Blindsight

“Tell me about it,” Robert said. He suddenly looked very sad. He also acted as if he needed to talk.

“Did you know she took drugs?” Laurie asked.

“She didn’t,” he said. “I know that’s what you people say,” he added as his face flushed, “but I’m telling you, Julia never did drugs. It just wasn’t in her nature. She was totally into health. She got me into running.” He smiled at the memory. “Last spring she had me do my first triathlon. I just can’t figure it. My God, she didn’t even drink.”

“I’m sorry,” Laurie said.

“She was so gifted,” Robert said wistfully. “So strong-willed, so committed. She cared about people. She was religious: not overly, but enough. And she was involved in everything, like pro choice, the homeless, AIDS, you name it.”

“I understand you identified her here at the scene,” Laurie said. “Were you the one who found her?”

“Yes,” Robert managed. He looked away, struggling with tears.

“It must have been awful,” Laurie said. Memories of finding her brother crowded in with graphic intensity. She did her best to dismiss them. “Where was she when you came in?”

Robert pointed toward the bedroom.

“Was she still alive at that point?” Laurie asked gently.

“Sort of,” Robert said. “She was breathing off and on. I gave her CPR until the ambulance got here.”

“How did you happen to come by?” Laurie asked.

“She’d called me earlier,” Robert said. “She said to be sure to come over later on.”

“Was that customary?” Laurie asked.

Robert looked puzzled. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess.”

“Did she sound normal?” Laurie asked. “Could you tell if she’d taken any drugs yet?”

“I don’t think she’d taken anything,” Robert said. “She didn’t sound high. But I guess she didn’t seem normal either. She sounded tense. In fact, I was a little afraid she was planning on telling me something bad, like she wanted to break up or something.”

“Was there some problem in your relationship?” Laurie asked.

“No,” Robert said. “Things were great. I mean, I thought they were great. It’s just that she sounded a little funny.”

“What about that broken statue by the front door?”

“I saw that the second I came through the door last night,” Robert said. “It was her favorite possession. It was a couple of hundred years old. When I saw it was broken, I knew something bad was going on.”

Laurie glanced over at the shattered statue and wondered if Julia could have broken it while in the throes of a seizure. If so, how did she get from the foyer to the bedroom?

“Thank you for your help,” Laurie said. “I hope I haven’t upset you with my questions.”

“No,” Robert said. “But why are you going to all this trouble? I thought medical examiners just did autopsies and only got involved with murders, like Quincy.”

“We try to help the living,” Laurie said. “That’s our job. What I’d really like to do is prevent future tragedies like Julia’s. The more I learn, the more I may be able to do that.”

“If you have any more questions, call me,” Robert said. He handed Laurie his card. “And if it somehow turns out that it wasn’t drugs, please let me know. It would be important because…” Suddenly overcome with emotion, he wasn’t able to continue.

Laurie nodded. She gave Robert her own business card after scribbling her home phone number on the back. “If you have any questions for me or if you think of anything I should know, please give me a call. You can call anytime.”

Leaving Robert to grieve in private, Laurie left the apartment and boarded the elevator. As she was riding down, she recalled that Sara Wetherbee had said that Duncan had invited her over the night he’d overdosed. Laurie thought both Duncan’s and Julia’s invitations to their significant others were odd. If both were doing such a good job hiding their drug abuse, why invite someone over the very night they were indulging?

Laurie returned the key to Patrick the doorman and thanked him on her way out. She was a half dozen steps from the door when she turned around and went back.

“Were you on duty last night?” Laurie asked him.

“Indeed I was,” Patrick said. “Three to eleven. That’s my shift.”

“Did you happen to see Julia Myerholtz yesterday evening?” Laurie asked.

“I did,” Patrick said. “I’d see her most every evening.”

“I suppose you’ve heard what happened to her,” Laurie said. She didn’t want to offer any information the doorman might not be privy to.

“I have,” Patrick said. “She took drugs like a lot of young people. It’s a shame.”

“Did she seem depressed when she came in last night?” Laurie asked.

“I wouldn’t say depressed,” Patrick said. “But she didn’t act normal.”

“In what way?” Laurie asked.

“She didn’t say hello,” Patrick said. “She always said hello except for last night. But maybe that was because she wasn’t alone.”

“Do you remember who was with her?” Laurie questioned with interest.

“I do,” Patrick said. “Normally I can’t remember things like that since we have a lot of traffic going in and out. But since Ms. Myerholtz hadn’t said hello, I looked at her companions.”

“Did you recognize them?” Laurie said. “Had they been here before?”