Mystery Loves Company

Chapter 8 - File #2.6: The Real Thief

Avery

Now I got it why even the chief—who was, in fact, close to him—couldn't stand Rhett Carver. He had this stupid grin who would show up whenever he felt overjoyed. For the sake of my folder, I should bear it for a bit longer because he could do that all day long.

"Okay! Tell me everything you remember from my notebook," he demanded.

"The most striking part is obviously sketch of an old man with devil horns," I recalled, "and the words beneath it are Professor Pine-head suc—"

"I mean, the last thing I wrote," he quickly cut me, before I revealed that he actually liked to bad-mouth his professor. I bet he and this Professor Pine-head had a bad history that he couldn't easily forget.

I then elaborated it the way I exactly remembered it. "There was a Dr. Quinn who gave you the List of Stolen Prescription Drugs paper," I continued. "There were six drugs listed. Five bottles of Oxycodone 10mg, four bottles of—"

"Hold on," he stopped me. He was frozen with his mouth open. Was that how detective acted when they were struck by some new important facts about the cases they were working on? "That's it!"

"What's it?"

He looked so happy that he shook my shoulders frantically. I groaned and was annoyed by the action. "Sir, can you take us to the campus clinic?"

"I'm not your chaffeur, Rhett," responded the officer right away.

"Do me a favor. Just this once."

The officer sighed. He didn't look sincere, but he actually drove us to the medical building, at which the campus clinic was located next to it.

"Wait, I thought we're going back to the park... to your car... to my folder!" I snarled.

"You'll get your folder, I promise. But now," he smiled, "We have to make things right first."

As he was rushing to the pharmacy, I was feeling like shouting his name again. But, no, I'd had enough people staring at me at the park before, so I just followed him.

The pharmacy was cold like the air outside. When Rhett slowed his steps, I did too. He was looking at the janitor who was sweeping the floor. By the time the janitor lifted his head, he was startled to see us—Rhett, to be exact.

"Surprised to see me again, Doctor?" Rhett smirked.

The man that was in his early 30's put a confused and terrified face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you do. For starter, you're not Dr. Quinn," accused Rhett. "There's no way in hell that a doctor would deliberately give the list of prescription drugs to strangers, especially the stolen ones."

Wait. So the 'Dr. Quinn' he had written on the notebook was actually this man? Rhett was mistaking a janitor for a doctor? And he was so proud calling himself a detective.

"I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong person," said the janitor, and then continued his work.

"No, I don't. You gave me that list last night, I'm sure of it!" exclaimed Rhett. "I broke that shelf, remember? You were there!"

I knew I only knew Rhett for a short period, but the news of him breaking something wasn't really surprising.

Another man, about 50 years of age, came out of the door behind the counter. He wore a white coat—had to be a doctor. "What's going on here?" He probably heard the little quarrel here that he decided to break it up.