his big ear. “Not used to this many bodies at one time. Miss the old days.”
“The old days were filled with injured lumbers, miners, and hookers,” Nick returned.
“Yeah, but for some reason, it’s getting harder.” Bay sighed. “Kids look so young now that I’m so old.”
“Kids look young regardless,” Nick said soberly. “What do you have?”
It felt odd having this conversation in the lab, but nobody else seemed to mind, so I tried to roll with it.
Bay rocked back on very white tennis shoes. “Scot was shot, Randy Taylor suffered blunt force trauma to the head, and Cheryl Smythers overdosed.”
“Labs on any of them?” Nick asked.
Bay shook his head. “It’ll be another week, and I’ve even put a rush on it. The lab in Boise is busy.” He shrugged.
Nick’s gaze narrowed. “Tell me you tested Cheryl like I asked.”
Bay glanced at me and then at Nick. “Yep. Definite opioid, and a whole lot of yeast, as you suggested.” He focused on his nephew. “Want to tell me how you knew that?”
“Chasing a lead,” Nick said. “By the way, where are the cops?”
“Detective Pierce was here an hour ago,” Bay said easily. “And yes, before you ask, I gave him my full report. He’s aware of the yeast, although he might not know what it means.”
I wanted to ask what it meant, but I kept quiet for the moment. Oh, Nick was going to talk once we were in the car, whether he liked it or not.
“Is that it?” Nick asked.
“Nope.” Bay leaned back against the door he’d just used. “Cheryl Smythers had defensive wounds on her arms and bruised knuckles from fighting somebody. There were bruises down her esophagus and along her mouth and jaw, in addition to hematomas on her upper arms and ribcage.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
Nick ran a hand through his hair. “It means somebody pinned her and shoved drugs down her throat to kill her.”
The poor girl. Who would’ve killed her? “Drugs? Wouldn’t it have been easier just to strangle her?” I asked. If her killer was strong enough to hold her down, wouldn’t he or she have been strong enough to just kill her?
“Definitely,” Bay said. “This is a message, without question.”
“Or an experiment,” Nick returned. “It’s new product. Untested. Just how much did it take for her brain to stop telling her heart to beat and her lungs to draw in air?”
Bay’s papery skin paled a bit more. “She would’ve been unconscious within the hour, and probably dead within another hour.”
The poor girl.
Nick shook his head. “Thanks, Bay.”
“Yeah.” Bay sighed. “It’s only June, and this is my third homicide. I didn’t have any last year. Not one.” His sharp gaze raked Nick. “Is it a coincidence you’re here now?”
“There are no coincidences. You know that.” Nick turned for the door. “Send over the reports when you get the chance, would you?”
“Sure. Just as soon as I fill out the Smyther’s death certificate to mark it as a homicide,” Bay said wearily.
I glanced at Nick as we walked out of the room and ditched the plastic shoe covers. How terrible it must’ve been for Cheryl to die that way. “I don’t believe in coincidences either, Nick. It’s time you told me the full truth.”
He nodded. “All right, but it’s gonna be over pancakes. I have been promising you breakfast.”
I nodded, keeping my composure. He meant that as a working breakfast. Right?
Chapter 24
When you wanted milkshakes in Timber City, you went to Pete’s. When you wanted burgers, you went to Ralph’s Burgers. And when you wanted pancakes, you went to Smiley’s Diner. I’d like to say that my sister wasn’t delighted to see me accompanied by Nick as we seated ourselves at a booth near the windows, but I’d be lying. She all but danced our way with menus.
I started to introduce them when I remembered they probably knew each other from high school, even though Nick was Donna’s age, which was two years older than Tess.
“How’s it hangin’, Basanelli?” She grinned and handed over a menu.
“Pretty good since I’m finally home.” His return smile held a boatload of charm.
She pushed her reddish-blonde hair away from her stunning face. “My sister tells me you might have contacts good enough to find Jareth Davey. That true?”
Of course, she’d go right there. Family. I mean. Just…family. I sighed.
“I’m sure going to try.” He sobered, handing back the menus. “I’ve already reached out but haven’t heard anything.”
“Good enough. I take it you both want pancakes?” She reclaimed the