Page 60 of Murder Will Out
Willow heard an anxious whine from the hallway behind her.
It was Finn. He was not happy with her; his pointed face made his displeasure abundantly clear.Where do you think you’re going? It’s wet and cold outside, and I can smell the rain. You’re about to do something irresponsible and ill-advised, aren’t you? Be smart; finda nice blanket and curl up underneath it. If you make me a grilled cheese sandwich, I’ll share it with you.The feathery tail gave an encouraging wag.
Willow smiled, walking over to the corgi and scratching behind his pointed ears. “You stay here, boy. I won’t be long; I need to check on something. Stay and take care of Rina. She needs the company. Go do your emotional support animal thing. Go to Rina. Rina.”
The dog looked at her suspiciously, then made a little chuffing sound and trudged back up the hallway to Rina’s room.
You be careful, he seemed to say as he gave her one last look.I won’t be there to rescue you this time, you know.
“It’s okay, boy. I won’t need rescuing,” she said confidently.
She hoped it was true.
Willow slipped Sue’s oversize green coat off the hanger. Promising herself she wouldn’t do anything stupid, she shoved her arms into the too-long sleeves, pulled the jacket’s warmth around her like a talisman, and stepped out into the whipping wind and rain.
She didn’t think Sue would mind.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Nick Tyler sat at his desk in the little mainland police station, his finger clicking on the Refresh button in his email every twenty seconds. What was taking so long?
A few years ago, Nick had gone on a few dates with the pretty brunette who worked in the forensics lab; they had enjoyed each other’s company, bonded over their enjoyment ofDoctor Who, and parted amicably when she realized she was still in love with her ex-boyfriend. Nick had brooded for about forty-one hours, during which time he realized his ego might be bruised but his heart was not particularly broken. They remained friends, and his life went on comfortably without her in its center.
This had not prevented him from taking advantage of Jodie’s still-guilty conscience for unceremoniously dumping him; he didn’t often beg her to slip his requests through more quickly than her lab would ever admit was humanly possible, but when he did, she usually came through.
A new message appeared at the top of his inbox from Jodie. He clicked it open; there were several attachments and two words:Call me.He picked up the phone and dialed her number, his fingers drumming impatiently on the desk as he waited for her to pick up.
The coroner’s phone call that morning, confirmed by the preliminary written report, had confirmed what he had suspected all along—that Willow and her nosy band of research nerds were correct, and Geralt Talbot’s lithium poisoning had been developing for weeks. Considering the extent to which Rina and Geralt had habitually avoided one another, no one could place them together long enough for Rina to have had access. Nor could anyone on the island recall ever seeing Rina in conversation with Naomi—or, for that matter, with anyone working at the Talbots’ house on the other side of Little North. Geralt and Naomi had always brought their own people in from Boston when they came to the island, and the staff more or less kept to themselves.
Jodie picked up on the third ring. “Nick?”
“Hey, Jodie; got your email. Thanks for pushing it through.”
“No worries. And I know you’ll go through the fine print, but I wanted to make sure you got it and that you knew your super-specific question came back with a definite yes. There were traces in the plastic bottle and in the remaining bits of liquid. Fairly high concentration, given lithium carbonate is only partially soluble in water, but I’ll tell you what else—whoever put it there clearly knew exactly how much would be able to dissolve in the liquid without leaving a visible sediment. And if they knew that, they would also have known lithium carbonate has a faintly sour taste and that it would be easily disguised by the artificial lemon flavor. Your victim drank a lot of it?”
Nick felt a grin spreading over his face. “By the case, literally. The coroner said he’d been taking the lithium into his system for a while, and guess what one of the side effects of chronic lithium toxicity is?”
Jodie didn’t hesitate. “Thirst. It’s diabolically perfect, really; give the man something that makes him thirsty so you can putthe same poison that makes him thirsty right into his primary drinking source.”
“Fingerprints?” Nick asked, moving on to the second page of her report.
“A search for fingerprints on the bottle gave us your victim and one unknown set”—Probably Willow’s, Nick thought—“and that’s it.”
Damn.But that would have been too easy, he supposed.
“On the bottle,” Jodie said mischievously. “Now ask me about the cap.”
Hope bloomed. “Okay, Jodie, tell me about the cap.”
“Say please.”
“Oh, for God’s—please. Please, Jodie, tell me what you found on the cap.”
He could hear her on the other end of the line trying not to laugh. “Don’t get your hopes up too high; it’s not exactly the brass ring. But I don’t think they are the original caps. One of my coworkers swills down this stuff on a regular basis—I don’t know how, I find it pretty nasty—and has a stash by his desk. I compared the cap on this bottle to his; it fits perfectly, but it doesn’t have the company logo stamped on the lid.”
His mind was leaping ahead. “You’re suggesting that, to get the poison into his sealed bottles of fancy flavored water, someone opened them all, added and dissolved the powder, andreplacedthe original lids with new ones that made the bottles appear to have never been opened?” His email chimed.
“I sent you a link. You can buy ’em on the internet. You can buy anything on the internet,” she said a little smugly.
