The Piper

FIFTEEN




McTavish was parked out front and Olivia laughed. ‘What is it with men and Cadillacs?’

‘Yeah, I’ve turned into an old fart. Is school really out this early?’

‘Not for half an hour yet. I just needed to get out of the office.’

‘You want to get a cup of coffee?’

‘Would you mind if we just go over to the school parking lot and wait? I promised Teddy I’d be there early. She’s got some issues with school phobia, and I want to keep her feeling secure until she gets settled in.’

‘We’ll park right up front, and get in before all the soccer mommies and SUVs.’

The school was no more than a three minute drive. McTavish looked across at Olivia and smiled. ‘It’s good to see you, babe. Outside of funerals, and all.’

‘You too.’

‘How are Charlotte and the girls holding up?’

‘They’re having a rough time. How’s your mom?’

‘Turning into an old lady. Eating breakfast at Long’s everyday.’

Long’s Drug Store was known for fluffy pancakes, three dollar breakfasts served on foam paper plates, and their loyal geriatric customer base.

‘Hey, be nice. Teddy and I have been there twice.’

‘Did you see my mother, adding up her bill with a little calculator, digging in her coin purse for a tip?’ McTavish eased the Cadillac into a slot at the front door of the school. He flipped off the engine, then reached for a brown envelope on the back seat. ‘This is it, Livie. Chris’s autopsy report.’

Olivia reached for the envelope, but he pulled it away. ‘First you have to agree to go to dinner with me this week. Some place special, so dress up.’

‘Bad idea, McTavish. Considering our history and all.’

He waved the envelope. ‘You’re the one calling in favors. Come on, Livie. Eleven years is long enough to hold a grudge. Time to let it drop.’

‘I don’t want to leave Teddy alone.’

‘My mom already agreed to come to the house and keep an eye out while we’re gone. And you know that even if you don’t love me, you love my mom.’

‘I do love your mom. So long as you get that you’re paying, and it’s not a date.’ Olivia snatched the envelope, and ripped it open. ‘I really appreciate this, by the way.’

‘Is there something about your brother’s death that has you worried?’ McTavish turned sideways, draping an arm across the back of the seat, his hand close to the collar of Olivia’s blouse. ‘Because you want to be careful there, Livie. About stirring things up.’

‘Don’t choke on it, McTavish, what’s on your mind?’

‘Just that it was a stroke of good luck, for Chris’s wife and kids, having a definitive verdict like this. Your brother’s insurance policy was less than two years old, which means it doesn’t pay out for suicide.’

‘You think my brother killed himself?’

‘It crossed my mind. Yours too, right? Isn’t that why you wanted the report?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Look, I talked to the ME about it this morning. Unofficially, by the way. He genuinely doesn’t think it was a suicide.’

‘How does he explain the SUNDS thing? I’ve never heard of it before. My best friend in LA is a PA and she’s never seen a case.’

‘The ME says he looked into your brother’s medical history. Talked to a doctor who treated Chris before he died. Initially, he was looking for heart disease, but when he opened your brother up – sorry – he said his heart was in beautiful shape right up until his death, the arteries oversized and clear, like you’d expect from someone who had been a nonsmoker and an athlete most of his life. He also said the medical records show your brother lost seventy-six pounds between that last medical visit and his death.’

Olivia nodded. ‘I know.’

‘So the ME was thinking maybe thyroid or stomach cancer. But there was nothing. Your brother was in good health, other than the strain on his system from the sudden loss of weight. Mainly his gall bladder was about to pop. There was also a huge build-up of cortisol and other stuff – the specifics are there in the paperwork. ME was thinking it looked like prolonged stress and sleep deprivation, which would dovetail with the sudden weight loss. But here’s the weird part. According to the records, your brother was diagnosed with night terrors and sleep paralysis before he died.’

‘Sleep paralysis? That’s a diagnosis?’

‘It can be. According to the ME, sleep paralysis can be hereditary. Did anybody else in your family have a history of this sort of thing?’

‘Not that I know of. And I don’t get how something like that could kill a healthy guy like Chris. I don’t even get what it is.’

‘The way the ME described it, the victim—’

‘Would you mind not calling my brother the victim?’

