He tilted his head and mirrored. “No record?”

“A lot of people use drugs and we never know it.”

It sounded like she’d heard something to suggest the victim did do some sort of drugs but didn’t want to tell him. Why? Because it might give the defense something to work with. What else wasn’t she telling him?

He carefully lifted the man’s coat and patted down the pockets before looking inside and then easing his hand in. A tissue and a huge bunch of keys. Eban pulled them out and placed them in an evidence bag that Torgerson grabbed from beside the latex gloves. Next pocket had some coins which he also removed. Inside the chest pocket Eban found a wallet and opened it up to get his first look at the young man who’d died. Round-faced. Dark, messy hair. He looked like an ordinary guy, maybe a bit of a nerd. Not unexpected considering he was undertaking his doctorate at one of the premier institutes of its kind.

Did his research threaten any corporate or government interests? Could this be some sort of elaborate scheme to shut down whatever Martin Carstairs was working on?

That was it for the jacket. Nothing too revealing. Eban didn’t know what he was expecting.

“You recovered his cell phone?” he asked.

“Plugged in next to the bed.” Torgerson took the evidence bag and placed it on the table by the door.

Hmm. Carstairs had been charging his cell phone? That didn’t sound like someone out of control on drink, drugs, or passion. “Do you need assistance with analysis of the cell’s contents? I can have it sent to the FBI’s National Laboratory.”

“We have a guy who is pretty good here.”

“Pretty good?” he queried.

The people at the FBI were the best of the best and they still weren’t as good as Haley Cramer’s business partner, Alex Parker. But it was probably unwise to involve him due to the potential conflict of interest issues. Eban poking around was one thing. He was planning to make sure as much evidence as possible was collected and analyzed because he believed it would clear Darby’s name. Haley, on the other hand, would burn everything down to the ground to get her friend released.

Eban would rather Darby be thoroughly exonerated so she could live the life she wanted rather than one of notoriety.

He eyed the lone bottle of whisky on the table. Darby wasn’t much of a drinker beyond the occasional beer. “No drinking glasses?”

“In the washed dishes on the drainer.” The detective looked irritated as if he was wasting her time. Maybe he was. “I questioned the suspect about the whisky, but she refused to say anything.”

Refused to say, or didn’t know? Eban walked into the kitchen to hide his anger. The detective hadn’t respected Darby’s request to hold off questioning until her lawyer arrived. He put himself in Torgerson’s position and he understood, but this time he was looking at events from the defense’s point of view, and it didn’t look pretty.