“Elena?” Alexander asked, his voice low and strained. “What is that?”

I let my thumb slide over the screen, darkening the display.

I slipped the phone back into my apron pocket.

“Nothing, sir,” I lied, keeping my voice steady. “Just a notification.”

The sergeant was still holding the damp, soot-stained folder I had given him.

His fingers flipped through the edges of the thick paper.

“This is a standard medical history,” the sergeant said, squinting under the bright patio lights. “I see reports of heart palpitations, yes, but nothing about poison.”

“Look at the last three pages,” I said.

I stepped closer, my shoes crunching on the wet gravel.

“My lady kept those separate for a reason,” I added. “They are from a private clinic in Zurich, not her regular physician.”

Alexander stepped in beside the sergeant, his hand shaking as he reached out to steady the paper.

The red and blue lights of the emergency vehicles suddenly washed over the stone walls of the estate.

Two police cruisers and a fire engine rounded the final bend of the long driveway.