protective.”
“I think it goes deeper.” Oliver took out the tape recorder and handed it to Marge. “I think he doesn’t want you saying the wrong thing.”
Nova bristled. “I can speak for myself.”
Marge made the necessary identifications for the tape, then placed the recorder in front of Nova. “So you take full responsibility for your own actions?”
“Of course!” Nova was indignant. “We’re all adults.”
Marge said, “So tell me why you signed Jupiter’s death certificate when you’re only a podiatrist.”
Nova raised his voice. “Detective, I am a trained medical practitioner. I was the most qualified here to make such a determination.”
“And if you were on a desert island, I’d say fine and dandy,” Marge said. “But here in L.A. there are better people to make that determination. As a medical practitioner, you must know that suspicious deaths require investigations—”
“I had no way of knowing that the death was suspicious—”
“Exactly,” Marge interrupted. “That’s why you should have called the police and let them handle it.”
“I resent this line of inquiry!”
“You can resent it just so long as you answer me,” Marge said. “Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I saw no need—”
Marge interrupted. “Sir, as a podiatrist, how many autopsies have you conducted?”
Oliver broke in, “Sir, we’re not challenging your abilities. We’re just wondering why you went out on a limb.”
Marge said, “Were you pressured to wrap the thing up?”
“Certainly not!”
“So why’d you do it?”
“Because Father Jupiter was dead!” Nova was flushed, droplets falling down his forehead. “Someone had to make it clear to the followers that he wasn’t returning to earthly life. I felt that I was the chosen one for the mission.”
Oliver said, “Doctor, when did you first check him out?”
“When?”
“What time?” Marge asked.
Nova took in a breath and let it out. He wiped his face with a tissue. “Around five in the morning. Perhaps a little later.”
“And you examined him thoroughly?”
“Of course—”
“Took his pulse?”
“This is insulting—”
“Checked the heart?”
Nova leaped to his feet. “I will not stand here and be abused like this!”
“A standard death certificate asks for time of the demise,” Marge said. “What time did you put down?”
The brother faltered. “I don’t remember the exact time to the minute. As I stated, I was called in a little after five.”
“But that really wasn’t the time of his death, sir,” Marge said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Jupiter didn’t actually die at five in the morning.” She glared at Nova. “Or did he?”
“Detective …” Oliver warned. Time to play off her aggression. He turned to Nova. “I know this sounds like we’re … doubting your competency—”
“It certainly does!” Nova looked pointedly at Marge. “I was just doing my duty—to the Order and to my profession—”
“Meaning you checked Jupiter’s feet for corns?”
“Detective …” This time Oliver was chiding her in earnest. To Nova, he said, “Why don’t you sit back down?”
With reluctance, Nova returned to his chair, refusing to look at Marge. She stood up. “I gotta use the bathroom. Don’t bother with the directions, I’ll find it myself.”
As soon as she left, Nova wiped his brow with a blue silk handkerchief. “She is a detriment to your department!”
“She’s a good cop,” Oliver said flatly.
“She’s got a rotten disposition.” Nova imitated her. “‘Meaning you checked his feet for corns?’ She hasn’t the foggiest notion of what a podiatrist is or what he does. We’re extremely well trained.”
“I’m sure you are,” Oliver said. “But we are bothered by your not calling the police right away.”
“What difference does it make?” Nova said. “The police were obviously called in.”
Oliver said, “So you called them?”
Nova fidgeted. “No, I didn’t.”
“But someone did. Any idea who?”
“I was told it was Ganz’s daughter—Europa.”
“Any idea who called her?”
“None.”
But he squirmed as he uttered the word. Oliver didn’t press him on it … not yet. “Who called you into the room?”
“Brother Pluto. He asked me to make some kind of assessment as to why he died … to tell the people something. I had to make a split-second decision as to the cause of death. Remember I was stunned myself. Shocked! Although Father Jupiter wasn’t feeble, he was in his seventies. A coronary didn’t seem out of line. I knew that if there was more, it would come out later on.”
Oliver scratched his nose. “Sir, what do you mean by more?”
Nova stuttered. “Well, if the death was something other than a heart attack.”
“The empty liquor bottle didn’t make you a bit curious?”
Again, Nova faltered. “Alcohol can bring on a heart attack, especially in an older man.”
“Did Father Jupiter drink?”
“An occasional sacramental glass of wine.”
“But not usually an entire bottle of vodka.”
“Of course not … at least, not that I’m aware of.”
“Meaning he might have, but you didn’t know about it?”
The podiatrist grew flustered. “I’ve never known Father Jupiter to be immoderate. Besides, you have no way of knowing how much alcohol he imbibed. That bottle could have been drunk over a year’s time.”
“The pathology report will tell us his blood alcohol level,” Oliver said.
“Then I suggest you save your questions until then.”
Oliver said, “We like to ask our questions right away. Memories are fresher.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I signed a certificate because he was dead.”
Oliver stared at him. “How’d you get hold of an official death certificate? They are the property of the coroner’s office. Why would you even have them here?”
“I have no idea why we have them. But we do.”
Oliver noticed Nova was looking over his shoulder, not making eye contact.
The podiatrist said, “Perhaps I shouldn’t have put down natural causes. But if it’s something more, I simply made an honest mistake.”
Marge returned. “An honest mistake as opposed to a dishonest mistake?”
Nova