Jonathan Kellerman - Breakdown

Off came his glasses. He tugged his tie knot. Scalpels flashed. “Being assigned to Enow is tantamount to drifting in the miasma.”

Milo said, “Roger being Roger.”

“He’s a goldbrick, you need to do something about your internal standards. On top of his usual incompetence, he was annoying. Trying to pressure me to rule it as suicide so he could file it as a close and go off fishing somewhere. Fat chance, as if I’d help him clean his plate.” Wry smile. “So to speak. Seeing as we’re talking about oral ingestion.”

“Oral ingestion of what, Bill?”

“I’m getting to that.” Bernstein spread pages, selected one. “Aconite. From the plant aconitum. Also known as monkshood, devil’s helmet, wolfsbane, women’s bane.” He laughed. “Choose your poison.”

Selecting a sheet, he slid it across the table.

Color photo of a long-stalked plant with striking purplish-blue flowers.

“You’re going to say it’s pretty,” said Bernstein. “Don’t think of sticking it in your garden if you’ve got a dog or a small child or a squirrel you care about. It’s got a noble history as an implement of extremely unpleasant death. E.g. Shakespeare — Henry the Fourth, Medea trying to polish off Theseus. As well as various witchcraft loonies, cretins who believe in werewolves, that kind of crap. Even that kiddie book — Harry whatever.”

Milo said, “It’s legal to grow.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’d be amazed at how much death potential there is in a random garden. Aconite’s a particularly efficient assassin, a couple of hours and poof, maybe a bit longer if the dose is smaller. The mechanism is the opening of tetrodotoxin-sensitive neural cells — why am I bothering getting technical with you — it screws up the nervous system, okay? You get nauseous and vomit, your internal organs basically explode and bleed out, you shut down, end of story.”

“Sounds like colchicine.”

“It’s far more precise than colchicine. Your victim Salton had minute specks of vomitus on his clothes but he was pretty clean overall so I suspected he’d died elsewhere. I told Enow. Per usual, he didn’t care.”

Milo said, “Any external marks on the body?”

“Not a pinprick. When I see something like that, the first option isn’t going to be poison, it’ll be disease, even young people keel over from strokes, aneurysms, occluded arteries. But even before I opened him I noticed cyanotic fingernail beds, which was intriguing, we’re talking acute oxygen deprivation. Of course, anything cardiac could theoretically cut off — never mind, bottom line, carbon monoxide had to be considered, just as with Victim Chase. Negative. And when I did get inside, I found a total mess that was definitely not CO. I took lots of samples for biopsy and ordered a tox screen immediately. The third extension pulled in aconite. I listed it in my report.”

“Enow didn’t. He just said ‘Poison.’ ”

“Again, not my problem.”

I said, “Colchicine can be used as gout medicine. Any legit uses for this?”

“Some British homeopaths like it for a diuretic, which I think is insane. Even at the dilutions they use, why take a chance? I want to lose water, I’ll eat asparagus, better my pee should smell than my entire body implodes. It’s been used in China and India for herbal concoctions, but those people also grind rhinoceros horn to help geezers get hard-ons, which is about as useful as prayer, so big surprise. To answer your next predictable question, has it been used for murder recently? Not in the U.S., but a few years ago an Indian woman in England cooked up a tasty curry that killed her boyfriend because he’d gone back to his wife. Women’s bane. Hell hath no fury.”

He produced a spotless linen handkerchief, wiped his glasses, put them back on. “Enough neurobiology for dummies. Am I to understand that you’re hypothesizing a connection between Victim Chase and Victim Salton solely because of this lawyer? What’s your theory? A white-glove type buys two poisons from an herbal quack and laces high tea? If so, good luck confirming. There are crap peddlers everywhere from Venice to Chinatown, even worse, the Internet. And none of those idiots register with their fellow idiots at the FDA.”

Milo said, “Actually, we’re wondering about a link to Enid DePauw’s garden.”

Bernstein said nothing.

“Women’s bane, Bill?”

“I get it. What’s her connection to Salton?”

Silence.

“You don’t have one but you’re ready to complicate matters.”

“Bill—”

“I suggest you keep a clear head. The only common link is the lawyer and in the case of Victim Chase, it’s indirect at best. We know the colchicine didn’t originate on DePauw’s property. We looked, you looked.” His finger jabbed the photo. “Did you observe this growing there?”

“I wouldn’t have been looking, Bill.”

I said, “We could be talking potted plants. Or something that got dug up.”

“Coulda woulda. Either way, you’re not going to find the evidence this late in the game. The larger question is why this lawyer — or that woman — would kill a homeless psychotic and a legal assistant. What’s the connection between your victims?”

Milo shook his head.

Bernstein said, “Precisely.”

I said, “Maybe the motive was fun.”

Milo swiveled toward me. Bernstein stared. “Are you basing that on psychological data or fishing?”

I said, “Everything needs to be considered.”

“Ridiculous. If that was true, the world would be chaos,” said Bernstein. “So Lucretia Borgia is alive and well in Bel Air? What’s next, eye of newt, tongue of toad? Be logical, narrow your focus to a point where there are concrete steps you can take.”

Milo said, “Such as?”

Bernstein flushed. “I’m on the stand now? The answer is I don’t know. Happy?” Clasping his suitcase, he got up. “You learn something that clarifies manner, let me know.”

I said, “Did Salton’s family try to contact you?”

“You’ve got the answers and the questions.”

Milo said, “It’s a good question, Bill, seeing as manner is still undetermined and Roger didn’t give them squat.”

“And you’ll do better by them? Not from what I’ve heard so far.”

He turned to leave.

Milo said, “Sorry if doing my job annoys you, Bill, but I need to make sense—”

The coroner stopped short, rotated slowly. His color remained high.

“I’m grievously overworked because the county is a tight-fisted bastard and refuses to staff adequately. Last night I was there until two a.m. and ate crap takeout instead of the gourmet dinner my bride had prepared. Yet again. Yes, there was contact with Salton’s widow but it was minimal and not relevant to you. She phoned around a month after the death, wanting information. One of my assistants handled the call, we had little to give her, she wasn’t pleased. She certainly didn’t like the idea of suicide.”

“Any theories on her part?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Bernstein groped in his pocket, produced a flip-phone, punched. “Enrique, do you remember talking to a decedent’s wife, two months ago, give or take, surname Salton?... you do? Excellent, Enrique, low risk of Alzheimer’s in your family. Tell me, did she have any theories about what killed her husband?... I see. Did you inquire about that... I understand, no reason to, we don’t have all day to jaw with families... no, probably not. No, you’re fine. Keep that cerebrum healthy, Enrique. Get the hell out of there and have a couple of margaritas. Back to your roots, margies originated in El Paso... you did? Good for you. You should go on Jeopardy! ”