So Ceepak continues. “Arnold Rosen passed away this morning.”
“The dentist?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Wasn’t he like a hundred years old?”
“Ninety-four.”
“And you want me to do an autopsy on a ninety-four year old dentist because …?”
“Suspicions have been aroused regarding the circumstances of his death.”
So far, so good. Ceepak hasn’t had to say, “Because my mommy told me.”
“I don’t know, John …”
“You could limit the toxicology screen.”
“To what?”
“Cyanide poisoning.”
“Seriously? Who would want to poison a ninety-four-year-old man?”
“Dr. Kurth?”
“Yes, John?”
“If you find the poison, I promise you, Danny and I will move heaven and earth to find the answer to that question.”
Another pause.
Maybe a sigh.
Hard to tell on a cell phone.
“Dr. Rosen is Jewish, correct?” says Dr. Kurth.
“Roger that.”
“Okay. They’re going to want to hold his funeral ASAP. If we’re doing this, we need to do it today.”