Page 11 of Death at a Scottish Halloween

I nodded. “He was a tall one.”

“I measured last night. He’s six four.”

I’d guessed six three. I hadn’t been far off.

“How tall do you think Baird is?”

“Maybe an inch shorter. They were both wearing the same kind of black boots. I noticed because they were dressed like artists, but they wore work boots like you see the guys on the rigs wear.”

Her observation skills had grown since we started working together.

I turned on my recorder, but she would still take notes, label, and weigh as we went along.

When I opened his chest cavity, it was as I suspected. “Mitral valve perforation, and ventricular septal perforation; these are deep,” I said. “It isn’t easy to stab someone like this. Like wethought, the person had to be tall and strong. The size of the blade didn’t help. There is so much damage, he didn’t have a chance.”

My dreams had been riddled with trying to save his life, which we hadn’t done. We’d known from the start that it wouldn’t be possible. My dreams hadn’t seen it that way.

By the time we finished up, it was nearly ten. I asked Abigail to call the family to come in when she was done. Then I went to write up my report for Ewan. I’d been somewhat surprised that he hadn’t stopped by this morning. He usually attended the autopsies.

With everything going on in town, though, he was probably busy. That, and after last night, he had suspects to interview.

Abigail came into my office and handed over a file. “I emailed the toxicology to you, but here it is in paper form. I know how you like to look at things all at once.”

I grinned. “Thank you. I’ve just sent our findings to Ewan to help with his investigation.”

“I was wondering why he wasn’t here,” she said.

“I pondered the same thing. He’s probably busy with all the visitors in town. And Baird gave him some folks at work to follow up on. He’s dealing with that.”

She nodded. “That makes sense. The family will be here in an hour. And we’re ready for them. Also, let me know when you want to release the body to the funeral home. I’m sure his sister will want to know.”

I glanced over the toxicology. “His liver seemed OK,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“This level of alcohol in his system would have rendered most people useless. He didn’t appear to be drinking when we had dinner earlier in the evening.

I handed her the report. “You’re right. That’s weird. Maybe he had a flask with him. He could have been drinking throughout the night.”

“But we didn’t find one on the scene, right?” I glanced through our evidence list.

“Maybe Ewan’s team found it.”

“Could be. I’ll ask when I send this to him. One thing is for certain, if he was that inebriated, he may not have been able to fight back much or respond. That could be why we didn’t hear anything even though he was so close. I’ll need to ask the friend if he had a drinking problem.”

“Like you said, though, the liver didn’t show signs of damage.”

That was strange. “If he was drinking, and he wasn’t used to it …”

“He could have been severely incapacitated.”

“But you would think Isobel and Baird would notice.”

As if I’d conjured them up, the doorbell buzzed, and their picture popped up on my computer.

“Is it them?”

“Yes. They’re early. What room did you put him in?”