it happened, watching TV in the next room.'
'Jesus.'
'Yeah. The two of them had just had some kind of spat over Reggie's dissolute life-style and Reggie stomped off, got his works out of his dresser drawer and the gun, locked himself in the can, and kaboom. Mom heard the shot, couldn't get the door open, tried to use a hatchet and still couldn't do it. The paramedics found her sitting on the floor, crying and screaming for him to please come out, talk it over. They broke the door down and when they saw what he looked like, tried to hold her back. But she got a look at some ofit. So that could explain her sour disposition.
'Oh, man,' I said. 'What a thing to go through. Anything on the family history that led up to the suicide?'
'Dunn said there was no history of child abuse-she saw it as basically a nice mom with a rotten kid. And she busted Reggie lots of times, knew him well.'
'What about dad?'
'Died when Reggie was little. Heavy drinker, like you said.
Reggie was in trouble right out of the chute, smoking dope and moving on up the pharmaceutical ladder. Dunn describes him as a little skinny jerk, learning disabilities, not too bright, couldn't hold a job.
Incompetent criminal, too-got caught all the time, but he was so pitiful-looking, judges usually went easy on him. He didn't get violent until near the end-the assault rap. And even that was relatively dinky-bar fight, he used a pool cue on some other scrote's head. Dunn said he was getting feistier because of the crack, it was just a matter of time before he ended up prematurely muerto. According to her, mom was the long-suffering type, tried her best. End of story.
It tell you anything about mom as a suspect?'
'Not really. Thanks anyway.'
'What's your next step?'
'lacking anything else, I guess a visit with Dawn Herbert. I spoke to Ashmore's wife yesterday, and she said he hired grad students from the university. So maybe Herbert has enough technical knowledge to know what Ashmore was looking for in Chad's chart.'
Ashmore's wife? What'd you do, pay a grief call?'
'Yes. Nice lady. Ashmore was quite an interesting fellow.' I told him about the couple's time in the Sudan, Ashmore's gambling systems and investments.
'Blackjack, huh? Must have been good.'
'She said he was a math genius-computer wizard. Brown belt in several martial arts, too. Not exactly easy prey for a mugger.
'No? I know you used to do all that good stuff, and I never wanted to disillusion you, but I've seen plenty of martial artists with tags on their toes. It's one thing in a ~, bowing and jumping around and screaming like there's a hatpin in your colon. Whole different story out on the streets. Incidentally, I checked with Hollywood Division on Ashmore's murder and they're giving a low solve probability. Hope the widow isn't pinning her hopes on law enforcement.'
'The widow is still too dazed to hope.'
'Yeah...'
'What?'
'Well,' he said, 'I've been thinking a lot about your case-the psychology of this whole Munchausen thing-and it seems to me we've missed a potential suspect.'
'Who?'
'Your buddy Steph.'
'Stephanie? Why?'
'Female, medical background, likes to test authority, wants to be in the center of things.'
