“Well, that’s it. I have four women drugged by roses.” Dr. Lanika O’shannesy, Medical Examiner for Armstrong City, Luna, sat on the edge of her chair leaning forward over the functional, metal desk. O’shannesy was a short, slight woman with bright red hair pulled back into a bun.
“As a delivery system for a drug, a rose is not bad. Few women can resist them, and it is nearly impossible to pick one up without pricking your finger.” Michael Cheravik seemed to express a grudging respect for the assailant.
“Are there any similarities between the women?” My years as an FBI profiler trained me to look for patterns in victimology.
“Not really. We have a 64 year old accountant, a 22-year-old mother of two, a 50-year-old school teacher and an 18-year-old college student. There are two brunettes and two blondes. They are different heights and weights. And before you ask there is no sign of sexual assault.”
We thanked the Medical Examiner for her time and headed down the long, sterile looking hallway of the health services administration building.
Mike smoothed back the few hairs he had on the top of his head. “This is a puzzler. Some guy leaves a rose on a doorstep laced with a sedative. She picks it up, pricks herself or sniffs some micropowder from the bloom and wham, she’s out. When she wakes up, nothing is missing except a few foodstuffs, but nothing of value.”
“The range of types and lack of assault also rules out some the psychopathic offender,” I was as confused as Mike with this one. “We need more information. We need to talk to the victims.”
“That’s easy. They’re all in the hospital. Why don’t you interview them? I’ve got something to check on.”
Come back later today for more of this story. In the meantime check out the offerings in the Muse It Up Bookstore.