Dorian’s all-business façade dropped away. “I thought so too. Earlier this morning, his vitals were stable. We’d gotten his glucose levels back to where they needed to be. He was demanding to be released, although the doctor wanted to keep him at least another day. I went in to check on him about ninety minutes ago and noticed his heart rate was up. He complained he was hungry, but he’d had a good breakfast. I suspected his levels had dropped. I gave him the rest of the diet soda he had on his tray and went to get the glucometer.”
“Diet soda?”
“Yes. They may be sugar-free, but there are still some carbs in them. Not ideal by any means but better than nothing until I could get some juice.”
“Okay. Then what?”
Dorian stuffed her hands in the pockets of her scrubs. “When I returned, he was unconscious. His glucose was at thirty-two. I was getting ready to push 60cc’s of D-50 through his IV when he coded. We weren’t able to get him back.”
Zoe made a mental note of the times of Franklin’s last meal and dose of insulin and thanked Dorian for her help.
“What’s going on?”
Zoe looked up as Wayne approached. “Haven’t you heard?” she asked.
“Heard what?” He glanced at the closed door.
“Franklin…” Her mouth went suddenly dry. “Franklin died this morning.”
For once, Wayne was speechless. After a couple of false starts, he asked, “Are you all right?”
She shook her head slowly. “Not really.”
“I thought he was improving.”
“So did I. But he’s been in failing health for a while. You don’t get on the transplant list for no good reason.”
He studied her. “Why do you look like some superhero female warrior about to ride into battle?”
“Because the hospital administrators are arguing they have jurisdiction over Franklin’s death.”
“And you want to do the autopsy.”
“I don’t want to. But don’t you think Franklin would insist his death be investigated by his own office?”
Wayne didn’t have to think about it long. “Absolutely. Do you suspect something?”
She mulled over the question. “I have no reason to. Like I said, he’s been sick a long time.”
Wayne cocked an eyebrow at her. “But?”
“But it’s Franklin. He was a fighter.” She choked on the last word as a rush of heat stung her eyes. Blinking it away, she swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know the hospital will do their own autopsy, and I’m not saying they’d cover up any mistakes…”
“Franklin was a well-known public figure.” Wayne brought his face closer to hers, locking onto her gaze. “I’m sure the hospital administration wouldn’t want even the hint of impropriety or the suggestion of a coverup. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He was giving her fodder for the inevitable argument she was destined to have with the admin. “Yeah. I do.”
“Good.” Wayne’s gaze shifted over her shoulder. From his expression, Zoe would’ve guessed he’d accidently backed into a large gauge needle. “Oh, no,” he muttered.
Zoe turned to see what caused the reaction.
Loretta Marshall stormed toward them looking like the Angel of Death personified. “Where is he?” she demanded. “The hospital called to tell me Frank died.” She locked her dark, tearless eyes on Zoe. “What have you done with his body?”
Stunned, Zoe looked toward the door.
Loretta turned and slammed into the room.
Zoe grabbed Wayne’s arm. “Crap. Paulette’s still in there.”
They pushed through the door to find Franklin’s secretary in the same spot Zoe had left her, but instead of weeping quietly into a tissue, Paulette stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Impassive, Loretta stood at Franklin’s bedside. No hint of tears. No sign of grief. Zoe froze, Wayne at her side, watching and waiting for some reaction.
After what felt like a half hour but was more like half a minute, Loretta turned her back to her late husband, looking at Paulette, then at Zoe. “Now what?”
Zoe had been wondering the same thing. “I’m going to meet with the hospital about having the coroner’s office take possession of the body. I’ll arrange to have him moved downstairs to the morgue. We’ll do the autopsy as soon as Doc Abercrombie’s available.”
“Autopsy?” Loretta’s dark expression darkened further. “There will be no autopsy.” She swept a hand at Franklin. “He died of kidney failure in a hospital.”
“All we know is, yes, he died in the hospital. The autopsy will determine what caused his death.”
She took two menacing steps toward Zoe. “Did you not hear me? I’m his next of kin and I said there will be no autopsy.”
Loretta towered over her by several inches, but Zoe refused to be intimidated. Or at least she refused to let it show. “I’m afraid you don’t get a say in the matter. I’m the county coroner. I’m the one who determines when there will be an autopsy. Not you.”
The widow glowered at Zoe, her lip curled, revealing one canine tooth. Zoe wouldn’t have been surprised to have seen a fang. What she did see was unabashed rage. Loretta leaned closer. “Don’t make the mistake of taking me for a fool. You have no authority in a hospital death. And the hospital will absolutely take my wishes into account. There will be no autopsy.”
Zoe felt like the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. The worst part? Loretta was right. If Franklin’s death investigation was left to the hospital, her demands would carry considerable weight.
Wheeling, Loretta faced Paulette. “You. You were Frank’s secretary, correct?”
“Yes,” she squeaked.
“I want to see all his documents regarding the business.”
“But—”
Loretta didn’t wait for the response and brought her fury back to Zoe. “I want you out of Frank’s office by tomorrow morning.”
“That won’t be—” Before Zoe could tack on “possible,” Loretta plowed past her and through the door.
Silence settled over the room once again. Until Wayne said, “Wow.”
Zoe reached out
