Nick of Time (A Bug Man Novel) by Tim Downs

almost three years ago an old man named George Hotchkiss had been found dead in his lake home on the western shore of Lake Wallenpaupack. Hotchkiss was an invalid, it said, completely bedridden during the months leading up to his death, and a home-care provider had been hired to make daily visits to the house. Nick searched for the home-care provider’s name . . . Here it is—Curtis Medlin . Apparently Medlin was responsible for the old man’s care, but one day he came to the house and found himself out of a job—because his employer was lying facedown on the floor on the left side of the bed, dead as the proverbial doornail. Nick referred to the blurry crime scene photo again . . . There was the victim, just as described, lying facedown on a carpeted floor.
    Since the home-care provider had been the last person to see Hotchkiss alive, the police automatically suspected him of negligence or foul play. Nick reviewed the autopsy report: Sure enough, the old man’s body had been underweight and had shown signs of dehydration. But Medlin claimed that his employer’s condition had been steadily declining in the months prior to his death, and that the old man had become belligerent about taking his meals and consuming adequate fluids. The confrontation between Medlin and the police turned into “your word against mine” and, lacking any convincing physical evidence, the police decided not to file charges against Medlin.
    Nick frowned. That’s it? This is what Pete was working on? At its worst it was a simple case of health-care negligence, not murder—and apparently the authorities didn’t even consider the evidence substantial enough to bring charges for negligence. So why would Deputy Keller bring this case to Vidocq when Vidocq takes only murder cases? Where was the evidence that convinced the deputy the old man’s death was not the result of natural causes? What was it about this case that would catch the interest of a forensic botanist like Pete Boudreau? And what in the world did Pete think Nick would have to contribute? He flipped through the pages again.
    I just don’t see it . . . What am I missing?
    Nick heard the sound of a ceramic plate sliding across the table toward him. He held out his open right hand and, after a groan from the waitress, he felt the handle of a fork slapped against his palm. Without looking at the plate he jabbed the fork into something soft, twisted it, and brought it to his mouth.
    “How is everything?” the waitress asked drily.
    “Yummy,” Nick replied.
    “Want me to pour the coffee down your throat?”
    “Let’s let it cool first,” Nick said. “Did you ever know a man named George Hotchkiss?”
    “Who?”
    “George Hotchkiss. An old guy—lived over on Lake Wallenpaupack.”
    “Sure, I remember him—had one of the nicest places on the whole lake. Died a couple years back, I think.”
    “Do you remember anything about the circumstances surrounding his death?”
    “You mean like from the newspaper?”
    “I can read the newspaper myself. You’re a waitress—you hear a lot of gossip—what did the locals have to say about it?”
    “I don’t listen to gossip,” she said.
    “Okay, then you ‘overhear a lot of conversations.’ Better?”
    “I don’t remember much,” she said. “Just that some male nurse from up in Honesdale was supposed to look in on him but didn’t.”
    “How do you know he didn’t?”
    “The old man died, didn’t he?”
    “Nobody lives forever. Maybe he just died from old age.”
    “Maybe.”
    “Where’s this nurse now? Has anybody seen him since the old man’s death?”
    “Went back to Honesdale, I suppose—probably moved away ’cause of all the talk. I hope he changed jobs, anyway—I sure wouldn’t want that man lookin’ in on me.”
    “Can’t say I blame you.” Nick checked the deputy’s contact sheet. The waitress’s memory was correct; Curtis Medlin had a Honesdale address. Nick searched for another address: