I woke to Jayne’s arm across my chest and Sugar on my pillow. I shifted slightly, which was all I could do, being pinned like that, and was about to go back to sleep when I heard conversation in the other room. I couldn’t quite make out the words, but it sounded like Birdie and my dad.
The clock said we’d only been asleep for a little over two hours, but I was instantly awake.
I slipped free of Jayne’s arm without waking her and got up. Sugar spread out to take up the pillow real estate I’d left behind.
I went out to the living room. I was done sleeping, but I was definitely going to need some coffee. Forget some. A lot of coffee. My dad was standing behind Birdie, and both of them were peering at her computer screen. “Something happening?”
My dad looked over. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. Birdie was just saying the autopsy report was in.”
“Autopsy? On… Lou? Already?”
Birdie nodded. “Yes. I guess they didn’t have much else going on.”
“I know autopsies aren’t done in the case where the reason for death was ruled natural causes, so how did you swing it?”
“You’re right. They’re not,” she said. “Unless a family relative requests one or there’s an ongoing police matter that involves the decedent.”
“You got one of Lou’s family members to ask for an autopsy? You are good, Birdie.”
She pursed her lips. “Not exactly.”
“So how did you get one done?” I really needed coffee.
“I may have pretended to be Lou’s sister.” She shrugged. “Proof for that sort of thing is pretty easy to whip up online. It’s not like they do a lot of checking either.”
Jayne walked up beside me. “Checking on what?” She yawned.
“On Birdie pretending to be Lou’s sister to get an autopsy report done.”
Jayne nodded. “Good job, Birdie. When do you think the report will be in?”
“It just showed up. I was about to read it. It’ll take me a few minutes to process it, though. Lots of medical terms and whatnot. Plus there’s all the boring stuff to wade through. Age, weight, height, description of the clothing he had on, property he had on him like the contents of his wallet, any personal effects, any scars or tattoos…” She shrugged. “Like I said, I need a few minutes.”
“Cool. While you do that, I’m going to get some coffee.” She looked at me. “Please tell me there’s coffee.”
“No idea. I just woke up myself. If there’s not coffee, we’ll make some, because that’s the only way I’m going to stay awake.”
My father nodded at the kitchen. “There’s plenty. Help yourselves. And if you empty the pot, I’ll get another one going.”
“Thanks.” Jayne headed in.
I lingered a second longer. “Did you call Tony?”
“No, but I guess it’s late enough that I can do that now.” He took out his phone.
I went after Jayne, desperate for caffeine.
We both filled our cups, and there was still another cup in the pot. I could see us drinking that pretty quickly, though.
“Tony? It’s Anson. Sorry for the early hour.” In the other room, my dad nodded. “No, nothing yet. That’s why I’m calling. Just to see if—oh, sure. I understand. Thanks, though. Right. Talk to you later.” He hung up and looked at us, shaking his head. “Nothing new.”
“Still worth a shot,” I said. “And you didn’t wake him so that was good.”
“No, he was driving actually. Said Gabi called and was desperate to see him, so he’s headed out there. I’m happy for them. That they’re working things out.” Nothing about my dad said he was happy, but I didn’t expect him to be jumping for joy.
Tony might be getting things back on track with his wife, but that only had to make my dad’s situation harder.
He came into the kitchen. “Let me make some more. Birdie, you want the last cup before I make a new pot?”
I moved out of his way. I understood needing something to do.
“Sure,” she said. She was laser-focused on the PDF document before her. I could just make out an anatomical drawing with notes.
My dad took the pot out to her and refilled her cup. I knew her well enough to know she was going to want cream, sugar, caramel syrup, whipped cream, and a sprinkling of cinnamon, if she could get it.
Except she picked up the cup and took a sip like she always drank black coffee. I straightened. There had to be something pretty interesting in that report for Birdie not to be bothered by a boring cup of joe.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Jayne
I nudged Sinclair. “Are you seeing that?”
“You mean Birdie drinking black coffee?”
I nodded. “That’s not normal.” Birdie’s idea of coffee was that it was a vehicle for sugar and flavorings. The more the merrier.
“No, it’s not,” Sin said.
“Something’s up.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Agreed.”
Simultaneously, we took our coffee into the other room to be closer to her. We sat across from her at the dining-room table, sipping our drinks and waiting with the kind of anticipation I hadn’t felt since our wedding day.
We watched her reading. Her gaze stayed fixed on the document, the computer screen lighting up her glasses with a blue glow that made it harder to see her eyes.
She put her hand on her chin, then tapped her upper lip with one finger. “This is interesting.”
We both leaned forward and said, “What?”
She didn’t look up, just reread something. “They found trace amounts of ketamine in Lou’s blood.”
“What’s that?” I asked. It sounded like a vitamin.
She finally lifted her head. “It’s a tranquilizer of sorts.”
Sin seemed less impressed. “He was taking a bunch of meds. Wouldn’t surprise me if he was taking a few other things that weren’t prescribed.”
Birdie made a face. “I don’t think…let me back up.”
Anson came in. “Did you find something?”
“Ketamine,” I said, still not totally clear on why that was a big deal yet. “Birdie was about to explain.”
He leaned on the back of the couch to listen.
“Ketamine,” she started again, “is, well, for one thing, it isn’t really prescribed for humans anymore. When it is used, it’s generally used as a recreational drug. However, one of the interesting things about ketamine is the way the body metabolizes it. So in Lou’s case, the amount that was detected in his system is probably about two percent of what the real dose was. And given that he lived about five hours after you two found him…”
She glanced upward, like she was trying to figure something out. “My conclusion is that the real dose was far more than anyone would use recreationally.” She focused on the screen again, scanning the document before her with more intensity than the last time.
Suddenly, she looked up again. “Did you know he was also a diabetic? The man was not in good health. Overweight, bad heart, high cholesterol.” She shook her head. “Whoever did this knew him. Knew what kind of shape he was in.”