by C. E. Nelson
“Crap. Hope I’m not too late on that.”
Krill tried Trask again.
“John.”
“Hey, Sheriff. I tried to reach you a couple of times yesterday and today but I couldn’t get you.”
“Sorry. Been really busy. What’s up?”
“We took down Ken Bishop,” said Krill.
“Things go OK?”
“Not really. He’s dead.”
“Dead? What happened?” said Trask.
“Poison. He ate a poison cookie.”
“Suicide?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“Because?”
“Because I just found out that all the Bishop siblings are now dead, and there’s nothing in Ken Bishop’s place that says he was the one with the poison. In fact, we found a little gift bag in his house I think may have had the cookie in it. Somebody gave it to him.”
“They are all dead? All six?”
“Yes, sir. Tom Bishop’s body was just discovered in his home. Not sure yet how he died. Marcy just found out from the Superior PD that someone killed Fran Naulty three days ago. Her husband too. Looks like they were poisoned too.”
“Wow. Weird.”
“Yeah.” Krill waited for Trask to ask more questions or give him instruction. There was a lower tone to his boss’ voice, and he was sure he could hear him taking deep breaths. “You OK, sir?”
“Yeah, just tired. Sounds like you’ve got things under control. Good job, John,” Trask said. “Um, I may not be in for a few days. Tell Marcy for me, would you?”
“Sure, Sheriff.”
“Thanks.”
Trask disconnected leaving Krill looking at his phone. He called Marcy back.
“You get hold of Superior?”
“Yup. Everyone is OK.”
“Good. I talked to the Sheriff, and he said to tell you he wouldn’t be in for a few days.”
“Was it a boy or a girl?”
“What?”
“He was in the hospital last night. His wife was having the baby.”
“Oh. Maybe that’s why he sounded so tired.”
“You think? Good grief. Men.”
Grace Canton watched the Wednesday morning news on the small television on her kitchen counter, hoping to hear something about Ken Bishop. She was eating cereal and stopped with the spoon just in front of her mouth. The reporter for Channel Six was standing on the street with Ken Bishop’s home in the background. A clip of helicopter footage taken the night before played and then the reporter, a young woman who looked to Canton like she should still be in high school, stepped over next to an older woman. The woman was in her bathrobe, holding a French poodle that was barking repeatedly. The woman was telling the reporter how she had been forced out of her home the night before by the police who refused to even give her a good reason why. The reporter said that there had been no further information on what had happened, but the Duluth Police Department promised it would comment shortly after noon.
Canton turned off her set. Why would the police raid Ken Bishop’s home? If he had eaten the cookie like he was supposed to, he would be dead. This made no sense at all. What could he possibly have done? And what if the police had arrested him? Taken him alive. That would not be good. Canton decided she’d better get going to work. She could check the local news sites on her computer there. Maybe they would have more news. Of course, you couldn’t trust anything that came on the computer. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to look. The internet did have news about Fran Naulty before the television. Maybe the police conference at noon would tell her more.
Trask dozed off and on during the day in the ICU. Don and Melanie came by with some lunch for him at noon. Dave mentioned the Bishop murders.
“Huh. Danny Carlisle was shot this morning,” said Don.
“Is she OK?”
“Don’t know. She’s in the hospital in Duluth,” said Don. “She was investigating one of the Bishop sibling murders, Laura Maples. She was working on an angle that it involved drugs some way.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Yeah, we’ve been trying to coordinate our investigations. The drug thing didn’t seem to fit with the Dan and Lisa Bishop shooting.”
“Well, she may have been right,” said Don. “Turns out she was shot by one of Laura Maples kids who was running some kind of drug operation.”
“Well, that muddies the water even more. There doesn’t seem to be any hint of involvement in drugs for the rest of the Bishop siblings, at least that I am aware of.” Dave was thinking he should call Krill, let him know about Carlisle and the drugs. Have him call Berger too.
“That Carlisle is a pretty good agent. Maybe I should bring her down to St. Paul.”
“Remind me never to tell you if I have any good employees,” said Dave as he devoured his sub sandwich, his first meal in almost a day.
They talked more cop talk, Melanie and Don about active cases, political problems, trying to take Dave’s mind off of Linda. It helped for a short time, but after two, Jenkins’ questions to Dave went unanswered, Melanie and Don left. Dave wandered the halls, looking in at Linda through the glass from time to time, forgetting entirely about calling Krill. Eventually, he was back in the waiting room, napping in a worn chair he had deemed most comfortable of all the chairs available on the floor.
“Mr. Trask?”
Dave’s eyes popped open. Someone had hold of his shoulder. Trask had slumped down, his head on the top of the chair back facing the ceiling. He grabbed the armrests and pushed himself to a sitting position. A tall thin man in blue hospital scrubs was standing in front of him.
“Mr. Trask. I’m Doctor Wheeler,” said the man as he bent at the knees, holding one of the chair arms. “Your wife is awake if you would like to go speak to her.”
“Is she going to be all right?”
“Can’t say for sure yet, but she is stable and all her vital signs are good. Hopefully she will continue to improve, and we can get her out of the ICU before long.” Wheeler stood. “I will be back to check on her again in about an hour.”
