Chapter 60.

So Bonnie was trying to sell me a house where a murder had been committed. She had to know that no one would want to buy a place like that, but then she might also know that the idea would intrigue me. If she didn't know, perhaps Wilson told her. Was she in cahoots with him? I'd seen his hand prints all over all of my dealings with her recently, so why shouldn't I be surprised? He'd bought the antagonism between me and Jess, but he wasn't finished playing with my head.

"Do they know who the killer is?" I asked to buy time while I decided how to play this. I couldn't pretend that my natural curiosity wasn't aroused, but I could use the facts to refuse to consider the condo.

Bonnie shrugged, a furrow appearing between her eyes. "I'm not in the confidence of the police."

"Of course not. Who was killed?" I wasn't going to let her get out of telling me all she knew.

"I understand it was the older son of the couple who owned the place, a teenage boy."

I wondered if there was more information about the case online. I'd have to look when I got back to my office. Not that it would change my mind. "It does put a new perspective on whether I should buy the place. The owner's names?"

"Wh...why are you so interested in the details? You can use the circumstances to get a really good deal on the place. That should be all that counts, right? I mean, lightning's not going to strike twice in the same place."

"Depending on what beef the murderer had with the victim, who knows whether he'll come back. Do you really think I should take that chance? No matter how much money it would save me?"

"Well, no." It appeared that she hadn't even thought of that. How dumb was she?

"Bonnie, thanks for trying to find me a place, but I don't think this is the one for me."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "Well, I guess I'll keep looking."

"You do that."

I walked toward the door, but she called me back.

"House, what if they find the killer and put him behind bars? Would that change your mind?"

"I thought you didn't know where the cops were on this. What makes you think they'll be able to catch the culprit so soon?"

"Well, nothing, but what if?"

"Then call me." I walked through the front door, not looking back because I thought I knew what I'd see, Bonnie on the phone to my sometime BFF.

On my way back to PPTH, I went over all that she'd told me. Just because I had no intention of considering the condo as a place to live didn't mean I couldn't satisfy my curiosity about its history. After all, what difference would it make, other than to give me another mystery to solve.

Not that I lacked those at the moment.

Truth was, Bonnie, probably with Wilson's instigation or at least encouragement, had given me something to fill my spare moments. I was just getting into the research about the crime when Foreman came to my door. "Estelle's EKG showed an inflammation in her heart that wasn't there before."

"The heart attack didn't suddenly cause that," I said.

"Maybe not."

"What else?" I knew there had to be more.

"Her low-grade fever is back."

"So you're still thinking infection."

"It fits."

"But what kind?" I demanded. "She didn't respond to antibiotics."

"Viral, then."

"What virus would cause a heart attack and pericarditis, increase her platelet count, and cause a low fever?"

I knew he hated to admit it. "I don't know."

"Well, then find out!" Shouting at him wouldn't help, but it felt good. I wondered if there were suddenly too many things going on in my mind, and that they were all preventing me from figuring this one out. I shook my head to clear it. "We're definitely missing something."

"That's what you always say."

"Because it's true. When you say a low-grade fever, do you mean ninety-nine or a hundred?" I wasn't ready to let it go.

"Why?"

"Because it makes a difference. Did we establish a normal temp for her?"

"Ninety-eight point two. And she's currently at ninety-nine point six," he reported.

I nodded, although I wasn't sure where I was going with this, at least not yet. Probably just thinking out loud. "Does she have any chest pain?"

He hesitated. "You're thinking Dressler's syndrome?"

"The heart attack could have been severe enough to set that off."

"But it wouldn't show up so fast. It usually takes two to three weeks, sometimes longer."

"It would account for the pericarditis and the low-grade fever."

Foreman was nodding his head as it began to make sense to him. "Without any infection. OK, so what do we do to prove it?"

"We don't have to. The first thing we do is give her two aspirin. If that doesn't help, she may need corticosteroids."

"I'll take care of that now." He walked off with a smile on his face.

If this diagnosis was right, then there was one less thing for me to think about, but I wasn't quite ready to check it off the list in my head.

I went back to finding all I could about the murder at 345 Prospect Street. Unfortunately, there wasn't much. It hadn't been big news. In fact, for some reason the press hadn't paid much attention to it. White middle-class teen, murdered at home sometime during the night. No obvious clues, no suspects. Jared Philips had been an average student at McKinley High. From the tiny picture, he was your typical pimply pubescent kid, going through the physical and emotional changes that plagued teenagers everywhere.

The parents probably both worked, and there was one younger brother.

I went to the source of all good information about a person, his Facebook page. I wasn't at all surprised with what I found there. He had 425 'friends', most of whom he'd probably never met and now never would. In fact, I'd bet most didn't even know he was dead.

There were a few pictures of Jared with his real world friends, the boys looking so much alike in their T-shirts and jeans, the girls all perky and smiling for the camera. Based on the chatter, like Jared, most of his friends worked on the school newspaper. There was already a memorial post, started by two of the girls, Missy and Callie, and hundreds of comments to the post. But none of it pointed to why he was killed, and who dunnit.

I was so immersed in this evidence of teenage life today that I didn't hear or see Jess come to my doorway. "Got a minute?" she asked, finally breaking through.

I looked up over my reading glasses, then checked to see whether there was anyone watching us. "For you, anytime," I said when I was sure we were unobserved.

"I just wanted to tell you what happened at lunch with Ellie and her parents."

I nodded. "And then I can tell you about the place Bonnie found for me."

"She didn't! So soon?"

"And I've already seen it. And there's a story behind it."

"Do tell!"

"You first."

"Well, of course after this morning, they tried to get me to tell them something about my 'boyfriend'. I'd thought about what I could and shouldn't tell them, and for the most part was able to fend off their questions, but then Ellie said something strange."

"OK. C'mon. Don't leave me in suspense."

Jess laughed. "She said, 'he sounds like Dr. House'."