Bitter Business

bunch of little kids who can’t share. Sometimes I feel like I must have been adopted. I mean, the way they act, it’s just so stupid."
    You don’t get problems this big when people are stupid,” I replied sadly. “You get these kinds of problems when intelligent people decide to use their skills against ; each other.”
     

18
     
    When I got off the plane in Chicago I was surprised to find Elliott Abelman waiting for me at the gate.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked as he took my heavy trial bag out of my hand and fell into step beside me. “I have something I wanted to tell you.”
    “How did you know when I’d be here? Who told you what plane I was taking?”
    Elliott flashed me a major-league smile. “I’m a detective, Kate. I find things out for a living.”
    “So what did you find out that you had to come out to the airport to tell me?” I asked.
    “The medical examiner just ruled on a cause of death for Cecilia Dobson and Dagny Cavanaugh.”
    “And?” I demanded.
    “It turns out both women died of cyanide poisoning.”
    “What?” I cried, my feet slowing involuntarily to a stop. Harried airline passengers, eager for their luggage, streamed past us down the concourse. “How can that be possible? If it was cyanide, how did they miss it when they autopsied Cecilia Dobson?”
    “They just didn’t look for it. According to what Joe tells me, the Cook County Medical Examiner’s Office doesn’t routinely test for cyanide. It’s too expensive to test every case. Usually the medical examiner has to request it.”
    “So they requested it for Dagny Cavanaugh, but not Cecilia Dobson?” I demanded.
    “No. It was just an accident that they tested Dagny Cavanaugh. You see, even though they don’t test everybody for cyanide, they test every fifth case for everything.”
    “What?”
    “It’s part of their quality-control program. Any case with a number ending in a five or a zero gets a full toxicology screen—that’s every toxicology test they can do, including the one for cyanide. Cecilia Dobson’s case number ended in three, which is why she wasn’t tested. In her case, the ME suspected an overdose of street drugs, so they only ordered her checked for opiates. But since Dagny Cavanaugh’s number ended with a zero, she got the full treatment. According to Joe, they sometimes turn up an unexpected overdose that way. This is the first time they’ve turned up cyanide.”
    “So how did they find out about Cecilia Dobson?”
    “After they got the test results for Dagny Cavanaugh, Joe asked them to test the Dobson woman.”
    “But she was already buried!” I protested.
    “Whenever they issue a pending death certificate, they save and freeze blood and tissue samples.”
    “So when did they find all this out?”
    “About an hour ago.”
    “Have they told the family yet?”
    “You’d better leave that to Joe. He told me in confidence and that’s how I’m telling you.”
    We walked through a set of automatic doors into the indoor parking garage. Elliott’s car was parked in the towaway zone, a Chicago patrolman’s hat prominently displayed in the back window. I asked him about it.
    “It was a present from my dad. Cops don’t give other cops parking tickets, at least not in this town,” he said, unlocking the door and holding it open for me. “Why don’t we go someplace where we can talk? Joe gave me a copy of the autopsy report, but I was in such a hurry to meet your plane I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”
    I looked at my watch. “I can’t,” I said. “I’ve got to get home and get dressed to go somewhere.”
    “Hot date?” Elliott asked. I thought I detected a note of something other than professional inquiry in his voice.
    “A birthday party for my grandmother,” I answered sweetly. “If you don’t mind giving me a ride back to Hyde Park, you can read the report out loud to me while I get ready.”
    Traffic was heavy heading into the city as suburbanites swarmed downtown for a good time on Saturday night. After the near summer of the Georgia spring, Chicago seemed cold and dreary. But when we swung around on the Stephenson and I caught the first glimpse of the rugged promontory of the downtown skyline, I felt the same quiet thrill I always do.
    “So what do the police think?” I asked, turning in my seat to look at Elliott while I talked. He drove fast but I easily, skirting construction barrels and keeping his eyes on the road. He was wearing the