a suffocated him, but they’ll have to wait for the results of the autopsy protocol to decide that.”
I stared down at Nana. “Autopsy protocol?”
“That’s the file tellin’ you everythin’ there is to know about how someone died.”
“How do you know about autopsy protocols?”
“Investigative Report, dear. You can catch it on A & E almost every night at eight o’clock Central Time, nine Eastern.”
That did it. I was going to have to start watching more TV…and thinking like Columbo. I’d even cooked up a possible theory. “Do you suppose someone might have tampered with Andy’s inhaler? I saw a movie once where a killer discharged the spray from a woman’s inhaler so when the woman had an asthma attack, the apparatus was empty. She nearly died.”
“That woulda been the most obvious way to do him in. And tidy, too. No screamin’. No fistfights. No splattered blood. Just release the spray or muck up the chemical balance in his Pirbuterol Acetate. But it don’t do much good for all this second-guessin’, does it? The police won’t know a thing until the serology and toxicology reports come back.”
Serology report. Right. I knew that.
“So who do you think killed him, dear?”
Considering all my years of higher education, it was deflating to be scooped by a woman with an eighth-grade education and a satellite dish, but not wanting to steal her thunder, I decided to take the high road. “Well, it could be one of several people, but maybe I shouldn’t elaborate until I know more.” After all, maybe I’d reached my conclusion too quickly. Maybe there was incriminating evidence about other people that hadn’t surfaced yet. Maybe Bernice had mentioned the incident with Helen’s niece to throw us off the scent. But whose scent?
“George Farkas was thinkin’ a gettin’ a pool together to guess the killer,” Nana went on, “but he said he’d need more suspects than Helen to make it worth his while.”
“That’s terrible!”
“That’s what I told him. Between you and me, Emily, I think George has a gamblin’ problem.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he shows up at Holy Redeemer every Thursday night to play bingo.”
“So do you.”
“But I have an excuse. I’m Catholic. Bingo’s part a my religion. George don’t have an excuse. He’s Lutheran.”
I shook my head. “I can’t afford to be in a pool anyway. I have to buy a new watch.”
“You just bought a new watch. Don’t it keep good time?”
I coaxed my sleeve up my arm to regard my watch face. The hands had stopped at 10:13. “It’ll give me great time twice a day, but when it’s not ten-thirteen, I’m going to have a problem.”
When the elevator stopped, I pushed open the door and escorted Nana into the hall. We struck out along a corridor to our right, the motion sensors causing overhead lights to blink on as we passed, and followed a maze of hallways until we reached the rooms in the 4620s. “It’s right up ahead,” said Nana. “That’s my suitcase outside the door there.”
Yup. There was Nana’s suitcase.
“Where’s your suitcase, Emily?”
Obviously not in the hall. I slid the room key into the slot, turned the knob and…CLICK. Okay. So I wasn’t a fast study. But I was trainable.
The room was dark as a cave. “Hit the light, dear. I can’t see a thing.”
I fumbled for the switch on the wall and squinted when light diffused throughout the room.
“Well, would you look at that,” said Nana. I suspected she was referring to the fact that this room was exactly like the other room, with one exception.
There were no windows.
And from what I could see in a quick visual scan, no luggage either. Delightful. I wheeled Nana’s suitcase into the room and picked up the phone.
“Front desk,” said the woman on the other end.
“This is Emily Andrew in 4624. We’re in the wrong room again.”
A pause. “What room are you supposed to be in?”
“A standard room.”
Computer
I stared down at Nana. “Autopsy protocol?”
“That’s the file tellin’ you everythin’ there is to know about how someone died.”
“How do you know about autopsy protocols?”
“Investigative Report, dear. You can catch it on A & E almost every night at eight o’clock Central Time, nine Eastern.”
That did it. I was going to have to start watching more TV…and thinking like Columbo. I’d even cooked up a possible theory. “Do you suppose someone might have tampered with Andy’s inhaler? I saw a movie once where a killer discharged the spray from a woman’s inhaler so when the woman had an asthma attack, the apparatus was empty. She nearly died.”
“That woulda been the most obvious way to do him in. And tidy, too. No screamin’. No fistfights. No splattered blood. Just release the spray or muck up the chemical balance in his Pirbuterol Acetate. But it don’t do much good for all this second-guessin’, does it? The police won’t know a thing until the serology and toxicology reports come back.”
Serology report. Right. I knew that.
“So who do you think killed him, dear?”
Considering all my years of higher education, it was deflating to be scooped by a woman with an eighth-grade education and a satellite dish, but not wanting to steal her thunder, I decided to take the high road. “Well, it could be one of several people, but maybe I shouldn’t elaborate until I know more.” After all, maybe I’d reached my conclusion too quickly. Maybe there was incriminating evidence about other people that hadn’t surfaced yet. Maybe Bernice had mentioned the incident with Helen’s niece to throw us off the scent. But whose scent?
“George Farkas was thinkin’ a gettin’ a pool together to guess the killer,” Nana went on, “but he said he’d need more suspects than Helen to make it worth his while.”
“That’s terrible!”
“That’s what I told him. Between you and me, Emily, I think George has a gamblin’ problem.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he shows up at Holy Redeemer every Thursday night to play bingo.”
“So do you.”
“But I have an excuse. I’m Catholic. Bingo’s part a my religion. George don’t have an excuse. He’s Lutheran.”
I shook my head. “I can’t afford to be in a pool anyway. I have to buy a new watch.”
“You just bought a new watch. Don’t it keep good time?”
I coaxed my sleeve up my arm to regard my watch face. The hands had stopped at 10:13. “It’ll give me great time twice a day, but when it’s not ten-thirteen, I’m going to have a problem.”
When the elevator stopped, I pushed open the door and escorted Nana into the hall. We struck out along a corridor to our right, the motion sensors causing overhead lights to blink on as we passed, and followed a maze of hallways until we reached the rooms in the 4620s. “It’s right up ahead,” said Nana. “That’s my suitcase outside the door there.”
Yup. There was Nana’s suitcase.
“Where’s your suitcase, Emily?”
Obviously not in the hall. I slid the room key into the slot, turned the knob and…CLICK. Okay. So I wasn’t a fast study. But I was trainable.
The room was dark as a cave. “Hit the light, dear. I can’t see a thing.”
I fumbled for the switch on the wall and squinted when light diffused throughout the room.
“Well, would you look at that,” said Nana. I suspected she was referring to the fact that this room was exactly like the other room, with one exception.
There were no windows.
And from what I could see in a quick visual scan, no luggage either. Delightful. I wheeled Nana’s suitcase into the room and picked up the phone.
“Front desk,” said the woman on the other end.
“This is Emily Andrew in 4624. We’re in the wrong room again.”
A pause. “What room are you supposed to be in?”
“A standard room.”
Computer
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