Jamie Brodie 01 - Cited to Death

out?"
    "We think so."
    Ben looked at me. "Why did he ask you to find out about this?"
    "I dink because he knew me well enough to know I'd dig undil I god de answer. An' because I'm a UC librarian. I could find the Welsh ardicle."
    Ben started pacing again. "I thought from the beginning it wasn't right that Dan died from a seizure. He hadn't had a seizure in the two years I'd known him. And he never missed his meds. Never. If we were out someplace at the time he was supposed to take them, we'd have to leave right then. I got his autopsy report myself, but since it didn't show anything else..." He stopped to think. "Since it didn't show anything else, then how did he die?"
    Pete mused. "Hard to say. When I was a cop, I talked to the coroner about that once. He said there were ways to kill people and leave no trace, but usually with an injection of some kind. He mentioned potassium and a couple of other things."
    Ben sat back down. He looked deflated and ten years older. "My employer killed my boyfriend. Or had him killed. Unbelievable." He shook his head. "Oliver is all about the kindly dad image, the rich dad who wants to make your life as comfortable as possible. It's just hard to imagine him being responsible for this."
    "Is there any way it could be Dr. Wray?"
    Ben rubbed his eyes. "I don't see how. She didn't even know Dan. And you tell me that Oliver was at Cambridge when these Welsh guys were at Oxford...it has to be him, right?"
    Pete shrugged. "It seems to be pointing that way."
    Ben leaned back in the chair and huffed out a breath. "Well." He stared into space for a minute, then looked back at us. "What are you going to do about this?"
    "There's a task force connected to LAPD that deals with fraudulent medical practice. We figured we'd start with them. Let them take the investigation from here."
    Ben nodded. "Okay." He looked at his watch and stood up. "I have to be on my way. I have some unfinished work at the lab. And then I have to get my CV updated and start looking for a new job." He shook our hands. "If you think I can help you in any other way, please let me know."
    Pete nodded. "We will. But you'll probably be hearing from the LAPD within the next couple of days."
    "All right." He looked back at us solemnly. "Thank you. I mean that. And thank you for being someone Dan knew he could count on."
    My voice failed me at that, but I nodded. Pete saw Ben out, closed and locked the door and turned back to me. “He doesn’t know you and Dan had a history.”
    “He doesn’ need do know. Doesn’ madder.”
    “True.” Pete sat back down beside me. “It’s still looking like Oliver is our guy, huh?”
    “Yeah. If Ben was involved, he’s in de wrong business. He needs a Hollywood agen’. And Dan didn’ suspec’ him.”
    Pete nodded. “I believe him. But we still don’t know about Dr. Wray.”
    “Dere’s nod’ing poinding ad her. Id’s all Oliver.”
    “Yeah.” Pete sighed. “Well. We’ll see what happens at our summit meeting tomorrow.” He looked at me closely. “You look worn out. Ready for bed?”
    “Yep.”
    We took another hot shower and went to bed.

Friday June 8
    The next morning I woke up later than usual, in spite of going to bed earlier than usual. Before I moved, I surveyed my body parts. My head pounding had devolved to a dull ache; that was an improvement. I opened my jaw a bit; it seemed that I had a little more motion than I had yesterday. My muscles were still sore, but not quite as stiff as they had been. It was good to see a little progress.
    Pete was already up; I could hear him rattling around downstairs. I got up slowly and made my way to the bathroom. I figured another hot shower might loosen me up even more, and it did. I got dressed in jeans and a polo shirt and went downstairs. Pete was in the kitchen; he met me on the landing and gave me a hug, then stood back and surveyed my face. "You still look terrible."
    I smiled as sweetly as I could and gave him the finger.
    He laughed. "Are you feeling better?"
    "A little. Not as stiff. And I can make t's."
    "Good. I'm impatient with not being able to kiss you. Are you up to chewing food yet?"
    "Don't think so."
    "Okay. Want another milkshake?"
    Yes, I did.
    Near 10:00, we drove up to the West LA station, went in, and got our visitor IDs. Pete stopped to say hello to a few people along the way; this was his former workplace. I recognized a couple of people from previous visits, when I'd come to drop something off to