Killer Moves: The 4th Jolene Jackson Mystery (Jolene Jackson Mysteries) by Paula Boyd Page B

identifies the product, manufacturer and dosage rate.” He sorted out another group. “These are for blood pressure, low dosage.”
    “Low dosage is a good thing, I suppose, since she took it upon herself to stop taking them.” I saw his look, so I saved him the trouble of lecturing me. “Yes I know it can be dangerous and no I didn’t have any say about it one way or another.”
    He nodded, dividing a stack of little round blue pills into two groups then stepped over to his computer and punched in something on the keyboard. “One of these is a sleep aid and the other is an antidepressant.”
    “My mother does not need an antidepressant. She takes one with her wherever she goes. It has a laser sight, an extra clip filled with hollow points and a handy carrying case for her purse.”
    He looked up, but said nothing. His mind was whirring all the same. After a few seconds, he went back to the pills. “This one isn’t as common,” he said, stepping to the computer again. “Does your mother have Parkinson’s?”
    “No, why?”
    “Any problems with uncontrolled limb movements or twitching, especially in her legs at night?”
    “Not that I know of. She mostly just makes everyone else twitch uncontrollably and it’s pretty much round the clock.” I smiled. He didn’t. “Why?”
    “This medication is typically prescribed for symptoms associated with Parkinson’s disease or restless leg syndrome.”
    “Seriously? Why would they give her that?”
    “I have not reviewed the latest research in this area, but since its effects can include improved mobility and sleep enhancement, using it in non-symptomatic patients to support rehabilitation is a possibility.”
    “Always looking for new ways to sell the same drug. I love those commercials where they push the same pill for both depression and arthritis. Confused the hell out of me for a while.” I shook my head. “Or, like many things in these settings, it was a mistake.”
    He reached for the little paper cup and emptied the two pilfered pills out onto a separate tray. Pointing to a light amber gel capsule with his scalpel, he said, “Likely an oil-based vitamin, probably D.” Then, he flipped the pink tablet over and went back to his computer again. “I don’t recognize this one and it isn’t coming up in the database by the imprinted codes or by description.”
    “That can’t be good.”
    Travis continued to study the pill. “The coating, structure and markings themselves are suggestive of a traditional pharmaceutical manufacturer, so it could be from an R and D project that is not showing up yet.”
    “Oh, that’s not good. In fact, it’s really bad.”
    He pulled the top off the mug and removed the large glass tube with the purple top. “You chose well. This vial should be free of additives, which allows more options for testing.”
    Well, that was good to know, but what were we going to test it for? “Don’t you want to know where I got this stuff and why?”
    He put the vial in the rack then looked at me. “My deduction would be that you are concerned that the medications distributed at your mother’s rehabilitation facility are causing harm.”
    “Lucky guess.”
    “I don’t guess.”
    God knows I did. Facts and proof were highly overrated, and I’d have been dead a dozen times if I’d waited on getting all the details before I made a decision. This time, however, there was proof—or at least circumstantial evidence. “It appears that reasonably healthy people have come in for treatment with one physical problem and wound up with other major ones, like losing the use of an arm and such. Several have died unexpectedly in the last few weeks.”
    “There are myriad drugs with myopathy as a side effect.” Seeing my confusion, he added, “Muscle injury, damage or destruction. Other terms you might hear are myositis, which is inflammation of the muscles, and rhabdomyolysis, which is extreme inflammation and damage. If you hear any of