Page 12 of Death on a Scottish Train

Almost all of the machines were still running. But something dinged on the main computer. When I brought it up, it was the first part of the tox screen.

I frowned. “That’s odd.”

I headed back to the autopsy room. I still had work to do.

Chapter Four

The next morning came way too soon, but I was curious about the lab results Abigail had run over night. I wanted to see if they came to the same conclusion I had the night before.

After a quick shower, and dressing in my favorite jeans and dark purple sweater, I headed downstairs. I grabbed a quick cup of espresso and headed through the hall to my office.

Abigail was already at her desk in the reception area.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

“Because you knew I’d be just as curious as you are about the tests.”

“Did anything of interest come up? Other than the histamine profile?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You already looked?”

“Only at the ones that were completed last night. I went over the body but did not see any kind of puncture wound.”

“So, he ingested the bee venom and must have been highly allergic, according to the reports.”

“Someone must have put it in his food or drink.”

“Except the only thing in his stomach was some French bread and tomato soup,” she said. “I’m testing the contents again for a more specific profile.”

“Good,” I said. “But there was significant swelling of his lips so the venom must have passed through them at some point. I looked at thebrochure picture of him from last night. He had quite thin lips in the photos. But as we saw, his mouth was swollen.”

“I’ll keep testing. Maybe, we’ll find the answer there. Still, if someone was trying to kill him, there are easier ways.”

“True.”

My stomach made a horrible grumbling sound, and we laughed.

“I’m going to head down to the pub for a quick bite to eat. Do you want me to bring you anything?”

“I had breakfast with Tommy. He’s here by the way, out in the back doing end-of-summer plantings.”

Her brother was an incredible horticulturalist and kept my gardens around the old church beautiful. He knew more than most in the business who were twice his age.

“It’s Saturday; if they have any of the blueberry scones left, I’ll bring you some.”

“I wouldn’t turn one away.” She and Tommy loved the scones that Mara’s grandmother made.

I made the short jaunt down the hill. It was a cloudy day, and even though it was summer, the temperature was chilly. That didn’t seem to matter to the Scots who swam and surfed in the frigid waters off the coast of Sea Isle even when it poured rain. I would never understand it.

I could barely stand to put my feet in the water.

“Morning,” Mara said from behind the bar. Even though it appeared clean, she wiped down my favorite spot at the bar.

As I made my way through the pub there was an audible hush of the crowd.

“Any news?” Mara said a little louder than necessary.

“Nothing yet. Tests are inconclusive,” I said just as loud.