Chapter 5… Natural Causes
“What’dya mean, I’m not allowed in?”
“What’dya think I mean? It’s not that hard to understand.”
“Listen, the guy was a friend of mine, and I’m just trying to do a favor for the family.”
“I am listening, but every poor soul that goes through here was a friend of someone, and the reason there’s an autopsy being conducted is because the cause or manner of death has been deemed to be abnormal, as in violent, suspicious, or unexplained. Now, unless your name is on these papers as the investigating officer, you shouldn’t be in this office.”
“I’m a personal friend of the district attorney.”
“And you could be a personal friend of the governor too, but your name is not on these papers as the investigating officer so he wouldn’t be able to help you either.”
“You know, you don’t have to be so cantankerous about this.”
“Watch it,” she said sternly. “Why don’t we just agree that I’m good at my job.”
Harry looked away in frustration and she knew she’d won. So did he. “Can you at least verify that the autopsy is scheduled for today?” he asked.
Looking over her glasses, the old bird considered him carefully. She’d been threatened, cajoled, sweet-talked, and bribed by every defense lawyer, reporter, private detective, insurance investigator, and otherwise interested party for more years than she cared to remember, and her skin had developed into something akin to rhino hide. This guy was harmless, but rules were rules. “With which district attorney are you so friendly?”
A glimmer of hope. “Monica Brimton.”
“Nice lady. You’re lucky.”
“Why am I lucky?”
“Because if she knew you were in here badgering me like this, she’d kick your tail all the way to Boston.” She looked at the papers. “ADA Brimton is not the investigating officer, however.”
“Ah, no, you’re right. I believe that would be Detective Pruitt from the state police.”
“And you would be right. As such, I hope you’re also good friends with Detective Pruitt, because she’s the one who’s going to be receiving the results.”
Harry saw the glint in her eye. “And when would that be?”
“Do you have anything else that you need to discuss with ADA Brimton?”
“I might,” Harry replied slyly.
“Well then, I might suggest that you call ADA Brimton about that matter after three o’clock today.”
“I’ll do that,” said Harry. “I’ll bet you make a terrific turkey at Thanksgiving, don’t you, ah...” He looked at the nameplate on her desk. “Ms. Rafferty.”
“I do,” said Ms. Rafferty. “All it takes is patience.”
* * * * *
Harry gazed absently through the window. The restaurant was cute and trendy and the food had a gourmet touch to it, and it was about to make him sick. Looking at Monica pick at her salad, she wasn’t exactly wolfing it down either.
“What made you decide to call me for lunch?” he asked as she sipped her iced tea.
“I got a call from Mrs. Rafferty at the ME’s office.”
“Uh-oh. I’ll bet she gave you an earful.”
Still looking into her plate, Monica smiled and said, “She just said you were persistent.”
“That’s all?”
“Well, not exactly, but she could tell you were really concerned with the autopsy results and asked if maybe I could do you a favor before you exploded and we had another unexplained death on our hands.” When he didn’t smile, she added, “Laugh Harry, that was humor.”
“Oh, right.” He forced a tight smile.
She looked up and pointed her fork at him. “All you had to do was ask, you know. You didn’t have to go in there and get all John Wayne on her.”
“You mean all Dirty Harry on her.” He forced another uncomfortable smile. “My wife absolutely hates it when I do that. Won’t even talk to me.”
A few moments of silence passed and Harry took a bite of his Reuben so that he had something to do with his mouth besides talk. The sandwich had already turned cold and the cheese had become an oily wax-like product. Trying to brush away the awkwardness hanging over the table, “Where’s Ducky today?” he asked. “Is he going to be joining us?”
“He should be on his way,” said Monica, eyes still focused on her plate.
Maybe there was a diamond in there and she was guarding it, thought Harry. “Oh, I see.” More time passing. “Do you work near here?” he went on, thinking how different she seemed than two days earlier. Her cutting sense of humor was now dulled by something more ominous, and what had been laugh lines at the corners of her mouth were now worry lines. She was still quite attractive, he noted inwardly. Lucky man that Ducky.
