by Karen Woods
“Something like that.” A pair of patient care workers entered the treatment room with a gurney. “Is there any reason that you know of that ‘Licia and I couldn’t try again?”
“Give her one normal cycle before you try again,” Ed advised. “Sometimes, it takes a woman a while to begin to ovulate again after a pregnancy terminates. If you wait one cycle, it will be easier to track the pregnancy. I doubt that she’s going to feel much like anything for a while.”
The nurses wheeled ‘Licia out of the treatment room. I didn’t at all like the fact that ‘Licia was almost paler than the white cotton pillowcase on which her head rested.
“‘Licia,” I said as I walked beside the gurney.
She opened her eyes and looked at me. “I’m sorry, Geoff. I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart. This wasn’t your fault. The only thing that you have to worry about, now, is getting yourself well. The wedding’s in two weeks. Just remember how much I love you.”
Fresh tears streamed down her face. “Stay with me.”
“I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Call Father Douglass for me, please.”
“I will, baby. Is there anything else that you want?”
She just held my hand as though it were her only anchor to reality. But, looking back on it, I’m not sure who was anchored to whom for that reality check. All I could think of was that she was, maybe, dying and that it was my fault.
I sat by her bedside waiting for her to awaken. My mind was entirely too full for me to be able to sleep.
If I hadn’t made arrangements for the artificial insemination, she wouldn’t be lying here now. She wanted children. That was one thing, nearly the only thing, she had wanted from our marriage. And that was one thing that I could never give her.
I had lied to her about the vasectomy having been reversed. It had only taken a reasonably small bribe to get the doctor to use donor sperm, from a healthy, relatively intelligent, blue-eyed, blond male, who had my blood-type, to inseminate ‘Licia. I would have accepted and loved the child, if for no other reason than for the fact that the child would have tied ‘Licia to me, in a way that nothing else could have ever done.
The ends would have justified the means. Or at least that was what I had told myself at the time. Now, I wasn’t so sure. She would never forgive me, if she learned how I had conspired to fool her. Perhaps, this was just as well. Now, at least, we wouldn’t have to be living a lie for the rest of our life. But, I hurt for her. She had wanted this child, so badly. And I had wanted it for her.
Chapter 32
PHIL
As Geoff walked off down the hall with Al, I turned to Ed Roby. “What could have caused this?”
“More things than you want to know about. About half of the conceptions which take place end up spontaneously aborted. Often before a woman even knows that she is pregnant. There isn’t anything that we can do most of the time,” Ed Roby replied.
“I’m probably going to sound paranoid. Is there anyway of telling whether the miscarriage was induced?”
“Induced? Alicia would not do something like that to herself,” Ed dismissed.
“But, there is someone who’d like to harm her. This seems to be a thing he would do. It’s entirely too coincidental for my peace of mind.”
Ed Roby looked at me for a long moment without saying anything. “You are a suspicious bastard, Phil Mallory.”
I nodded tightly. “It’s my job to be.”
“I’ll order a whole range of toxicological tests, just to be on the safe side. Will that make you happy?”
“Nothing about this makes me happy,” I replied. “But, I need to know.”
“Fine. I’ll bill the department for the tests.”
“Whatever. How serious is this?”
“Pretty serious. She’s bleeding too much, far too much for this early of an abortion. You saw that I had started her on plasma. When we get her typed and cross-matched, she’ll get at least two units of whole blood. But, we’ve got to get the bleeding stopped. If we don’t get that under control, she’ll die.”
“Oh God . . .”
Geoff paced the floor in the surgical waiting room.
“She had most of a pot of peppermint tea before she went to bed,” Geoff said in reply to my subtle questioning. Geoff was far too distraught to notice that he was being interrogated.
Connie Yerke was the community’s only female obstetrician. Connie was five-foot-nine, a vivacious redhead, full of nervous energy. There wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on her runway thin frame. Occasionally, Geoff and Alicia had played mixed doubles tennis with Connie Yerke and her husband Larry. I always liked to see those matches. Talk about an immovable object versus an irresistible force. Neither team liked giving up a point.
“Geoff?” Connie asked.
“How is she?” my best friend asked.
“Sedated. We managed to stop the hemorrhaging with the D&C. I want to keep her under observation for twenty four hours, at least. Then if everything stabilizes, you can take her home Sunday morning.”
Geoff sighed. “Thanks Connie.”
“This is going to be rough on her, Geoff. Don’t let her blame herself. These things often are for the best,” Connie advised.
“Is there any problem with her becoming pregnant again?” Geoff asked. “You didn’t find any physical problem?”
“Give her some time. But, no, she should be able to conceive again,” Connie replied. “At her age, though, we should watch any pregnancy more closely. She hasn’t been in for confirmation of the pregnancy.”
“No. She has a friend who is a high-risk obstetrician in St. Louis. She went down to see him,” Geoff answered. “She was concerned about her age being a factor.”
Connie sighed. “I understand. I’m sorry, Geoff.”
Geoff nodded. “How long will it be until she is back on her feet?”
“She lost a lot of blood, Geoff. More than she should have.”
My ears perked up. “Why would that be?”
“I don’t know. The last time that I saw anything like this was when I was doing my residency. A young girl had drank a lot of pennyroyal oil to induce an abortion. She damn near died,” Connie replied.
“Pennyroyal oil?” I asked.
“It’s in the same family as mint, I think. Although botany never was my strong area,” Connie replied.
“Mint?” I asked.
Connie and Geoff both looked at me questioningly.
