Plato chuckled appreciatively. Ian was a friend of the family, and Plato owed him a favor. Otherwise, the sheriff’s own proportions were easy marks for a witty riposte.
But when Plato was growing up in Seneca, his father and Ian had been partners on the force. Years later, when Plato was a local obstetrician and Cameron was Tecumseh County sheriff, the coroner had died in office. Although Plato wasn’t qualified, he’d temporarily filled the post at Ian’s request. It wasn’t difficult — he signed death certificates and forwarded the tough cases to experts in Seneca.
Cal had been one of those experts. A year later, she and Plato were married. Ian was best man. And that November, she was elected TC’s coroner.
Ian frequently recalled his matchmaking role.
“And how are the two lovebirds today? No, no, I forget. This isn’t a social call.” Long sideburns wagged ferociously as he puffed on his pipe. Walking down the foyer, he peered into the living room. Cal had dragged the blanket over her head. Whispering, Ian observed, “She doesn’t look so well.”
“I know. She’s all right, though.”
“Good.” The old sheriff squared his shoulders, marched across the room, and took Plato’s chair. “Good morning to you, Cal.”
No reply. She was probably asleep. Plato sat on the couch at her feet.
“I’ve come for an official reason today,” the sheriff began, a hint of pride in his voice. He sat forward, eyes glowing brightly. “The Tecumseh County sheriff’s office is handling the investigation of the Thorndyke case. I’d like the coroner’s report as soon as possible.”
From under the blankets came a groan that could have been the furniture settling. Ian frowned.
“Of course, if the county coroner is ill, the assistant county coroner will aid in the investigation,” he conceded.
This was going too fast for Plato. “Assistant? I didn’t know Cal had an assistant.”
“That’s the beauty of it, laddie!” The sheriff stabbed his pipestem at his friend. “
“Wait a minute. That was years ago.”
“Of course, if you refuse, I can work with Cal alone on the case. It wouldn’t be like working with a
Plato was still confused. “But I haven’t signed any papers or worked for the coroner’s office in years.” He gasped as Cal’s foot jarred his kidney. Trust a pathologist to locate just the right spot.
“Of course not,” Cameron replied. “You didn’t have to. Cal and I automatically renewed your employment agreement. You’ve been the TC coroner’s assistant for five years now. Didn’t Cal tell you?”
Plato ground his elbow into the soft spot behind her ankle, where the nerve passed through. There was another groan from beneath the pillow.
“Does she always sleep like that?” asked Ian.
“She’s in a lot of pain,” Plato replied sympathetically.
The sheriff shook his head and clucked.
“It’s tough for women these days,” he confided with a wink. He grinned down at Cal’s blanket. “They put so much pressure on themselves to make it in a man’s world. Especially here in the States. I don’t understand it, but it’s probably good for them to try.”
“Teach them a lesson, you mean.”
“Exactly!” Ian beamed in agreement. “They don’t realize how good they had it.”
“In the home.”
“Right!”
Beneath the blanket, Cal’s toe was probing, moving up the spine, hunting for the kidney again. Plato changed tacks. “So how can I help?”
Ian’s forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. “Well, this is hardly a typical case of murder.”
“How do you mean?”
He leaned back, crossing his stubby legs. Mud covered the soles of his boots. “I’m sure the spoiled food wasn’t just coincidence. I’ve talked with a few of the doctors at the hospital — because it seemed odd. That they didn’t pick up the arsenic until it was too late. The murderer hoped old Thorndyke’s death would seem like severe food poisoning.”
Plato had been there. It had almost worked.
“So we have to look for someone with that kind of medical expertise.” Ian squinted through the flare of another match. “That’s why I want you or Cal involved. You’ve heard the old saying, ‘Send a thief to catch a thief.’ ”
Plato thought he knew what was coming next.
“I want to start with Thorn-dyke’s son, Homer,” Ian said, flipping through a pocket notebook.
“What about Thorndyke’s wife?” Plato asked, startled.
“Jan?” he mused absently. “Oh, yes, that business with the maid. Mrs. Thorndyke’s in the hospital — she’s not going anywhere.”
“So what’s so special about Homer?”
Cameron slapped his notebook shut, waddled to the door. “I checked up on him. He’s a microbiologist at the medical school. I’m driving up there now.”
He slipped on his coat and turned. “Coming?”
“Gee, Ian, I’d really like to, but—” Plato thought of his office appointments. Sure, the schedule wasn’t that full. Sandy, his partner, could cover.
Still...
“Could you get along without me today? Maybe Wednesday I can find some time. Or this weekend.”
