Free Lloyd Corricelli - Ronan Marino 01 - Two Redheads & a Dead Blonde by Lloyd Corricelli

asked.
    “No, not really. They’re doing an autopsy today. Hopefully that will help.”
    “Are you going?” he asked.
    I’d been to numerous autopsies so it wasn’t necessarily a dumb question. I’d even attended one of someone I’d known. I didn’t ever want to do that again.
    “I don’t have a badge anymore, Dad. Besides, I don’t think I’d want to see her like that.”
    “I can understand.”
    He had seen his fair share of death working for the fire department and in the service, although he never talked about it. It was one of the few things that he and I could understand about each other.
    My mother put a cup of coffee in front of me. “Do you want anything to eat?”
    “No. Marc and I stopped at the Raven.”
    “Oh good,” she said in a disappointed voice. She would have felt better if I’d let her make me something, but that would have kept them at my house longer.
    They stared at me, waiting for some type of revelation I suppose. I just sipped on the coffee.
    “Look, I know you’re worried,” I finally said, “but I’ll be fine.”
    “We know that,” Dad said, “but we also know that you cared about her. It was obvious even if you didn’t say it to us.”
    There it was again, my father using those “people” classes on me. I’d had enough for today. I finished my coffee and stood.
    “I’m going to take a nap.”
    “Uh, okay son,” Dad said. “Do you want us to do anything?”
    “Please, just go home. I promise I’ll be fine.”
    “Are you sure?” Mom asked.
    “Very.”
    They pouted, slumped their shoulders and walked slowly toward the door like two kids being forced off to bed. Through the window, I watched their SUV pull out of the driveway and out of sight. Now that the slow torture was over, I could spend some time getting my thoughts together in peace.
    I went upstairs and found my bed made and everything tidied up. My mother couldn’t stand a dirty or unkempt house, even if it wasn’t her mess. Thankfully I hadn’t left anything embarrassing lying around. I sat on the bed and thought about Karen. Last night had been such an incredibly powerful moment; I found it hard to believe it was to be our last one together.
    The drug issue crept back into my mind. I tried to reassure myself that Karen wouldn’t use, especially something as deadly as a speedball. If she had, I would have noticed, right? I was trained to spot that type of behavior and always prided myself on the ability to do so. The possibility that I had missed it was slim. Even still, I had my doubts.
    I lay down, but my mind ignored the desire to sleep, and I started to compile a list of people who might have wanted Karen dead. No one immediately jumped to the top of the list; it was fairly empty in fact. She was very well liked and had lots of friends. Outside of a random act, there was no reason anyone should want her dead. A random attacker though wouldn’t have bothered to shoot her full of drugs. It could very well have been an accident, but until I ruled out all the possibilities I’d have a hard time accepting that.
    After twenty minutes in bed I was unable to fall asleep, so I got up and went downstairs. The coffee maker was still on, and I poured myself another cup. As I sipped on the hot beverage, I speculated that, in my infatuation with Karen, I may have overlooked any signs of drug use. There had been no track marks on that magnificent body I’d explored in the greatest of detail. I was fully confident that there is no way I would have failed to notice something so obvious.
    I tried to think about other things, like the good times we had in our short time together, but was unable to put the drug issue to rest. The lingering doubt would continue if I weren’t able to completely rule it out. Besides talking to her friends, who might deny it, the only other way I figured I’d find anything out was to check her apartment. If she had been using, there might be something there to prove it. I hoped