by Alec Peche
VIALS
By Alec Peche
Published by GBSW Publishing
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author and the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in review.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I owe a very special thanks to: Emma and Balagi for their endless encouragement to write this novel. To my editor, Paulette Kines. Many thanks to Rob Kientop for designing a sinister cover for the book. To my family for providing expert opinion on the Coast Guard and other research. To Grace for being a first reader, and finally to my circle of friends who are a daily source of kinship and support.
Chapter 1
Jill Quint sipped her steaming chai tea basking in the morning sun. She marveled that all was right with her world. She had just returned from a much-needed vacation the night before and had no real plans for the day other than gazing at her small vineyard.
It was spring, and the grapevines were in bloom. The air was fragrant with their scent. Jill had lived in Palisades Valley for 5 years, and this year's Muscat crop would produce the first bottles of wine from her land.
As an undergraduate she had dabbled in viticulture classes offered at the university, while focusing on biology as her entry to medical school. It had taken her 15 years to put that education to good use.
After finishing medical school, she had found herself fascinated by forensic pathology. Forensic pathologists examine a corpse to determine the cause of death. Working in the county crime lab had provided her with extensive knowledge about the endless methods by which one human being could hurt or kill another. That, together with countless hours spent testifying in court about her findings, had caused her to re-evaluate her job.
After much soul searching, she had decided to move to Palisades, build her own lab in a vacant barn, and grow grapes. Jill's specialty was toxicology, the study of the effect of chemicals on living organisms, Or, in her case, humans. That toxicology passion also served her vineyard, as she worked to refine organic processes to control pests and experimented with the sugar content in her grapes.
When she left her position as a forensic pathologist with the county crime lab, she had planned to just grow grapes. The lab was an afterthought that she thought more relevant to pest control than forensic toxicology. However, she soon found her forensic pathology services sought out by law enforcement agencies across the state. Her consulting reputation grew from there as she was requested by agencies outside of California as well as private citizens.
Fees from her consulting business kept her dog in high quality dog food and allowed her to keep current on the latest chemical analyzers for her consulting cases. Just prior to her vacation, she had solved a homicide related to toothpaste on the east coast. She well knew the hidden dangers found in the average home medicine cabinet.
Trixie, her beloved Dalmatian, returned to the porch with a saliva-saturated ball. Trixie was happy to be home too, as she knew where the squirrels hid in the vineyard. Maybe this would be her day to finally catch one. Jill hoped that she would fail at that mission. She had found Trixie at a crime scene 3 years ago and had adopted her, and they had been best buddies ever since. Trixie had an excellent nose, and Jill had trained her to recognize the 10 most common chemical causes of death in humans. Jill considered Trixie's nose to be just another chemical analyzer in her lab.
Maybe once she finished her tea, she would go for a run. While she got considerable exercise each week, there was always room for improvement, and certainly Trixie would appreciate loping over the gentle hills of the region.
Just then she felt her cell phone vibrate. Pulling the phone out of her pocket, she glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering, "Hello, this is Jill."
A female voice on the other end of the line asked, "Is this Dr. Quint?”
Jill replied “Yes, this is Dr. Jill Quint.”
Emma Spencer of Woodport, a suburb of San Francisco, stated that she was the fiancée of recently-departed Graeme St. Louis. They had gone to Puerto Rico on a scuba diving trip and while underwater Graeme had been scratched by some coral. He had come back to San Francisco International Airport with an infection in his right leg, and 4 days after the initial scratch he was dead. Emma's voice quivered as she strived for control of her emotions. Graeme’s death was most unexpected, and they were due to be married next month.
Emma had been referred to Jill by a close friend. That friend had heard Jill’s name mentioned on a news report when Jill had offered a second opinion on a case in Texas. The town was very small, and the cause of death had originally been determined by the deceased’s physician. While the deceased was in his seventies and had a history of heart disease, his death was unexpected.
One of the deceased’s children had hired her to give the family a second opinion for the cause of death. From her investigation, she had determined that one of the other children had overdosed him on blood pressure medication by grinding it up and putting it in a protein shake. It had made national news at the time, as the victim was the retired CEO of an oil drilling company, and his heir had grown inpatient while awaiting his turn at the helm of the company and had decided to hurry his death along.
Jill was intrigued with the case as the San Francisco Medical Examiner had determined the cause of Graeme’s death to be from necrotizing fasciitis, but Jill knew through her experience in the crime lab that murder was sometimes hidden in seemingly natural causes. Jill arranged to meet Emma that afternoon. Graeme was due to be buried in 2 days, and Emma knew she could only hold off the mortician from embalming Graeme for another 24 hours. Jill would need to gather any blood samples prior to his embalming.
While Graeme was already dead, and necrotizing fasciitis was known to kill 25 percent of its victims, it was unusual in someone so young and healthy. Worst-case scenario in someone that young should have been the loss of his injured leg. Maybe he had waited too long to get care. She would know more after she took some blood samples, reviewed his hospital records, and the medical examiner's autopsy report.
