Third Degree (A Murder 101 Mystery)

located and which also was the location of my rendezvous with ME McVeigh, in about twenty minutes. I found the bar easily and parked across the street in front of the funeral home.
    Mac was at the bar, nursing an amber-colored liquid in a short glass that I assumed was his beloved scotch. He stood when I entered, and not knowing whether to give me a hug or shake my hand, he settled for a pat on the shoulder. “Hello, Ms. Bergeron.”
    “It’s Alison.” I slid onto the stool next to him and ordered a club soda.
    “Not a drinker?” he asked.
    “Not a drinker and a driver,” I explained.
    He nodded solemnly. “Good rule.” He motioned to the bartender for another drink. “I can walk from here,” he explained. Once it had been placed in front of him and he took a sip, he turned his full attention to me. “Now, remind me. Why are we here?” His blue eyes were sharp, but kind.
    I spread my hands out on the bar and waited a few beats, trying to get the facts—or what I perceived to be the facts—straight in my head. “What would you say if I told you that I had information that led me to believe that Carter Wilmott died from poisoning rather than blunt force trauma?”
    Mac studied his drink. “I thought you were a college professor.”
    “I am.”
    “So what makes you think that you know how to determine cause of death?”
    “I don’t.” He waited for me to continue. “It’s just that someone I know who was close to Carter seems to think that his symptoms prior to his death may link to poisoning. And this person would know.”
    “How?”
    “They’re a nurse.”
    “ She’s a nurse.”
    I was caught off guard and stammered a bit. How had he known that? Fifty-fifty guess?
    Mac clinked his glass against mine. “Good luck, Ms. Bergeron. But stay away from Ginny Miller. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” He swished his drink around in his glass. “The only reason I wanted to meet you in person was to implore you to stay away from her. I had a feeling she was behind this. She had already contacted someone in my office to express her concerns. But her delusions are dangerous.”
    So Ginny had already gotten to him; I wish she had mentioned that before I had invited him out under somewhat false pretenses. It didn’t surprise me that she could get in touch with the ME; being a nurse, she probably had a lot of contacts on his staff. “What if she does know something?” I asked. “She said that you don’t test for poisoning.”
    Mac sighed and looked up at the ceiling, as he was wont to do. “I’m telling you, if I had a dime for everyone that came and told me how somebody really died …”
    He was exasperated but I could see that he was wavering, ever so slightly. “You don’t test for poisoning, do you?”
    He shook his head. “No.” He shook his head again. “Blunt force trauma,” he repeated, almost as if trying to convince himself.
    I reached over and grabbed his arm. “I know that it will be a huge embarrassment if you have to revise your cause of death, but do you really want an innocent man to go to jail?”
    He looked like he was going to signal for another drink but thought better of it. “Your eye looks better,” he said, smiling.
    “Don’t change the subject,” I said.
    He sucked down the last of his second scotch. “Let me think about this.”
    I reached over and gave him a hug. “You’re the best, Mac.”
    “You don’t know that for a fact and I’m not promising anything.” He stood and buttoned his blazer. He smoothed down the few strands of gray hair that covered his mostly bald pate. “I have to go. Reezie’s making pot roast. I’d ask you to join us but you’ve given me quite a headache and I think it would be best if we parted here while I still like you.”
    “Thank you. But I have plans,” I lied.
    “You teach at St. Thomas, right?” he asked before he left. He threw a ten and a twenty on the bar, a generous tipper, to say the least.
    I nodded.
    “My friend’s daughter went there. She’s around your age, maybe a little older. Lovely girl. Smart as a whip. Couldn’t do math to save her life.” He mentioned her name but I didn’t know her and by his description she could have been anyone; St. Thomas isn’t known for its math program. “I’ll be in touch, Alison.”
    I watched him go, hands in his pockets, whistling as he walked down the street and out of sight. I believed he would be in touch. But I wasn’t so sure I would