A Few Drops of Bitters

by G. A. McKevett

  Savannah couldn’t imagine doing such a grim, gory thing for a living. But she was infinitely grateful that stronger souls than hers existed in the world. Thankfully, they were willing to fulfill gruesome duties which most folks could hardly bear to witness, let alone perform.

  She and Dirk paused at the doors and drew deep breaths. They both admired Dr. Liu. On a good day, they even liked her. But she was hard work, not easy to deal with, especially in a professional capacity.

  She expected perfection from herself and wouldn’t tolerate anything less from her fellow workers.

  “Okay, let’s get ’er done,” Dirk said. He pushed the door on the right wide enough for Savannah to enter, then followed her inside.

  As always, when Savannah walked into the suite, the first thing that struck her was how bright it was. The white walls, the stainless-steel cupboards, counters, sinks, and examination tables, and the high-powered lights over those tables made the room so bright that she felt the need to wear her sunglasses indoors.

  But then, those who looked for minute clues hidden in human biology needed all the light they could get.

  Off to her right, on a table with one of those searing lights above it, Savannah saw a body which she instantly recognized as the tall, blond, and handsome Dr. Stephen Erling’s.

  Though he was considerably less handsome in his present state.

  Next to him stood Jennifer Liu in all her exotic loveliness.

  Savannah had decided long ago, the instant she had met the medical examiner, that she was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Tall, slender in an athletic sort of way, Dr. Liu had the bearing of royalty, the face of a cover girl model, and the body and wardrobe of a courtesan.

  Although she wore the traditional white doctor’s smock, beneath its bottom hem, only an inch or so of black leather skirt showed, followed by an impressive length of shapely legs with black stockings and silver studded, black stilettoes. Her waist-long, silky black hair was tied back with a colorful silk scarf.

  She glanced up when she saw them enter and gave them a curt nod.

  “You done yet?” Dirk asked, his brusque tone causing Savannah to cringe.

  When would he learn that pecan pie, homemade fudge, and chocolate-dipped cheesecake were far more effective when dealing with human beings than an acerbic tone?

  Rather than answer him, Dr. Liu turned to Savannah and said, “Good morning, Savannah. So nice to see you.” She glanced down at Savannah’s hands that, other than holding her purse, were empty. “Even though you didn’t come bearing edibles.”

  “I’m sorry.” Savannah gave her a bright smile, hoping to compensate. “It was a spur-of-the-moment visit. I’ll make it up to you next time.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Dr. Liu covered the body on the table with a white sheet up to the waist. Then she peeled off her gloves, removed her mask, and tossed the items into a nearby bin.

  “Yes,” she said to Dirk, “I’m done.”

  Dirk stepped closer to the table and looked down at the body with its distinctive Y-shaped incision running up the center of the chest, then branching out to each shoulder. “What’d you find?” he asked.

  “Not a great deal,” the doctor replied. “He has a slight bruising on the back of his right hand.”

  “Any idea what hit him?”

  “No. It’s an unremarkable, even bruising from the base of his fingers almost to the wrist.”

  Savannah moved nearer so that she, too, could see what Dr. Liu was pointing to. She saw the slight discoloration, but she wasn’t sure she would have noticed it if the doctor hadn’t pointed it out to them.

  “How old is it?” Savannah asked.

  “Not perimortem. I’d say it happened a couple of days ago. Maybe three.”

  “Anything else?” Dirk said.

  “Yes.” Dr. Liu lifted the left arm to show its underside. “This. A bite, and a pretty bad one at that.”

  “Somebody bit him?” Dirk looked surprised.

  Dr. Liu chuckled. “Don’t get overly excited. It isn’t a human bite. It’s the wrong shape.”

  “Then what?” Dirk wanted to know.

  “A dog,” Savannah told him. “The one we saw the guy walking when you were parking the Buick next to the Lamborghini.” She turned back to Dr. Liu. “He’s a big fellow, a mixed breed named Webster. He made the mistake of taking a potty break on the tire of this guy’s new fancy car. Dr. Erling here commenced to whacking both Webster and then his owner with a belt. Really hard, too, from what I hear. So, the dog called a halt to it.”

