Detective Murphy entered his office. A middle-aged, redheaded woman followed behind. She looked tired and hungry, and though Finch and I stood three feet away, she never looked over. Murphy sat at his desk, looked at me, and said, “Thanks for coming in.”
“You wanted to see me?” I asked.
He tipped his head toward the redhead. “Tell her what you told me.”
I glanced at the redhead. “Who are you?”
“Celia Burke.”
“Ah, you’re the coroner. I’m Joss, and this is Finch.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen your show.” She had a sour look on her face when she said it. “Murphy told me you asked if Alexandra Weston was poisoned.”
I nodded. She nodded too.
“She was. I found traces of fluoroacetate in her system.”
Finch raised a brow. “Fluoro what?”
“It’s a rodenticide,” I said. “She must have ingested it when she drank the coffee. Did anyone test the mug?”
Murphy shook his head. “I didn’t. It wasn’t found at the scene.”
“Wouldn’t she have tasted it in the coffee?” Finch asked.
Celia shook her head. “Fluoroacetate is water soluble. It has no taste, no smell. It’s not easy to come by anymore though. It was used on rodents in the ’40s. Now it’s mainly used against coyotes around here. They’ve been responsible for several pet deaths in the area lately.”
“It makes sense,” I said. “Alexandra was jittery, especially toward the end of our conversation. Her hands were shaking.”
“The poison also caused her to vomit,” Celia said, “which explains why we found what we did in the toilet. It’s a nasty poison. The amount she consumed could have affected her perception.”
“Meaning?” I asked.
“It could have made her hallucinate.”
“Aside from the jittery hands, she communicated she was okay when I talked to her. What else did you find?”
“The usual ... prints, hair fibers,” Murphy said. “It’s a public bathroom though, so there’s a lot to go through.”
“What about the knife recovered from the dumpster? Was the handle removed and tested?”
The question seemed to irritate her.
“The crime lab tested everything.” She sighed. “The odds of finding blood were slim considering it wasn’t the murder weapon.”
“The killer must have been there when she died,” I said. “She definitely didn’t have a cut on her neck when I saw her.”
Murphy nodded at Celia. “That will be all, Burke. Thanks for your time.”
She walked out, leaving the door wide open.
“Is she always this happy?” I joked. “Is she related to Blunt?”
“She’s on the shy side,” Murphy replied. “She doesn’t like people.”
“I appreciate you including me, but couldn’t you have given me this information over the phone?”
Murphy raised a finger. “I’m not done. Close the door.”
Finch reached out, pushed the door closed.
“Porter Wells called me this morning,” Murphy said. “He said you stopped by his house today, asked a lot of questions.”
“And?”
“He didn’t like it.”
“Porter Wells called just to say he didn’t like me showing up at his house?”
“He also asked for a restraining order. He doesn’t want you around him or Chelsea.”
“Are you kidding?”
He frowned. “There wasn’t anything I could do. Of course, he can’t get a restraining order over the phone. He needs to fill out a petition form.”
“I know that and you know that, but he may not. Did you enlighten him?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have time to hold his hand. He can figure it out like everyone else. I need to know why you went to his home though.”
“Did Barbara Berry come talk to you yesterday?”
“For a few minutes. Why?”
“I met with her. She said she thought no one here took her seriously. She claimed Porter was after Alexandra’s money and Doyle was a stalker.”
“I’m well aware of her opinions. We did a complete search of Alexandra’s home, talked to Porter, talked to Doyle Eldridge. There’s no hard evidence on either one of them. Sure, Porter’s full of himself and Doyle’s a little odd, but you can’t arrest someone for that. ‘Odd’ doesn’t make Doyle a stalker or a killer, and ‘pride’ doesn’t make Porter so money hungry he’d murder her for more of it.”
“Do you have any other leads? Any other suspects?”
“Look, the real reason I asked you here, Miss Jax, was to remind you to let us do our job. I’m not trying to be rude, but maybe it’s time for you to leave town.”
I nodded and walked out of his office, leaving Murphy behind his desk, still talking to me like I cared what he had to say.
“Now hang on,” Murphy called after me. “There’s no need to get upset. I appreciate your interest and your help. And I loved meeting you in person.”
I didn’t turn back.
I didn’t reply.
I just kept on walking.