Jill looked at her cold tea and then at Trixie. She had 4 hours before she needed to leave to meet Emma Spencer. She would have to give some thought to preparing the specimen containers that she would need to do her analysis. She had only one shot at collecting evidence from Graeme's body. The family was understandably on a timeline to bury him, and she would need to obtain any usable evidence this afternoon from Graeme. She decided to go for a run, as that would give her time to think about this case.
Jill remembered that she had a date planned with Nathan for this evening, and she might have to push that back a few hours to accommodate her roundtrip to San Francisco. He was use to her erratic schedule, and as he always had work to do for his wine label design company, she hoped that he would not mind the time change.
They had been dating for a year. She had met him for the first time when she began exploring a wine label for her own vineyard. He was in great demand worldwide, as vintners recognized the power of the label design to attract buyers.
Nathan had helped her settle on a name and a label for her winery. This fall, her wines would be sold under the name Quixotic Winery, and she would feature a picture of an Italian villa typical to the Asti region, representing her romantic pursuit of creating the perfect Moscato wine. Jill had a considerable sweet tooth a
nd had loved Moscato for its sweetness. The chemist in her thought that she could improve upon what was available currently on the market. She just needed this year's crop to begin the journey.
She put her cup in the sink and returned to her bedroom to change into her running clothes. After lacing up her sneakers, she put her long mane of blonde hair in a braid and fetched Trixie's leash. They started off at an easy pace, on a rarely traveled road. On one hand she hated running, she felt sure that she lacked the genetic design to do more than a 100 or 200 meter distance. She was more of a sprinter. Alas, to stay fit she tried to run 3 to 5 miles several times a week. Trixie's heritage as a fire truck running dog guaranteed the dog to be the faster runner of the 2 of them, and it always took Trixie the first half mile to slow down her speed to that of Jill's pace.
To keep her mind off her dislike of running, Jill contemplated Graeme St. Louis. The hospital where he had expired had an excellent reputation and utilized cutting edge technology in the keeping of complete electronic records. She would be able to review his entire hospital course, including all special studies performed on him. The medical examiner would not be happy to see Jill, as that would mean that someone doubted his determination of the cause of death. Jill thought that Dr. Meyers was an excellent coroner, with a reputation among law enforcement personnel for accuracy in establishing a cause of death. Jill also had an excellent stature, both from her stint at the crime lab and from her growing body of work with friends and families of the deceased. No ME relished having Jill come into his or her jurisdiction, as that typically meant that his or her professional judgment was being questioned. Jill worked on a dozen cases a year, while the average big city coroner might do that same number in a week. She simply had more time to review each case in greater depth and puzzle over any loose details.
Jill's record of concurring with an ME's cause of death was running at slightly over 70 percent. Smaller counties across the country without a full time ME used a physician or a nurse practitioner to determine cause of death.
An ME and a patient's personal physician operated from different paradigms. The ME was suspicious, as that was his or her line of work, whereas the patient's own physician expected a person to die some day. They might be surprised that a patient of theirs was deceased, but they could always rationalize a heart attack, blood clot, stroke, or fall because these things happened in the everyday lives of their patients.
Most of Jill’s cases originated with grieving friends and family members, and she offered a second opinion confirming the ME's cause of death. People found her when they searched for private autopsies. Jill was selective in the clients that she took on. She turned down cases where friends or family members suspected medical malpractice. There were plenty of pathologists who could provide a second opinion for a medical misadventure. Jill focused on accidental or expected deaths that might genuinely be homicide.
So far, she had always agreed with the San Francisco medical examiner in prior cases, but that didn't stop Dr. Meyers from naturally resenting her review of the case. There would be a slight tussle from his office regarding proper paperwork to gain all of his information and findings.
She planned to take various test tubes to collect blood samples. In addition, she would grab another 20 to 30 agar molds to collect tissue samples from the area around the leg wound. Finally, she would take some large long-needled syringes to collect tissue specimens from the liver, kidneys, lungs, and brain. She would also check her digital camera to make sure that it was charged and had an empty memory card.
Necrotizing fasciitis was an interesting condition from her view. The public thought that a Pac-Man like bacteria ate a victim's flesh. It was far more complex than that. Bacteria released chemicals that dissolved tissue, sort of like an acid bath from a bad horror movie scene.
Necrotizing fasciitis was first discussed in the United States by the medical profession during the civil war, where it was known as gangrene. While new methods to treat the condition and stronger antibiotics had been created, mortality remained high. The condition was on the rise worldwide, as diabetics were more prone to this complication. The media had intense interest in dramatic cases, mostly young people who might lose one or more limbs if they survived. Beyond the sensational cases, ordinary people died every day from the condition. It was very likely that Graeme had died from necrotizing fasciitis, but she would find the investigation interesting.