  “Good for Webster,” Dr. Liu said. “I would have bit him, too.”

  Dirk was growing impatient with the women’s casual conversation. “This dude here didn’t die from a bruise on the back of his hand. Was the dog’s bite infected or—?”

  “No infection,” she told him, “and otherwise, he was completely healthy. No disease at all.”

  “No other signs of violence on the body?” Savannah asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why did you tell me on the phone that it’s definitely homicide?” Dirk wanted to know.

  “Because, since I couldn’t find anything else significant, I had the CSU run some quick, preliminary tests on the blood and tissues samples. Just to see if anything showed up.”

  “Well? Did it?” Dirk asked.

  “Big-time. He was inebriated, to be sure. But not enough to cause alcohol poisoning.”

  “Then what—?” Savannah said.

  “Pentobarbital.”

  The word bounced around a few seconds in Savannah’s brain, until finally she made an association with it.

  Capital punishment.

  Dirk was the first to say it. “That’s the stuff they use when they carry out a death sentence in prisons.”

  Dr. Liu nodded. “Sometimes, it’s part of a cocktail of drugs that’s administered during an execution.”

  “What else is it used for?” Savannah asked, trying to think of who might have access to such a substance.

  “It has numerous uses besides its notorious one. It can be administered in an emergency situation to a patient experiencing seizures. Some anesthesiologists use it as a pre-op sedative. It’s even used, once in a while, to treat insomnia.”

  Dirk nodded toward the body. “Sure worked on this guy’s insomnia. He’ll never have another sleepless night again.”

  Normally, Savannah would have been put off by any disrespectful comment directed toward the dead, but in this case, considering it had been directed at good ol’ Dr. Erling, she decided to let it slide by without even a disapproving wife glance in Dirk’s direction.

  “Sounds like something that, as a surgeon, he’d have access to himself,” Savannah commented.

  “Yes, and those around him in a hospital or clinical setting.” Dr. Liu looked down at the man on her table and shook her head. “Stephen Erling here was an obnoxious human being. You’re going to have a hard time finding anyone who didn’t have a motive to kill him.”

  “Wait! You knew him?” Dirk asked.

  “Unfortunately, I’ve spent a few evenings here and there in his company. Let’s just say I didn’t enjoy a moment of it.”

  “But how did you . . . ?” Savannah’s mind raced, trying to find a connection, then added, “Oh, you’re both doctors. Medical-type gatherings, huh?”

  “Social gatherings.”

  The way the doctor said, “social,” and the suggestive lift to her left eyebrow caused Savannah to picture gatherings that were non-professional in nature.

  Years ago, Savannah had resigned herself to the belief that Dr. Jennifer Liu led a colorful life outside the drab, gray confines of that building. She had never claimed to have a steady romantic entanglement. But the way she simply exuded overt sensuality suggested to Savannah that Dr. Jen might have numerous outlets for any intimate desires she might want to fulfill.

  Savannah also knew that, on any given night in quiet, conservative
little San Carmelita, there were gatherings where those desires might be pursued in all sorts of novel forms.

  “Did our guy have his wife with him at these ‘social’ gatherings?” Dirk asked, obviously thinking along the same lines as Savannah.

  “He did not,” Dr. Liu replied, “though he always brought a partner.”

  “The same one?” Dirk asked.

  “Yes. The same lady, every time. A petite platinum blonde with large eyes and a Betty Boop mouth.”

  “Would you happen to know her name?”

  “He called her ‘Lissa.’”

  “No last name?”

  Dr. Liu shook her head. “No. But I heard them joking about how glad they were that someone named ‘Jerry’ had been called out of town or they wouldn’t have been able to attend.”

  “Maybe Jerry was Lissa’s husband or boyfriend,” Savannah wondered aloud.

