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I pick up lunch, and we eat in the clinic backroom that serves as Beth's office. My sandwich is peanut butter and saskatoon berry jam. The PB is freshly ground, from nuts flown in. The jam is made from berries gathered every summer.
"Did Will ask you to invite me to lunch?" I ask as we eat.
She stops mid-bite and checks my expression. When she sees I'm smiling, she returns it and says, "Maybe."
"I figured that." Especially given that he left after hearing me turn down Isabel's invitation. "Helping me make friends."
"Both of us, I think. Will's always trying to get me to mingle more. It's just not my thing. In college, I was the girl with her nose stuck in her texts from freshman year to graduation."
"Well, don't let him make you feel like you have to be nice to the new girl."
"Oh, I'm fine with socializing. Just not the kind that ends with lampshades on your head, which seems to be the main form of entertainment around here."
"Except there aren't lamps. Which makes it even more awkward."
She smiles. "It does. You don't seem to be into that, but your friend..."
"Diana wasn't before she got here, either. But I'm glad she's enjoying herself while I'm busy with this case."
"Which segues nicely from the awkward talk of your friend onto safer ground."
I smile. "Maybe. I wanted to talk to you about Irene Prosser."
Beth wipes mustard from her lips. "You're not buying the story she nearly hacked off her own hands?"
"Not exactly."
"That suicide ruling isn't Eric's fault."
"I know. He's dealing with politics and angles and doing his best. I can see that."
"He is. As for Irene, yes, it wasn't suicide. Do you need my autopsy report?"
"I have it. I'm looking for observations that might not have gone into it. Specifically, proof of past injuries."
Her lips purse. "Past injuries?"
"Were there signs--in the autopsy or a previous medical examination--that she'd been the victim of abuse?"
"Ah. I see where you're heading. Let me check her file." She wipes off her hands and starts to stand.
"Eat first," I say.
"No, you've set me on a mystery. The sandwich can wait. Do you know how to read an X-ray?"
I follow her from the room. "You have X-rays?"
"I take all the equipment as they offer it. One thing I use the X-ray for is autopsies. Not exactly standard procedure, but it's here, so I put it to use."
She opens a locked drawer in the next room and takes out a file folder. An X-ray film goes into the viewer. There are five, covering Irene's full skeleton. I see signs of a previously broken wrist, but nothing more.
"That's actually a childhood injury," Beth says. "I remember she hurt her wrist last winter, falling on the ice. She was concerned it broke again--once you've done it, it's very easy to do again."
I squint at the X-ray. "I'm not seeing any other signs of old breaks."
"Neither am I. Is that significant?"
"Just an angle I'm pursuing."
