Murder at High Tide

by Lee Strauss

  Rosa scooped Diego into her arms and pressed her lips to his fuzzy head. “Hello, cutie pie. I hope you were a good boy?”

  “El gatito se portó perfectamente,” Señora Gomez said with a smile. “I was looking for you, Miss Rosa. You have a message. Detective Belmonte wants you to meet him at the medical examiner’s office right away.”

  15

  “It had us baffled for a long time, and we still don’t have it all figured out.” Dr. Rayburn said, his southern drawl warm and slow as maple syrup. He sat down on one of the chairs in the medical examiner’s visiting room along with Melvin Philpott, who sat in another chair, while Miguel and Rosa took a seat on the large leather sofa. “But we’re a bit closer. I hope ya don’t mind, but I’ve asked Dr. Philpott to sit in on this meeting. He’s not on the investigative team, and he’s not examined either of the bodies, but I consider his experience and expertise valuable in any brainstorming sessions we might have.”

  “Dr. Rayburn has done an excellent job on this,” Melvin Philpott said. “Whoever poisoned Florence, and now this Jason Brewster fellow, underestimated the science of pathology. I also believe this will steer the investigation away from my wife.”

  “I hope so,” Miguel said. “But of course, you know we have to keep all options open. Your wife is one of several suspects that have possible motives for the death of Florence Adams.”

  Dr. Philpott nodded his head begrudgingly.

  Miguel addressed the assistant. “What have you discovered, Dr. Rayburn?”

  The Texan cleared his throat. “Well, I couldn’t really confirm this because such small amounts were found in Miss Adams’ blood. But when Mr. Brewster’s blood showed the same compounds, I knew we were onto something.” He smiled at Rosa, taking his time to continue. “After examinin’ the orange juice sample you brought in, we were able to confirm the data enough to make a judgment.” He pulled out a sheet of notes from a folder and lay it on the desk. “Remember that I mentioned the death resembled gas poisonin’, in particular one derived from Phosgene? Phosgene was developed before World War One for the purpose of makin’ certain plastics. However, they then used it in the war as a poison gas after it was discovered that inhalation would cause death.”

  Dr. Rayburn paused as if to give the seriousness of this revelation time to sink in. “Its military designation became CG. It was harder to detect than chlorine because it was colorless and smelled like freshly cut hay. However, it took a little longer to affect the lungs of the victim than chlorine gas. In the end though, it proved to be more devastatin’ because the enemy couldn’t necessarily tell when it was deployed.”

  “And you’re saying this particular gas was found in the lungs of our victims?” Rosa asked.

  Dr. Rayburn’s eyes latched on to Rosa in a way that made her feel admired.

  “That’s what I’m sayin’ ma’am.”

  “But how?” Miguel asked. “I mean, as far as we can tell, Miss Adams was supposedly standing at the edge of the pier.”

  “Well, that’s just it,” Dr. Rayburn continued. “The intriguing question for these two cases is how are you going to administer it in gas form? I’d propose that y’all are looking for a new kind of derivative, a mutant kind of phosgene, if you will, that was produced by using some of the same compounds mixed with certain chemical catalysts and binders to form a drug which can be ground into powder. I won’t bore you with all the chemical processes and names but suffice to say, someone has developed a new poison that is tasteless, can be slipped into a drink, and will have an opioid, or deadenin’ effect on the medulla oblongata. That part of the brain is mostly responsible for the involuntary function of breathin’.”

  Miguel was aghast. “A poison that tells your brain to stop breathing?”

  Rosa shared his dismay. “That’s dreadful!”

  “From what we can tell, the substance would have a delayed reaction of about thirty to forty-five minutes before being fully absorbed into the bloodstream.” Dr. Rayburn stared back solemnly. “Someone slipped it into Miss Adams’ drink, a martini according to what we found in the stomach, and when it finally took effect, she died of suffocation. There would have been no warning.”

  “We assume the same thing happened to Jason Brewster,” Melvin Philpott said. “The orange juice sample had a good amount in it.”

  Miguel leaned over to Rosa, “See, I told you we need to deputize that cat.”

