Death by Chocolate

office.
    “Cordele, I’m getting
another call, and I have to take it. It’s very important and—”
    “So are the things I have
to discuss with you.”
    “I know, but—”
    Beep.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow morning
at LAX, nine forty-five,” Cordele continued. “I’m coming in on Sunrise
International, flight three ninety-six from Atlanta. Pick me up. Bye.”
    “Cordele, I don’t know what
I’ll be doing tomorrow, I—”
    Beep.
    “Damnation!” Savannah
punched the flash button. “Hello,
Dr. Liu.”
    “Hi, Savannah,” came a
calm, quiet voice of reason. “Did I call at a bad time?”
    “Oh, only a little worse
than usual. What’s up?”
    “Is Dirk there?”
    Not only was Dirk there, he
was breathing down her neck and had been since she had uttered the words “Dr.
Liu.”
    She handed him the phone.
    Everyone had vacated the
dining room and was standing around her chair, collectively holding their
breath.
    “Coulter here,” he said. He
listened, nodded, then frowned. “Are you sure?”
    “What? What is it?” Savannah
whispered.
    “And would that cause a
heart attack?” he continued, i waving her off. “How much?”
    “How much what?” Tammy
wanted to know.
    “Where would somebody get
that?” he said.
    “Get what?” Still sitting
in her chair—but on the edge—Savannah reached out and tugged on the leg of
Dirk’s jeans.
    Ryan and John said nothing,
but watched anxiously. “So what’s your final word? What are you ruling it?”
Dirk grimaced and gave Savannah a thumbs-down. “Okay, thanks.... I guess.”
    He clicked the phone off
and laid it on the end table before answering the flurry of “Who? What? When?
How? Where?” he was getting from the circle of eager eavesdroppers around him.
    “Poisoned,” he said.
    “What do you mean,
poisoned?” Savannah asked, jumping to her feet. ‘You mean, like rat poison,
cyanide, arsenic and lace?”
    “Like phenylprophedrine, or
something like that,” he said. “Dr. Liu got the lab results back, and her
bloodstream was full of it.”
    “Wait a minute,” Tammy
said. “I saw something about that drug a few weeks ago on the Internet. They
were discontinuing it because several people had died.”
    “Yes.” Ryan nodded. “I saw
a news byte about that. I believe phenylprophedrine was being used to treat
cold symptoms, but it interacted badly with some heart medications. Didn’t a
lady die in Florida and a man in Oregon?”
    “Yes, I think that’s what
the article on the Internet said,” Tammy agreed. ‘They were heart patients, and
the drug interaction caused their blood pressure to soar and—”
    Savannah held up both hands.
“Wait! Everybody quiet! ” She turned to Dirk. “So Eleanor died of a drug
interaction?”
    “Yep.”
    She sagged into her chair,
her knees weak with relief. “Then it was an accidental death. Thank God.”
    “Not so fast,” Dirk
replied. “Dr. Liu says she had a lot in her system, way more than she would
have taken if she’d just been treating a cold.”
    Everyone was silent,
digesting this. Finally Tammy said, “So.... maybe suicide?”
    John pointed to the journal
that Savannah had placed on the table next to the telephone. ‘You said the poor
girl was dreadfully depressed. Do you suppose it’s possible she took her own
life?”
    Savannah turned to Dirk.
“Is that what Dr. Liu is ruling it? A suicide?”
    Dirk stared at her for a
long moment, as though trying to make up his mind about something.
    “Come on,” she said. ‘Just
spit it out, for pete’s sake.”
    “Naw, she thinks it’s more
likely a homicide. And I agree with her. I mean.... that would be a stupid way
for somebody to kill themselves.... overdosing on cold medicine.”
    Savannah sat back in her
chair and rubbed her throbbing temples with her fingertips. “Boy,” she said.
You know it’s bad when you’re actually hoping for a suicide. How warped is
that?”
    “Well, I guess you know
what this means, boys and girls,” Ryan said.
    “It means,” Savannah
replied, “that I let my client get murdered right under my nose.”
    “No, that’s not what it
means at all.” Ryan sat down on the ottoman and placed a comforting hand on her
knee. “It means we have a killer to catch. It’s the least we can do for Lady Eleanor,
Queen of Chocolate.”
    “Here, here,” John said,
patting Savannah’s shoulder.
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Whatever.” Dirk turned and walked back into the kitchen. “But if I’m going to
have to