There's Something About Marty (A Working Stiffs Mystery Book 3) by Wendy Delaney Page B

watching too much TV.”
    He was sounding like Steve again. “Okay, so it’s not that easy, but if Phyllis hadn’t known what Jordan ate, there should be a way to tell, right?”
    “There’d be traces of the plant in his vomit. But no matter what he ate or didn’t eat, he’d present with certain symptoms, and we’d go from there.”
    I pulled the computer printout from my tote and unfolded the three-page article on the galley counter next to the bowl. “What if you saw these symptoms?”
    Kyle removed the pan from the burner, leaning on the counter as he leafed through the pages. Less than a minute later, he handed them back to me, his eyes hooded. “This is what you wanted to talk to me about.”
    I nodded. “Which I tried to indicate on the phone.”
    His jaw tightened. “So, you didn’t dig up enough information last night about how Marty McCutcheon died?”
    “I’m trying to do my job and gather all the pertinent information surrounding his death so that the Coroner—”
    “I know what your job is. I can even appreciate that you’re willing to do what’s necessary to get that job done, but I can’t help you. Not this time.”
    I knew he was referring to a research project he had helped me with when one of his patients had died suddenly a few weeks back. “I’m just trying to understand—”
    “And I’ve told you everything you need to know for a cause of death. Mr. McCutcheon was in ventricular fibrillation upon arrival. He arrested about thirty minutes later. That’s all I have for you.”
    “That’s all there is to it?” I asked, watching him carefully for a reaction.
    “That’s all I saw. The medics who brought him in reported he was experiencing paralysis and ventricular dysrhythmias. In other words, his heart was out of rhythm. He had to be shocked, several times.”
    “But why was this happening?”
    “Given his history, like I told you last night, my guess would be advanced coronary artery disease.”
    He was telling the truth, dammit.
    I stared down at the paper in my hands and saw the words, paralysis and irregular heartbeat . “It seems like one of these poisons would be a great way to kill someone, especially with that kind of history.”
    “Don’t let me give you any ideas, and not that Mr. McCutcheon’s death was caused by anything other than a very unhealthy heart, but you’re right. It could be an effective way to kill someone.”
    I stared at him. “Because you can’t just run a few labs and find out that someone was poisoned?”
    He smirked. “Not around here. Takes some seriously expensive equipment and highly trained toxicologists that county hospitals can’t afford.”
    I sighed. I could only hope that the state crime lab had some of that equipment.
    Kyle glanced down at the bowl between us. “If you’re done pumping me for information, I’d like to eat sometime today.”
    “I’d prefer to call it asking a friend for his help with a problem.”
    He grabbed a whisk. “Yeah, I like that better, too. Still feels like I was pumped for information though.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Now let me ask you a question,” he said, whisking milk in with the eggs.
    “Okay.” The flutter in my chest told me to expect that his question wouldn’t have anything to do with work.
    “Was that the only reason you called me this morning?”
    It was a fair question, but there was no way I could give him a completely honest answer without hurting his feelings.
    “I was concerned that there might be a connection between why Jordan Makepeace was rushed to the hospital last night and the death of Marty McCutcheon, and I wanted to see what you thought. To see if this seemed like too much of a coincidence.” I left the rest unsaid. He was a smart guy. He could read between the lines.
    He nodded. “I’m not a big one for coincidences.”
    “Me either.”
    “But they happen. You and me, for example. There we were at Eddie’s, in the same boat after dressing for an evening