  Rosa rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep from grinning.

  Turning back to Dr. Rayburn, Miguel asked, “Have you ever come across the poison before?”

  “In a word, no. We can’t find any reference to it in our medical books. Our knowledge of exactly how it is made and formed into a powder is simply not there. We have no record of it. That’s why it took us so long to piece together what we do know. However, now that we have the orange juice sample, it won’t be long before we can more accurately classify it.”

  “Onvocyn,” Rosa said quietly while staring down at the floor. She looked up and noticed everyone staring at her. “It’s called Onvocyn.”

  Melvin Philpott shook his head. “I don’t think I have ever heard of that.”

  Rosa struggled to think of how to explain herself without giving away her source—her mother’s personal journal. Her entries during the years of the First World War had been sparse and annoyingly, but understandably, vague, or worse, rubbed out beyond deciphering. Rosa, a frequent visitor to the London Library, had to do considerable searching to find out what Onvocyn was. Most of the time her intense pursuit of trivia proved to be merely an enjoyable waste of time. Once in a while, it came in handy. Like now.

  “It’s a substance that was developed by the Germans about midway through World War One,” she explained, “but it was hard to make and took a long time. One needed exactly the right atmospheric conditions during production, or else it would be contaminated and rendered useless.” Rosa stared back at the stunned faces of the three men in the room, then continued. “It was used a few times successfully during espionage operations by the Germans and then later by the British, but was strictly banned by both sides after the war. Unfortunately, it did show up in Britain on the black market. Drug gangs in London have been known to disguise it as cocaine when they wanted to get rid of rivals and make it difficult to determine the cause of death.”

  “How in the blue blazes of hell do you know all of that?” Melvin Philpott finally exclaimed.

  “I . . . I . . . read it in some Scotland Yard case files, I think.”

  “Who on earth would have access to such a substance, and why use that particular one?” Miguel asked. “There are lots of other poisons that are far easier to obtain.”

  “The killer obviously put a lot of thought into what kind of results he or she wanted,” Dr. Rayburn remarked.

  “Por todos los santos” Rosa and Miguel both exclaimed out loud simultaneously. They looked at each other in surprise.

  “Let’s see,” Miguel cleared his throat. “It had to be a powder or a pill, and it had to be tasteless when slipped into a drink. It’s possible the killer wanted a poison that produced a delayed reaction for some reason.”

  “Agreed. As for who would have access, that’s a tricky one,” Dr. Rayburn said. “Substances like this can only be tracked down through the black market.”

  “Jason Brewster,” Rosa said.

  The men bobbed their heads in agreement.

  “We can now refine our investigation a bit,” Rosa offered. “We’re looking at someone who had a motive, someone who was at that party, and someone who had a connection to Jason Brewster.”

  “That certainly points away from my wife, thank goodness!” Melvin Philpott proclaimed. “She certainly had no connection with any blasted drug dealer and has no interest or connection to any secretive, bloody poison used by the Germans over forty years ago!” His voice reverberated and hung in the room.

  Rosa looked directly at the older pathologist. “Perhaps, sir. But you might.”

>   “You’ve got some nerve, young lady!” Dr. Philpott ripped off his glasses to reveal wild and angry gray eyes.

  “Now calm down, Melvin,” Miguel said, putting a palm up. “Miss Reed’s only stating the obvious here. As an experienced man of medical science, you know how the criminal element operates in our region. It’s not a stretch to imagine that you could have taken on your wife’s offence, which gives you motive. You could know about this unheard-of substance and could figure out how to get it.”

  “I take it you mean I’m interested in the old man’s money,” Dr. Philpott shot back. “You know as well as anyone, Miguel, that there was no love lost between me and that curmudgeon. If it were up to me, I’d give all that money away should it be passed down to us.”

  “It’s my understanding that it will be passed down to you,” Rosa said quietly.

  “That remains to be seen! Shirley and I are not in agreement about that.” Dr. Philpott stared over his glasses at Miguel. “You’ve known me and my wife for a long time, Mick. I find it inconceivable that you would suspect either of us of murder. And not of one person, but two. It’s outrageous!”

