Chapter Three: Where There's Smoke . . .

Mark had a hard time concentrating on his dinner preparations. Almost of its own will, his mind kept drifting back to those first few hours after the discovery of Fred Morganstern's body. Over the years he had seen enough violence both as a doctor and as a police consultant to know that it crossed all economic levels, but, despite the fact that several violent events had taken place in his own house, Mark had never thought he'd be investigating a neighbor's murder.

Mark watched silently as Amanda examined Fred's body. Her movements were efficient and confident as she moved up and down the corpse. Scribbling a few notes on a clipboard, she returned it to her bag and zipped it closed. Amanda turned to the young man who was driving the coroner's wagon and said. "The body can be transported to the morgue and prepared for autopsy, now. I will be right behind you."

Mark's gaze settled on the pathologist. "What do you think?"

"I've got some ideas," Amanda hedged.

"Any you care to share?"

She shook her head. "Not until after the autopsy."

Mark knew better than to press Amanda for details. One of the reasons she was such a respected pathologist was that she never let speculation get in the way of her job. Often she noticed small details about the victim that no one else did. She was comfortable presenting a cause of death only after corroborating those details through the autopsy.

Mark also had some thoughts about the case but would wait until the autopsy was completed and then compare notes with Amanda. Looking around, he realized Jesse was no longer with him. He knew the young doctor had followed him to the Morganstern's and had helped him get Bert and Alexis calmed down while Amanda had started her examination of Fred's body, but then Mark had become so engrossed in taking in every detail of the scene that he hadn't noticed Jesse must've grown tired of watching. His forehead creased in a frown. He should find him and make sure he wasn't getting in anyone's way, he thought absently. Although Jesse had learned to temper his enthusiasm for police investigations over the years, occasionally he slipped and his natural exuberance broke through.

Entering the house again, Mark only had to follow the sound of muted sobbing to find his young friend. Jesse sat next to Alisha who was crying softly into a tissue. Mark recalled seeing the young woman on the beach and figured she was home from college to spend the Christmas holidays with her family. Since Jesse appeared to have his hands full trying to comfort Alisha, Mark turned his attention to Alexis and Bert. The couple sat in silence wearing matching stunned expressions.

"Bert? Alexis? Are you hurt?"

Bert roused from his inertia first. "What? Oh, Mark." He finally seemed to realize Mark had asked a question. "No, no, we're not hurt. Fred, he, uh, he was . . ." Bert trailed off.

"You don't need to say anything more. I've already seen Fred." Bert seemed not to recall that Mark had been the one to usher him and his wife into the house.

"Alexis found him first. I came around to the front of the house when I heard her scream and . . . "

"It's okay, Bert." Mark interrupted him and turned his attention to Alexis. Her eyes were unfocused and he was worried about the possibility of shock. "Alexis, can you hear me?"

Slowly, she blinked. "Fred . . . he . . . I . . . it was horrible." Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I'm sure it was," Mark comforted her. "Alexis, would you like me to give you a sedative so you can get some rest?"

"Yes, yes I'd like that. Every time I close my eyes all I see is Fred hanging . . . " Alexis shuddered at the memory.

"Bert, would you like one too?"

"No, thank you. I'll be okay."

After his initial stupor, Bert had risen and was now pacing restlessly back and forth. Mark thought he might benefit from a sedative too but couldn't very well go against his wishes and administer one without his knowledge. It wasn't as if he was a threat to himself or anyone else. An ashtray sat on the coffee table, overflowing with snubbed out butts, a red box of Pall Malls with only a couple of cigarettes remaining lay beside it. Bert was rarely without a cigarette. Mark had often counseled his neighbor about the dangers of smoking to no avail.

"Why don't you have a cigarette?" Mark finally suggested going against all his medical training and his better judgment. "It might help calm you down."

Bert gave a harsh laugh. "Can you believe it? I finally quit a few days ago. You're not the only one who's been after me to give up the cancer sticks, Mark. Alisha has been on me for years about my smoking. Finally, I decided I'd had enough, and I told her I'd quit by the time she came home for the holidays. Sort of like my Christmas present to her."

He blew out an impatient breath. "A cigarette would taste really good right now, but I'm not going back on my promise to my little girl."

Alisha lifted her head off of Jesse's shoulder. She gave her father a watery smile. "I'm so proud of you, Daddy."

"I'm sorry, Bert. I didn't realize you'd quit, or I never would've made the suggestion. I saw the ashtray and cigarettes and just assumed they were yours."

Bert glanced down at the paraphernalia on the coffee table. "I don't know who those belong to. They're not mine. They're not even my brand."

Mark stared down at the cigarettes. "Did you have any guests who smoked or see any business associates here at the house?"

"No." Bert shook his head. "Most of our friends gave up smoking long before I did and I don't bring clients home. It's more professional if I conduct all my business at the office."

"These have to be recently smoked," Alisha volunteered, shakily. "Ginny never would've left without cleaning them up. She went through all the rooms to make sure everything was in order before her cab got here."

"Ginny is your house manager?"

"Yes, she's been with us as long as we've been in Malibu."

"I'm sure the police will want to talk with her. You said she left by cab. Will she be back soon?"

"Not until just before New Year's," Alexis said, faintly. "I gave her the holidays off so she could go back east and see her grandchildren."

Mark had nearly forgotten his offer of a sedative to Alexis. Taking her by the elbow, he assisted her from the chair. "Why don't we get you somewhere more comfortable and then I'll give you that sedative, Alexis?"

"Thank you, Mark. I do appreciate it."

"You'll take care of Alisha?" Mark looked over his shoulder to Jesse who still had his arm around the girl.

"Sure, I'll stay with her for a while, and," Jesse glanced over toward Bert who'd resumed his restless pacing, "I'll keep an eye on Bert too."

The interview with Ginny had proven utterly fruitless. She seldom saw either Mr. Morganstern as it was, and once Bert had stopped smoking, she had found it impossible to tell them apart unless a nicotine craving made him irritable. One thing Mark did find interesting in Ginny's statement was that, when Bert had first stopped smoking, on a couple of occasions, he flew into a "really horrible, truly frightening rage," but then he'd become "quite mellow" and hadn't lost his temper or even gotten particularly irritable since. Mark didn't seriously believe Bert could have killed his own brother, although officially, he was a prime suspect, but he did idly wondered if nicotine withdrawal might become the next absurd excuse for taking the life of another human being.