Read Online 2 Death Makes the Cut by Janice Hamrick - Free Book Online

of course, but also suicides, heart attacks, accidents, whatever.”
    “And all this?” I asked, gesturing to the powder.
    “Again, we have to treat every unattended death as a possible crime scene. We take photographs. We collect evidence. Most of the time, it’s not needed, but we only get one shot at the scene, so we have to be cautious.”
    “But now you’re back,” I said, puzzled. “You’ve had all day to examine the shed, but you’re back. Is that standard, too?”
    “I just wanted to clear up a few final details. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”
    I did not believe him. “How did Fred die?” I asked suddenly. “Was it a heart attack? Or a stroke?” I racked my brain. What else caused people to drop dead without warning?
    “We don’t have the results of the autopsy yet,” he answered evasively.
    Which was not an answer at all. Now that we were inside, he had removed his reflective glasses, but it made no difference. I could read nothing at all in his eyes.
    He moved forward, past the rows of tennis racquets, around the metal shelves. “This filing cabinet was locked, but we found the key in his desk. Do you know what he kept in it?”
    Was this a test? “Well, no. I assume forms and maybe papers about tournaments or the team lineup. Why, what’s in there?”
    He pulled the top drawer open so that I could see a collection of files, each labeled in Fred’s meticulous, tiny handwriting. He closed it and pulled out the bottom drawer, which was filled with a couple of cartons of Marlboros.
    “Did you know he was a smoker?”
    I almost laughed. “Everyone who came within ten paces of him knew he was a smoker. The reek from his shirt could make your eyes water. So what? What difference does it make?”
    He didn’t answer. Watching me, he pulled out the two cartons and laid them on the desk. Then he opened the bottom one. Tucked in between two packs was a slim, poorly rolled joint.
    “That’s not Fred’s,” I said automatically. “He would never smoke marijuana.”
    In response, Detective Gallagher opened one of the cigarette packs. It was full of the same slim little joints, lined up inside the package just like miniature cigarettes. I stared.
    “Fred must have confiscated those from one of the players.”
    “You think so? Are you sure?”
    “Of course. What else could it be?”
    He simply shrugged. I looked at him, appalled. “No way. You can’t possibly think these were Fred’s. He was a straight arrow. He…” I started to try to explain, then stopped abruptly. I’d finally caught an expression in Detective Gallagher’s blue eyes.
    He pulled a plastic evidence bag from the top drawer of the desk where it had been stored, and put the packs inside. It was already labeled and ready to go.
    I asked, “So, you left this here for me? Why?”
    “I wanted to know if you knew about Mr. Argus’s drug habit. You say you didn’t.” His voice was carefully expressionless. It was anyone’s guess whether he believed me or not.
    “Fred did not have a drug habit.” I enunciated each word with as much force as I could, trying to control my temper. “If this is important, then you need to look elsewhere. Hell, even if it’s not important, you need to look elsewhere. Fred would never, ever be involved with drugs in any way whatsoever.”
    “The tox screen might tell a different story.”
    I glared at him in frustration. Then another thought occurred to me. “Wait, what is this really about?” I said slowly. “You aren’t going to pursue drug charges against a dead man.”
    For a moment I didn’t think he was going to answer, then he said, “We’ve noticed a few anomalies about this death. It’s probably nothing, but we have to look into it.”
    “Anomalies? What does that mean? Are you saying you don’t think Fred’s death was natural?”
    “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying it is my job to thoroughly investigate the scene of a death. That’s all I’m doing.” He