Reach of Destiny

Untitled Part 5

CHAPTER FIVE

1710 Hours, Saturday June 24th, 1922

Toronto City Morgue

Julia just sat down to her coffee when Detective Murdoch and one of his constables finally waltzed in. She recognized Constable Crabtree from Friday night at the Crown Club, a slight, youthful-looking man she guessed was no more than twenty-five. She always found it hard to tell about the ages -- or heights -- of men in uniform, finding the uniform to be a great equalizer and to add extra years or gravitas to a man's bearing. The copper's topper added four inches, minimum.

Both Murdoch and Crabtree had the same grim expression.

Julia was not particularly chipper either, the two autopsies she completed today making her arms and feet and back ache miserably. Stretching had not helped one whit; she complained to herself about having gotten to feel so old. But she tried to smile, mindful of her bet with Ruby about seducing the detective. "Gentlemen," she set her cup down, "you are here for the results of my day's work?"

"Yes, Doctor. Do you have any more information?"

The detective removed his hat, prompting the constable to remove his helmet. Politeness aside, he remained focused on the case. Julia mused if he ever was not focused on work.

It certainly wasn't making her wager with Ruby any easier.

She found herself starting with a complaint. "Aside from a traffic accident victim whose cause of death was relatively easy to determine, I have eight other dead individuals to autopsy." She gave a last, longing look at her cup of coffee, then turned to the folder she prepared, and opened it. She cleared her throat. "I can tell you at least one of them, Mr. Landswell, did not die of natural causes. He was an otherwise healthy individual. Sectioning of his liver indicates there is no evidence he was alcoholic and there is no other tissue damage. I have concluded he was poisoned."

"And which poison, Doctor?" the detective said, a little too quickly. Instead of apologizing for his impatience, he clamped his lips tighter.

"If the poison was cumulative, I would have seen visible organ and tissue damage in the samples I took. I did not. I also confirmed it with a test for inorganic compounds, which was negative." She saw the edge of the detective's mouth twitch. He already knows that, Julia, she told herself.

"And..." he prompted.

Clearly his version of restraint. She withheld her exasperation, but he got the message, making an apology in her direction. But he still held steady for an answer. "The scientific process requires systematic analysis," she reminded him. "I did a general test for alkaloids in each of three samples, blood, stomach contents and the bottle of cognac, which were all positive."

He continued to stand there; pencil poised over his notebook.

"Mr. Landswell's death was due to asphyxia brought on by chemical poisoning of the neural pathways which control breathing." Julia handed him a prepared page. "I have a list of chemical compounds which result in respiratory arrest to test for, but I only had enough reagents for four tests--the four I already conducted. I put typical chemicals which are used to denature alcohol at the top of the list." She paused. "It is still a long list."

"Do you have an informed hypothesis, Doctor...?"

"A guess, Detective? You don't strike me as the type to appreciate guesses. I am still without enough material to complete the list, not to mention the comparative analysis for court on all eight corpses and the accompanying reference samples of presumptive tainted alcohol." She said this plainly trying not to be defensive under his scrutiny. Previous coroners figured it out despite inadequate resources and this persnickety detective with whom to contend, so she can too. "But whatever it was, he consumed it within hours of his death."