“Since the results weren’t routine,” Fox said, “we have to investigate further before we close this case.”
“Not routine? What does that mean?”
“Your husband had a significant amount of alprazolam in his system at the time of death,” Detective Fox said.
“What is that?”
“It’s more commonly known by its brand name,” her partner, Lloyd, told me. “Xanax.”
I shook my head. “There must be some mistake. Ali never took Xanax. He rarely even took over-the-counter pain relievers.”
“Is it possible he took it without your knowing?” Detective Fox asked.
I was quickly learning that anything might be possible. Secretly taking antianxiety medicine could be the latest on the growing list of things that Ali didn’t share with me. “I don’t think he would hide something like that.” At least the Ali I knew wouldn’t.
Detective Lloyd referred to his phone. “Our report says that you previously mentioned being of the Muslim faith to our officers.”
“Did I?” I didn’t remember alluding to our religion. “I don’t recall. How does that signify?”
“Isn’t admitting you have mental health problems looked down upon in a conservative culture like yours?”
“We’re American. We were both born here. I don’t think less of people who need Xanax,” I said flatly. “Obviously I can’t know one hundred percent for sure that Ali didn’t take Xanax, but it would surprise me very much if he did, given his general dislike of over-the-counter medicines.”
Detective Lloyd gave me another kindly look. “We’re not making any assumptions—”
“It sounds like you are.”
“We’re just trying to clear everything up,” he finished.
Detective Fox scooted to the edge of her seat. “Did your husband have any sleeping issues?”
“How do you mean?”
“Did he have trouble falling and staying asleep?” She talked a lot with her hands, the red nails sweeping through the air. “People sometimes take Xanax to help them sleep.”
“He seemed to sleep just fine. He never complained about not sleeping well. My husband was one of those outdoorsy guys who hated to use drugs. He wouldn’t even take anything for a headache.”
“Can you think of any reason for your husband to have this drug in his system?” Detective Lloyd asked.
“I honestly can’t. Are you sure you didn’t get the report mixed up?”
Detective Fox had a contemplative look on her face. “You are aware that your husband didn’t brake before he hit that tree?”
“Yes.” My muscles tensed. I knew where this was headed. “I’m aware.”
“And the investigators felt it was possible that Mr. Abadi took his own life.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“We don’t mean to cause you any additional distress, Mrs. Abadi, but we have to be thorough in our investigation, and that means exploring all possibilities.” She spoke in a brisk manner that gave the impression that I was holding her up. “Someone who felt suicidal might have anxiety, and he might take Xanax for that anxiety.”
“What are you saying?” I retorted. “Did Ali drive into a tree because he wanted to kill himself? Or did he accidentally take too much Xanax, which caused him to crash?”
“As we said,” Lloyd answered in a calm tone, “we have to explore all potential options.”
Detective Fox seemed to lose her patience. She came to her feet. “Would you mind if we have a look inside your medicine cabinet?”
“What for?”
