“Healthy for us or for them?”
Ah, his man was so smart! He had quickly learned to ask the important questions. Andi smiled. “For us. This mattress has been changed recently. They’re currently building up.”
“Sometimes I wish I could just erase this knowledge from my mind.”
“You did it before you met me. I’m sure you knew about mites, but you were perfectly capable of ignoring them.”
“That was before I had you to create a tangible connection. Well, at least hypothetically tangible.” George shrugged. “It never ceases to amaze me how the term willful ignorance can have so many different facets I’ve never thought of before.”
“Well, there’s never a dull moment when you’re with me,” Andi said the words only half-jokingly. He knew life with him wasn’t easy. He still marveled that George hadn’t left him yet. On the contrary, his man seemed to become more invested in them the more time they spent together. And he couldn’t attribute that solely to George’s stubbornness, which rivaled his own. If Andi were honest, and he usually was, because lying to oneself never amounted to anything good, he was afraid of the day George would realize exactly what he had gotten himself into. While Andi didn’t wish for that day to come, he still mentally prepared himself for being alone again. Nothing good had ever lasted for him. Certainly nothing as good as having George Donovan in his life.
“No, no dull moments with you.” George leaned down to press a kiss on Andi’s forehead. The new wave of scents and movement that swept through the mattress was almost enough to let him spin out of control again, but as long as George maintained skin contact, he could focus on him as his anchor. “Are we going through the files?”
“Yes. Let’s.” Andi scooted back on the bed that was closest to the door and therefore would be their designated ‘office’ for the duration of their stay as opposed to the second queen closer to the window, which would be their sleeping place. Of course he shook off his shoes because nobody wanted street dust in their office, and then, after some wiggling, his back found the headrest to lean against. George shimmied up next to him, their legs and hips touching, and together they opened the first report about the most recent death by arthropod. A man named Jagger Thomasin, age fifty-two, had died two weeks ago at home from a black widow bite. Apparently, the spider had been in a drawer in the kitchen, and when Thomasin reached inside to get a knife, he was bitten. Andi furrowed his brow. Several things didn’t ring right with him.
“What is it?” George, attentive as always, had picked up on his mood.
“This doesn’t sound right for multiple reasons.” Andi tapped the report. “First, even though female black widows do produce a potent venom, most of the roughly 2200 people who get bitten every year survive and recover within twenty-four hours after receiving medical treatment. The fact alone that Thomasin died is—unusual. Especially since it says nowhere in the report that he had any allergies or other pre-existing diseases to facilitate the impact of the toxin.”
“Well, he didn’t get treated within fourteen hours. It says here that his girlfriend found him after coming home from work. When she had left in the morning, he was fine, and the coroner speculated that the bite must have happened shortly after the girlfriend, Rosalie Byrnes, left, which was around eight o’clock. She came back at ten p.m., at which point Thomasin was already dead.” George flipped to the second page of the report, where a list of the toxins found in the blood was added. “He was chock-full of alcohol. Would that have made the toxin more potent?”
Andi shrugged. “To be honest, that’s a question for Evangeline. I have no clue how alcohol affects alpha-latrotoxin, which is the main agent in a black widow’s venom, along with some other toxins that boost its effectiveness. The coroner didn’t do a very thorough job. He seemed to think this was all perfectly normal, which tells me he’s either lazy or, more likely, had the same state of half-knowledge most people sport when it comes to black widows. Dangerous, lethal. He probably didn’t even think about digging deeper once it was confirmed that Thomasin had been bitten.”
“Hmm. You’re right. I mean, I did the same. If it weren’t for you, I’d have said, okay, the guy got up too close to a dangerous spider and is now dead. End of story.” George went back to the first page. “What else bothers you?”
“The bite itself. Even when a black widow bites, they only inject venom when they feel truly threatened, meaning lots of noise, hectic movements. Reaching into a drawer to get a knife out is not something you usually do in haste, even when you’re tipsy. And there was no mention of a fight or that the apartment was in disarray, which brings us right to the next point. Why was the spider inside the drawer? Yes, they do like dark places to retreat, but a drawer is not a good place to hunt. Where would the net be? In the past decade, the venom of black widows has evolved so rapidly and to such an extent that they are crafting stronger nets to handle bigger prey. What kind of prey do you expect to find in a drawer? It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Do you think there is more?”
