Thursday morning brought the tox results from Patrick Duggan’s body. There had been no water in his lungs; he had hit the water already dead but from the amount of junk in his system Mac thought he had been as good as dead long before the coup de grâce of the bullet in the brain.
‘There’s the whole issue of chemical decay,’ he said to Eden as they sat in the early morning meeting, ‘but he’s got cocaine, barbiturates, speed … as well as traces of over-the-counter medications. Forensics reckons the dosages must have been dangerously high for the residues to be this obvious. It’s like he stripped the shelves of his grandad’s pharmacy and took the lot.’
Eden was thoughtful. ‘I’m assuming that’s a metaphorical thought and you’ve no evidence that—’
‘That the Duggan family business is anything less than legitimate? No. It’s run by an elderly couple and their son. Not so much as a speeding ticket between them. The couple, the Meyricks, they’re semi-retired and the son is planning on taking over. It’s a tiny little place but it doesn’t have much in the way of competition, so it looks as though it provides them with a living. Our colleagues up north are sending down anything they have, but word from them is that the chemist shop is exactly what it seems to be.’
Eden was silent for a moment then he asked, ‘What does Duggan think Mrs Martin can tell him? I’m not entirely happy about it but—’
‘I don’t know,’ Mac said. ‘I’ve no desperate worries though. I’ll be there and I doubt Duggan will faze Rina though I’m looking forward to seeing how he gets on with the rest of the household. The Martins can be a bit overwhelming.’
‘I can imagine. How much does he know, do you reckon, about his son’s disappearance?’
‘I think he suspects who, but I get the impression it’s all a bit more complicated than we know as yet and I also wonder just how deep into all this Edward Parker had dug himself.’