Stork Raving Mad: A Meg Langslow Mystery (A Meg Lanslow Mystery)

perhaps Ramon prefers to think of himself as taking sleeping medication rather than anxiety medication,” Dad suggested. “So many of us find physical ailments more socially acceptable than even the mildest form of mental illness.”
    “So two or three of these wouldn’t kill her,” the chief said. “What about five or six?”
    “Even a dozen wouldn’t necessarily kill someone,” Dad said. “Certainly not as rapidly as Dr. Wright’s death appears to have been.”
    “What if they were combined with something else?” I asked. “Subdural hematoma, for example?”
    “It wouldn’t be good on top of subdural hematoma,” he said. “But I think it’s unlikely she had that.”
    “Dr. Blanco has been wondering aloud if she died from a subdural hematoma caused by the fall she took in our hallway,” I said.
    “Unlikely,” Dad repeated. “Most people keep their brains in their skulls. She landed on her derriere, not her head.”
    “You’re sure?” the chief asked.
    “I cross-checked it with half a dozen witnesses,” Dad said. “If she’d landed on her head, I’d have insisted she go to the hospital, and if she refused, I’d have kept her under close observation. Can’t be too careful with a head injury.”
    “So Ramon and Bronwyn could chuck handfuls of his sleeping meds into her tea with relative impunity,” I said. “But what if one or both of them is lying? What effect would it have if they used a couple of Señor Mendoza’s heart pills?”
    “That would depend on what his heart pills are,” Dad said. “We should confiscate his pill bottle so we can test it!”
    “We already confiscated it,” the chief said.
    “Great!” Dad said. “Let’s have a look at it!”
    “It’s already on its way by courier to the State Bureau of Investigation in Richmond,” the chief said. “Since we don’t actually have testing facilities here in Caerphilly.”
    Dad’s face fell.
    “Oh,” he said. “Yes, that makes sense. I don’t suppose you took note of what it said on the label.”
    The chief’s face softened.
    “I did, but it wasn’t any use,” he said. “To start with, it was in Spanish. And Señor Mendoza admitted that he was not carrying the pills in the original prescription container. He combined thecontents of two smaller bottles of heart medicine into the big one we all saw. So even though I now have a translation of what the label says, it’s completely irrelevant. It’s for some over-the-counter antacid tablets.”
    “Unwise,” Dad said, shaking his head. “Anyone treating him would have no idea what medication he was on, or the dosage.”
    “And blasted inconvenient for my investigation,” the chief said. “But under the circumstances, you can see why I didn’t think showing it to you would be of any use.”
    “Still, I’d have liked to have seen them,” Dad said.
    “The pills? Is there really much you can tell from visual inspection?” the chief asked. “Assuming the name isn’t stenciled on the pills, and I can tell you that wasn’t the case.”
    “It’s possible I could learn something,” Dad said. “If I’d had a chance to see them.”
    “Then examine this,” the chief said, pulling something out of his pocket. “Dr. Waterston gave it to me. He says it’s one of Señor Mendoza’s, picked up after the spill in the front hallway. As far as Horace and I could see, it looks exactly the same as the ones in the bottle we sent in.”
    He dropped the tiny pill into Dad’s outstretched palm.
    “Excellent!” Dad retreated to the other end of Michael’s desk and trained the desk lamp on the pill.
    Chief Burke shook his head slightly, as if exhausted by such enthusiasm.
    “Meg,” he said. “I have a question for you. Was Dr. Wright carrying a handbag when she arrived?”
    I closed my eyes and tried to remember.
    “I know she had a briefcase,” I said. “They both did.”
    “We found that,” he said.
    I thought some more.
    “Yes, a very small leather handbag,” I said. “Probably something designer.”
    “Would you recognize it if you saw it?”
    I pondered.
    “Maybe,” I said. “Why?”
    “We didn’t find a purse near her body,” he said. “Her wallet was in the briefcase, but everything else in it was neatly arranged and the wallet was just wedged in. Seemed odd.”
    I nodded.
    “And there wasn’t any other feminine stuff in the briefcase,” the chief said. “She had on makeup and her hair was nicely done, but there wasn’t a