Page 33 of Death on a Scottish Train

That was something quite different from working in the ER, where it was diagnose the patients and move on as quickly as possible. Here, going to the doctor was an event, and we tried to make patients as comfortable as possible.

“No. I had lunch at the pub. If my brother died of an allergic reaction, why is his death being investigated? I do not understand.”

That was a very good question and a tricky one for me. “We are not one hundred percent certain how the reaction happened. So, we are running tests to determine that.”

“Do you think someone killed him?” She appeared shocked by the idea.

“As the ACC said to you, we’re investigating all possibilities. I really can’t say until we are done. If you would like to take a seat, I’ll see if I can help Abigail get him ready for you.”

We’d done a full autopsy, which meant several cuts to cover. Abigail had stitched him earlier, but it took more than that to make the body presentable.

In the autopsy lab, she was scurrying around.

“I’m about done,” she said. “I wanted to put away any logs or tests we still have out so she wouldn’t see them.”

“Smart thinking.” I helped her clean up, not that there was much to do. Abigail kept everything neat. It was a matter of putting away anything that might have encouraged the sister to have more questions.

As we came out of the autopsy room, Tommy came in the back door. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a T-shirt with one of his favorite video games.

“Hungry,” he said to Abigail.

“I made you some lunch,” she said. “Do you want to eat in the kitchen or the garden?” There were several benches in the garden where he liked to sit when he wasn’t working.

“Garden,” he said. He was a young man of few words. Not that he didn’t have the vocabulary. He did. He was quite bright. But he was never one to prattle on about anything except flowers, and sometimes video games.

He was a lover of nature and preferred to be out in it no matter the season.

“Go on out, and I’ll bring it to you, but wash your hands first.”

“I’ll handle our guest. You take care of Tommy.”

She smiled at me. “Thanks.”

I did one last check of the autopsy room and then went to get the sister.

She sat ramrod straight in one of the chairs. Her brunette hair in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. I wondered what she did for a living.

“Are you also an accountant?” I asked as I led her through my home and kitchen to the autopsy suite.

“No,” she said. She didn’t offer any other information.

OK, then.

I put in the combination that opened the door and led her inside. Once the door was shut. I slid down the sheet to the neck.

“Why does he look like that?” she asked.

His lips were still misshapen and an odd color, but other than that he appeared normal. “The reaction made his lips and face swell a bit.”

“The only thing he was allergic to was bees. How was he stung?”

“As I said before, we are still investigating.”

“You’re a country doctor. Doesn’t it make more sense for a medical examiner in the city to take a look?”

The words didn’t hurt my feelings. If I were someone from outside looking in, I might have asked the same.

“I’m the former head of ER at a Seattle hospital in the States. I’ve only been here a year. Part of my new duties is that I’ve taken on the role as coroner. All of my findings are sent to the medical examiner in Edinburgh. I can assure you that your brother is being well looked after.”