The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery

slowly pulled them away. He picked up his glasses and put them on, and once again his eyes seemed overlarge for his face. Rolling his chair so close his knees touched hers, he said, “This is the file of Ed Staskiewicz. Leather Ed, I believe you called him. Open it.”
    Hadn’t everyone already told her that to become a part of Leather Ed’s case would be an ethical violation? And yet here he was, handing her documents that were clearly off-limits, and she felt a new anxiety overtake her. She looked away, into the painting that had a meadow filled with grasses. That was where she wished she could be, wandering along the stalks where the steel gray of the sky met the golden tops of wheat, away from this office and away from death.
    “You think me unethical.”
    “No. No, I’m just . . . confused.”
    “This is something you must see.” With surprising gravity, Moore said, “Yesterday I would have stood my ground and followed the rules of the system. But my illness has caused me to question certain . . . things. The bigger picture, you could say.” His eyes were examining her closely. “Look at the manner of death, Miss Mahoney. Try to understand the danger.”
    Tentatively, Cameryn pulled back the manila cover. The first thing she saw were pictures of Leather Ed, still propped in the chair, recorded in color and black-and-white and snapped from every angle. She had hardly taken the time to look at him when she discovered his body in the room, but now she could examine him more closely. The fingertips had been chewed off, revealing stubs of white bone, and the lower portion of Leather Ed’s face was gone. His bottom row of teeth looked like the keys on a piano. His leather pants, taut from decomposition, had holes along the seams, and the shirt was taut across the middle.
    Cameryn’s eyes scanned the table where she’d found the note and she could see the outline where the note had been because the rest of the wood lay shrouded in a thin layer of dust. Next to that imprint were two plants. One had silver-green leaves while the other sported pale orange blossoms shooting from a bract—strange notes of life that flowered next to death.
    Dr. Moore tapped his knuckles against the picture. “It’s the report, not the photographs, that I want you to examine.”
    Obediently, Cameryn leafed through the rest of the materials, charts inscribed in Dr. Moore’s precise hand, as well as a sheet of paper with the weight of the organs written to the side in blue ink and carefully recorded in neat columns, with the standard outline of a man’s body that had been illustrated to reflect each injury. At the back, she found a copy of the death certificate, then the autopsy report.
    “Do you see it?” Dr. Moore pointed with his index finger. Next to the words Cause of Death was listed Asphyxia due to unknown substance .
    A sudden understanding flashed through her mind. “Are you saying—”
    “I am. Leather Ed died from the same substance in his lungs that killed Stein and Safer.”
    “But—how could Kyle get to three different men?” In a timid, breaking voice, she said, “Those other two guys were from Hollywood. Leather Ed was a recluse. Stein and Safer died in Durango, Leather Ed in Silverton. What is the connection?”
    “I don’t know. But I’m not asking you to solve this, I’m asking you to consider the danger you are in. Leather Ed died in the exact same manner as Stein and Safer. The alveoli were clogged with the identical gel. O’Neil killed all of them. He may have killed more. A high school girl, no matter how bright, should stay away.”
    Cameryn could feel it, the cracks in her composure. Fear stabbed through her. Tears welled in her eyes but she made herself blink them back until she could get her thoughts righted once again. This was no time to give in to panic. It would be exactly what Kyle would want her to do.
    “I’m not trying to be a sensationalist.” Dr. Moore took her hands into his own. “But Cameryn, you cannot dance with the devil. Kyle O’Neil is without conscience. He kills in cold blood. I’m asking you to step away from all of this.”
    “I will.”
    Dr. Moore’s brow had been furrowed but now light appeared in his eyes in rays of relief. He reached over and patted Cameryn’s arm. “I’m glad you’re listening to reason. I’ve seen the headstrong side of you so long that I assumed I’d be in for a battle.”
    “I will walk away,” she answered calmly, “as