Read Online Frozen Stiff by Annelise Ryan - Free Book Online

shake him, thinking he might be asleep or something because he looked so pink.”
    “Pink?”
    “Yeah,” she says, sniffling. “His color was very pink, almost red. You know, ruddy looking.”
    Ruddy coloring is unusual and it makes me wonder if Mr. Minniver might have tried to commit suicide. Carbon monoxide poisoning typically causes a cherry-red color in the skin and if he was in his car with the garage door closed, carbon monoxide poisoning seems like a possibility.
    “Ms. Nottingham, I know you said your father had his keys in the ignition but did you happen to notice whether or not the ignition was turned on?”
    Her brow furrows as she thinks about this. “I don’t think so,” she says finally, “because the engine wasn’t running.”
    I realize the engine might have been running and the car simply ran out of gas before he was found, but I don’t say so. I’m pretty certain she has no idea what position the ignition was in. “Did you notice any unusual smells in the garage?” I ask. She furrows her forehead, looking confused, so I elaborate. “Like a strong odor of exhaust?”
    She thinks a minute and then says, “No, I don’t think so.”
    “I understand your dad had a history of heart problems?”
    “He did, but he had that bypass surgery they do and he’s been doing pretty well since then. In fact, he was checked out by his cardiologist just two weeks ago and they said his heart looked great.”
    This confirms what I read in his chart.
    “What happened?” she asks, her voice hitching slightly. She dabs at the tears in her eyes with a worn-looking tissue she has crumpled in one hand. “Was it a stroke or something? I know he was pretty stressed out about some lawsuit he has going on with his neighbor. Could that have led to a stroke?”
    “I don’t really know,” I tell her, unwilling to share my suicide theory yet. “We’ll need to do an autopsy.”
    She pulls back from me. “You’re going to cut him open?” she says, looking horrified.
    “It sounds much worse than it is. An autopsy is a professional, scientific, and dignified process. It’s not much different than having surgery at the hospital,” I say, knowing it’s a lie. While an autopsy is a professional and scientific process, there is nothing even remotely dignified about flaying someone open, removing all their organs, and turning their face inside out so you can saw part of their skull off and pop their brain out.
    She shudders and hugs herself. “I suppose if you have to, you have to,” she says. “Is this going to delay the funeral arrangements?”
    “It shouldn’t. We’ll do the autopsy tomorrow and hopefully we’ll have some answers by the afternoon. Most likely his body will be released the next day. Have you contacted a funeral home yet?”
    She shakes her head. “No, but I think Dad had some kind of preburial plan with the Johnson Funeral Home. They did my mom when she died.”
    I jot down the name of the funeral home and then say, “There’s one other thing I’d like to ask you. I want to go by your dad’s house and take a look at the car and the garage. I’d like to do that tonight, if it’s okay with you.”
    She shrugs, blows her nose in what’s left of her tissue, and then digs in her purse. She hands me a single key on its own key ring and says, “There’s a carriage-style light mounted next to the front door and the top of it opens so you can change the bulb. Dad usually kept a key taped to the inside of the lid. But take this one in case it’s not there. The house was still open when I left and I don’t know if the cops locked the place up when they were done. I don’t want to go back there tonight.”
    “I’ll make sure it’s locked,” I tell her. “How can I reach you later?”
    She gives me her home address and her cell phone number, which I write down. In exchange, I hand her a card for the ME’s office and tell her we’ll be in touch, but that she can call anytime she wants