sixteen

“Who’s what for?” Marcy asked as she and Brian rejoined us.

“The tea,” I answered.

Marcy raised an eyebrow. “You want to try that again?” she asked.

“Sorry. According to Harper, Dan hated tea,” I explained, “but there’s tea here.”

Brian continued to stare at me. “Lots of tea,” I added. Brian still stared. “Dan didn’t drink tea,” I finally said.

Marcy’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh. I see,” she said. From Brian’s expression, I gathered he did not.

Harper set the offending mug on the kitchen table and pushed it away from her. She pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like cheating rat bastard. Perhaps because that’s exactly what she muttered. Skippy shoved his head farther into her lap until Harper registered his presence. Staring down at him with an expression of mild surprise, she began to mechanically stroke his massive fawn-colored head.

A woman suddenly exited Dan’s bedroom, and all eyes turned to her. It was Deborah Simms, the medical examiner. It had been a few years since I’d last seen her, but she hadn’t changed a bit. A no-nonsense woman with jet-black hair and gray eyes, she wore her usual outfit of a black turtleneck and black trousers. Her only concession to color was her trademark slash of ruby-red lipstick. Seeing me, she gave a friendly nod just as an officer rolled the gurney with Dan’s body out from the bedroom.

“Nic,” she said, as she briskly crossed the room to where I stood. “What are you doing here? I heard you married some gorgeous playboy and moved to LA. Don’t tell me you’re back on the force?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m actually an old friend of the victim’s wife. She called me when she found the body.”

Deborah nodded and then her gaze landed on Nigel. “So that makes you …?” she began.

Nigel smiled and stepped forward. “The gorgeous playboy,” he said with a wink, “but you can call me Nigel if you prefer.”

A faint blush crept up Deborah’s neck, and something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle escaped her lips. I glanced at Marcy in surprise. I had never heard Deborah laugh let alone giggle. From the expression on Marcy’s face, she seemed as stunned as I was. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Deborah now said, extending her hand.

“And you as well,” Nigel said. “Nic always spoke very highly of you.”

I forced myself not to roll my eyes at Nigel’s obvious attempt at flattery. I had never once mentioned Deborah Simms to him, and he damn well knew it. But if it resulted in getting some information about Dan’s death, I wasn’t going to argue the point.

Deborah smiled up at him. “So you knew the victim?” she asked.

Nigel nodded. I noticed he was still holding her hand. “We did. We actually saw him just last night. I can’t believe that he’s dead. It’s all so sudden. Do you have any idea what happened? Was it a heart attack?”

Deborah shook her head. “It’s too early to tell, of course. I still have to run some tests, but at this point I’m leaning toward poisoning.”

“Poison,” Marcy repeated.

Deborah shifted her gaze to Marcy and nodded. “Looks that way. I’ll know more once I finish up.”

“Could it have been intentional?” Brian now asked.

Deborah raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it was definitely intentional,” she said. “But whether it was the victim’s intent or someone else’s intent I can’t answer to yet.” Her gaze then landed on Harper, who was still numbly petting Skippy’s head. “Is that the victim’s wife?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

Deborah paused a moment and then asked, “Why does she have a pony with her?”

I swallowed a laugh and explained. “Oh, that’s just our dog, Skippy. He’s a Bullmastiff.”

Deborah looked at me and then at Nigel. “Oh. Someone said something about you and an enormous dog, but I thought they were kidding.”

Nigel winked at her again. “No, the stories about Skippy are all true. It’s the ones about the pony you need to ignore.”