Among the Shadows by Bruce Robert Coffin Page A

end.”
    â€œCan we use the press?”
    â€œSure, if you don’t mind the lawsuits that will likely be filed by both nurses and Pine Tree Hospice.”
    LeRoyer sighed. “What do you suggest?”
    â€œI don’t know. Let me think on it.”
    A S B YRON ENTERED the stairwell to the rear garage, he pulled out his phone and tried Kay’s number again.
    â€œHello, you’ve reached Kay’s cell. I’m either on the phone or with a client. Leave a message and I will return your call as soon as I’m able. Thanks and have a great day.”
    â€œKay, it’s John, again.” He checked his watch. “It’s about three o’clock. Call me.”
    He slipped the cell back into his pocket. Exactly what the last few years of marriage had been like, he thought. Never-­ending games of phone tag, Kay working late while he either got called in nightly or never made it home. Was it any wonder they were apart?
    No sooner had he stepped out onto the plaza when his cell rang.
    â€œByron,” he answered.
    â€œAh, the illustrious Detective Sergeant John Byron. Greetings from Augusta, Maine. Second home of the world famous and brilliant pathologist Dr. E,” Ellis said.
    â€œHey, Doc. Give me something, anything.”
    â€œAlas, I cannot.”
    â€œToxicology?”
    Byron’s cell began to vibrate with an incoming call. He looked quickly at the number. Kay.
    â€œJohn, you still with me?” Ellis asked.
    â€œYeah, sorry about that,” he said as he started his car and pulled out of the garage. “I got another call coming in.”
    â€œCall me back if you need to take it.”
    â€œNo, it’s okay. Go ahead. You were about to give me the results of the tox screen.”
    â€œIndeed, I was. We found four different drugs in his system: morphine, doxepin, glycopyrrolate and prednisone. All are commonly used to treat dying cancer patients and their symptoms. The levels were also consistent with the norm if you factor in his body weight.”
    â€œWhat about his doctor?”
    â€œYou mean the vacationing Dr. Edward Rosenstein? I made contact with him and he confirmed all of the administered meds, their dosage and frequency.”
    â€œThanks, Doc.”
    â€œAlways a pleasure.”
    Byron ended the call with Ellis and checked voicemail. No messages. He redialed Kay’s number. After several rings, it went to her voicemail again. He hung up without leaving another message. Wishing he’d taken Ellis up on his offer, he continued toward Bartley Avenue.
    Retired Detective Ray Humphrey, one of Byron’s oldest and dearest friends, had always said: “If you find your train derailing during the course of an investigation, the best thing you can do is go back to the beginning.” Humphrey had been his mentor both when Byron first started on the job and again after he made detective. And in a promotional twist of fate, Humphrey had even worked for Byron as a detective during his last few years on the job.
    Byron parked his Taurus across the street from O’Halloran’s and got out. He used a spare key to unlock the evidence padlock Pelligrosso had installed on the outside of the side-­entry door, and stepped inside.
    In spite of the day’s bright sunshine, the interior of the house was dark, gloomy, and empty, no longer bustling with activity as it had been only thirty-­two hours prior. He walked to the center of the kitchen and stood, making a slow three-­sixty, taking in everything he saw, checking for anything they might’ve missed. The ringing of his cell shattered the silence and gave him a start. He looked at the ID. Diane.
    â€œHey, partner,” he said.
    â€œHey, yourself. You off sleuthing without me again?”
    â€œBusted.”
    â€œYou’re so predictable. I knew exactly where you’d be. Want another set of eyes?”
    He walked into the living room and looked through the front