Page 45 of Her Last Whisper
“I’ve been doing this job for twenty-four years and I’ve seen a lot of stomach contents,” he said. “Ms. Payton had, what I would say, the palate of a rich person.”
“Like? Heavy French sauces and braised truffles?” chimed McGaven.
“Close,” he said. “Her last meal, which I would estimate was no more than two hours before she was killed, consisted of escargot, some type of veal with saffron, and chocolate dessert.”
“Okay,” Katie said.
“And where in town can you order that?” McGaven countered.
“I can’t think of any right off hand. You’d have to go to another town or all the way to a larger city like Sacramento,” Katie said, still trying to figure out where she ate that meal. “Unless she ate at a private residence?”
“Sounds plausible,” stated the medical examiner. He moved closer to Amanda, rolled her torso slightly to the right. “We’ve taken photos of this wound on her side and I’ve sent it to John to see what they could come up with, but preliminary examination,” he said, “appears to be an imprint from a car door.”
Katie joined him and turned her head slightly, trying to wrap her own brain around the assessment. “Oh, I see, it’s the end of the interior part of the car door.” Squinting her eyes a bit, she said, “You can see the distinct outline. It seems like possibly a smaller car and not an SUV.” Katie looked up and refocused her eyes and then examined the imprint on the skin again. “Aren’t most car doors taller? This seems too low.”
“Expensive dinner and ride in a sports car,” the doctor said. “You have your work cut out for you, Detective.”
“Has the toxicology report come back?” asked Katie.
“Let me see,” he said and flipped through a file. “Hmmm.”
“What?”
“There were traces of fluoxetine and sertraline. Nothing serious. They are anxiety and depression drugs that can be prescribed by any doctor.”
“You mean like Prozac?” she said, remembering the prescription bottles on the end table at Emily Day’s apartment.
“Yes, Prozac and Zoloft, to be exact. Quite common.”
“Thank you, Dr. Dean,” Katie said.
“Jeff,” he reminded.
“Yes of course, Jeff, thank you.”
Katie and McGaven left the exam room, and she retrieved her briefcase, still reeling over the new information about Amanda Payton’s last hours alive.
Twenty-Seven
Tuesday 0935 hours
“So you’re still not going to tell me what happened last night,” said McGaven with a huge Cheshire cat grin.
Katie had just ended the call with Emily Day and was still thinking about that imprint on Amanda’s back and side as she drove towards Emily’s house.
“Hello? Earth to Detective Scott?” he said.
“I’m not talking to you until you drop the whole ‘last night’ thing.”
“Fine.” He gave a dramatic sigh, still smiling.
Katie eased the unmarked patrol sedan into a parking place in front of the apartments where Amanda had been staying with her friend Emily Day. She cut the engine and retrieved the key. The air conditioning stopped, leaving the interior almost immediately stuffy and confining.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Looking at the landscaping and black wrought-iron fencing, McGaven said, “Nice place.”
“This was the only time I could get to talk to Emily away from work.”