  Dr. Liu nodded. “That’s what it sounded like. As if they were happy to be getting one over on Jerry as much or more than they were enjoying the party. Or each other, for that matter.”

  “This pentobarbital . . .” Savannah said. “Was the amount the lab found in his blood enough to kill him?”

  “Absolutely. A couple of times over.”

  “How did it get inside him?” Dirk asked. “A shot, something he ate or drank?”

  “I found no punctures on the body other than those bites. No needling at all. There was no food at all in his stomach. I would say he drank it.”

  “He was downing alcohol like crazy,” Savannah said, “but the drink he took only a few minutes before he went down was a special toast. A birthday speech given by his wife, followed by everybody chugging champagne. He drank his from that green cut-crystal glass that was broken, lying next to the fireplace hearth where he fell.”

  “The lab is aware of that fancy green glass,” Dirk said. “When I dropped the stuff off there, I told Eileen to give it a thorough goin’-over.”

  “I talked to her half an hour ago. She’s checking that glass right now for pentobarbital,” Dr. Liu said, “and all the bottles that had been opened, too.”

  “If that glass or any of those bottles have pentobarbital in them, check them for fingerprints, too,” Dirk added.

  The doctor rolled her eyes and sighed. “No, Detective Coulter. What crime scene unit would ever think of checking for latent prints?”

  Dirk gave her a grunt and turned to leave.

  He had only taken two steps when Dr. Liu said, “Before you walk out in a huff, there’s something else that might interest you.”

  Savannah knew Dirk didn’t want to stop, turn around, and ask. But of course he would. Offended or not, huffiness aside, nothing mattered to him half as much as solving a case.

  “What?” he asked, none too graciously.

  “Surgeons and hospital staff aren’t the only ones who have access to pentobarbital,” she told him. “There’s another common use for that particular drug.”

  “What’s that?” Savannah asked.

  “It’s often used for a humane, but sad purpose.”

  Savannah had a feeling that she already knew the answer, even as she asked the question, “What purpose is that?”

  “Veterinarians use it, too. On those heartbreaking occasions, when they need to put one of our pets to sleep.”

  Chapter 19

  “I told you it was your veterinarian friend,” Dirk said as he and Savannah walked across the morgue parking lot, returning to their cars.

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him close enough that they would have been nose to nose, if she had been six inches taller. “Are you telling me, that you really believe that sweet lady who spent the night with us, Brody’s good buddy, who has devoted her life to caring for innocent animals, decided to put her husband down like he was some old, blind beagle with a bad ticker?”

  “He messed around on her. Apparently a lot.”

  “Then she could have just castrated him in his sleep. I’m sure she’s got the equipment and the know-how to get ’er done in a jiffy. He probably wouldn’t even have noticed . . . until the next time he tried to fool around.”

  “That is not funny, Van. Maybe to a woman, but not to a guy.”

  They continued on to the cars and paused beside hers. She glanced around and, seeing no one else in the vicinity, she moved close to him and slipped her arms around his waist.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Low blow. But seriously, we’ve got other suspects now besides Carolyn.”

  “I guess you mean that Lissa and Jerry that Dr. Liu mentioned?”

  “For starters. Want me to call Tammy and have her check them out?”

  “You haven’t already got her going on this case?”

  She chuckled. “Of course. But she doesn’t know about the pentobarbital, Lissa, or Jerry.”

  “Sure. If you and your Magnolia gang have nothin’ else to do but work my case for me, knock yourselves out.”

  Savannah walked to the Mustang’s driver’s door, unlocked and opened it. “I’ll call her on my way home,” she told him.

  “Call her with your cell from my car.”

  “Your car? But I—”

  “You’ll want to go with me to pick up Carolyn, right? Knowing you, you’ll wanna be there, front and center, when I squeeze her.”

  “You’re gonna squeeze her?”

  “I most certainly am.”

  “Dang.” Savannah glanced down at her watch. “I’ve got stuff to do this afternoon.”

  “Well, if you don’t wanna—”

  “I’ll go.”

