“I met her this morning at the market.”
“Yeah,” he said. “She had to move her whole farm out of Oxnard.”
Alana was watching him. “I heard there’s a group working to ban the stuff from the county.”
I blinked. She “heard” there was a group? She knew very well there was a group, because I’d told her.
Cody’s eyes widened and he gave a quick nod. “I’ve been going to their meetings. We’re getting close.”
Interesting. A rebel in the family.
“Do you surf?” Alana asked. “You look like a wave rider.”
A smile finally made its way onto his face. “Whenever I can.” He gazed out at the waves.
A woman stuck her head out of the restaurant. “Russom?”
Cody cleared his throat. “Gotta go. I’ll be back with your food, ladies.”
Once he was gone, I leaned closer to Alana. “He’s gone over to the enemy.”
“Very much what it sounds like. Trying to ban his father’s bread and butter. I wonder if Daddy knows.”
I’d had the same thought. Or was Cody spying for Agrosafe? He’d sounded sincere in what he said. Could a twenty-year-old be such a good actor? Of course he could. People younger than twenty had won Oscars, after all.
Chapter 29
Mel Washington ushered me into her office at five thirty. “Thanks for coming so promptly.” Today she wore a magenta knit top that popped against her skin, with dangling earrings to match.
“I was already out with my car when I got your message.” My heart was racing faster than Lance Armstrong coasting down a French Alp. “Did you find the report?”
The pathologist stared at her computer screen, then swiveled to face me. “Yes. It turns out I was away at a professional conference the week your mother passed, and my colleague filed the report using a different naming system than mine. He did do an autopsy, Robbie.” She paused, watching me. “It’s the only way to determine a ruptured aneurysm as a cause certain of death.”
I blinked, thinking. “So a ruptured aneurysm is definitely what killed my mother.”
“Yes. There aren’t any external signs. The brain ceases functioning. If unattended, the person loses consciousness, falls down, and dies. I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you.” I studied my hands. The weight of wondering if she’d been murdered had only half lifted. “Mel, would it be possible for a fumigant to mimic a ruptured aneurysm, or cause one? And could someone like you or your colleague miss such a toxin in a person’s system?”
She rocked a little in her chair as she thought. “A toxin like that might cause a brain bleed, for sure. I am not sure about this particular fumigant.”
“And if it looked like a brain bleed, your colleague wouldn’t have thought to go further with tests for the chemical.”
“Pretty much.” She tapped the phone she’d laid on the desk. “Now, I got your message about the man who was found deceased yesterday. I have a backlog of, um, corpses right now, but I will definitely perform an autopsy and run tox screens for what you mentioned when I get to his remains.”
Remains. The word sounded so clinical. Like there were only little bits of Paul remaining. Certainly his soul was gone, his essence. But his body was intact. Wasn’t it?
A thought occurred to me. “Don’t the police want the autopsy done as soon as possible?”
Mel cocked her head. “Why would they? As far as they know, it was a natural death. Unless you’ve told them your poisoning theory?”
“I suggested it to Jason, and he said he would pass it along. He also told me he wasn’t sure they’d really think it credible.” I wrinkled my nose. “On the other hand, Paul’s roommate told me the police took a few things away from their apartment, like his takeout meal container.
“Interesting. Well, to answer your question, no one has suggested putting a rush on Mr. Etxgeberria.”
“Darn.” I thought for a moment. “How the heck do you spell that, anyway?” I’d seen the name on his mailbox but hadn’t memorized the spelling.
She tapped the keyboard for a few seconds, then said, “E-t-x-g-e-b-e-r-r-i-a.”
“Can you text it to me, please?”
“Sure.” She picked up her cell phone. Her desk phone rang. Her gaze went to the wall clock. “Robbie, I have some things to finish up before I can leave. Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with, all right?”
I stood and extended my hand. “Thank you, Mel, for being honest with me, and for hunting down my mom’s report.”
She shook my hand. “Of course. When do you leave?”
“Saturday morning.”
“I won’t be able to give you the results of the Etxgeberria autopsy, you realize, as you’re not family. Even if we get it accomplished before you leave.” Her eyebrows gathered in and she looked sorry to have to tell me.
“Sure.” I was sorry to hear it, too, but I understood. By all appearances a woman with scruples, Mel worked for the sheriff and took her job seriously.
“Have a good rest of your week out here,” she said. “I’m glad we got to meet.”
I thanked her and made my way out, no wiser than when I went in, really. Sure, my mother had died of a ruptured aneurysm. But had poison caused it or not?
The smoky air had thickened and now stung my eyes. My brain felt thick, too, with a haze of unanswered questions.
Chapter 30
I sat in my car outside a downtown bank for a moment at six twenty that evening checking my email. Liz had shot me a text about a gathering, open to the public, with Walter Russom as featured speaker, to be held in the bank’s meeting room. It was sponsored by the Greater Santa Barbara Chamber of Commerce. The advertised title was “Local Business Initiatives,” whatever that meant. I didn’t have anything else on my calendar and decided to hear what he had to say.
A black SUV pulled into a space a few yards away. A beefy dude wearing a dark shirt and khakis, his eyes hidden behind
