The man was an ass, hatred for him amplified by the slight envy that some of his acquaintances held, because he often knew too much, or could see what they had so carefully tried to hide. To make it worse, when he made an effort, he was quite handsome. The real trouble with him was that he could spot someone having an affair from miles away, or sense the subtleties of a corporate grunt with a coke habit, and sometimes “forgot” to keep it to himself. There was an undercurrent of arrogance about him and a profound lack of manners or conversational skills that generally caused a distaste in women’s circles and men’s clubs up and down the country. Not that either would be likely to be frequented by the man. Indeed, Mr. Leo Silverman was a homebody, comfortable seeing not a soul for days. Those who did get close to him often pondered whether it could be weeks before Mr. Silverman felt any urge to leave his house. They also considered that it may be better if he did stay home.
Despite this, his sister needed him. One of the few people who did visit him, even she would admit that he was excessively annoying. She sometimes thought perhaps he should be evaluated by a doctor, or a psychiatrist, and said as much to him; however, he was happy as he was, and having researched various conditions, he had come to the conclusion that he was completely fine. He just didn’t tolerate stupidity or small talk.
As a detective in the Bristol police force, his sister would ask him to work through a problem with her from time to time. Brilliant in her own right, she didn’t usually need help, and it was likely that she would get to a conclusion - often correctly - by herself. Her brother might be considered the smart one, but it would be unfair to consider her not brilliant in her own way. Leo had a different way of looking at things, almost like a sixth sense, remarkably perceptive and capable of reading people, yet not capable of reading most social niceties, or perhaps not caring enough to bother. Rosie could do both reasonably well; she had all the training of dealing with people from her time as an officer, having quickly climbed the ladder through her brilliance. Still, sometimes a problem shared was a problem halved.
“You could answer the door to me when I visit, you know, Leo. Acknowledge my arrival in some way, perhaps? Anna has been waiting outside for at least 15 minutes.” Rosie Silverman strode through the doorway of Leo’s flat, pulling her keys out of the lock, followed by Anna. She surveyed the chaos and knew better than to bother commenting, or to so much as move a pencil. She turned and grimaced at Anna, feeling a little abashed on behalf of her brother and his mess. It would irritate him if she started cleaning up, and frankly, today, she needed him. Maybe on the way out she would say something about the state of his home, if he was particularly obtuse or aggravating. For now, she’d let Anna do her job as the woman headed straight to the small kitchen to start cleaning, thankful that the poor woman could put up with Leo and his mess for long enough to actually tidy it up.
Across the room, sprawled on the sofa, Leo lifted an eyelid to acknowledge his sister.
“When did you last move? Or clean? Or shower? Seriously, Leo, it stinks in here.” Rosie strode across the flat, all of 10 steps, and pulled open the curtains to crack a window. Behind her Leo grunted at the sudden sunlight. He pulled himself upright to turn away from the daylight streaming in and greeted Anna quietly.
“What’s happened?” his deep voice croaked and coughed.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking. And it’s murder. Maybe.”
Leo grabbed a cup from the midst of books, rubbish, and other miscellany covering the coffee table in front of him, ignoring her indication that he should waste his breath on personal niceties. Looking inside the mug, he grimaced and quickly put it back. A takeaway cup disrupted his frown, and he looked up at his sister, muttering a thanks as he took it and drank. She shoved aside the papers covering the armchair to his left and sat.
“We aren’t totally sure if it is murder. And if it is, we aren’t sure who or how.”
“Sounds like you know bugger all.” Sarcasm, a skill Leo had refined. But seeing his sister’s glare, he changed tack. “What’s causing so much doubt?” He got up and took some of the various crockery to the small kitchen, his attempt at helping Anna. Rosie was pleased he tried to not be such a disaster. She followed him with her eyes, watched him open the small dishwasher, wrinkle his nose, and try to stuff what he held in between the crockery already needing a wash. Anna took the crockery to the sink and continued.
“There’s been a death – overdose, it seems.” Leo rolled his eyes. “Yes. I know. An overdose in Bristol, not exactly new. But it was an overdose of heart medication, not the usual.”
“Really, Rosie, I don’t think that some fool who can’t read the right dose on the packet or forgets to take his medication and then takes double could be anything other than stupidity.” Scorn and exasperation flew Leo into a frenzy of trying to clean up, simply for something to do other than listen to a problem he deemed dull.
“Do you really think I’d be asking for help if I thought it was just that? I thought you were meant to be the smart one, idiot.” Rosie’s mouth turned up at the sound of a suppressed giggle from the kitchen.
Leo looked at her abruptly; he could see the signs of stress, overwork, and too little sleep across her face. She rubbed her eyes a little and muttered a brief apology. He liked that about her. Not that she overexerted herself, but that she was still patient with him, even when she clearly had other things going on, even when he pissed her off.
