Chapter 1889: Poisoned
Ning got curious upon hearing the seriousness in Blake’s voice. “What’s going on? Am I in trouble?”
“Maybe,” Blake said. “Or maybe you just got handed an opportunity of a lifetime. Honestly, it’s impossible to tell what it is just now.”
Ning chuckled. “Come on. Spill it already. What is it?”
Blake took a deep breath on the other side. “The president wants to meet you.”
“Okay, I will meet him tomorrow at the office before my—”
“Sorry, I misspoke,” Blake said. “I mean to say, the President wants to meet you.” He put such an emphasis on the word that Ning could only take a step back and think on what that could mean.
A moment later, his heart skipped a beat as realization dawned on him.
“Helen Morstell wants to meet me?” he asked.
It was a while before Blake replied. “Yes.”
Ning’s eyes widened in surprise as his mind caught up to the fact that the president of the entire country was asking to meet him. He could not refuse, surely. But what reason could she have to meet him?
“Any specific reason other than my rank?” he asked.
Blake couldn’t answer. “So far as we can tell, you’re not the only one that is invited. As for the exact reason, nothing has been made public just yet. We can’t tell what the president is planning. For now, the official reason is to just meet you.”
Ning thought for a moment and shrugged. “Alright, I’ll meet her. What could possibly go wrong?”
“Great!” Blake said excitedly. “I’ll let the others know.”
Ning hung up.
He sat there, unsure of how to feel about the president asking to meet him. Did it have anything to do with him saving that school bus full of kids? He could see such a save being awarded, but if every superhero act was awarded, then the president wouldn’t have any time to live out her days.
So this had to be special. Whatever—it he would find out the reason when she called him there.
A few minutes later, the phone rang again. This time it was Larissa.
Ning accepted the call as well. “Didn’t expect a call from you this late.”
“We need to talk about the bus accident,” Larissa said.
“Never mind, I should’ve expected this call,” he said, laughing a little. “What’s up?”
“You were the first at the scene, right?” Larissa asked. “Did you notice anything strange?”
“Strange? As in?”
“The driver died.”
“I know. He hit his head,” Ning replied.
“That’s not why he died,” Larissa said. “He was poisoned.”
Ning sat up. “Poisoned?”
“The hospital is saying he overdosed on sleeping tablets. He was already dead before the bus went over the bridge.”
Ning frowned for a long moment, taking in the information. “Do you think someone killed him?”
“I don’t know yet,” Larissa said. “The wife is the primary suspect, so she’s got herself lawyered up. We can only question her tomorrow. Can you be there?”
Ning thought for a bit. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I don’t have any community service, so I should be able to get there.”
“Good. Be here at 9 AM.”
She hung up.
Ning placed his phone down and stared at the turned-off TV, his mind wandering.
He should have known something was strange when he found the driver dead. His powers should have healed anyone injured, so given the driver’s death, it could not have been just him smacking his forehead.
Someone had killed the driver.
And Ning would find out who.
The next morning, Ning arrived at the station at exactly 9 AM. Larissa was waiting for him, along with Mira, who greeted him with a cheery attitude.
“Your rating is getting higher. You’re going to rank so high in the upcoming week,” Mira said.
Ning smiled. “It does seem so.”
“Thanks for coming,” Larissa said and pulled out files and photographs, spreading them across the table.
“Here’s what we know so far.”
Larissa tapped on the toxicology report on the left. “The driver, James Carver, died from an overdose of sleeping tablets. Based on the contents of his stomach, he ingested them a little over an hour before the crash. We’re expecting he ate them around lunch time, say noon.”
“Makes sense. What did he eat?” Ning asked.
“Meatloaf with some pudding,” Mira said. “Nothing else.”
Ning narrowed his eyes. “Who made the food?” he asked.
“His wife, right?” Larissa asked. “Has to. We’re going to question her in a bit. She’s in the interrogation room.”
Ning looked at Larissa. “Let’s not waste any time then. We have to talk to her.”
Larissa nodded and followed Ning to the interrogation room where the wife of the deceased sat beside a young male lizardfolk in a nice suit and tie.
“My client will be exercising her right,” the lawyer said.
Larissa shrugged and sat down.
Ning stared at the wife of the driver. He hadn’t gotten a proper chance to see what the driver was. The upper half was human at least, but he could’ve very well been a ghoul. The woman most certainly was.
“Mrs. Carver, do you often prepare lunch for your husband?” Ning asked the woman.
She stared back, eyes red from having cried all night. She did not answer.
“Okay… did your husband have insomnia? Did he often use medicine to fall asleep?” Ning asked.
The woman looked toward her lawyer, who reached into his files and brought something out. “This is the list of medicines her and her late husband’s health insurance covered. As you can see, there are no sleeping tablets mentioned.”
“I see,” Larissa said, taking the report. She read it quickly, passing it over to Ning. Ning read it through as well and placed it on the table.
“You don’t need insurance for sleeping pills though. You can get those over the counter,” Ning said.
“You’re free to prove my client bought some over the counter if you can,” the lawyer said.
Ning shrugged. “Someone has to. Someone has to have stuck sleeping medicine in his meatloaf, or else he would not have eaten a lethal dose of—”
“Wait, meatloaf?” the wife spoke suddenly, catching all three of them off-guard. The lawyer tried to stop her from speaking, but the woman continued. “Are you saying he ate meatloaf?”
Ning gave a strange look. “Is something wrong with that?”
“Yes!” the woman said. “We’re vegans. He shouldn’t have been eating meatloaf.”
Ning turned toward Larissa, both wanting the other to speak here.
“Umm, Mrs. Carver. Are you saying that you— a ghoul— are a vegan?” she asked.
“Yes,” the woman said non-defiantly. “My clan forgoes all meat and dairy, and relies on plant substitute.”
“Is… that so?” Larissa asked, finding it hard to believe. “What about your cravings?”
The woman seemed to grow angry. “Do you think me a monster who can’t handle her cravings?” she asked. “Are you insinuating that just because we’re a ghoul, we must consume the flesh of another race? As an Infernal, you should know better than to place such stereotypes on our races.”
Larissa blushed. “I’m so sorry. I did not mean to,” she said. “Just to confirm, Mr. Carver was a vegan too, right?”
“Reluctantly, but yes,” the woman said. “At the very least, we cook no meat products in our house, if that is what you’re asking.”