Chapter Eighteen White Lines
A few days after Oscar died, Evie received a phone call from the medical examiner who let her know that her father had passed from myocardial infarction due to long-term cardiovascular disease, exacerbated by a history of substance abuse.
“I’m sorry, what does that mean?” Evie asked, shaken. “I know you’re saying he had a heart attack, but substance abuse? What kind of substance abuse?”
“I found evidence consistent with long-term intranasal cocaine use,” the examiner said gently. “He showed all the typical signs of chronic use, thinning and ulceration of the nasal mucosa, and erosion of the septum to the point of perforation.”
“I also found scarring in the heart muscle that indicates multiple prior cardiac events,” the examiner continued.
“And there were a few healed rib fractures consistent with previous resuscitation attempts. Based on the degree of healing, I’d estimate he suffered at least one major cardiac arrest, possibly in his forties, but that’s an educated guess, not something I can date precisely. ”
“I had no idea.” Evie murmured, feeling blindsided. She would have been very young - possibly not even born, depending on how early in his forties the heart attacks occurred, - but she was stunned it had never been mentioned, especially considering how often Oscar threw temper tantrums.
The medical examiner went on to explain that the preliminary investigation by state police had found no evidence that Oscar’s death was related to staff actions.
Toxicology showed nothing unusual in his system, so while the official inquiry was still open, the body could be released.
Evie could contact a funeral home to arrange pickup and proceed with burial or cremation.
Evie called the first funeral home that came up in her search, Barclay he probably knew her father better than anyone, including her mother. “You’re also the executor of the estate.”
They sat together for close to three hours, Fred carefully walking her through each step of the process while Evie made notes on who she needed to contact, what she needed to start, and what he would handle on her behalf.
Since Fred’s firm had represented Oscar while he was in prison, he already had everything she needed, records of debts and bill payments, as well as an itemized inventory of everything in Oscar’s storage locker, which he’d arranged after the sale of the house.
“I didn’t see anything about what he wanted done with his body,” she said, rubbing her eyes tiredly as they wrapped up. “Did he mention anything to you?”
“Cremation,” Fred replied, nodding as he helped her to her feet. “He didn’t like the idea of his body lying forgotten in a cemetery somewhere.”