by Liz Turner
Hallie inhaled sharply. She had to admit, she was confused—but mostly intrigued. She went over to put her arms around Shirley, hugging her shoulders tightly. “It’s okay, dear. There, there. It’s a good thing you told me. Have you spoken to the police?”
Shirley shook her head frantically. “No, I just came straight here. I suppose in my panic I thought I had better tell a doctor, and of course I remembered meeting you, and I knew you rented this house nearby so…. I guess I thought I’d see if there’d be anything you could do for him. It wasn’t until I started talking that I realized I already knew—I already knew, that he was dead. There’s nothing you can do for him. He was probably even dead this morning when I first saw him! He was so stiff. Oh!” She began to cry, her shoulders shaking.
Hallie did her best to comfort her, meanwhile fishing a notepad and pencil from a nearby drawer. She quickly jotted down all that Shirley had told her. “Can I ask you some questions, Shirley?” she asked gently. Shirley nodded, loudly blowing her nose in a handkerchief she pulled from her pocketbook. “Okay then. No pressure to answer correctly. Just tell me what you remember. Did the man have any visible wounds? Was he in a position of distress?” Shirley shook her head, no, adding that he looked like he had been sleeping when he passed away. “And you didn’t recognize him? You haven’t seen him in around town before? With anyone?” Again, Shirley shook her head no. “Okay, thank you. You’ve been really helpful with this. You’re a real heroine, checking on him like you did! All those people out there, and not a one thought to see if he was alright.” Hallie made a tsk noise. Shirley seemed to be cheering up, or at least, she appeared less rattled than before. “Would you like some tea or coffee?” Hallie asked kindly.
“Yes, thank you. Perhaps I could telephone my folks, too? They might be wondering why I’m not home yet.”
Hallie nodded and gestured to the phone on the desk. She got to work in the kitchen making a pot of coffee for what she was sure was going to be a long night.
As Shirley telephoned her parents, Hallie stood in the kitchen, twirling a spoon absently in her coffee. From Shirley’s story, it certainly seemed like the man wasn’t a local. But neither did it seem like Shirley believed her own theory—that he was a vacationer who drank too much the night before, to his own demise. No, Hallie sensed that the man under the tree was an outsider, someone who didn’t belong in Cape Cod. Or at least, someone whose reasons for being here didn’t include the beach. She had better see for herself.
Just then, Shirley appeared in the doorway. “Doctor Malone, I’m going to head home,” she said, rubbing her neck anxiously.
“Of course, dear. But why don’t you wait for a while. I don’t think you ought to walk home alone now; it’s getting dark, and you’ve had quite the evening already,” Hallie said, looking worried and feeling suddenly protective of the young girl. She poured Shirley a cup of coffee, adding, “Cream or sugar?” Shirley nodded. “I’m going to call the police straight away, and they’ll probably want to speak with you.” Hallie noticed Shirley visibly slump. The poor girl was exhausted. “But that can probably wait until tomorrow,” Hallie said kindly. “I’ll speak to them tonight and request they send an officer to escort you home as soon as they can.”
Shirley silently acquiesced as she accepted the steaming mug. Hallie went to the telephone in the next room and rang the local police station.
“Cape Cod Police Station, Detective Truman speaking,” came the low voice.
“Hello, this is Hallie Malone, one of the new doctors at the hospital for the summer. I think…. A friend of mine, Shirley Miller, came across a dreadful sight this evening, and I think you should look into it immediately,” Hallie said. She took a seat at the desk. It felt strange to call in a death for someone she had yet to lay eyes on.
“And what might that ‘dreadful sight’ be?” Detective Truman replied, somewhat impatiently. “If this call is a prank—”
Hallie cleared her throat. “No, Officer, this is no prank,” pausing, she added, “There is a dead man in Dunshire Park.” Suddenly, Hallie heard a crash from the kitchen. Putting her hand over the telephone’s microphone, she called out to Shirley, “Shirley? Is everything alright?” When she didn’t hear an answer, she grew worried.
