I don’t. It was mean to send them, but you never know if it’s evidence until it isn’t. Except in this case.
“The cigarette butts have two separate DNA. Neither DNA matches any of the other evidence. I sampled the lipstick on the coffee mug Ronnie found in the victim’s permanent residence. Good catch, by the way.”
When he says this he gives Ronnie a big smile. No doubt he thinks flattery will get him to third base. He’s not even on the bench yet.
He sees I’m still waiting for him to tell me about the fruit.
“I’ve positively identified the fruit asAnnona cherimolaor simply cherimoya. You find it in Central America. Colombia, Ecuador, Bolivia, Chile, Peru or tropical regions. Spain, even. It’s known as custard apple because of the very sweet taste. It doesn’t grow around here and it would be almost impossible to try.”
“You’re saying the thing was brought in here from another country?” I ask.
“You can probably buy it on Amazon,” Ronnie adds.
“She doesn’t meanfromthe Amazon,” Marley adds, and grins as if he’s made a joke. It’s not funny.
“The skin of the fruit is what’s important, though,” Marley says. “If it is crushed and put into liquid form—say, like the loaded syringe Ronnie found—it is highly poisonous and has paralytic properties. Like anesthetic only more potent. The liquid in the syringe is a match for the chemical we found in the victim’s system. Like I said, it has paralytic properties that would render someone unable to resist. Enough of it would kill. I’m trying to get a baseline for the exact amount it would take to cause death. I’ll let you know when I know.”
I hate to ask this. “What about the candy wrapper and the melted syringe?”
He gives me an unhappy look. “The candy wrapper didn’t have DNA. The syringe, however, had trace amounts of the same chemical as the loaded one Ronnie found. If there was DNA, it was destroyed by the heat when it melted.”
“Cyanide?”
“The rat poison is cyanide. The granules collected with the seeds is cyanide—rat poison. There was no cyanide in Monique Delmont’s system. There wasn’t any cyanide in the syringes.”
Ronnie beams at Marley. “He’s so smart.”
Marley actually blushes. “I’ve got to get back.”
I nod and he turns to Ronnie. “Still on for tonight?”
“You bet,” she says. “Megan should come too.”
“I wouldn’t want to be in the way.” The minute I say it I know it’s the wrong thing to say. I should have said I’m coming down with Ebola.
Anything plausible.
“You won’t be in the way, Megan,” Ronnie says. Her eyes plead with me to come to her stupid dinner. Marley’s eyes are warning me not to interfere with his third-base play.
“I’ll be there,” I say. I can piss Marley off now. He’s Ronnie’s project.
“Marley is going to call with a time and place and then I’ll call you,” she says to me. “This is so exciting. I’m getting promoted and my two best friends are going to help me celebrate.”
Besties? If that’s true, she’s worse off than I am.
“We need to head back to Port Hadlock,” I say. “Thanks for the quick work, Marley. You are a genius. I knew we could count on you to help solve this case.” Some of that is true, but the rest is smoke and it doesn’t hurt to say nice things now and then. Especially if it gets you favors in the future.
Marley gets a peck on the cheek from “Red” and I put the Taurus in gear before I vomit. I drive away from the crime lab thinking about what I might have missed today. It will be late when we get back to the office and Ronnie is celebrating her hiring as a deputy tonight. I will have to spend some time in the office typing out the affidavit for the search warrant and it will mean tickling some words.
Not outright lying.
“Marley is so sweet to buy the dinner tonight,” Ronnie says.
“Sheriff Gray always has a little party in the office when we hire a new deputy or staff person,” I say. “He’ll probably do it the day you’re sworn in.”
“Thanks, Megan. You’re a good friend.”
“I need you to call one more person, Ronnie.”