“We’ve dissected most of the organs and taken our samples.” She adjusted the splash shield over her face and motioned toward the colander, scale, and bucket on the table. “I’m doing gastric contents now.”

“Anything unusual?”

“No.”

“You going to examine the brain?” Russ called the question over his shoulder as he added cream to his coffee.

“Yes.”

Factoring in everything they knew, and appearances aside, there wasn’t anything natural about Lorraine’s demise. It was wiser to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s.

Max positioned the head block, elevating the head. “You want me to make the cut?”

That would be a typical assistant duty—and Max always offered. But she still liked to do this hands-on part of the job on a regular basis.

“Not today, thanks.” She picked up the scalpel and carefully cut from behind one ear, around the back of the skull, to behind the other ear.

“Do you have a cause of death?”

As Nate spoke, she set the scalpel down and gave the sheriff a once-over. As far as she could tell, he’d licked his formalin-smell problem.

“Unless I find some indication in the brain to suggest otherwise, yes.” She worked the skin flaps into position and took the saw from Max.

“What is it?” Russ sipped his coffee.

Instead of answering, she revved up the saw and cut into the skull.

Only after the noise died down did she respond, all the while continuing the rote steps to free the brain. “Cardiac arrhythmia due to atherosclerotic coronary artery disease.”

“Same as Mavis.” Russ finished off his coffee.

“Yes.”

“Could the flu have been a contributing factor?”

“I can’t rule that out, but I’d say it’s doubtful—assuming she even had the flu.”

“Sudden death from heart issues is prevalent in older folks.”

“I know. Which makes it a perfect mask for murder.” She finished prying off the skull cap. “Give me a few minutes to finish up here and we can chat.”

Russ backed off, leaving her in peace as she removed and examined the brain.

There was no evidence of trauma.

“I’m done, Max. Will you close for me?”

“Of course.” He took her place, and as she walked away, she began stripping off her disposable protective gear.

Russ was waiting with Nate on the far side of the room.

“You holding the body or releasing it?” Russ threw his empty cardboard cup into the waste bin.

“Releasing. I have all the samples we’ll need.” She tugged off her cap. “I assume you’re going with natural as manner if all the tox screens come back negative.”

“Yes. Unless you see any evidence of homicide?”

“We have Dave Mullins’s statement.” Nate propped a shoulder against the wall and folded his arms.

“But he can’t prove his claim—and neither can we.” Russ stuck his thumbs into his belt loops. “We can always revise the manner if we find definitive evidence of foul play later.”

“Did you ask the lab to rush the foxglove analysis?” Grace tugged off the elastic ponytail band, releasing her hair from the messy bun she favored during autopsies.