“Ma’am? Ma’am?” The officer was saying. “Who is the deceased? Do you know—”
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Please, meet me in the town square, right before the entrance to the park. It’s urgent,” Hallie said before placing the phone down abruptly. She went quickly into the kitchen and saw Shirley frantically using a dish towel to try to mop up a pool of dark liquid that was dripping down the white cabinets onto the floor. Shirley’s face was red and her own dress now stained brown. As she attempted to soak up the coffee with the small towel, she became visibly upset when she realized the towel was not going to be enough. She slumped apologetically when she saw Hallie in the doorway. Hallie took one look at the hectic scene and began to laugh heartily. “Shirley, dear, it’s quite all right. Here,” Hallie said, offering a hand to the girl and pulling her from the floor. Hallie led her back to the living room.
“I don’t know what happened, Doctor Malone, I just somehow must’a knocked the carafe of coffee onto the floor. It was everywhere immediately,” Shirley said, looking as though she might begin to cry again. “Tonight is just not going the way I wanted it to!”
Hallie knew the girl’s tears were not for the mess in the kitchen and regretted laughing at her. “Okay, sit down here. The police are going to meet us in town, and I’ll insist that an officer take you home as soon as possible.” Looking into Shirley’s frightened eyes, Hallie added comfortingly, “It’s not your fault, Shirley. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Hallie loaned the girl a dress of hers, finding a cloth belt to tie around the waist so that it would fit properly. She took Shirley’s dress and wrapped it in plastic, assuring Shirley not to worry about it—she would take it to be dry-cleaned in the morning.
Chapter 3
At the Scene
of the Crime
A half hour later, Hallie was standing with Detective Truman at the arched entrance to Dunshire Park. An officer had escorted Shirley home while Hallie elected to come along with the detective to see the dead man for herself and relay all that Shirley had told her. The park was heavily wooded, and at the front stood two impressive stone pillars, holding a metal sign which read, “Dunshire Park, est. 1935.” Although there was a streetlamp there at the entrance, beyond the arched sign, the park appeared a dark abyss, with the thick trees shielding out any moonlight. During the day, Hallie admired how the park maintained its wildness, refusing to succumb to the new real estate developments that seemed to be happening everywhere else in Sandwich. The park was an answer to the craggy beaches, providing its own unique, isolated landscape: within, beneath the dark green pine trees, one could almost forget one was in Cape Cod, save for the sounds of the nearby ocean. Now, though, Hallie was grateful to have Sergeant Truman there with her. The old park suddenly seemed to be protecting a terrible secret.
“She saw him first this morning, on her way to work,” Hallie was explaining. “She sometimes takes a shortcut through the park.”
“And he was alive then?” Truman asked. He was wearing a tan trench coat over his suit and sported tortoiseshell glasses and a bushy mustache. Hallie guessed they were about the same age. She hadn’t met him before, but she liked him already. His manner was polite, and he spoke quietly and listened earnestly. He didn’t appear to be rattled in the slightest by the situation; he took it all in stride, careful to follow protocol.
“Well, no—er. Well I don’t think Shirley knows if he was alive then or not. She assumed he was sleeping then. Though, I think in retrospect, she certainly has her doubts about the assumption. She admitted to me it was possible he had been dead even this morning,” Hallie replied.
Writing the information down in a small notebook, Truman nodded. “I see. And around what time d
id she confirm he was dead?”
“Let’s see. It would have been around six o’clock. Yes, because she arrived at my home around six thirty, white as a ghost.” Hallie shuddered involuntarily and pulled her sweater on.
“Okay. Well, let’s say we have a look at the fella, huh?” Truman said, with a note of genuine questioning in his voice. Hallie could tell he wanted to be sure she wanted to come along. When she nodded, he added, “Alright then. I’ve brought an extra flashlight for the trip.” He handed a metal canister, a flashlight, to Hallie, and switched his on. The light was sufficient that the two could see several feet in any direction they shined the light.
