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“More than a usual prescription dosage.” Like double.
“That’s strange. I talked to him the morning of the fire, and he told me his ankle was feeling better.”
Another red flag began to wave in Bri’s mind.
“There was also a small amount of diphenhydramine. That’s a sedating antihistamine used in over-the-counter allergy medications and sleep aids.”
“This isn’t making sense. Dad hated medicine. He would never take a sleeping pill, and despite his bad allergies, he had other coping mechanisms. Like never, ever opening the windows in the house. That was a sacrosanct rule while I was growing up, and it never changed.”
If that was true, why had medication been found in his tox screen? And why had the study window been open?
The flag waved harder.
“There was one other notable finding. Your dad’s BAC was .12.”
A few beats ticked by. “You mean he was ... drunk?” Incredulity raised Sandra’s pitch.
Bri shifted her weight to relieve the ache in her leg. “The legal limit is .08.”
“No.” Sandra’s tone was vehement. “That can’t be right. Dad never drank to excess. I know he started having trouble sleeping after Mom died last year, and I know he was bummed by the broken ankle, but he wouldn’t resort to alcohol or drugsto get through. That wasn’t how Dad was wired. Something’s wrong with this picture.”
“If what you’re telling me is true, I see the disconnect.”
“So what does this mean?”
Bri cherry-picked her next words. “I don’t know at this stage, but I promise you this. I’m not going to give up until we have an answer to that question. Please send me a photo of that slip of paper you found in the wallet as soon as possible.”
“I’ll do it the minute we hang up.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep you apprised of my progress. And if I find out anything about the clock, I’ll let you know. Have a safe journey home.”
As they said their goodbyes, Bri wandered back to the table, weighing her phone in her hand. If she hadn’t been in the mood for lunch before, she was definitely not in the mood now.
Her cell pinged as she retook her seat. The photo from Sandra had arrived. She opened it.
Alison slid into the seat across from her, a second margarita in hand. “I swung by the bar for a refill on my way back.”
Not the best idea, even if it was her day off. But how did you tell a friend trying to deal with a separation initiated by the man she loved that it might be wise to cut back on the booze?
Besides, if the man in question did have a problem with controlled substances, as Alison had confided recently, maybe her anguish about the breakup was misplaced. Maybe the split would be to her benefit in the long run.
Also not an easy subject to introduce.
“What’s up?” Alison took a sip of her drink. “You look very serious.”
“A new development.” Bri redirected her attention to the photo. At first glance, the cryptic jottings didn’t mean anything to her, either. She’d have to study them more closely after lunch.
“On Les’s case?” Alison motioned toward the cell. “From your conversation, I got the feeling that was his daughter.”
“Yes, it was. She had a few thought-provoking nuggets to pass on.”
“Thought-provoking as in worthy of further investigation?”
“Let’s just say I’m not quite ready to put this case to bed.”
Alison’s mouth bowed. “Your tenacity reminds me of Les.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She skimmed the dates and letters again. It was gibberish to her, but maybe someone else would notice a pertinent fact, pick up a pattern she was missing. Couldn’t hurt to ask a few random people for a first impression. Like her lunch date. Bri angled the phone toward Alison. “Any thoughts on what this might mean?”
