Chapter Seventeen

It took me five hours to do a two-hour autopsy due to all my “help.”

They giggled and fumbled their way into the protective gear—putting gowns on backwards, shields on upside down, Nola Landry spilling hand sanitizer everywhere. I had to stop the initial incision three times because it was “jarring.” Their words. I offered them an out several times, but of course each time they declined.

“Just give us a minute.” They all agreed that was all the time they needed to collect themselves and to see their good friend autopsied. Auntie laughed at them, she was used to doing procedures on the dead.

I just huffed my way through getting them acclimated. Then they had me to explain everything I did, my recording was going to be sorely littered with their voices—all their exclamations and squeals—forever preserved. On the record. And then, as I recited my conclusions into the mic in medical-ese, they all wanted me to tell them what it all meant.

I didn’t do that.

I did, in the course of my work, give them a mini lesson on the anatomy. But that’s all they got. I couldn’t give information out willy-nilly on a murder investigation.

Yep. Murder investigation. That was what it was. Eugenia Elder did die from a myocardial infarction—a heart attack in layman’s terms, but it was only secondary to the poisoning which had been easy for me to see with just a cursory look inside.

And that was exactly what I told Pogue when I finally finished and had shooed those pesky peepers out of my examination room.

“I have to send the samples off, but Miss Vivee was right,” I told him.

“Murder?”

“Murder,” I said.

“Goddarn it!” he said. “When is this going to stop?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know why it started.”

“What is wrong with people? Killing other folks. And in these diabolical ways.” I heard him suck his tongue. “What happened to our peaceful little Roble?”

“I guess that it’s finally catching up with the rest of the world.”

“Is this what’s going on in the rest of the world?”

“Pretty much,” I said.

“Wow. I guess that’s why I stayed here and didn’t venture out too far. So did you see what Miss Vivee saw?”

“If you mean could I have called it before the autopsy, I would have to say no,” I said, wondering how in the world Miss Vivee and Mac did it. “I did notice the greenish tinge to her skin, but I don’t think I would have known what that meant. I surely wouldn’t have thought she’d been poisoned by hydrofluoric acid.”

“Well, it’s a good thing they gave you a heads up. We might not have gotten the autopsy done and found out what really happened.”

“I agree,” I said. “It’s not official though, not until I get everything back, but I’m calling it homicide. I’m releasing her body to the Ball Funeral Home and Crematorium.”

“Babet?”

“Yes. Our funeral home. Even though we got that information from part of a letter, I think it was what Miss Eugenia wanted,” I said. “It’s what Delphine wants and she’s the one in charge of the money.”

I heard him suck in a breath. “Okay,” he said. “That’ll be okay, I guess. Mr. Elder might have other ideas. I think first thing I need to do is see the other page to that letter Delphine Griffith had. Hiding things is always some admission of guilt about something.”

“Good idea,” I said, and didn’t mention Delphine was cleaning up in the bathroom right down the hall from where I sat.

“Alright. Get back to me once you get the results back.”

“Will do,” I said.

“And Romaine…”

“Yeah?”

“No snooping,” he said. “If someone comes to you or Babet with some information, talk to them and let me know what they said. But don’t go out seeking any.”

“Gotcha,” I said.

“Thanks, Cousin,” he said in a softer tone. The one I was used to hearing from him. “I couldn’t have gotten through all of these without you.”

“No problem. That’s what family is for.”