They trekked into the park. Even though Hallie had already thoroughly explored the area, spending many afternoons walking down every last one of the sandy paths, everything looked different in the darkness. The journey to the spot where Shirley had explained the man would be seemed to take hours, and the path seemed more winding than any Hallie remembered traversing before. Finally, Truman stopped and shined his light down at the foot of a pine. The yellow glow from the flashlight illuminated a body, slumped just as Shirley had said. The man was indeed wearing an odd outfit for the climate and the time of year. He wore a long dress coat over a vest, matching trousers, and shiny leather shoes. His hat was of top quality, and Hallie spotted a pair of dress gloves peeking out from his coat pocket. A beetle was crawling along his shirt sleeve.
Truman bent down and lifted the hat. “Recognize him?” he asked.
“No, I don’t,” Hallie said, looking at the handsome face. “What was he doing out here…wearing all this?”
Truman nodded thoughtfully. “My thoughts exactly, Doctor Malone. I certainly wouldn’t be wearing a suit like this to romp about in the woods on a summer day. Neither would I wear this for a night in a seaside town—no matter how festive I felt.” He chuckled slightly.
Yes, Shirley’s theory that the man had been out drinking the night before doesn’t seem quite right, Hallie thought. Aloud, she said, “Shirley was right about one thing, though. He doesn’t seem to have any injuries. And there doesn’t appear to have been any sort of struggle.” She shined her flashlight around to reveal the undisturbed sand and pine-needle-strewn ground. “His clothes are in perfect condition. At first glance, it certainly seems like he just sat down here and decided to die.”
“Good eye,” Truman said. “I don’t suppose you, as a doctor, can tell what the cause of death was just by looking at the fellow? I admit my expertise on that front ends after checking for bullet holes or stab wounds.”
Hallie bent down to take a closer look. The man’s skin was tinged with red patches, as though he had been sunburned badly in places. Not unusual if he is indeed a tourist, Hallie mused. Still, the color struck her as not quite natural. “I’m not sure,” she replied slowly. “I’ll have to examine the body more thoroughly. Perform an autopsy.” She explained that before she began work as a general practitioner, her patients had been the dead. That is, she had been a medical examiner, the doctor responsible for determining cause of death. “I can tell you, however, that based on the body’s progression into rigor mortis, this man has been dead for at least twelve hours. Which means, he must have—died in the early hours of the morning, before poor Shirley spotted him.” Hallie bit her tongue to keep from saying he must have been murdered early this morning. It was clear to her: the scene just didn’t make sense as a natural death. Out here in the woods, dressed so finely, and alone? No, there was something missing from this picture, and Hallie’s mind was already turning over the different possibilities.
Truman’s eyes widened. “Oh! I hadn’t known you were a medical examiner as well. We’re lucky you’re here with us this summer. This case is perplexing already.” He stood up and shook his head at the body. “At any rate, I’m happy we’ve confirmed Shirley Miller’s story. I’ll make an official report of it tonight, and after we’re done here, I’ll have some men transport the body to the morgue. In the meantime, I’ll have the town close off this park from public use.” Hallie agreed, and they made their way back to town.
“Say, how do you like Cape Cod, Doctor Malone?” Truman asked.
Hallie smiled inwardly. It struck her as comical to be making small talk at this hour of the night, not to mention while walking through a dark park—after just finding a dead body! She supposed the detective must be used to this sort of thing. “I’m rather smitten with the place, I have to confess,” she replied. “The beaches, the wilderness…. Although I dare say I could do without the midnight traipses to go see a corpse.” She grinned, but she also wasn’t joking altogether. Was this maritime paradise a harbor for murder?
Truman’s kind face looked strained. “Well, I can assure you that such a thing has never occurred in Sandwich before. Would have been unheard of.” He yanked his collar on his trench coat up and muttered something else with irritation.
