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The dead man is kneeling, oddly, as if his knees had buckled and he had crumpled straight down before finally tipping forward until his forehead touched the floor. The stem of a wineglass is still clutched in his left hand, the bulb broken into pieces, the drink soaked into the rug.
Sally searches in her pockets for gloves, puts them on before carefully picking up the largest of the remnants. A drop of liquid remains in the curve of the glass shard. She sniffs, carefully. "Almonds…"
*****
"Forensics report's back on the liquid in that wineglass, Sarge."
Sally looks up from her desk.
"Well?"
"Amaretto."
"Amaretto? That's all?"
She takes the report and peers at it, hoping for a clue to the obviously painful death of the as yet un-named victim. The report is unambiguous. She had been sure, she knows she is one of the forty percent of the population who can smell the stuff…
*****
"Have you got a cause of death for us yet, Dr Hooper?"
Molly nods.
"Cyanide poisoning."
"I thought so." Sally frowns. "But the liquid in the glass didn't contain cyanide. Just spirits, amaretto…"
Molly holds up a small specimen container.
"It wasn't in his drink, Sergeant. I found traces of material consistent with the outer casing of a drug capsule in his digestive tract."
"A suicide pill?"
"I shouldn't speculate…"
"Suicide pill. Not what you'd call a normal suicide, though, is it? The awkward position of the body, the masking amaretto, the locked door…" Sally sighs. "He's going to want in on this, isn't he?"
Molly smiles apologetically.
"He was here ten minutes ago. Solved it, I think. Sorry."