Mepham’s brows rose in surprise.  “You were treating your sister-in-law?”

            “I know it’s technically a violation of ethics, but there were extenuating circumstances.  She was in crisis.  I couldn’t risk a referral, it would have made her feel rejected.  She couldn’t have handled that.  She was on the edge.”

            “What kind of crisis?”

            James’s expression hardened.  “I’m afraid that’s confidential.  I’ve already revealed more than I should have.”

            “She’s dead, remember?”

            “She still has a right to privacy.”

            “That’s really just a formality, isn’t it, Dr. Lynch?

            “Is that how you treat your own professional ethics, detective?”

            Mepham gave James an ironic smile.  “I consider suicide an extenuating circumstance.”

            They were interrupted by a knock.  A lab technician with intricate full-sleeve tattoos popped his head in.  Mepham left the room to confer.  James sat staring at a dent in the steel tabletop.  Judging by its size and shape, he suspected it had been made by someone’s forehead.  The thought unnerved him.

            After a few minutes, Mepham returned and tossed an eight-by-ten glossy on the table.

            “Look familiar?”

            It was a photo of a yellow coffee mug covered in sooty residue.

            “Looks like a mug.”

            “We found it on the table in front of Kitty’s body,” said Mepham.  “There was still a few drops of coffee left.  Looks like it was laced with some drug.  Any idea what it was?”