Hallie was intrigued. “Oh? I beg your pardon, I didn’t quite hear what you said.”
Sighing, Truman continued, “I said, ever since the war, this whole peninsula has been different. I thought perhaps things might return to normal when the war ended, but in fact, the changes just kept rolling in like an unstoppable tide. New developments every day, chipping away at any corner of the peninsula left untouched—pristine.”
Hallie nodded. This wasn’t the first time she had heard such a sentiment expressed from by the locals. As much as she was glad to have discovered Cape Cod herself, she could imagine how it would feel to have your natural landscapes polluted with modern buildings and tourists.
Truman added, with more than a hint of annoyance, “Tourists…That Route Six A tearing across the land. It’s a good thing, usually… more business here. The local economy’s really soared…But sometimes I just think…it’s a shame. Especially a night like tonight? This never would have happened before Cape Cod gained all this attention. A real shame.” He shook his head but kept walking in his determined way.
Hallie agreed sympathetically, but admitted, somewhat reluctantly, that she was, in fact, part of the problem. She was a tourist here for the summer after all. “I have fallen in love with the place, though,” she added quickly. “I would hate for anything to drastically change the peninsula, too.”
Truman’s countenance softened, and he brushed off her remark. “Doctor Malone, you are different from most of them. You’re here to help us locals deal with the influx of tourists—without you, our hospital would be overrun.”
Hallie just smiled. They had arrived at her home back in town. “Well, thank you for seeing me back home,” she said.
“Doctor Malone—”
Hallie looked up at Truman expectantly. “Yes?”
“Would you be the one to do the examination? On our Mr. John Doe in the park. I think it’d be beneficial to have a medical examiner who already knows all the details of the case.”
“Of course,” Hallie agreed. Then the two said goodnight, and Hallie headed inside. She was glad for the opportunity to find out the truth behind the man by the tree. She just hoped her efforts wouldn’t be in vain.
Chapter 4
The Key
T he next morning Hallie skipped her usual routine: an early walk down to the beach by herself, followed by breakfast in town at her favorite café reading over the morning paper. Today, she was to be at the morgue bright and early, so she had no time to enjoy the fresh morning air as it came in from across the ocean. She put on a collared, pinstripe dress and donned a sun hat. She was heading for the door, when she abruptly turned around and grabbed her medical bag from where it lay under the kitchen table, double checking to make sure she still had all the supplies she would need for an autopsy. Today was no ordinary summer day.
As she passed the entrance to the park, she noted the rope strung across preventing entry. There was a police officer clad in his blue uniform standing there. She went over to him. As she approached, the officer said, “Sorry, ma’am. No entry. Police business.” He held up
a hand.
“Oh, of course, of course. I’m the medical examiner on the case, actually. I simply wanted to inquire if the body has been moved yet?”
The officer regarded her suspiciously. Hallie knew she certainly didn’t look like the typical medical examiner, a middle-aged woman wearing a summer dress and sun hat. To try to reassure him, she held up her medical bag. Finally, the man said, “The body’s waiting in the morgue.”
Resisting the urge to peer past him into the woods, Hallie thanked the officer and walked away. She arrived at the morgue, a white brick building a block away from the police station. She was greeted by Detective Truman, along with several of his subordinate officers. By the excited looks on their faces, she knew Truman had not been lying last night: a mysterious dead body showing up in the town park was not a common occurrence…and Hallie guessed that any sort of suspicious death probably was highly unusual for a haven like Cape Cod.
“Doctor Malone, right on time,” Truman said. He introduced her to the other members of his team, three young men dressed in immaculate blue police uniforms. “These fella’s are the best of the bunch we’ve got on the force. Looking to be detectives one day.” Slapping one burly man on the shoulder, he added, “I’m a real role model for these kids.” He winked.
Hallie grinned and shook hands with the group. “So, where’s our John Doe?”