‘Sorry. The patient feels awake, but he can’t move or talk. The ME gave me a lot of technical blah about nonreciprocal flaccid paralysis, but all it means is that the brain prevents a person from acting out their dreams, something or other to do with motor-neurons, which is basically a defense mechanism that keeps you from jumping out a window if you dream you can fly. It comes down to this – the patient feels awake, but he can’t move or speak. But it’s real. What happens is the person wakes up before the brain sends the signal to activate muscle contraction, which means you can’t move your body, thus the paralysis. Evidently, it’s very common to have hallucinations in this state. The hallucinations can be pretty . . . horrific.’

‘Horrific?’

‘Demons. Ghosts. Satan on your chest.’

‘Right. Nightmares, in other words. But that doesn’t kill you. My brother is dead.’

‘What happens with SUNDS is that things go one step further. The victim has no body movement – extreme muscle atonia is what they call it – and it can get so severe the cardiac muscles and the diaphragm paralyze. And if that was happening to your brother while he was awake, it would explain the histamines they found in the toxicology blood work.’

‘Histamines? What does that mean?’

McTavish touched her shoulder. ‘When someone dies in extreme pain or fear, the body produces histamines. Think of it as a stress measure of what a person goes through before death.’

‘Lay it out for me, McTavish. No pulling punches here. I want to know exactly what it was like for my brother when he died.’

McTavish rubbed his forehead. ‘The bottom line is this. Your brother was in a state of extreme fear and agitation right before he died. And while he was lying there paralyzed and afraid, he was experiencing myocardial infarction and severe breathing difficulties. There’s no way to tell which killed him first. He either strangled, slowly, or his heart gave out.’

The school bell rang, and Olivia was vaguely aware of the fleeting pause of quiet before the scramble of footsteps.

‘Livie? Livie, honey, come on, take deep, slow breaths.’

McTavish was opening the door on her side of the car. Unstrapping her seat belt. Coaxing her to one side and making her put her head between her knees. Olivia heard the mingle of childish voices and the occasional call of an adult until she heard the right flavor of mom. She sat up straight.

Teddy was running, holding out an oversized flap of paper that was clearly artwork still damp to the touch. She had that smile that reminded Olivia so much of Emily – if she remembered one thing about her big sister, it was that way Emily had of tilting her chin, squinting her eyes and letting the smile spread all the way across her face.

‘There she is. I noticed it at your brother’s funeral, you know? How much she looks like Emily,’ McTavish said.

‘Yeah.’

‘Hey.’ He turned to look at her. ‘You steady, sweetheart? I’m sorry, I should have handled that better. I’ve been a homicide cop too long. You going to make it there?’

‘Need a minute.’

‘Wave at her,’ McTavish said. ‘That’s good. You sit tight, and I’ll go round her up.’

Olivia watched them, saw Teddy stop and squint up at McTavish, the sun in her eyes. McTavish pointed at Olivia and she waved again. Something McTavish said made Teddy laugh, then Teddy ran to the car.

‘Hey. Kidlet. How was school?’

Teddy was climbing into the back seat. ‘You were right, Mommy, it is friendly here.’ She looked over the headrest at McTavish. ‘Did you know my teacher is a man?’

McTavish was climbing back into the car. ‘Is he old and ugly and mean?’

‘Mr Oswald?’ Teddy ducked her head and looked sideways at a boy kicking a soccer ball as he headed toward the circle of buses. ‘He’s younger than you.’

‘Teddy,’ Olivia said.

McTavish shrugged. ‘He must be a baby, then. I’m surprised they let him teach school.’

‘He’s really good, he teaches us a lot and he makes it fun. And you’ll never guess what. The whole third grade is going to do a play. But Annette says Aunt Charlotte won’t let her be in it.’

‘Your cousin can’t be in the play? How come?’ McTavish started the car. ‘What play are you going to do?’

‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin. I get to be a rat. The rats are the narrators so it’s an important part. I’ve already learned some of my lines.

‘Hamelin Town’s in Brunswick.

By famous Hanover city;

The river Weiser, deep and wide,

Washes its wall on the southern side;

A pleasanter spot you never spied;

But, when begins my ditty,

Almost five hundred years ago,

To see the townsfolk suffer so

From vermin, was a pity.’