Autopsy (Kay Scarpetta, #25)(86)

“Thanks for getting back to me. I’m with Pete Marino, and we’re driving,” I let her know.

“Hello, Pete. Imagine how pleased I was when I heard both of you were coming back to Virginia.” She sounds like she means it.

But then she sounds like she means everything she says, and that’s part of her danger and her charisma. During our early years, I trusted her too much and ended up in a few rough spots. Like her daughter, Greta is a talker, and now and then has a greater need to tell a secret than to keep it.

“I’ve been meaning to reach out,” she adds, and I can hear the murmur of TV news playing in the background. “I heard about Lucy. That’s so awful, so terribly sad, and I’m shocked and very sorry. Especially when it’s people so young.”

“And I’m sorry about your husband,” I reply. “I know that had to be terribly hard.”

“Life can deal us quite the hand, and we get reminded of our place in the grand scheme of things,” she says with surprising humility, and maybe tragedy has mellowed her. “One minute, Frank and I are planning a second honeymoon to Hawaii. The next, he’s fallen off the roof, ends up with a hangman’s fracture, and you know all about those.”

“A devastating injury. Life-changing for everybody.”

“Well, it certainly changed the trajectory of many things.” Greta clears her throat several times, her voice touched by emotion. “But enough about me, what can I do for you, Kay? And by the way, I’ve seen you on the news trying to escape Dana Diletti and her crew. You’re looking good, haven’t aged a bit. What’s your secret?”

“A career of being exposed to formaldehyde.” I repeat my tired old joke.





CHAPTER 34


MY SECRETARY SAID SHE left you a message a few hours ago, and I’m wondering if you got it,” I say to Greta.

“I don’t believe so,” she says over speakerphone. “But if you’re talking about Maggie then I’m not surprised. We’ve had our differences in the past when Doctor Reddy was a little too quick to accommodate some of his constituents. You know, maybe the alcohol level wasn’t really that high. Or maybe it was higher, depending on who he’s trying to help or screw at the moment.”

“You don’t need to tell me what he’s like,” I reply. “I’ve been on the job barely a month, and let’s just say I have a lot on my hands,” and here I go again, confiding what I probably shouldn’t.

“Blaise has been telling me about the murder and mayhem up there in Alexandria,” Greta says. “It’s a shame they don’t make her an investigator. They may as well because she lives and breathes like one if you haven’t figured that out already.”

“I certainly have.”

“She’s always been that way, ever since she was little.”

“I’m calling about a case you won’t have heard about.” Without giving much information, I describe the poisoned wine.

“Do we know where it was tampered with?” Greta begins her series of questions.

“Not yet, possibly in this area. Or maybe Europe. The victim survived,” I reply as if talking about somebody I’ve never met. “But the symptoms were classic for an opioid overdose.”

“How much of the wine was ingested? And how quick was the onset of symptoms?” she asks.

“From what I understand, it was just a taste before the symptoms set in. It was very fast.”

“And the tox is negative for carfentanil?”

“Yes.”

“Something much more potent than morphine,” she considers.

“It required two doses of Narcan and that was barely enough.” I text Benton that I’m stopping by my office and will be at least another hour.

“There’s a new synthetic opioid out of China.” Greta’s voice inside Marino’s truck. “As you probably know, the potent painkiller fentanyl has been banned there, and next thing you know people started creating a replacement.”

She’s afraid that the drug I’m dealing with might be isotonitazene, a synthetic version of etonitazene. Translated, iso, as it’s referred to, is a potent pain reliever that isn’t included on a regular forensic toxicology screen.

“Unlike heroin, cocaine and other drugs derived from plants, iso is manufactured in a lab. There’s nothing organic about it, and it’s sixty times more powerful than morphine,” Greta says, and Marino is shaking his head, no doubt thinking the same thing I am.

“Meaning, next there will be something else we can’t detect,” I reply dismally. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to stay on top of the problem. It always seems the bad guys have all the advantages.”

“That’s because they do, and we’re in a new wave of the opioid crisis,” Greta agrees. “The white or yellow powder easily mixes with street drugs or whatever you please including food or drink. It wouldn’t take much.”

Iso has been showing up in Canada, Germany and Belgium, she explains, and I think of what Gabriella Honoré told me about the Bordeaux. It was a gift from the police chief of Brussels. Maybe that’s where the tampering occurred. But I don’t want to assume it.

Greta goes on to say that iso has made its way to America, and we’re seeing variants and a surge of overdoses. Primarily in the Midwest, and also recently in Kentucky.