In hopes of generating his alibi sooner rather than later as well as providing evidence to prompt a homicide investigation, Jack went directly to the toxicology lab on the fourth floor. He purposefully avoided the supervisor, John DeVries, who’d most likely keep him waiting for a week or more. Instead, Jack sought out Peter Letterman, the thin, blond, androgynous technician who acted as if he were married to the lab. Jack had seen him there as late as ten P.M.

“I need your help desperately,” Jack said even before saying hello when he found the tech at the gas chromatography unit.

Peter raised his eyebrows. He was accustomed to all sorts of creative pleas to cut through the typical toxicology log jam. There was no doubt the department was underfunded. But then, every department in the ME’s office was underfunded.

“I might be out selling pencils if we don’t get a positive out of this one,” Jack said. He put his satchel down and began removing the sample bottles while giving Peter a thumbnail sketch of what he’d been up to that afternoon. The story about the funeral home brought a smile to Peter’s usually serious, boyish face.

“You think I’m making this up, don’t you?” Jack asked, noting Peter’s expression.

“No, I don’t,” Peter said. “What you’re telling me is too far out to be fiction.”

“Good,” Jack said. “Then you can appreciate that I might be in hot water about this?”

“Oh, yeah!” Peter said without hesitation.

“So you’ll help?” Jack asked.

“What is it that you’re looking for?”

“Something that has suppressed respiration. You know, the usual prescription drugs plus cyanide, carbon monoxide, eth-ylene glycol, and hell, anything else you can think of. It doesn’t have to be quantitative on this go-round. Just find something.”

“All right,” Peter said. “I’ll give it a whirl.”

“How soon can you do it?” Jack asked.

“Why not right now?” Peter said agreeably. “I can assay the samples pretty quickly for what you have in mind.”

Unable to contain himself, Jack threw his arms around Peter and gave him a hug.

Peter seemed embarrassed when Jack let him go. He blushed and avoided looking Jack in the eye.

“I’ll be upstairs in my office,” Jack said. “I’ve got plenty to keep me busy. Just give a shout when you’re done.”

Peter nodded.

“Dinner’s on me in the near future,” Jack said. He gave Peter a light pat on the back.

“Sure,” Peter said. He began to pick up the bottles.

“Let me fill out some property receipts first,” Jack said. “We’ve got to establish a chain of custody here if this turns out to be a homicide case.”