In the bedroom Laurie discovered an exercise bike and lots of framed photographs. Most of the photos featured an attractive woman and a handsome young man in various outdoor settings: on bikes in a mountain setting, camping in a forest, finishing a race.
As she wandered back into the living room, Laurie tried to imagine why an amateur athlete like Julia Myerholtz was apparently taking drugs. It just didn’t make any sense. The health food, the magazines, and the accomplishments just didn’t jibe with cocaine.
Laurie’s musings were abruptly cut short when she heard a key in the door. For a second of absolute panic she contemplated trying to hide, as if she expected Bingham to come through the door.
When the door opened, the young man who entered seemed as surprised as Laurie to meet someone in the apartment. Laurie recognized him as the man in many of the bedroom photos.
“Dr. Laurie Montgomery,” Laurie said, flipping open her badge. “I’m from the medical examiner’s office, investigating Miss Myerholtz’s death.”
“I’m Robert Nussman. I was Julia’s boyfriend.”
“I don’t mean to be a bother,” Laurie said, moving to leave. “I can come back at another time.” She did not want Bingham to get wind of this.
“No, it’s all right,” Robert said, holding up a hand. “Please stay. I’ll only be here a moment.”
“Terrible tragedy,” Laurie said. She felt the need to say something.
“Tell me about it,” Robert said. He suddenly looked very sad. He also acted as if he needed to talk.
“Did you know she took drugs?” Laurie asked.
“She didn’t,” he said. “I know that’s what you people say,” he added as his face flushed, “but I’m telling you, Julia never did drugs. It just wasn’t in her nature. She was totally into health. She got me into running.” He smiled at the memory. “Last spring she had me do my first triathlon. I just can’t figure it. My God, she didn’t even drink.”
“I’m sorry,” Laurie said.
“She was so gifted,” Robert said wistfully. “So strong-willed, so committed. She cared about people. She was religious: not overly, but enough. And she was involved in everything, like pro choice, the homeless, AIDS, you name it.”
“I understand you identified her here at the scene,” Laurie said. “Were you the one who found her?”
“Yes,” Robert managed. He looked away, struggling with tears.
“It must have been awful,” Laurie said. Memories of finding her brother crowded in with graphic intensity. She did her best to dismiss them. “Where was she when you came in?”
Robert pointed toward the bedroom.
“Was she still alive at that point?” Laurie asked gently.
“Sort of,” Robert said. “She was breathing off and on. I gave her CPR until the ambulance got here.”
“How did you happen to come by?” Laurie asked.
“She’d called me earlier,” Robert said. “She said to be sure to come over later on.”
“Was that customary?” Laurie asked.
Robert looked puzzled. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess.”
“Did she sound normal?” Laurie asked. “Could you tell if she’d taken any drugs yet?”
“I don’t think she’d taken anything,” Robert said. “She didn’t sound high. But I guess she didn’t seem normal either. She sounded tense. In fact, I was a little afraid she was planning on telling me something bad, like she wanted to break up or something.”
“Was there some problem in your relationship?” Laurie asked.
“No,” Robert said. “Things were great. I mean, I thought they were great. It’s just that she sounded a little funny.”
“What about that broken statue by the front door?”
“I saw that the second I came through the door last night,” Robert said. “It was her favorite possession. It was a couple of hundred years old. When I saw it was broken, I knew something bad was going on.”
Laurie glanced over at the shattered statue and wondered if Julia could have broken it while in the throes of a seizure. If so, how did she get from the foyer to the bedroom?
“Thank you for your help,” Laurie said. “I hope I haven’t upset you with my questions.”
“No,” Robert said. “But why are you going to all this trouble? I thought medical examiners just did autopsies and only got involved with murders, like Quincy.”