BACK IN THE CAR, I say, “So if Steve did drug Chad, would he have been able to safely drive all the way back to the Mansion before it hit his system?”
Helen is pulling out her phone. “That’s another thing I need to ask the ME.” She scrolls through her contacts, and taps the one she stops on.
“Who are you calling?” I ask.
“State Medical Examiner,” she whispers.
“At this hour? Helen, he won’t be at the office.”
“I’m not calling his office, I’m calling his house.”
“His house?” I say with amazement. “Why do you have—”
“Sshhh—Hello, Daniel? Hi, it’s Helen.” She glances over at me and notices my look of displeasure—I mean, why is she so comfortable calling the State Medical Examiner at his home at 10 p.m. on a Saturday night?—and says, “hold on, Daniel, let me put you on speaker. I’m driv
