Page 12 of Summer Shivers
“Are you usually a heavy sleeper?”
“No, I’m a terrible sleeper. I take pills to help me sleep.”
“We noticed an empty wine bottle in the kitchen and a glass on the side of the bed. Did you have wine with your pills?”
I look to Grant before saying anything; even though I’m pretty sure this has already been asked and answered. He nods.
“Yes,” I say. “It helps them to work better.”
“How much wine did you have?”
“I don’t know. A couple of glasses maybe. Over the course of the night.”
“Are you aware that you aren’t supposed to mix alcohol with sleeping pills?”
“Yes.”
“Do you make a habit of ignoring warning labels?”
“Excuse me?”
“It is common knowledge not to mix medication and alcohol.”
“Or anti-depressants,” the other officer says. “Aren’t you on Paroxetine for depression?” He holds up his cell phone, showing a picture of the various pill bottles in my medicine cabinet at home.
“Yes.” Not sure where this is going.
“So, you’re in the habit of mixing a variety of pills and alcohol.”
“Not when you put it like that.”
“So, you don’t drink wine while taking anti-depressants?”
“No, I do.”
“What’s the point of this, Officer?” Grant asks.
“Did you drug your husband, Mrs. Daniels?”
“God, no.”
“Is she a suspect, and I missed it somehow?” Grant asks.
“No. Apologies.” The officer gestures toward me. “Please continue”
I omit anything more about pills with wine and relay the remainder of the time leading up to the police arriving at the house this morning.
“That’s quite a story,” the female officer says.
I wipe tears from my face.
“I take it we’re through?” Grant asks.
The two officers look at each other and stand. “Okay, Mrs. Daniels,” the other officer says. “Thank you for your time. I assume we can reach out with any additional questions?”
“Of course.” I nod.
Grant stands. “Give me a second, and we’ll get you out of here,” he says before disappearing behind them.