Dave stood. “Thanks, Doc.”
Wheeler patted Trask on the shoulder and walked away. Dave hustled to the doorway to Linda’s room, peaking at her around the curtain as he entered. He thought he would be used to the sight now, but he wasn’t. The pale, drawn skin. The matted hair. The sunken eyes. The tubes and machines. He walked to the bed and held her cool hand.
Linda turned her head slightly his way, her eyes cracking open. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Dave thought he would cry but fought back the emotion. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel anything, really.” Her voice was raspy, just above a whisper.
“Probably have a bunch of drugs in you,” said Dave as he leaned closer.
“Probably.”
She was looking at him like she was waiting for him to say something, but Dave didn’t know what to say.
“How is Lilly?”
Lilly? Who was Lilly? “Ummm..”
“Our daughter?”
“Oh, that Lilly.” Dave didn’t know they had picked the name but now knew there would be no further discussion. “She’s great. Looks just like me.”
There was the hint of a smile on each of their faces.
“Poor thing. Hopefully she will grow out of it.”
Trask broke into a grin.
“You look tired, Trask.”
“I was up all night shopping online for baby clothes.”
She squeezed Dave’s hand as hard as she could. She knew it wasn’t much, but she hoped he could feel it. Her wisp of a smile was gone now. “You take good care of her, Trask.”
Dave felt her release his hand as her eyes slowly closed. Tears held back now leaked down his cheeks.
Chapter 50
Thursday morning Berger and Krill stopped at the hospital to visit Carlisle. He brought her up to speed on the Bishops as she sat in bed.
“So,
no idea on who killed all of them or why?” said Carlisle.
“Ballistics matched Ken Bishop’s gun to the one that killed Dan and Lisa Bishop, so we are assuming he did that. Ken was the executor of his mother’s estate. The bank was trying to foreclose on his home. His mother’s will stipulated that the proceeds from her estate be split evenly to the surviving heirs, so that could be a motive for Ken killing his brothers and sisters. He wanted more money.”
“Doesn’t explain who poisoned him, unless he did it himself.”
“I’m thinking that’s not the case,” said Berger. “No evidence at all at his place or in his car that any poison was present. You think the Maples kids killed their mother?”
“Not really. They told me they didn’t and I believe them.”
“Hmm.” Berger looked around the room, antsy. “You getting out of here soon?”
“I think tomorrow,” she said.
“How long do you think you can stay away this time?”
Krill was smiling, but Danny didn’t want to think about it. About the fact that he was right. She really hated this place, but she couldn’t seem to keep away. Berger smiled, told her to get better, and slipped out.
No sooner had he left than Pearson poked his nose around the curtain.
“Hey, good-looking.”
“Yeah, right.
“No, really. I heard you won the second-floor beauty contest. Just killed them in the hospital gown competition.”
She wanted to laugh but it wouldn’t have been right. “Listen, Jeff. I need to tell you something.”
He was at her bedside now, holding her hand. “Sounds serious. You don’t like my haircut?”
Carlisle didn’t smile at the comment. She opened her mouth to speak when they both turned to see Danny’s parents walking in.
“Hi sweetie,” said her mom as she walked to the bed, Pearson stepping back. She hugged her daughter. “Oh my. Is it OK if I hug you? Did that hurt?”
“It’s OK, Mom.” Carlisle looked at her father standing next to Pearson. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, Danny.”
“Danny, we came yesterday, but you were sleeping so we didn’t stay. They said you needed your rest,” said her mother. “How are you feeling, dear?”
“Good. A little sore, but good. It’s nice to have a few days off. I may get shot more often.”
“Now don’t you joke about that, Danny Carlisle. Seems like the only time we get to see you nowadays is in the hospital.”
“Sorry, Mom.” Carlisle looked to her father for help but could see none was coming. “So, where are you staying?”
“Well, Jeff insisted we stay with him again, but we just can’t keep taking advantage of him every time you are in the hospital.”
“It’s OK with me,” her father chipped in. “He’s got some really good beer.”
A balloon bubble burst in Danny’s brain as she looked at her smiling father standing next to Pearson. She hadn’t told them about the engagement. And now she didn’t know if the engagement would still be on. She needed to talk to Jeff, alone.
“Yeah, well –-"
Before Carlisle could finish a nurse walked in, telling her guests that they needed to leave so that the patient could get some rest.
Berger was finishing up for the day. He had autopsy results on Ken Bishop, Tom Bishop, and the Naultys. All had been poisoned. The same poison that had killed Helen Johnson. All of them had eaten part of a cookie that contained the poison. He had no clue who had killed them or why, but he assumed the same person had killed them.
Amy Jackson knocked on his open door.
“Jackson. Tell me something. If I think that the person that poisoned the Bishops is a woman because poison was used and because it was baked in a cookie, does that make me prejudiced?”
“Probably. But in this case, I think you’re right.”
Berger had been leaning back in his chair but now sat up, elbows on his desk. “How’s that?”
