Marta nodded. “Like a fish.” She inclined her head toward the paper on the coffee table. “He was loaded when it happened, eh?”
Liddell shook his head. “According to the guy who did the autopsy, yes. According to his secretary, no.”
“His secretary!” Marta snorted. “Who should know better? The doctor who does an autopsy or a secretary who sits across the desk from him and takes dictation?”
“She was out with him last night. He left her off two hours before he was killed. She says he was cold sober.”
“I don’t believe it. I could tell you some hair raisers about old Andrew. He’d get himself so blind he couldn’t tell you his name without checking his driver’s license.” She shook her head. “That man didn’t drink. He inhaled it.”
“That why you stopped seeing him?”
“Partly. And partly because
