Free Slow Kill by Michael McGarrity Page A

relief she felt out of her voice.
    “I have. Now it’s your turn to fill me in.”
    Ellie told Kerney about the preliminary findings from the postmortem, the discovery of the hormone replacement medication in a pill case in Clifford Spalding’s clothing, and Price’s telephone conversation with Spalding’s doctor.
    “You only found one pill?” Kerney asked.
    “Yeah. Is that important?”
    “I talked to a caretaker at Spalding’s estate who told me Spalding had been on a business trip for the past two weeks before he went to the ranch. I doubt he’d be foolish enough not to keep a supply of medication on hand.”
    “We didn’t find a prescription bottle,” Ellie said.
    “Did you search his car?” Kerney asked.
    Ellie shook her head.
    “It might be a smart thing to do. The caretaker also told me that Clifford Spalding forgot to take his medication with him while visiting his wife in Santa Fe two months ago, and had to get his prescription refilled locally. Don’t you find that interesting, given who Claudia Spalding has been sleeping with?”
    “I do,” Ellie replied.
    “Who better to tamper with or alter medication than a pharmacist? And if it was Dean who filled the prescription, did he dispense a one-month, two-month, or three-month supply?”
    Ellie mulled it over. “Claudia Spalding told Nina Deacon her husband probably died of heart failure, which comes pretty close to the autopsy findings. Now, how would she know that, given the fact that Spalding was in good health at the time of his last checkup?”
    “Exactly,” Kerney said.
    “So how would Dean have done it?” Ellie asked.
    “I don’t know,” Kerney replied, as he opened the passenger door. “But the caretaker mentioned that since his return from Santa Fe, Spalding had been complaining about sleeping poorly and blurred vision.”
    “Which means his condition may have been deteriorating,” Ellie asked, reaching for her cell phone.
    Kerney got out of the unit.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To find an address for an all-night pharmacy while you call in for a search of Spalding’s car.”
    The on-duty pharmacist at the discount drugstore, a woman with a button chin and a long, narrow nose, stood behind the counter at the back of the store and listened carefully as the female police officer described a well-known brand of thyroid medication.
    “Yes, it’s used as a hormone replacement.”
    “If, as a pharmacist, you wanted to alter or tamper with it, how would you do it?”
    “The easiest way would be to coat it with a clear substance. That way the pill would look perfectly okay.”
    “Barring that, what could you do?” Ellie asked.
    “I’m not sure I understand the question.”
    “What if you wanted to change the actual composition of the pill?” Ellie asked.
    “Well, this is a medication that you can get in a powdered form. Some pharmacists who specialize in mixing their own compounds like to fill prescriptions that way. But it wouldn’t look anything like the pharmaceutical version.”
    The tall, good-looking man with the female officer smiled at her.
    “How could you change the dosage or ingredients and yet have it look identical to the real thing?” Kerney asked.
    “Same size, shape, color, and brand name?” the pharmacist asked.
    “Yes. Could it be done?”
    “I suppose, if you made it with a mold. But it would be painstaking work.”
    “How would you go about it?” Ellie asked.
    “Well, I’d start with making an impression of the lettering on the pill so I could duplicate it,” the woman said. “Then I’d have to build a mold to form it based on the precise measurements of the pill and its lettering.”
    “What kind of a mold?” Kerney asked.
    The woman tapped her finger against her chin. “Ceramic perhaps, but certainly something that wouldn’t break under pressure when you formed the pill, especially if you wanted to imprint a brand name.”
    “What about the coloring?” Ellie asked.
    The pharmacist