“Here we are again,” he said.
“She wouldn’t listen. Hit the club, drank the drink.”
“Vodka, a whiff of vermouth, pomegranate juice, and a lethal twist of cyanide. That’s in addition to the Buzz, Erotica, Zoner, and the champagne cocktail—champagne, bitters, sugar substitute, and a splash of grenadine—already in her system.”
“That’s fast work on the tox.”
“I started on her last night. We had several unexpected guests—weather related.”
“You’ve been here all night?”
“Considering the weather and the state of the roads, it seemed wiser to spend the night with the dead rather than risk joining them. I have a very comfortable sofa here. It’s unfortunate my house here doesn’t run to anything approaching decent coffee.”
“Peabody.”
“On it.”
“No, no.” He waved a hand in the air. “Don’t go out in this urban Arctic on my account.”
“Just to my vehicle,” Eve told him. “I have the real deal in its AC.”
“Then I’d be grateful.”
Eve waited until Peabody scurried off. “Plus it gets her out of this part—she hates this part.”
“Some never fully adjust.” He looked down at Loxie Flash, naked, chest still splayed open from the Y-cut. “Here you have a young woman, only a few years over the legal age, whose body has already been ravaged by addictions. Kidneys, liver, heart, lungs all already showing signs of that abuse. If she’d continued down this path, it’s unlikely she’d have seen forty. Of course, she didn’t have the chance to continue or to stop.”
“She had the chance. She didn’t take it. Cyanide confirmed COD?”
“Yes, and the TOD from your gauge confirmed. You see the cherry-red skin color. There are a couple of hairline fractures on her ribs I’d speculate came from an attempt at CPR.”
“There was an attempt.”
“The lack of bruising there indicates it was already too late. The cyanide salts she ingested would have acted quickly. The tats and piercings as you see. She was a bit overweight, and considering the lack of muscle tone didn’t exercise. She had breast enhancements, and was wearing nipple clamps when delivered to us. She has little else to say. A life hard lived, hard ended.”
Peabody came back with a small pot. “I grabbed this out of your office, programmed you three cups from the DLE’s AC, dumped them in.”
“You’re a genius.”
“I couldn’t remember how you take it.”
“At this moment? With great gratitude.”
“If anything else shows up with her,” Eve told Morris, “let me know. Otherwise, you’ve given me what I expected.”
“I don’t think she’s holding any secrets now, but we’ll finish. I haven’t heard from next of kin as yet.”
“If you don’t, her ex said he’d make her arrangements. Let’s hit it, Peabody.”
“Be safe out there,” Morris called after them. “And my eternal thanks for the coffee.”
“I didn’t stall,” Peabody began, and Eve shook her head.
“Straightforward poisoning. No surprises. Unless you consider the fact she was slowly killing herself with alcohol, illegals, and bad choices a surprise. I don’t. You can start trying to nail down where Strongbow got her hands on cyanide salts. Let’s give the next of kin another twenty-four before contacting Glaze.”
Once she slid behind the wheel, Eve sat a moment, organizing her thoughts. “We’re going to focus on looking for the next target, try to get ahead of her. In the book, the vic was sixty-eight, so let’s go from sixty to seventy-five. She was worth about two hundred and sixty mil. We’re going to go from two mil up to four. She can be widowed or divorced—the fictional vic had been both—but she won’t be currently married or cohabbing. She’ll have a son and a daughter. Maybe other offspring, but she’ll have to have one of each.”
“I reread parts of it last night before I got the call from Dispatch. I can start a search.”