“I can’t tell. But I’d strongly suggest another autopsy performed by somebody who’s aware this might not be as clear cut as the coroner doing the initial examination thought. Let’s not forget Thomasin was a small-time criminal with a police file.”
George reached for his cell on the pillow next to him. “I’m texting Luke. Do you think we can have Evangeline do it?”
“I’d much prefer it. She knows how we work.”
“Yes, I’d prefer getting chastised by her for finding her more work than by somebody I don’t know.” George grinned. “It also helps avoid animosities if we keep this close to our chests.”
“It’s probably unrelated to the judge’s death anyway. I can’t see how there could be a connection between these two.” If Andi had been a superstitious man, he would have tried not to jinx themselves. Since he never had the time to develop superstitions, he saw no reason to be careful. Following the facts was usually adventure enough.
“And done.” George put his cell back on the mattress next to his thigh. “I suggest we visit Thomasin’s apartment later.”
“Yeah. Good idea. Let’s check when Rosalie Byrnes is back from work.”
George got on his cell again, no doubt texting Luke. Andi wondered how long it would take until the agent found them an officer here to take care of the legwork. Apparently not even five minutes because both their cells chimed with an incoming text, informing them that Officer Randy Kaustrowitz was their new liaison for these types of requests. They both saved the contact information and then George sent his query to Kaustrowitz, no doubt with some nice words to ensure the man’s goodwill. George was a good man who did not think of such mundanities, while Andi, had he been alone, would have just been cranky because he had to deal with yet another stranger. “Now on to Judge Dunhill’s file.”
Andi put the report about Jagger aside to look at the police file they had gotten at the precinct. It wasn’t much—just the coroner’s report and a few notes from the detectives working the case. The comments made it clear neither Detective Michael Shaw nor Detective Rosa Smalton saw a reason to investigate more deeply than the preliminary fact-checking like when the judge and his friend arrived in Spartanburg, where they came from, and a rough timeline of what they had been up to on the day they died.
“Well, that’s at least one thing that fits.” Andi pointed at the time of death. The two men had been attacked and died in the evening, around seven p.m. “Hornets hunt the entire day, but you can see an increase in activity at dusk, especially when it’s very hot. I don’t know much about fishing, but I think the best times are early morning and late evening?”
George checked his phone. “You’re right. There’s a rather alarming amount of information about seasons, moon phases, and air pressure as well, still early morning and evening seem to be always winners. It says in the file that Albert Dunhill and Trevor Asten spent the day at their cabin, probably drinking a bit because there were traces of alcohol in their blood but not enough to make them more than a bit tipsy. They didn’t have any alcohol with them on the boat, just two bottles of water, the bait for the fish, and two baskets, presumably for the catch. It’s also noted here that nothing was found that could explain why the hornets attacked.”
Andi sighed. He hated it when things got complicated. “Do hornets attack just out of the blue?” His man looked at him, waiting to be enlightened. It was a strange feeling being asked about things he had always tried to hide from the world.
“No. They never do. They’re actually pretty peaceful as long as you don’t disturb the nest. And they can’t be trained like honeybees. Although training is a big word. Some tests have shown that honeybees react aggressively to certain scents, and spraying something with such a scent can lead to an attack. No such thing is known with hornets.”
“And when they sting? Is it the same as with the black widow?”
“No. When a hornet stings, there’s always venom. And they can sting multiple times. The venom they produce is called acetylcholine, and it’s an organic chemical that functions as an especially powerful neurotransmitter, meaning the stings hurt like a bitch. Too many of them and you die of circulatory collapse, which seemed to be the case here.” Andi tapped the file. “The coroner actually did a few more tests than we’ve seen with Thomasin. However, the cause of death could also be drowning. It says here they were found in the water, not far from the shore. I assume they either jumped or fell in. There was water in both their lungs, but it’s not clear if they died from the effects of the venom or if they drowned.” He shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter since the outcome is the same.”
