as he looked at Emerson with sad eyes. "Thanks again for coming by."
Emerson stood up to walk to the front door and Martin moved to stand. "No, stay here, I'll let myself out. Just be sure to rest and I'll try and check back up on you in a couple of days."
Martin nodded his head and started coughing. He followed Emerson with his eyes and when Emerson reached the door he gave him a wave goodbye.
"And that was it. I thought I might stop by tonight to see how he was."
She swallowed back the guilt in knowing that this man was the one who gave Martin the highly precious courtside seats. She wondered what he finally did with the tickets. With a stern voice she asked, "What about the medicine you prescribed?"
Emerson looked at her perplexedly and replied, "I didn't prescribe anything."
Sam pulled a plastic bag out of her jacket pocket that held the prescription bottle. Thankfully she had thought to go back up to Martin's apartment to grab it for reference.
She tossed it on the desk and Emerson picked it up and read the label.
"I didn't prescribe this." Emerson replied looking at it. He pressed the bottle up against the plastic baggy to study the pills. "I'm not sure what these pills are without taking them out but they are definitely not antibiotics." Squinting, he looked closer and added, "Actually, you might want to have these tested because the shape and size looks like Rohypnol."
"The date rape drug?" Sam suddenly felt the rush in knowing that they uncovered a very important clue.
"I can't be sure since this is bagged but they look like them." He handed Sam the bag and said, "Do you have any idea who would want to hurt Martin?"
"We're working on it." Sam stood up and said, "Thank you Emerson, you've been a big help."
"Have you talked to Martin's ex-girlfriend? I don't know her name but she might be of some help." Emerson offered.
Sam was unsure what to say, she didn't know what was sadder: being the ex-girlfriend or the fact that a friend of Martin's didn't even know her name. So she simply said, "She knows and she is doing everything she can to find him."