“Yes, but even if Señor Mendoza put his heart pills in her tea, that couldn’t possibly have killed her,” Dad said.
“And just how do you figure that?” the chief said.
“They’re not digoxin.”
“Not digoxin?” the chief said. “How do you know? And if they’re not digoxin, what are they?”
“They’re not any kind of heart medicine I’ve ever seen. Wrong size, shape, and color.”
“Couldn’t they be the Spanish versions?”
“Most common pharmaceuticals are pretty international these days,” Dad said. “And I did some research to see if these could be a variant more common in Europe, but they weren’t. So whether Señor Mendoza or anyone else put them in her tea is irrelevant. They’re almost certainly not what killed her.”
“How can you be sure?” the chief asked. “I mean, even if they’re not digitalis, they could be something else toxic.”
“Well, we won’t know anything for sure until the autopsy,” Dad said. “And until the analysis of those pills comes back. But I can hazard a guess. When I first went into medicine, it was pretty easy to tell what a pill was. Not that many meds and only a few manufacturers. These days, there are so many more drugs, plus all the generics—it can be impossible to tell for sure. That’s why I have this nifty little application on my iPhone that’s designed to help doctors identify meds in an emergency. Would you like to see?”
He held the iPhone up again and waved it around excitedly.
“I’ll take your word for it,” the chief said, stepping back slightly. Perhaps he shared my tepid enthusiasm for cell phones. “So if they’re not digitalis, what do you and your iPhone think Señor Mendoza’s pills are?”
“Probably a benzodiazepine,” Dad said. “Could be more diazepam—Valium—or something similar. There’s a European factory making a generic diazepam that looks just like this, so I suspect that’s what it is.”
“So even if someone tried to use Señor Mendoza’s pills to kill her, all they did was give her more Valium?” I asked.
“Precisely,” Dad said.
“Enough Valium to be dangerous?” the chief asked.
Dad thought for some moments.
“Probably not,” he said. “Ramon’s pills were two-milligram doses. That’s also what a prudent doctor would probably prescribe for an elderly patient like Señor Mendoza—two milligrams two to four times a day. These look to be two-milligram pills. And the normal dosage can be up to ten milligrams four times a day for a healthy adult.”
“So someone could throw eight or ten of these pills in the tea, assuming they’d just delivered a lethal dose of digitalis, and still be way short even of the maximum daily dosage of Valium?” I asked.
Dad nodded.
“What if they went in for overkill?” the chief said. “And gave her fifteen or twenty milligrams?”
“They could feed her Señor Mendoza’s whole bottle and it would be extremely unlikely to prove fatal, particularly in the short time we’re talking about,” Dad said. “I’m not saying it’s harmless; she might have side effects. But no matter how much Valium she swallowed, it wouldn’t cause death so suddenly. Very few poisons could—digitalis wouldn’t, for example; it would take hours. And most of the poisons that fast would cause some pretty dramatic symptoms that we’d be able to pick up on. But the condition of the body’s consistent with insulin poisoning. That’s why I told you earlier I didn’t think testing the tea would get us anywhere.”
The chief thought for a moment.
“I don’t have to tell any of you to keep this to yourselves,” he said. He was, of course, looking at me.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I realize that we already have at least two self-confessed criminals in the house, and the total will probably rise to three or four when you figure out who shot her up with the insulin and who bludgeoned her with the statue. I might be a little careless with my own safety, but I have no intention of putting Chip and Dale in danger.”
I patted the twins as I spoke. Chip responded by attempting to turn a somersault, causing Dale to begin his relentless, rhythmic kicking. I wasn’t looking forward to refereeing when they got older.
“That’s good,” the chief said. “I appreciate you calling me when you found the purse instead of going off half-cocked and trying to solve the murder yourself. But it might be a good time to get a little rest and keep your distance from all those folks.”