Oddsson obviously
couldn't hold his wine as well as he appeared to. Nevertheless,
I agreed to wait for the results. Two days later, medical
examiners reported they had found in Sabine's body traces of a
muscle relaxant that could induce heart failure.
I took the job.
Chapter 6
The MEs couldn't say positively whether the drug had
induced Sabine's heart attack, but they found no physical
defect. As Oddsson had predicted, police grilled him about his
relationship with Sabine and about family finances.
I met him at their home, and he took me to her study
where she died. He laid a waist-high urn on its side.
"It had fallen so."
He pulled her chair about three feet away from her
desk and adjusted its angle, until he appeared satisfied.
"And books were there." He took three volumes from
her desk and laid them just to the left of her chair.
"Is that all?" I said.
"Yes."
It wasn't much, but it looked like a lot of action for
someone suffering a heart attack.
"What did the police say?"
"Nothing."
"Can you show me all possible entries into the
house?"
The doors had high-tech locks. The windows were
secured in ways that could not be violated without breaking
them. A functioning alarm system had not gone off.
Oddsson offered a month's advance. I told him I had
already hired Jorge to help me, and I might need more help. It
could get expensive. He repeated the value of the flat,
seven hundred thousand euros. Use whatever I needed, he said.
I would use the extra cash to pay off Jorge's source in
the president's office and to broaden the investigation. Caracas
was covered; that left England. There were things in that
country that I wanted checked. I called Rocky McNulty, a
former pro featherweight with a heavyweight name. He was
Scottish, but he worked for a London investigative agency. He
had a chameleon's personality. Grim as a gravedigger in private,
but on the job, he could charm his way past the palace guard.
I'd also seen him knock out a man half again his size with one
punch. He agreed to find what he could on Mumby, the
investment banker, as well as on Trevor.
I called Alexandra. She was on another line.
Four calls later, I got through and asked her to meet
me.
She refused.
I called back.
Her secretary said she was busy.
I had Gavizon call from Venezuela and pose as a PDVSA
employee. He told Alexandra that a company executive was in
Paris on business. The client wanted a personal briefing at his
hotel.
She arrived on time.
I was right behind her. " Bonsoir, " I said with a
smile.
She turned around and scowled. "What do you
want?"
"About thirty minutes, minimum."
She kept the scowl while deciding whether to leave or
talk to me.
"Sabine might have been murdered," I said. "No
evidence of that, but not beyond the possible."
Alexandra tried to speak, but the words seemed to
catch in her throat.
"Police are investigating. Sabine's husband is sure he'll
be a suspect. He's already been interrogated and he's hired me
to double-check the police. I don't know much yet, but I'm
working on the assumption that it's related to the study. Will
you talk to me? This PDVSA study looks like a dangerous piece
of work."
We went to the hotel lounge and ordered drinks.
"First, I'd like to ask you to keep whatever I tell you
confidential," I said.
"That's awkward for me. If I know anything that could
affect the study, I should tell the project manager."
"Ian Graham? He's a pompous twit."
Alexandra turned down the corners of her mouth.
"He's no twit."
"OK, so I'm only half right."
"Most of the partners are pompous. Our clients expect
it."
A joke. Progress. I smiled. "All right then, would you
agree to tell me what you want to tell Graham or anyone else,
before you say it?"
She nodded, but then wagged her index finger at me. "I
will talk to you first, but, you don't have a veto on what I say to
anyone else."
I showed her a copy of Trevor's chart.
She studied the notations for several minutes, but I
couldn't guess what she