“The heart medication prescribed and that found in the man’s house was at a normal level. The amount he’d taken tracked with what he should have taken. He hadn’t taken more than the correct number of tablets; he had been prescribed a perfectly normal dosage; the labs analysed the tablets, and they were perfectly fine. The heart tablets weren’t the cause of death. We also took his other medication and there was nothing that would interfere in any way. Basically, I had to pull some strings to get everything tested - most people thought it was just someone taking too many pills at once, or the doctor giving too high a dose.” Rosie paused to drink the coffee she had been cradling.
“What else was in his system?”
“Only the heart medication.”
“Nothing from his food or drink, I assume?”
“There was nothing in his stomach contents that would indicate a sudden overdose.”
“Hm. And his blood?”
“Just a raised amount of digoxin, more than should be there, and the potassium to match. But again, he seemed to have only taken the right number of tablets. When you compare his prescription records to the ones left in his house and in his bins, he had near enough the perfect amount. And as I said, we had the remaining tablets tested to confirm the correct dosage. There wasn’t anything in his apartment that would indicate any other sources or anything that we potentially couldn’t detect - I had the labs do a full work-up.”
Her eyes tracked Leo as he paused in his tidying, staring at the wall in front of him. She could practically see the cogs in his brain working and stayed quietly watching, not wanting to disrupt whatever had him thinking.
“Connections, then. Who was this man?”
“He was a construction manager, well liked by his colleagues. He had a small circle of friends, some of them colleagues, and went to the pub on Fridays. Small family, his parents are in their 80s, living independently. He had a brother and sister and some nieces and nephews. All quite normal. A man of routine, didn’t seem to do much else, no partner or kids in the picture.”
Leo shifted, returning to his tidying, which just seemed to be stacking things in a pile at this point. Rosie wondered whether he was coming to the same conclusion that most of her colleagues had - an accidental overdose.
“Where did he live? Neighbours? Who found him?”
“He was in a building of three flats in Bedminster, one upstairs neighbour, a couple in their mid-20s, didn’t really know him, both professionals working in the centre. A downstairs neighbour. Thirty-somethings, chatted to him a bit. A herbalist, natural remedies kind of woman.”
Leo scoffed. “How much was a little? Had she tried to tell him that blueberries would fix his heart condition?”
They both descended into laughter, a burst of welcome levity. Aunty Joy had once tried to tell them that blueberries were a cure for Parkinson’s disease, and that her doctor (medically trained, allegedly), had said as much. Blueberries had become the running joke and the cure for all ills between Rosie and Leo.
“I don’t know; we didn’t really consider her. As I say, the only thing in his bloodstream was a raised amount of digoxin.”
“I think it’s worth talking to her again. And check her garden or window box.”
“What is it you know?”
“If there is genuinely no way that the tablets were the cause, then it must be something else. And I can’t imagine his pals down the pub are particularly well versed in poisonous plants, though I could be wrong there. If so, then who would be the next most likely? Who would have the blind stupidity or arrogance to think that they were helping someone by brewing them some herbal tea or whatever she did, without actually researching it? And by ‘research’, I mean medical research, not finding some convenient website that says what she wants to hear.”
“What am I looking for?” Surprise flitted across Rosie’s face; her brother clearly knew something about herbal remedies.
“Doesn’t digoxin, the heart medication, derive from foxglove.” Anna paused, cloth in hand in the kitchen doorway.
“Wha.. How did you know that Anna?” The Silvermans turned in shock to take in the woman standing in the doorway. Anna smiled, tapped her head, and returned to the scrubbing. The siblings looked at each other, equal parts impressed and taken aback by the sudden input from the cleaning lady.
“Foxglove, that notoriously poisonous plant. You really think that the neighbour tried to feed him foxglove ?” Rosie asked.
“She would be able to justify it. Check her search history - I imagine she’ll have googled how to prepare a safe foxglove remedy. Only thing to decide is whether it was accidental, driven by good intentions, or whether it was murder. Perhaps he was too loud coming back from the pub on Friday nights or stomped on the floors in the early hours of the morning.” Leo dropped back onto the sofa, into the same position he had been when Rosie arrived. Case solved, conversation over it seemed.
“Fine; thanks, Leo. Will let you know what happens then.” A brief nod indicated that he’d at least heard her.
She walked to the dishwasher, adding her coffee cup to the pile of rubbish in the corner on her way, and thanked Anna on her way out.
“Try not to piss Anna off; turns out she’s a dark horse.” A small tsk of acknowledgement came from the sofa.
Rosie headed down to the car outside. She smiled at her DS, who had opted to wait rather than face Leo. The heat of the car blew her hair over her shoulders as she climbed into the warm leather interior.
“Well?”
“We’re talking to the neighbour again.” The car whined to life and quietly moved off, heading towards Bedminster.