“Yes, just bought it in February. It’s a Moto Guzzi Falcon. A beauty! I’m planning a trip down to San Diego soon. Just giving it a bit of tune-up.” Clarence tugged on a spark-plug wrench, then stood up and wiped down the bike with a rag.
“We just came from Vanessa’s apartment,” Gloria said.
Clarence stopped wiping for a second, but then returned to polishing as he spoke. “Oh?”
Rosa got straight to the point. “Were you and Florence Adams still involved at the time of her death?”
Clarence sighed. “No. What happened between me and Flo happened months ago. It was a stupid mistake and only happened once. A drunken night at a party. Vanessa and I had problems, and Flo was all too willing. Vanessa got really frosted when she found out—I suspect Flo told her—and announced she wanted a divorce.”
“It only happened once?” Rosa said, surprised. “Vanessa made it sound like you had an ongoing relationship with Miss Adams.”
Clarence’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Is that what she said? That woman really likes to light up the tilt sign.”
Rosa raised her eyebrows and glanced at Gloria for interpretation.
“He means she likes to lie a lot,” Gloria said.
Clarence continued his sad tale. “I told Flo we’d made a mistake, and we needed to go our separate ways, but she wouldn’t have it. She badgered me for weeks. I made another big blunder attending a social event with her—after Vanessa and I had split up—but it was more out of an effort to placate her. When I tried to put on the brakes, Flo lost it.”
“How do you mean?” Rosa asked.
“She’d follow me around, come over to the house unannounced, phone me incessantly . . . it went on for quite a while.”
“That lines up more with my memory of things,” Gloria said. “I remember her ringing the doorbell and Bledsoe telling her you weren’t available. She had a fit.”
“Did this unwanted behavior stop?” Rosa asked.
“She finally gave up, then started hanging on to some other guy’s arm. Brewster’s the name. Likes to wear Hawaiian shirts.”
Clarence’s motive for killing Florence Adams dissolved if his story about Miss Adams finding a new crush was true.
But was it? All Rosa knew for sure was the two people in Clarence’s story were now dead.
Just then, Señora Gomez entered the garage carrying Diego.
“There you are, Miss Rosa,” the housekeeper said as she handed over the kitten.
Rosa scooped Diego into her arms and pressed her lips to his fuzzy head. “Hello, cutie pie. I hope you were a good boy?”
“El gatito se portó perfectamente,” Señora Gomez said with a smile. “I was looking for you, Miss Rosa. You have a message. Detective Belmonte wants you to meet him at the medical examiner’s office right away.”
15
“It had us baffled for a long time, and we still don’t have it all figured out.” Dr. Rayburn said, his southern drawl warm and slow as maple syrup. He sat down on one of the chairs in the medical examiner’s visiting room along with Melvin Philpott, who sat in another chair, while Miguel and Rosa took a seat on the large leather sofa. “But we’re a bit closer. I hope ya don’t mind, but I’ve asked Dr. Philpott to sit in on this meeting. He’s not on the investigative team, and he’s not examined either of the bodies, but I consider his experience and expertise valuable in any brainstorming sessions we might have.”
“Dr. Rayburn has done an excellent job on this,” Melvin Philpott said. “Whoever poisoned Florence, and now this Jason Brewster fellow, underestimated the science of pathology. I also believe this will steer the investigation away from my wife.”
“I hope so,” Miguel said. “But of course, you know we have to keep all options open. Your wife is one of several suspects that have possible motives for the death of Florence Adams.”
Dr. Philpott nodded his head begrudgingly.
Miguel addressed the assistant. “What have you discovered, Dr. Rayburn?”
The Texan cleared his throat. “Well, I couldn’t really confirm this because such small amounts were found in Miss Adams’ blood. But when Mr. Brewster’s blood showed the same compounds, I knew we were onto something.” He smiled at Rosa, taking his time to continue. “After examinin’ the orange juice sample you brought in, we were able to confirm the data enough to make a judgment.” He pulled out a sheet of notes from a folder and lay it on the desk. “Remember that I mentioned the death resembled gas poisonin’, in particular one derived from Phosgene? Phosgene was developed before World War One for the purpose of makin’ certain plastics. However, they then used it in the war as a poison gas after it was discovered that inhalation would cause death.”
Dr. Rayburn paused as if to give the seriousness of this revelation time to sink in. “Its military designation became CG. It was harder to detect than chlorine because it was colorless and smelled like freshly cut hay. However, it took a little longer to affect the lungs of the victim than chlorine gas. In the end though, it proved to be more devastatin’ because the enemy couldn’t necessarily tell when it was deployed.”
“And you’re saying this particular gas was found in the lungs of our victims?” Rosa asked.
Dr. Rayburn’s eyes latched on to Rosa in a way that made her feel admired.
“That’s what I’m sayin’ ma’am.”
“But how?” Miguel asked. “I mean, as far as we can tell, Miss Adams was supposedly standing at the edge of the pier.”
“Well, that’s just it,” Dr. Rayburn continued. “The intriguing question for these two cases is how are you going to administer it in gas form? I’d propose that y’all are looking for a new kind of derivative, a mutant kind of phosgene, if you will, that was produced by using some of the same compounds mixed with certain
