Page 26 of Death at a Scottish Halloween

She was alone in the kitchen. “Mornin’,” she said.

“You look like you slept.”

She glanced at me. “Oh. You didn’t.”

I laughed. “Do I look that bad?”

“Never,” she lied.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened last night.”

“We’ll figure it out,” she said. That wasn’t her being a Pollyanna, she believed it. Only one more reason to adore her. “Tommy’s in the garden. Ewan dropped him off this morning.”

“Where’s Henry?”

“He went to the station with Ewan. The Constable said for us to go ahead with the autopsy. They are following up on last night’s … whatever it was. Then they are going to tell Flora.”

“I don’t envy that job. Are those the tests from last night?” I pointed to the papers on the counter.

“Yes. Something weird has come up. Look.” She pointed out some numbers that were incredibly high.

“His adrenaline was through the roof. Drugs?”

“Not that has come through yet. But I’m rerunning everything, and added poisons to the list, as well as drugs. Is it possible to be scared to death? I know it sounds silly, but that was the first thing I thought when I saw those results.”

“We’ve discussed this. Nothing you think about is silly. It could happen, yes. Highly unlikely. But who knows?”

“We prove the theories.”

“Right. But we need to go in that room with objectivity.”

“Let’s go,” she said. I loved her enthusiasm. She had changed so much in the past year, and her confidence had grown.

We systematically went through everything. Opening his chest, gave us our biggest clue. His heart was nearly twice its normal size. He was also diabetic.

“Did his medical records come through yet?”

“No. It’s the weekend, but I put a call into his doctor this morning.”

“Early stages?”

“Yes. Diet and meds would have helped. He may not have even known yet. He may have been ignoring the symptoms. Many people do, especially men.”

“His poor family.” There was emotion in her voice.

“Yes. The best we can do is provide answers for them.”

“You always know what to say,” she said.

“So do you, Abigail. Give yourself credit. Now, let’s put him back together for his family. I told Ewan they could come by this afternoon.”

“I wish we had more answers for them.”

“You know these things take time. Every case is a puzzle. Right now we have very few pieces. The medical side of things is just that. Information. The more we know—” My phone dinged on the metal table behind us.

“We have an emergency,” Mara said. “A bunch of teens capsized. They’re all accounted for, but Grandad says they’re worried about hypothermia. They are on their way to you now. The boat just arrived in port.”

“Thanks for the warning.” I hung up and told Abigail. Luckily, we’d finished with the autopsy just in time. I locked the freezer. By the time they arrived, we’d gathered the warming blankets and changes of clothes—we kept sweats in all sizes for emergencies like this. Sailing injuries were not unusual. We’d been dealing with them all summer. Usually, it was tourists who took on more than they could handle.