"And they're important."

She nodded.

"Exactly. He took seven capsules of Prograf every day. CellCept twice a day. These were his key meds. They kept his heart safe."

"And without them he would die?"

"Three or four days would be all it would take. Congestive heart failure would come up quickly. And that is exactly what happened."

"Why did he stop taking them?"

"He didn't and that is why I need you. Someone tampered with his meds and killed him."

I pushed all of her information through the grinder again.

"First, how do you know he was taking his medicine?"

"Because I saw him and Buddy saw him and even their charter, the man they were with on the last trip, said he saw him taking his meds. I asked them. Look, I told you, I'm a nurse. If he wasn't taking his meds I would've noticed."

"Okay, so you are saying he was taking his pills but they weren't really his pills. Somebody tampered with them. What makes you say that?"

Her body language indicated frustration. I wasn't making the logic jumps she thought I should be making.

"Let me back up," she said. "A week after the funeral, before I knew anything about all of this, I started to try to get things back to normal and I cleared out the closet where Terry kept all his meds. You see, the meds are very, very expensive. I didn't want them to go to waste. There are people who can barely afford them. We could barely afford them. Terry's insurance had run out and we needed Medi-Cal and Medicaid just to pay for his medicine."

"So you donated the meds?"

"Yes, it's a tradition with transplants. When somebody…"

She looked down at her hands.

"I understand," I said. "You give everything back."

"Yes. To help the others. Everything is so expensive. And Terry had at least a nine-week supply. It would be worth thousands to somebody."

"Okay."