  Miguel nodded solemnly. “I agree it’s outrageous, and I give my word that I will turn over every rock to get to the truth. If you are innocent, which of course, I am inclined to believe, then you have nothing to worry about, do you?”

  This seemed to calm Dr. Philpott down somewhat. He gave both Miguel and Rosa a look and then stood. “I have a golf appointment, so if you’ll excuse me, I will take my leave.”

  Silence filled the room after he slammed the door on his way out.

  16

  It was silent in the police car for the first few moments.

  “You stole my saying,” Miguel finally said.

  “I did not.”

  “Yes, you did. Por todos los santos. That’s mine. I inherited it from my grandmother.”

  “Pffft,” Rosa scoffed. “Well then, consider it a tribute to her.”

  “It sounds funny when you say it, though. Like the Queen ordering a burrito or something.” He glanced sideways at her and smirked.

  Rosa couldn’t help but chuckle. “Thank you, by the way, for defending me back there.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Miguel stopped at a traffic light. “You know, Dr. Philpott is normally a very amiable guy.”

  “Anyone would react the same way.” Rosa palmed her hairdo, reigning in any stray strands. “I don’t blame him for getting upset.”

  Miguel signaled to turn, then pulled on the large cream and chrome steering wheel. “I have some matters to attend to at the office, which will probably take a few hours. Delvechio wants me to give a short instruction to a few new recruits on office protocol.”

  This suited Rosa as she was ready for some time alone. “Would you mind if I spoke to Shirley Philpott again?”

  “Wow, you are one brave lady,” Miguel said with a glint of admiration in his eyes. “You just royally ticked off the Mister, and now you want to pay a visit to the already highly agitated Missus? Be my guest.”

  “Royally?” Rosa raised her eyebrows and shot him a sidelong glance. “Really, Miguel?”

  “Sorry, I forgot you Brits are a kind of possessive of that word.”

  “No . . . it’s fine. I just think you misused the word, that’s all.” Rosa held in a grin.

  “Well, when you see the Queen, which I am sure happens often, give her my apologies. Also, my best to that Duke of Edinburgh guy too. I’m not sure who he is, but he always seems to be lurking around Queen Lizzy for some reason.”

  Rosa turned her face to the side window to suppress another grin.

  Once in the back lot of the police station, they climbed out of the police cruiser, and despite their recent casual banter, offered polite, if not rather awkward goodbyes. There were moments when it was easy to forget the missing years between them. Rosa had to remember that Miguel was engaged to be married.

  One must guard one’s heart!

  As Rosa pulled away in the Bel Air, she decided to return to the Forrester mansion to talk to Gloria. Her younger cousin had proven invaluable in the last interview, and since this one might get testy, it would be good to have an ally. She would make Gloria promise not to divulge any information from the case to anybody.

  To Rosa’s surprise, she was almost knocked over when Gloria came racing around the living room corner dragging a little cloth mouse on the end of a string.

  “Oh, sorry,” Gloria said, laughing and out of breath. She sat down on one of the upholstered armchairs as Diego awkwardly ran around the same corner looking for the mouse. “He’s been keeping me busy. He’s quite the little predator.”

  Rosa picked up Diego and nuzzled him to her neck, but after a short cuddle session, the kitten wriggled out of her grasp, landed on the sofa, and scampered away.

  “Goodness,” Rosa said.

  “Not in the mood,” Gloria said lightly.

  “I’m on my way to interview Shirley Philpott,” Rosa announced. “I’m wondering if you could join me?”

  “Sure. Señora Gomez won’t mind watching Diego. Give me a minute to get ready.”

  Gloria disappeared up the steps while Rosa located Diego and handed him over to the housekeeper. “I do appreciate you keeping an eye on the little fellow,” Rosa said. “Please keep him out of sight of Aunt Louisa and Grandma Sally.”

  “Si, Miss Rosa,” Señora Gomez said. “They don’t get along with little Diego.”

