“But that’s how Antabuse works. You have one drink and you get sick as a dog. That’s the point.”

Pearl cut in. “You don’t need to lecture us about Antabuse. We know everything there is to know about that crud. Fact is, Terrence hadn’t had a drink. You said so yourself. So now how do you explain it, Miss Smarty-Pants?”

I read the label again, rotating it in my hand as I followed the line of print. The name of the prescribing physician was Linton Reed, M.D.

Dandy’s eyes were fixed on mine. “What’s that look for?”

“I know this name in another context. I’m just surprised to see it here.”

Dandy said, “That’s from the program he signed up for last spring.”

“Alcoholics Anonymous?”

Pearl made a face. “Not them. It’s this other thing. FDA makes the drug companies jump through hoops before a new one gets approved. He took three pills. One was for booze jitters, but I don’t think that’s it.”

“I take it ‘booze jitters’ means what it sounds like.”

“Of course. Mornings, you know how bad your hands shake before you choke down those first couple of belts of hooch?”

I tried not to look quite as blank as I felt. My hands sometimes shook from anger or fear, but not from DTs.

Meanwhile, she was talking to Dandy. “I think those are the ones that kept him leveled out; preventing mood swings, I guess.”

Dandy said, “Naw, now that’s not what it was. Those curbed his sweet tooth. Remember he talked about all the candy he ate? He couldn’t get enough and he still about passed out. Day he got kicked out of the program, they said he had to turn in his pills, as many as he had left. Terrence wasn’t about to.”

“Why was he kicked out?”

“He missed appointments and complained too much. He was always kicking up a fuss and wouldn’t obey the rules. I’m not saying he wasn’t a pain in the ass.”

“Did you ever meet his doctor?” I asked. I was still trying to get my head around the fact that Linton Reed and Dace had crossed paths.

“Not me, and I hope he don’t get ahold of me,” Pearl said. “Terrence was in St. Terry’s that time? He’s so scared of the man he signed himself out.”

“When was this?”

“June, I think. He left the hospital—”

“More like escaped,” Dandy put in.

“That’s right. He got straight on a bus to Los Angeles,” she said. “He spent a month down there until he figured it was safe to come back.”

“Why was he so scared of this guy?”

“Because he’s the one knew Dace was telling the truth.” She pointed at the pill bottle. “The day he died? When you showed up? We figured that’s what you were after.”