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Doctor Vance was the president of one of the largest hate groups in the entire country, so to say I was surprised at his appearance would have been an understatement of epic proportions. He could’ve been anybody’s grandfather. He wasn’t a large man, and his face was comfortably lined with age. His bald head was fringed with a half circle of silver hair that started just above the ears, and he wore round gold-framed glasses. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled to the elbow and an expensive watch gleamed at his wrist. The only sign of nerves I could see was the way he rolled his water bottle back and forth in his hands.
“Doctor Vance,” Jack said, taking the seat across from him. “Thanks for coming in to see us today. I’m hoping to clear up a few things.”
I took the seat next to Jack, and was already fidgeting to get out. There was something about the room that made me uneasy. Which I guess was its intention. But being enclosed in a 9x9 square room with painted concrete block walls wasn’t helping my anxiety. The table was metal and bolted to the floor, and the wooden chair I sat in had a short leg, so if I shifted in my seat it wobbled. The two-way mirror was non-existent. Just walls that kept closing in.
“It’s important to maintain a good relationship with the police,” Doctor Vance said. His voice was higher than I’d expected it to be.
“That’s good,” Jack said, tossing the thick file he’d brought in on the table. “Then we’ll get right to it.”
Jack took out the little cassette recorder and placed it between them on the table. I knew Jack had been trying to get the council to increase the technology budget so they could go digital, but so far his requests had fallen on deaf ears.
“Interview with Doctor Gregory Vance,” Jack said after he’d hit the record button. “You’ve been read your rights and have declined representation at this time, correct?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Vance said.
“This is Doctor Graves,” Jack said. “She’s the coroner for King George County. She’ll sit in on the interview with your permission.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you need,” he said, his cordial smile turning to a smirk. Dead doctors weren’t consideredrealdoctors in most circles, and I’d gotten used to the condescension from colleagues over the past couple of years.
“State for the record your occupation,” Jack said.
“I’ve been a general practitioner in Gloucester going on twenty years now.”
“Do you have hospital access?”
If Vance was surprised by the question he didn’t show it. “Yes, I make morning rounds twice a week, sometimes more if I’ve got a patient that’s critical.”
Jack nudged my foot under the table and I realized it was my turn. We’d discussed our strategy briefly on the short walk to the interview room.
“Do you know the drug Diprivan?” I asked.
“Of course.” He turned back to Jack, trying to take control away from me. I leaned forward and got his attention again, and the corners of his mouth tightened in either anger or annoyance, I couldn’t be sure. I’d been known to bring out both emotions in the opposite sex.
“Did you sign for a ten milliliter vial two Mondays ago after your morning rounds?”
Vance’s brows rose, but his face was as pleasant and passive as ever. “Obviously I did if you have the record of it, Ms. Graves. Let’s not play games.” I decided to ignore the slight he gave me by not using my title. “It’s common enough during surgeries. But I’m not a surgeon, and I’m not an anesthesiologist, so I don’t often have use of it, if that’s what you’re asking. But that particular morning, one of the anesthesiologists was running late. He’d met a woman the night before and ended up at her place. Unfortunately, he was an hour and a half away and he had a nine o’clock surgery. He asked me to sign for the drugs, so I did. It’s not a usual practice, but hardly illegal.”
“The doctor’s name?” Jack asked.
“Robert Goss. He’s a good doctor. Young and a little impulsive if his sexual habits are anything to go by, but we all know how it feels to be reeled in by a woman’s sexuality. It is, after all, why they were created. You can’t fault the man for falling to temptation. Women were born of sin.”
I rolled my eyes and pinched Jack’s leg under the table to get a move on. I suddenly felt very sorry for Mrs. Vance.
“Where were you the afternoon of Sunday, March 27th, between the hours of noon and six PM?” Jack asked.
“Well,” Vance said, his furrowed brow crinkling further. “Where I am every Sunday afternoon. Church services end around twelve-thirty or so. And then I took my wife, kids and grandkids to lunch. We headed back to the house around three where we watched the Knicks beat the 76ers. A fairly standard Sunday in our household.”
“What about Friday morning between the hours of midnight and four AM?”
“Asleep, of course. I have rounds early Friday mornings. I have to be at the hospital by six AM. My wife can verify if need be.”
“I’ll make sure to contact her,” Jack said, catching Vance off guard with the promise.
I could tell by looking at the good doctor that he felt completely in control of this interview. He was pleasant, but he was also very intelligent and he knew how to show patience and restraint. He’d have to know how as the leader of a group of men as volatile as those belonging to the Aryan Nation.
“How do the people of Gloucester feel about their doctor being involved in one of the most prominent hate groups in America?” Jack asked.
Vance leaned forward and linked his fingers. He was enjoying himself, being the center of attention. “Most don’t know.” One side of his mouth quirked in an amused smile.
