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"You and I are used to dealing with mysteries that live on the page."
"There are no bad guys. There are just complicated people who did bad things."
"I've got enough crime fact in my life. I don't need to read about it."
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When c...
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Because the suicide scene had been closed down and deemed useless, we had no use for a key. But with Alex's new revelation - as well as some additional information - we needed back in. I told her to call Mason while I got a team to the house.
Slamming my car door shut, I jogged over to Alex, who was just stepping out of her vehicle. I offered my hand, and she accepted. Pulling her out, I shut her door and leaned on it.
"Thanks for getting here so quickly," she credited in an all-business tone.
I nodded with a small shrug. There was more that she needed to know before thanking me. "So the ME just finished Professor Collis' tox screen. Sleeping pills didn't kill him." I grimaced, knowing my next words would be a shock. "He had a lethal dose of fentanyl."
Her head jerked up, and as her eyes met mine, I saw the anticipated blow that ensued my explanation. "Fentanyl? That's..." she trailed off, a hand flying to her forehead.
"The painkiller that kills," I finished. Alex was suddenly moving; almost running to the house, and dragging me by the jacket sleeve along with her.
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In the office where we had found the deceased, I had the forensics team sweep it for anything remotely related to the drug. Downstairs, another team was in the kitchen. Lights had finally been turned on in the study, and the eerie darkness that had consumed it was replaced by a warm glow from the lamps. Passing an oaken bookshelf, I observed his place of death; a worn leather desk chair.
Sad, isn't it?
I didn't dwell on that for long, however, as Alex had just strode into the room with an exasperated grunt. "No fentanyl in the medicine cabinet. No opioids of any kind," she blurted, dropping a hand to her side frustratedly.
Mason shuffled in behind her. "Whatcha lookin for?" he asked uncertainly, standing in the corner uncomfortably. Alex shot him a reassuring glance, and he relaxed a little.
I opened my mouth to tell him, but one of the forensics techs interrupted me. "Wiped clean. No prints," he muttered, leaning over the typewriter. I shrugged, but Alex crossed over to it, seemingly alarmed.
One of her long, manicured fingers pointed at the machine as she gaped at it. Her hand abruptly left that position to fly around in the air in a gesture towards the typewriter; knocking the magnifying glass looped around her neck and sending it swirling as she elucidated. "Wait a minute. That proves it!" I raised my eyebrows, moving to stand next to her. The glass stopped moving, and she turned to face me.
Pointing again, she clarified. "That proves that Professor Collis didn't type that note, and whoever did wiped the typewriter clean." My mouth formed an O, and I was once again amazed by her attention to detail. Or I was just disappointed in myself for being stupid enough not to realize that. One could never tell.