  After what was definitely longer than a minute, Gloria, wearing a stylish cherry-red dress, sashayed into the kitchen where Rosa waited.

  “I’m ready!”

  The Philpotts lived in a comfortable neighborhood in the south end of Santa Bonita. Their house was a sprawling, single-story ranch-style home with a two-car garage and beautifully manicured front lawn. Shirley Philpott, her salt-and-pepper hair framing her round face, welcomed Rosa and Gloria with a tentative smile. Once her guests settled around the kitchen table, she poured lemonade out of a large carafe into two glasses and handed them to Gloria and Rosa.

  After a short time of polite conversation, Rosa got to the point. “Do you know a man by the name of Jason Brewster?”

  Mrs. Philpott blinked coldly. “Now, there’s a question that the police did not ask.”

  Gloria hesitated, looked into her glass, then glanced at Rosa.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Mrs. Philpott exclaimed. “I didn’t poison your drink! Would you like me to drink first?” She poured some into her own glass and took a large gulp. After patting her lips with a tissue, she answered the question. “I believe someone by the name of Brewster assisted Florence in. . . certain unsavory ways.”

  “Cocaine?” Rosa ventured.

  Mrs. Philpot sniffed. “Yes. If you must be so on the nose about it.”

  “Your husband says that you are not in agreement when it comes to the disbursement of the inheritance money you’re due to receive from your uncle,” Rosa said. “Is that true?”

  “It is. We have enough money; that is not the issue. The truth is, I plan to donate most of it; a lot of it right here to our own polio charity. Melvin doesn’t even want it on our personal books. He can be quite stubborn sometimes. There’s not a good history between him and my uncle, as you obviously know by now. My husband’s being unreasonable. By law, the money will have to show up on our books.”

  Rosa couldn’t ignore her growing thirst and dared to drink her lemonade. “Can you elaborate more on your history with the polio charity?” she asked after a sip.

  Shirley crossed her legs and sighed. “Let me see, where should I begin?”

  “When did you join the organization?” Rosa asked.

  “Oh, I think it was now over five years ago. I was on the board long before your Aunt Louisa got involved. Melvin and I had both supported various polio foundations over the years, but when we found this one, right here in Santa Bonita, we focused a lot more of our efforts here close to home.” She g
lanced between Rosa and Gloria with somber eyes. “I lost an uncle to the horrible disease.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rosa said. Globally, polio was a devastating disease. Any advancement made by science was welcomed. “Aunt Louisa says you were involved in promoting the charity?”

  “Yes, I work a lot with Rod Jeffers. I think you met him at the party. He’s the man with the leg braces.” Rosa remembered the man casually looking on from a patch of lawn while Miguel and Melvin Philpott examined the body on the beach. “He helps me relate to the press for any events we are doing,” She took another sip of her drink.

  “What kind of connection did Mr. Jeffers have to Florence?” Rosa asked.

  Mrs. Philpott pursed her lips. “Within any organization, there can be tensions among the members. Rod is amiable enough, albeit a bit shy sometimes, which is odd for someone who works with the press, I know. But Florence, well, she could be a bit testy, and that’s certainly not a secret. What was secret though, was the fact that she had a heart condition. Not everyone knew that. She was being treated for it.”

  Mrs. Philpott’s gaze drifted to the palm trees out the window, their fronds blowing lightly in the wind. “She told me it was in control, but I found myself constantly watching her for signs of a heart attack or something, especially because she was so irritable at times. I was always the one trying to calm her down when the stress got too much. Earlier, on the evening she died, she was terribly upset. She had overheard somebody talk about her. I tried to calm her down, but she’d had a few drinks so . . .” Mrs. Philpott sighed. “But now, from what the police and Melvin have told me, it wasn’t her heart that got her, it was poison.”

  Gloria looked into her glass again. Shirley shook her head and chuckled somewhat ruefully.

  “Goodness, child. How long have you known me?”

  Gloria straightened up and finally took a sip. “How long has Rod Jeffers had those braces on his legs?”

  “I’m not sure. I think since he was very young. He seems to get on quite well, and his condition is not as bad as many others we’ve seen.”