“How can you know that?”
“Well, to begin with, I’m the one who found him.”
Kerry blinked at her. “How did you—”
“We were friends, good friends. Archie had been depressed and I went over early that morning to see if I could cheer him up.”
“How did you get in? Was his door unlocked?”
“I have a key. And it’s none of your business why.”
“What about this digitoxin overdose?” I asked.
“Archie’s pills, the prescribed 0.05 dosage, were orange. When I went back later, after his body was taken away, I found a pink pill that must have been dropped and accidentally kicked under the bed. I had a feeling something was amiss and the pink pill confirmed it.”
“The pink pill did.”
“That’s right. Pink is the color of a 0.10 dosage, twice what Archie was permitted to take each day.”
“Are you sure it was digitoxin?”
“Positive. Of that and of the dosage. I showed the pink pill to my own doctor.”
“Maybe it was from an old prescription of Archie’s. Maybe it’d been under the bed a long time.”
“Archie never took a dosage larger than 0.05,” Cybil said. “He told me so himself. And there was plenty of dust under his bed but none on the pill.”
“He didn’t get the larger dosage from Dr. Lengel, by any chance?”
“No. And there were no other pink digitoxin pills in his unit. I know because I looked.”
“And that’s why you think he was murdered, the one pink pill you found?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“That’s pretty thin evidence, Cybil.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“You haven’t talked to the local police, have you?”
She gave me an up-from-under look, the prototype of the one Kerry used on me from time to time. “Of course not.”
“Told anyone else of your suspicion? Dr. Lengel? Dr. Johannsen? The Captain’s attorney?”
“No. An autopsy would corroborate the overdose, I’m sure, but Dr. Lengel saw no reason to request one and no one else will either without evidence of foul play. Besides, I don’t care to be considered a foolish, fanciful old lady by anyone including my daughter and son-in-law.”
“Did I say you were foolish and fanciful?”
“It’s what you’re thinking.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said. “I don’t doubt your good sense and neither does Kerry. I’m just trying to understand why you’re so sure it was murder. Why not suicide? You said Captain Archie was depressed and his health was poor. He could’ve gotten the larger dose of digitoxin himself, some way—”
“He did not commit suicide,” Cybil said.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Archie Todd was a devout Catholic. He attended Mass regularly every Sunday.”
“Oh,” I said.
Kerry said, “Why exactly was he depressed?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t talk about it. But it was more than just general melancholy — he was angry about something. Very angry the day before his death.”
“You’ve no idea why?”
“The only thing he ever said to me was that he’d made a terrible mistake, he should never have trusted the bastards. His exact words.”
“Friends or business associates who deceived him in some way,” I said. “Or old enemies come back into his life.”
“I can’t imagine who would want to do him any kind of harm. Archie Todd was a gentle, easygoing man. He got along with everyone.”
“Profit is the obvious motive. How large is his estate?”
“I can’t tell you exactly. I would guess six figures, mostly in stocks and mutual funds.”
“Then he must’ve had a broker or investment counselor.”
“Dunbar Asset Management.”
One of San Francisco’s largest financial management outfits; even I had heard of them. “Who’s the executor of his estate?”
“Evan Patterson, Archie’s attorney.”
“Local?”
“Yes. He has an office on Magnolia Avenue.”
“And who inherits? Captain Archie had no living relatives, did he?”
“Only one. A niece in Connecticut. But he hadn’t seen her in twenty-five or thirty years and he told me once he’d left her out of his will. His entire estate goes to the San Francisco Maritime Museum, along with his collection of ferryboating memorabilia. He loved ferries, you know, and he was an expert on their history and lore. The bequest was to establish a permanent museum exhibit in his name.”
“Well, there goes the only motive that makes sense.”
“Unless someone was after his collection,” Kerry said. “Is that possible, Cybil? If it’s valuable enough—”
“Its value is mainly historical. I suppose another collector might be willing to pay dearly for it, but the bulk of the collection is already in storage at the museum. Archie let them have it four years ago, when he moved over here from the city, as a stipulation of his bequest.”
I said, “Okay. So what all this boils down to is, you want me to conduct an investigation based on not much more than a hunch and a pink pill. I don’t see what I can—”
“Did I say I wanted you to conduct an investigation?”
“That’s why you asked us to lunch, isn’t it?”
“Smart guy. All right, then. I’ll pay your standard fee.”
“You will like hell. I won’t take money from you.”
“You take money from strangers.”
“That’s different. You’re family.”
“Crap,” Cybil said. “Samuel Leatherman would take it in a New York minute.”
“I’m not Samuel Leatherman.”
“And a good thing, too. If I were writing stories about you I’d still be an unpublished writer.”
“Cybil,” I said with a tight grip on my patience. “Cybil, I’m only trying to tell you that I doubt there’s much I can do without something more to work with.”
“So you won’t even try.”
Kerry said, “Of course he’ll try. Won’t you, dear?”
I said, “Ow,” because she’d poked me again. Hard.
“Let him alone, Kerry. If he thinks I’m a silly old lady pursuing a fantasy, well, I can’t really blame him. After all, he’s more experienced in these matters...”
“Will you knock off that silly old lady stuff? You’re as smart and wily as they come and you know it. If you’re convinced that Captain Archie was murdered I’m not going to argue with you, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Does that mean you’ll look into it?”
“Yes, okay, I’ll look into it. As a favor. No money — don’t bring up the subject of money again. Monday morning I’ll check with Evan Patterson—”
“Why wait until Monday? Why not start now?”
“Lawyers don’t work on Saturday, you know that.”
“I don’t mean Evan Patterson. I mean you could go over to Archie’s unit and have a look through his things.”
“It’s all still there?”
“It is. Patterson hasn’t been able to locate the niece, and Archie’s rent is paid through the end of the month.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t tell me you haven’t been over there snooping around — more than once, I’ll bet. If you didn’t find anything, there’s nothing there to find.”
“I’m not a detective,” she said. “You are.”
“You write detective stories — you know what to look for and where to look as well as I do.”
“Balls. The difference is that you’re a professional snoop and I’m only an amateur. Will you go and look?”
“It’d be trespassing. I don’t have any right to enter and search a premises without permission.”