Monday Mourning

”

“Had she found it empty?”

“She thinks so. Remember, this Bastillo isn’t the sharpest knife in the set.”

“Did you find medications other than those that came in with the body?” LaManche asked.

“Vioxx for arthritis. You’ve got that. Otherwise, just the standard medicine cabinet collection. Calcium. Aspirin. Preparation H. Half-used tube of Neosporin. Over-the-counter allergy meds.”

“Anything unusual about the mug being in the bedroom?” I asked.

“According to Bastillo, her mother’s snoring registers a seven on the Richter.

Parent was a light sleeper so when she hit the sack her habit was to knock back a couple of Ambien with herbal tea. If the mug held anything, and she isn’t sure that it did, Bastillo says she would have figured it was tea and tossed it.”

“Probably a good idea to get that mug,” I said.

“Yes, ma’am.” Ryan nodded solemnly.

My cheeks flamed. Of course they’d collected the mug.

“We can do amylase testing for Parent’s saliva on the pillowcase, but that won’t be particularly useful,” said LaManche.

“Old ladies drool,” I said.

“They’re known for doing it,” Ryan agreed.

“Did you find any indication when Rose Fisher last slept at home?” LaManche asked.

“Bed was made. Nightdress was on a hook on the bathroom door.” Ryan pointed a finger at me. “No mug on the nightstand.”

No snappy answer catapulted to mind.

“Bastillo said her mother often retired later than her aunt,” Ryan added.

For a full minute we all studied the photos. Then Ryan spoke to LaManche.

“What’s the word, Doc? We got a homicide?”

LaManche straightened, hands still clasped behind his back.

“Continue your investigation, Detective. This is definitely suspicious. I will inform you when I have toxicology results.”

When LaManche had gone Ryan and I spent a few more moments scanning the photos. A leaden feeling was settling in the pit of my stomach.

I broke the silence.

“She was murdered.”

“LaManche isn’t totally convinced.” Ryan’s voice was resonant with sensibleness.

“Parent made calls claiming to have information about three dead girls.

Four days later she’s found dead in her bed with feathers in her mouth.”

“Old ladies die.”

“So where’s her sister?”

“That’s a mystery.”

“What did Parent want to tell me about the bones?”

“That’s another mystery.”

Ryan winked.

My stomach tried a flip, landed on its backside.

I took a breath.

“What’s up with us, Andy?”

Ryan regarded me with eyes as blue as a Bahamian bay.

A debating team took their seats in my head.