Jill saw the entrance to her vineyard half a mile down the road. Thankfully, she was nearing the end of her run. Trixie looked barely winded, whereas she was red-faced and soaked with sweat. The run had given her time organize her thoughts in advance of her upcoming meeting with Emma. She released Trixie from her leash and headed into the house to shower and change. On her way inside she jotted down a list of the supplies she needed to take with her into the city. She kept a kit in her lab for these investigations, but she liked to re-check her supplies, as she usually had only one shot at getting specimens from the deceased.
She had a 90-minute drive into San Francisco. She had her kit for collecting specimens and gathering a lot of paperwork. It would require permission from Graeme’s family to get his records from everyone who had provided care to him as well as the records from the medical examiner’s office. She had asked Emma to bring documents proving that Graeme had given his authority to her to give Jill permission to review the records. It would be unusual for a fiancé to have that authority in a couple so young, but Jill was grateful that she wouldn’t have to contact Mr. St. Louis’s parents. That would take time and emotional anguish that she wanted to avoid.
She made an appointment with the funeral home for late afternoon and hoped to be back home by 8:00 tonight. That would allow her time to clean up and get the smell of death out of her head prior to dinner. Despite nearly 20 years of examining the dead, she had never gotten immune to that smell. She had planned to dine with Nathan at a local pizza parlor.
After dressing in a casual pantsuit, she packed her supplies into the trunk of her 1956 Ford Thunderbird, a pearly white beauty of a car. She had been its owner for 15 years and loved the unique, sporty car that was a sheer joy to drive. If she had been staying in the central valley, she would have put the top down, but San Francisco had unpredictable weather, and the road noise after 90 minutes could be deafening. She was meeting Emma Spencer at the home she had shared with Graeme St. Louis on the outskirts of San Francisco. She programmed her GPS, set her radio to pop music, and prepared to enjoy the drive, which wouldn’t be as nice on the way home, as she would be in peak commuter traffic.
Chapter 2
She pulled up to the long gated driveway at the late Graeme St. Louis’s home. The house couldn’t be seen from the road, and in this part of the real estate world, she knew that she was approaching an eight-figure dollar house. She presented to the gatehouse, gave her name, and the gates opened. As she continued up the drive, she considered that Graeme St. Louis had achieved success at an early age to have such a large mansion. As she approached the stone steps leading to the beautiful Ionic columns aligning the front door, the tall, ornate door opened, and a young woman stepped out. Her face was pale and her eyes red rimmed, the picture of grief.
She put her hand out by way of introduction. “Dr. Quint, I’m Emma Spencer, thanks for agreeing to meet with me”.
Jill responded with a warm handshake. “Please call me Jill. I’m so sorry for your loss”.
Fresh tears threatened, and Emma took a deep breath and straightened her backbone. “I ordered lunch for us. We’ll go into the library to dine, and we can discuss the reason I called you”.
Jill followed Emma across a wood floor covered with Turkish rugs. It was a gorgeous house with stunning views of the Pacific Ocean. They entered a handsome two-story wood-lined library filled with books. A leather seating arrangement the color of mahogany made for a cozy area to read a book. Emma approached a parquet card table, where lunch had been set up.
“Jill, there is lenti
l soup, turkey or vegetarian wraps, soft drinks, coffee, and tea. There are also vanilla bean cupcakes for desert. Please help yourself”
Vanilla bean cupcakes were Jill’s secret weakness. In private, with no one watching, she could devour 3 of them and then be blissfully high on sugar until a crash an hour later. Since she was in the company of a client, she restrained herself. She had a small bowl of soup and a turkey wrap.
As they ate their lunch, Emma filled Jill in on the house, its history, and some of its contents. Jill could see that it was a helpful emotional break for Emma from the constant weight of grief. They finished their lunch and then took their drinks to the seating section, and Jill sank into the wonderful leather. She took out her notebook and settled in to interviewing Emma.
“Emma, why don’t you start by telling me about your relationship with Graeme? How did you meet? It’s very helpful to know as much about an individual as possible.”
“I owned my own design company, and Graeme hired me to renovate this house. I was one of 3 bidders that he interviewed, and he found my concepts to be the most aligned with his vision. The house had sat empty for nearly a decade in an estate probate proceeding, then a bankruptcy proceeding. Prior to the probate, the house, while occupied by the previous owners, had not been maintained or upgraded for 2 decades. It was nearly falling down on its columns by the time Graeme closed escrow on the property.”
Emma paused, taking a few sips of the tea that she had carried to the sofa.
“It took me nearly a year to paint, upgrade the electric and plumbing systems, renovate the garden, and otherwise pull the house into the 21st century. During that year I had many meetings with Graeme, checking in with him about color and fabric choices. Those business meetings became dinners that were part business and part pleasure. Toward the end of the project our relationship had become more friendship than business. We dated after the house was finished, and almost a year ago, Graeme proposed to me. I moved in with him 6 months ago.”