Carrot Cake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #10)(71)

Hannah sighed. Mike wasn’t being very cooperative. “I saw Gus take a green-and-white capsule at the dance. When I asked him if he should mix alcohol and medicine, he said it was an over-the-counter antacid.”

“And you didn’t believe him?”

“I believed him at the time. But then I started thinking about it, so I described it to Jon Walker and asked him what it could have been.”

“And he told you it could have been an amphetamine?”

“Yes.”

“Jon’s right. It was an amphetamine. It showed up on the tox screen.”

Hannah felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. “When did the tox screen come in?”

“With the autopsy. Doc put a rush on it, and I had it first thing Tuesday morning.”

“But I saw you late Tuesday morning at The Cookie Jar! Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Because it’s an official document. It’s against regulations for me to share official reports and documents with you.”

“So there are things you’re not telling me?” Hannah asked him, feeling betrayed.

“A few, yes, but only if they’re something confidential that only authorized personnel can know. Besides…the amphetamines didn’t kill him. He was stabbed with an ice pick or similar object.”

The lightbulb of suspicion that had been flickering in Hannah’s mind ever since she’d talked to her sisters about sharing information with Mike turned into a steadily glowing globe. She knew the truth now. Mike was holding out on her. Perhaps he didn’t mean to. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt. He might truly believe that he was honoring the pact they’d made.

“What about the suitcase on the bed?” she asked. “Were there any more pills in it?”

“Come on, Hannah.” Mike gave a weary sigh. “The suitcase is in the evidence room.”

“And only authorized personnel can know what’s in it?”

“That’s right. Some of the contents could be important during the trial.”

“What trial? You haven’t arrested anyone yet.”

“No, but we will. And there’s no way I want the killer to walk on a technicality because I’ve been careless with the evidence.”

“I understand,” Hannah said, and she did. Mike had never said much about it, but Hannah knew that the gang member who’d shot and killed Mike’s wife when she was pregnant with their first child had gotten off on a technicality. Bill had told her all about it. It was one of the reasons Mike was so determined to follow police procedure to the letter. No criminal he caught was going to walk free on a technicality if he could help it.

“I’ll tell you what I can, Hannah. You know I will.”

“I know.” Hannah knew that Mike was sharing some information with her. But the information she would get from him wouldn’t be critical to the case. He was treating her like an outsider, not a member of his team. And while he might honestly want things to be different, they wouldn’t be.

“What’s the matter?” Mike asked, frowning slightly.

Nothing that you’d understand, Hannah almost said, but she bit the words back. It was silly of her to be disappointed. She should have known all along that Mike’s two-way street was really one-way. He might want to break the rules for her, but he wouldn’t.

“Hannah? What’s wrong?” Mike asked again.

“I’m just tired,” Hannah said, uttering the first thing that popped into her head.

“I’d better go, then. Lock the door behind me, and I’ll run down and get that present for Moishe I told you about. I’ll knock when I come back up.”

Hannah waited, her eye to the peephole. She was expecting to see a distorted image of Mike as he came up the stairs, but instead she saw something huge, bright pink, and fuzzy.

“Okay, Hannah. It’s me.”

The huge, pink, fuzzy object had Mike’s voice, so Hannah opened the door. And then she started to laugh as she saw what he was carrying.

“It’s a flamingo,” Mike explained unnecessarily. “Didn’t you tell me that Moishe liked flamingos?”

“I probably did. He loves to watch them on the Animal Channel. How big is that thing, anyway?”

“It’s taller than I am, so it’s six and a half feet, at least. And its name is Fred. Where do you want it?”

“Right there,” Hannah said, pointing at the corner by the couch. “Will Fred fit there?”

“Sure, if we fold his wing in a little.” Mike did just that as Hannah watched. “Too bad Fred doesn’t have a tray in its beak, or something. You could use him as a couch table.”

Just what I need. A six-and-a-half-foot table shaped like a flamingo, Hannah thought, but of course she didn’t say it. Even though Fred wasn’t to her taste and he looked dreadful in her living room, she was touched that Mike had thought to get the toy for Moishe.

“Thanks, Mike,” she said for lack of anything better to say. And then, because it sounded so sparse, she added, “Wherever did you find it?”

“Oh. Well…actually Fred’s recycled. I hope Moishe won’t mind.”

“I don’t think he does,” Hannah said, watching her cat approach the big bird and rub up against it. “Is it something the police confiscated?”