Final Act by Dianne Yetman (best free ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Picking up the blanket at the bottom of the bed, she went to cover her.  That’s when she saw the empty syringe laying next to her cousin’s outstretched arm.  Fear and dread squeezed Hanya’s heart and rooted her to the spot.  She wasn’t sure how long she had stood there before feeling for a pulse. None. Her body, like the teacup, was still warm to the touch.

Hanya made the sign of the cross, said prayers over the body, called 911 and, breaking all rules, laid next to her cousin, her arm encircling her waist; tears running down her cheeks.

Chapter 6

“What time does the meeting start?”

“Not soon enough”, Kate said.

“So you don’t know either.”

“I’m not your bloody time keeper, Roger.”

“Shit, Kate, did a stray panther piss in your purse?”

“Ok.  Thirty minutes.”

Kate threw him the evil eye but he wasn’t looking.  She opened the desk drawer and took out a handful of jelly beans. I hate this room.  It’s like being in kindergarten, two desks butted up against each other, two students, without the benefit of a teacher referee, sniping at each other.

“Glare at your damned computer, not me.”

“Shut up.”

“Your left eye is starting to twitch.”

“They’ll be more than my eye twitching if we have to spend months in here.”

“Methinks I see paid stress leave and mountains of sympathy coming your way because of all the ticks and tremors that will spread over your body.  End of the love life.  Wait a minute, big mistake; you don’t have a love life.”

The truth hit her.  She was slipping away from friends and colleagues like melting butter.  Alexis and Susan had more joie de vivre in their menopause minds and bodies than she did in her ‘finely tuned ones’.  Worse case disaster, she was heading for disaster, least case, heading for a crash.  Her gut told her it was more than relationship problems.  Her phone call cancelling the weekend didn’t go over well with David and the conversation had turned into pissing contest with neither side winning.  The last thing she heard was a dial tone.

“Sorry for my shitty mood, I had trouble sleeping last night.”

“For Christ’s sake, you call that a shitty mood; its foreplay where I come from.  You know Kate, it mightn’t be a bad idea to drop the morning run and take up yoga.”

A knock on the door cut Kate’s response.

“Time to go, folks”, Shirley said.

***

Gordon nodded grunted a good morning to the team members assembled around the conference table.  Kate and Roger exchanged a glance at the look on his face.  Whatever was on the table, it wasn’t going to be good.

“Glad you’re all sitting down cause if you weren’t the news I have to tell you would knock you down.  Two detectives from our Bedford precinct were called to an apartment in Pine Crest Hills around 10:00pm.  They were met by a woman who led them into a bedroom where a young female body lay dead on the bed.”

“What’s that got to do with us?  It’s not even in our jurisdiction.”

“Showing off your law school smarts, again Kate?  Of course it’s not.  Can you refrain from questions until I finish.  The two officers thought it looked like a simple case of a drug overdose but bless their brains; they erred on the side of caution and treated it as a crime scene.  The deceased is Camira Paul, one of the actors we interviewed yesterday.”

“Camira?  Murdered?

“Like I said, Kate, no one’s sure yet if it is murder.  But yes, the deceased is Camira.”

Kate, too stunned to speak, lowered her head and thought of Hanya.

“When the Officer in Charge of Bedford’s substation was briefed by his constables this morning, he made the theatre connection and sent me the info.  It’s early times yet but I’d bet a share of my pension her death is related to Jeffrey Stone’s.  An empty syringe was found by the body.”

“From what I know of the deceased, I don’t buy suicide”, Kate said.

“Maybe not”, Gordon said.  “Didn’t know you were chummy with her, Kate.”

“She’s the cousin of a friend of mine.  I met her six months ago.  A focused young woman, intent on building her career, didn’t drink, and I don’t believe she used drugs.”

“Remains to be seen, doesn’t it?  You interviewed her Roger. What’s your take?”

“Cooperative but nervous.  Held it in check though and was able to answer questions.  Confirmed the stories about tantrums.  She didn’t want to admit it, but she had been a target of his outbursts.  She said she knew about his over active libido but had no firsthand experience of it.  She stumbled though when I asked her if she noticed anything unusual over the last couple of days - people hanging around the theatre, that sort of thing.  She said no but I didn’t buy it. The question spooked her.  I tried my damndest to get her to open up but she wouldn’t.”

“Never ceases to amaze me how people treat us as if we’re the enemy”, Gordon said.  He turned to Shirley.

“I want you to do background checks on the deceased, interview her cousin and the doorman, or whoever passes for security at the apartment building.”

Shirley nodded.

Kate opened her mouth to protest but Gordon cut her off.

“And now for the latest on Jeffrey Stone’s murder.”

He opened his blue book and took out some papers, turned to the last page and paraphrased the pathologist’s summary of the autopsy findings on Jeffrey Stone.

“58 year old white male, well nourished, major organs healthy, long life expectancy.  Death caused by ingestion of Hydrogen Cyanide, commonly known as Prussic Acid - a bluish white liquid with bitter almond odour.  Anyone wants to read about its genetic makeup, its uses, and applications, let me know and I’ll have my P.A. copy the full report.”

No requests came from the gathered group.

“Bottom line, hydrogen cyanide can cause rapid death in humans due to metabolic asphyxiation.