“My office is two blocks up King Street,” she replied as she tossed her napkin on the table. She nailed him with a stare, a cold one.
“Listen, I’m really sorry if I embarrassed you with the whole Mrs. Rafferty thing. Sometimes I get my ass up on my shoulders and I don’t think things through before I act. I guess I should have had the courtesy to call you and ask if—”
“It’s not that,” she shot back.
Her demeanor changed abruptly. Oh, there was anger, all right, and plenty of it, but he had the feeling that she wasn’t angry at him. “Monica?” He looked at his watch. It was getting on two o’clock. He decided to follow his instincts. “Mrs. Rafferty said the autopsy results would be available today after three and that the results would go directly to Detective Pruitt.”
“We won’t need to call Detective Pruitt,” Monica said directly. She leaned forward and clasped her hands high, almost as if she wanted to hide behind them. “I called the ME at home yesterday and asked him if he could get to Hutch’s autopsy first thing. I’ve had the results since this morning.”
Looking at Monica’s manicured nails and how she twisted her fingers back and forth nervously, it was obvious that something was terribly wrong. Otherwise, she would have told him. “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me now.”
More time passed as the server came by and refilled their water glasses. It was agony. Harry steeled himself while never-ending seconds ticked away. “Monica?”
“Sudden and severe myocardial infarction.”
Harry reeled back in his chair. “I can’t believe it. Suzanne even said that he’d just had a physical recently and that outside of a little high blood pressure everything was fine. Did the ME say what caused it?” In shock, he just sat there shaking his head and it was hard to tell if he was really expecting an answer. “What else did the ME say?” he asked, finally refocusing on her.
Monica looked away, avoiding his gaze. Seemingly working up the courage to answer, she said, “The ME said there were no toxic substances in Hutch’s system, no evidence of drugs or poisons that would induce a heart seizure.”
Harry just sat there, his mind still caught in a whirlwind of possibilities of how Hutch could have had a sudden heart seizure, as Monica had just described it. “What about blood clots, or blockages? Did Hutch have coronary artery disease and maybe didn’t know it?”
“No, nothing. No clots, no soft plaque, his arteries were clear. No wounds or bruises on his chest or about the heart.” She paused. “He died of massive and very sudden cardiac arrest, without warning signs of any kind. The ME said his heart muscle contracted to the point where it obstructed the blood supply from entering the heart.” She looked past Harry and a moment later Ducky pulled up a chair and gave Monica a kiss on the cheek.
Looking at their faces, Ducky said, “What’s wrong?”
It didn’t take long for Monica to fill him in. It took even less time for Ducky to come to a conclusion that up to that point had seemingly evaded Harry. “That means that if the ME didn’t find any evidence that Hutch’s heart attack was caused by anything out of the ordinary, he has no choice but to classify t
he cause of death as natural causes.”
The comment caught Harry between the eyes. “But the ME also said that there were no causes, natural or otherwise, to trigger such a severe heart attack. How can it be classified as natural causes when natural causes were more than likely the least influence in this situation? It doesn’t make any sense.” They both looked at Monica as if she could answer the paradox.
“I’ve already asked the ME to double check the tox report, which he said he’d do, but barring any new findings there....” She paused again. “... he has no choice but to put the COD as natural causes.”
Harry pushed his half-eaten sandwich away and wet his lips with some iced tea as he contemplated what Monica had just said. “Well, what about Detective Pruitt’s investigation? Did she find anything at the crime scene?”
“That’s just it,” said Monica.
“What’s it?” Harry and Ducky both questioned at the same time.
“If the cause of death is classified as natural causes, then there is no crime, and there’s no reason for Detective Pruitt to pursue an investigation.”
Harry tossed his napkin on the table. “This is bullshit. Something had to cause that heart attack, regardless of what that ME found—or didn’t find—and this detective lady should be on this like white on rice. There’s gotta be someone we can talk to.”
“There is,” said Monica.
“Yeah, who?” Harry shot back angrily.
“Me.”