Page 53 of Fifty-Fifty

‘He’s my pal. He likes beef jerky and milk. I think we might be friends,’ said Harry.

I gave him some time to read.

Harry said, ‘His brain, aside from the injuries that occurred from the blade being rammed into the ocular cavity, was normal.’

‘Frank didn’t have dementia,’ I said.

‘Agreed,’ said Harry.

Between the two of us, we’d read more than our fair share of autopsy reports.

Anyone with dementia, or some other type of degenerative disease of the brain,

will have signs of that disease visible to the naked eye during autopsy. The brain would look different. The ME said Frank’s brain was entirely normal. That was

what was bothering me. A dementia sufferer’s brain doesn’t appear normal – the

disease ravages the brain. It’s obvious. Frank’s brain was not damaged by disease. Which meant he didn’t have dementia.

‘His lawyer, Mike Modine, told police Frank had called him to schedule an appointment to discuss changes to his will,’ I said.

‘What changes?’ said Harry.

‘We don’t know. Mike Modine has gone AWOL.’

Harry sighed, heavily, and I could hear the squeaking of the old chair in his study. Then I heard Harry whispering to the dog, calling him a good boy. I had

visions of the dog curled at Harry’s feet, and I was glad. He needed a companion. And the mutt looked like it needed Harry.

‘You know I just retired, right? Two hours ago, for Christ’s sake.’

‘Come on, Harry. Did you notice there’s evidence of stress damage to the respiratory system? That’s a strong indicator. You’re thinking the same thing as me, right?’

‘There are a few possible suspects. We need the toxicology report.’

‘Okay, get some sleep, and say goodnight to the dog for me.’

He hung up.

Harry and I were on the same page. As far as I knew, the prosecutor hadn’t noticed this. If Dreyer had noticed, there would be more tests and an amendment to the cause of death conclusion on the death certificate. Alexandra’s lawyers might not have noticed it either. They had shown no signs of it anyway.

I knew now that Frank Avellino wasn’t just stabbed to death.

For some months prior to his murder, he was being systematically drugged.

Something to dull his brain, keep him confused and compliant. The damage to his respiratory system meant the drugging probably had an endpoint. Eventually, Frank would be poisoned to death.

But who was poisoning him?

The answer to the first question had a narrow field of possible answers. To poison a man like Frank over a period of time you would need very close, regular access.

There were two suspects.

Sofia and Alexandra.

I had a feeling whoever had been poisoning him had decided to accelerate the process of Frank’s death with a twelve-inch kitchen knife, before he changed his will.

SIXTEEN