“Remember I told you that the Johnson autopsy said that the poison likely came from some plant in South America?”
“Yeah, OK. I remember that.”
“So, I started calling florists around town asking if any of them had sold any weird plants from South America to anyone lately. It turns out that this shop in Hermantown got a call from a woman last year inquiring about these specific plants from South America.”
“Why wouldn’t this woman just order these plants on her own?”
“Seems you need a permit that can be very difficult to procure.”
“So, the florist had a permit to import poisonous plants?”
“Not poisonous specifically. But I asked about what the plants were called and did some research, and it turns out the roots of the plants have been known to be able to be processed to produce a poison.”
“Wow,” said Berger. “And I am guessing you have the name and probably the address of this woman?”
“I do.” Jackson set a sticky note on Berger’s desk.
Berger read the information and looked up at Jackson. “OK Jackson, this is it.”
“What?”
“If you don’t put yourself in for the Detective’s exam, I am going to put you in myself. Good work. And grab your jacket.”
“Why?”
“You found her. You get to make the arrest.”
Grace Canton sat in her favorite chair. The chair was a recliner, covered in a faded brown corduroy. The fabric had torn in spots, separated from the seams, especially on the arms. She’d placed green felt arm covers from another chair over the arms. The covers didn’t really match, but she didn’t mind. The chair had molded to her shape over the years so that it was now comfortable to her and no one else.
There was a television tray in front of the chair. On the tray was a beige plate with a navy stripe circling the edge. There was a small chip on one side of the plate. The plate held the remains of Canton’s dinner, chicken fried rice. Canton had picked up the food on the way home, calling ahead before she left work. She liked Chinese food, particularly chicken fried rice. She liked the taste, especially when she added a small amount of soy sauce, and she also liked the texture. Besides, even an order for one was enough for three meals for her. It was a bargain.
The news had ended minutes earlier, Canton now watching Wheel of Fortune. She liked the show but thought most of the contestants were chosen for their ignorance so that the games would go on longer and the show wouldn’t have to pay out much money. Canton picked up the plate, scraping the last of the rice into a small pile and then pushing it into her mouth. She returned the plate to the tray and picked up the glass of chardonnay. Normally, she would have had water, but tonight was a celebration.
The news had led with the story of the Bishop brothers, Ken and Tom, both found dead in their respective homes under mysterious circumstances. There had been film of both homes, police tape evident at each location. A Duluth Police spokesperson at Ken Bishop’s home had been interviewed about the deaths, saying only that they were under investigation, and they would release more details at a later date. The studio anchor had added that this was the third Bishop brother to die recently, Dan Bishop and his wife being found shot to death only a week before.
Canton thought that a good reporter would have added news about the sisters dying too but decided she couldn’t expect that kind of investigation from the people the news employed. Still, Canton felt a feeling of satisfaction and serenity that had been absent from her life before now. A pleasing feeling of all she had accomplished, all she had overcome. Not just the entire process of planning her revenge on the Bishops, figuring out how to do i, and then following through. Not just overcoming her fear of driving, her bravery. It was the fact that she had survived her tortured life and outlived all the people who had made it that way.
Canton watched a puzzle on the show, yelling out the obvious answer. And then she giggled. And then laughed out loud. She could not remember ever doing that before, and tears came to her eyes
as she put the wine glass back on the tray, afraid she might spill. This was it, the happiest she had ever been, and she knew it. The only thing that could make it any better would be a little dessert.
Chapter 51
Berger pounded on the door. There was a light on inside, and he could hear the television. Someone was home. He had the search warrant for Grace Canton’s home in his back pocket. It had taken longer than he hoped to get, but the judge took her time with her dinner before signing. Two uniforms were at the back door, Jackson slightly behind Berger at the front door. He pounded again, shouting Canton’s name, telling her to open the door. Nothing. Tried the door, but it was locked.
“You ready?” said Berger as he pulled his weapon and turned to Jackson. Jackson nodded. Berger held the rail on the steps to his side with his free hand, leaned back, and kicked. The frame splintered, and he rushed in, weapon in front. Canton was to his left, in her recliner. She looked like she was asleep, head back and leaning slightly to the side. “Miss Canton?” Berger approached her slowly. Felt for a pulse. In the television's light, he saw the remains of the cookie on her lap.
They had moved Linda James out of the ICU during the evening. Her condition had improved, and the doctor was very optimistic she would have a full recovery. Don had invited Dave to stay at his condo and get some sleep, but Dave wanted a night in his own bed. And he wanted to see Lilly. It was worth the drive. In the morning he called Abbott, informed his wife was doing great and eating. He talked to her for a moment, promising he would be down shortly after lunch. She told him he should probably catch up at work, but he insisted.
After breakfast he drove to the hospital. The same nurse that had been there when Lilly was born was there again.
“Does she have a name?”
“Lilly,” said Trask. “I’m not sure about a middle name yet.
“Lilly. That’s nice. A beautiful flower and a beautiful little girl.” She looked at the baby in her arms and then at Trask.
Trask made it back to Abbott just before noon. He found his way to Linda’s room just as she was eating some Jello.