  He grinned. “I knew you would. If for no other reason, to make sure I do it right. Not too hard.”

  “Or in the wrong places.”

  “Whatever would I do without a wife to tell me how to behave? To tell me whether I’m hungry or not, when it’s time to go to bed or take a shower? What not to eat. How much to drink—”

  “Not to spit toothpaste on the bathroom mirror or wad the towel in a ball and shove it between the rod and the wall.”

  “Heaven forbid!”

  “Without my constantly running, background commentary, you’d be lost, darlin’. An uncouth heathen who hurls his underdrawers willy-nilly on the floor and—”

  “I’ll admit I’ve tossed my boxers on the floor from time to time, yes. But I’ll have you know I’ve never hurled my willy on the floor or anywhere else it wasn’t welcome.”

  “And”—she continued—“he doesn’t know how to talk to his fellow human beings without risking getting hit.”

  “Like that guy who was your partner for all those years, back when you were a cop and a happily single lady?”

  “Yeah. Now that you mention it, you’re a whole lot like him.”

  “Then why did you marry such a barbaric brute?”

  Savannah closed the Mustang’s door and locked it. Then she put her hands inside his old leather bomber jacket and slid them around his waist to the small of his back. Giving him a tight squeeze that brought their bodies close enough that she could feel his warmth through their clothes, she whispered, “I married that brute because . . . when he kissed me, it made my knees weak, my toes curl, and my girlie parts wake up and say, ‘Whoa, howdy!’”

  He chuckled and the deep sound of it had quite the same effect on her as their first kiss had. “‘Whoa, howdy’? That’s what they say when I kiss you?”

  “Among other things.”

  He growled and pulled her closer still. “Then I’d like to spend some serious time chatting with you and the girlies in the future. The very near future, that is.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

  “Maybe if that gal doesn’t spend the night with us again, and I get to sleep in my own bed instead of—”

  “Don’t fret. She’s found other accommodations.”

  “Oh, darn. I’m bitterly disappointed.”

  His hands slid from her waist down to her ample rear and pulled her even more tightly against him.

  She
giggled. “Whoa, howdy! I can tell.”

  * * *

  By the time they had gotten into the Buick, snuggled for a minute, and then pulled out of the parking lot, Savannah was in a much better mood.

  She wasn’t sure why. It could have been her husband’s caresses, but she knew herself well and figured it was more likely that her mood uptick was due to having a case to work on.

  Even if she didn’t have a paying client, work was work, and Savannah thrived on hers.

  She grabbed her cell phone and called her home landline. Tammy answered immediately.

  “Hi!” was the too-bright greeting from the other end. Savannah was astounded, as always, when in her friend’s presence how anyone could be so happy so much of the time and not be a cocker spaniel puppy.

  “Hi yourself,” Savanna replied. “We just left the morgue.”

  “Was it murder?”

  “Yes. An overdose of something called pentobarbital.”

  “Okay, I’ll check it out—see who might have it, who can buy it, and where.”

  “One thing you should probably know before you get too far down the road is that vets use it to put animals to sleep.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t sound good for Carolyn.”

  “I know, but it’ll take a lot more than that to convince me she had anything to do with it.”

  The silence on the other end told Savannah that maybe Tammy wasn’t as sure as she was, but she decided not to hold it against her. Or mention it to Dirk. He didn’t need reinforcements.

  “How’s it going on your end?” Savannah asked. “Got anything for me?”

  “Tons of stuff.”

  “Tons?”

  “Well, I know that Dylan, the kid who lives next door to Carolyn and Stephen and who owns Webster, has been in trouble. I’m trying to find out what, and it isn’t easy. With him being a juvenile, they’ve expunged the record. On the other hand, his dad, Shane Keller—his record is there for anyone to see. Pretty lengthy. Bad stuff, too.”

  Savannah wasn’t all that surprised. Even if he did live in a seaside mansion, the guy had given off a dark, angry vibe that Savannah had felt from others. Some of whom had been felons. “What were the charges?” she asked. “How bad?”