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“That’s true,” he agreed. “We just don’t know enough yet.”
“We’ll get there.” Joan opened her file and looked at it. As she was reading, she said, “The attack on you and Maxwell took place around two in the morning. Here I was thinking I was special, only to find that you invite all sorts of women to spend the night.”
“Just like you, she slept in the guest room.”
“And where did you sleep?”
He ignored her. “Who’s next on the list?”
Joan closed her file. “I’d like to hit this law firm—Dobson, Tyler—while we’re in town, but we’ll need time to check it out first. So it’s on to Mildred Martin.”
“What do we have on her?”
“Devoted to her husband, who worked with Bruno in D.C. Some of my preliminary digging suggested that the young John Bruno played fast and loose as a prosecutor in D.C. and left Martin holding the bag.”
“So the widow Martin would be no fan of Bruno’s?”
“Right. Bill Martin had terminal lung cancer. It had also spread to his bones. He had, at most, a month. But that didn’t work in somebody’s timetable, so they had to help him along.” She flipped open a file. “I was able to get the autopsy results on Martin. The embalming fluid had spread everywhere, even to the vitreous fluid, which otherwise is a pretty good place to spot poison because it doesn’t turn to jelly like blood does upon death.”
“Vitreous? That’s eyeball fluid?” asked King.
She nodded. “There was a spike in the methanol level in the midbrain sample they took.”
“Well, if the guy was a heavy drinker, that’s not unusual. Methanol is in whiskey and wine.”
“Right again. I just note it because the M.E. did. However, methanol is also a component of embalming fluid.”
“And if they knew there wouldn’t be an autopsy and the body gets embalmed…”
Joan finished for him. “The embalming process could mask the methanol presence or at least confuse the M.E. when an autopsy is actually performed.”
“Perfect murder?”
“No such thing with us on the case,” said Joan with a smile.
“So what do you think Mildred can tell us?”
“If Bruno changed his schedule to meet with someone calling herself Mildred Martin, then he must have thought the real Mildred had something important to tell him. From what I know of John Bruno, he does nothing that doesn’t help him.”
“Or maybe hurt him. And what makes you think she’ll tell us?”
“Because after checking her out, I’ve found she’s also a hard drinker and a sucker for a handsome man who shows her some attention. I hope you get the hint. And if you can manage it, take off the bandage—you have such nice hair.”
“And what’s your part?”
She smiled sweetly. “The heartless bitch. A role I’ve perfected.”
CHAPTER
40
AFTER THEY LANDED, King and Joan rented a car and drove to Mildred Martin’s house, arriving in the early evening. It was a modest place and
in the sort of neighborhood that people who didn’t have a lot of money retired to. It was about five miles from the funeral home where Bruno had been kidnapped.
They rang the bell and knocked on the door, but no one answered.
“I don’t understand. I called ahead,” said Joan.
