Page 78 of Line of Sight

I waited until her back was to me before I added the drug to her glass and swirled it around. As she turned to face me, I grinned. “You know what your rum needs? A little umbrella and a couple of maraschino cherries.”

She smiled. “You know what? You’re right. No umbrellas, but the cherries I can manage.” She peered into the cabinet, and I gave her glass another swirl. Then I sat back and watched as she speared three cherries with a cocktail stick. She rejoined me and dropped them into her glass. She handed me my second drink and took a long sip from her own.

Amy glanced at the window. “I think it’s cold enough to snow.”

“Great. I’ll have to play dodge the snowball with my neighbor’s brats.”

A lie, of course. No children lived within one hundred feet of my apartment, and as for the house, there weren’t any neighbors to speak of. But I chattered on about anything and nothing, putting Amy at her ease.

Watching as the drug started to take effect.

There was enough Rohypnol in there to render her unconscious in a short space of time. I waited, watching her eyelids close. I had to be quick. I had to make sure she heard me, not that she’d remember any of it.

I leaned forward.

“It wasn’t the coconut in the packet that you should have been concerned about.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

Sunday, January 20, 2019

GARY POUREDhimself a second cup of coffee. “I think I needed a day off.”

“We both did,” Dan called from the kitchen. “And you know what I’d love to do with it?”

Gary smiled to himself.

“Gary Mitchell, get your mind out of the gutter. We’re having lunch with your parents later, but I thought we could go for a walk.”

He glanced toward the window. “Only if we put on snowshoes or skis. It must be at least four inches thick out there.”

Dan laughed as he came over to the dining table. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left it huddled under the comforter, demanding hot buttered toast and slippers.” His phone rang.

Dan froze. “Don’t answer it. Because you know what’s going to happen.”

He peered at the screen. “It’s Riley.” He clicked on Answer, then put the call on speaker. “What’s up?”

“Boss, can you and Dan come to 55 Devon Street, Dorchester? Apartment 5.”

“Who lives there?”

“Amy Walsh. Well, she did until last night. Del Maddox is on his way.”

Dan stared at him, wide-eyed.

Gary was on his feet in a heartbeat. “So are we. Is it the same MO as the others?”

“Not this time. Boss, she hanged herself.”

Gary paused as he reached for his coat. “Suicide? There’s a note? Never mind. I’ll see when we get there.”

Dan grabbed the keys. “I didn’t see this coming.”

“When you’ve been investigating deaths as long as I have, you learn a few lessons.” Gary opened the front door. “One of which is that nothing is ever as cut-and-dried as it appears at first glance.”

AN AMBULANCE,the pathologist’s vehicle, and two police cars were parked in front of the building, a three-story house covered in sand-colored siding.