“No, ‘Licia wouldn’t have,” Geoff said.
“Of course she wouldn’t have. That doesn’t mean that someone else might not have.”
Geoff closed his eyes as the color drained from his face. “That bastard,” he said. Then the epithet was followed by a stream of crudely colorful language Geoff would have never used in a court of law, at least without incurring a contempt charge.
Connie’s eyes narrowed as she looked at both of us. “This is monstrous,” she said.
“Don’t say anything to anyone, Connie,” I advised.
“I don’t quite believe it, myself,” the physician replied.
“What does pennyroyal smell like?” Geoff asked.
“A lot like peppermint, only sharper and more acrid, I think,” Connie responded.
“How much would it take to induce a miscarriage?” I demanded of the gynecologist.
“I don’t know off hand. Not much if it was oil taken by mouth, I don’t think. It’s pretty powerful stuff, as herbal remedies go. It can even be absorbed through the skin. I remember reading a case where a woman repeatedly spontaneously aborted in the spring and summer due to her use of a natural insect repellent containing pennyroyal,” Connie replied.
“Would you recognize the smell of pennyroyal?” I asked.
“Tommy Liguori at the health food store would be better at identifying that sort of thing than I would be. Herbs are her area of expertise, not mine,” Connie said.
/> Chapter 33
PHIL
I took the canister of loose peppermint tea inside of a plastic bag into “Everything Nice”, the local natural foods store run by Thomasina Liguori. Tommy’s Mediterranean heritage was clearly evident in her olive skin tone, dark hair, and dark eyes.
I had thought that it was ironic that Tommy was back in town after having made a name for herself on the West Coast as the senior VP for Asian operations in an electronics firm.
Why Tommy had come running home after abandoning her high six-figure, or maybe low seven-figure, annual salary was anyone’s guess. She was not the same person whom she had been when she had left home several years before. But, life has a way of jading most of us. There was sadness in her eyes when she thought that no one was watching. But, she kept her problems to herself. Tommy, when she put her mind to it, could be terribly secretive, almost as secretive as her father, the Reverend Doctor Thomas Liguori, Rector of the local Episcopal parish.
The county sheriff, Doug (aka Spider) Webb, was Tommy Liguori’s fairly steady companion. The two of them had dated in high school. Then when Tommy had moved back to town, the pair of them had started keeping company again. According to local wisdom, it was only a matter of time until Tommy and Spider would marry. But, from what I had observed, Tommy wasn’t in any tearing hurry to legalize the relationship. And neither was Doug.
I smiled softly to myself as I wondered what it was about this small college town which drew so many strong, downright interesting, women. Most of the women I knew fit, uncomfortably well, the old description of the Soviet Union—a riddle wrapped in a mystery shrouded by an enigma.
“Morning, Tommy,” I said as I entered the store early on Saturday.
She turned around about a quarter of the way on a ladder where she was standing to restock her upper shelves.
“Well, Phil Mallory. This is a surprise. What can I do for you?” she said warmly as she came down from the ladder.
“I was told that you were the resident expert on herbs.”
“What do you need?”
“Tell me what’s in this mixture?” I asked as I held up the bag before placing it on the counter.
“Playing ‘Stump the shopkeeper’?” she countered as she wiped her hands on her apron.
“Something like that.” I carefully removed the lid from the canister. Tommy Liguori used a plastic scoop to remove about an ounce of the mixture from the canister into a small plastic bag.
“Umm . . .” she said as she sifted through the tea with the sharpened end of a pencil. “Peppermint, alfalfa, and spearmint. I blend a similar tea for people with nervous stomachs.”
“Nothing else?”
She brought the bag up to her nose to smell it. “Whew!” she said as she sat the bag down on the counter. Then she rubbed some of the tea between her fingers. “That’s odd.”
She brought her fingers to her nose. “Definitely odd.”
“Talk to me.”
“Someone doused this tea with pennyroyal essential oil. That’s unusual.”
“Why?”
“Alfalfa is primarily used for a digestive tea. Rich in choline, vitamins A, B6, D, K, and P, it is a treatment for ulcers as well as being a general aid to digestion. The spearmint and peppermint are both mild antiseptics, rich in menthol, thymol, and other volatile oils. Teas made from those mints are used as tension relievers, cold remedies, and stomach settlers. Pennyroyal, when it is rarely taken as tea, is usually infused from leaves instead of being added as essential oil. Pennyroyal essential oil is very strong. No one in her right mind would take it internally,” Tommy Liguori replied softly, thoughtfully.
She continued, “It can be a dangerous herb, if used incorrectly, or by the wrong person. Usually, pennyroyal essential oil is rubbed into the skin as an insect repellent or it’s used in dog shampoos as a treatment for fleas. The dried flowers are sometimes used in an infusion of lavender flowers, wood betony and sage as a bath treatment for mild hysteria or tension, or they can be strewn about in animal bedding as a flea repellent. I don’t recommend pennyroyal at all, for any woman of childbearing years. Too many women have died over the years because of that herb. I don’t even stock it, normally. Although, I do special order it, occasionally, for some of the veterinarians in the area who use it as a flea treatment for dogs. It’s real effective used that way. And at wholesale, it is a good deal cheaper than the commercial anti-flea treatments.”
“What would happen if a woman drank a pot of this tea?”
Tommy looked at me sharply. Speculation was in her brown eyes as she swept a strand of her dark hair back into place. She wanted to ask questions. I could see that. But, she had been around law enforcement for long enough that she obviously knew better.
She sighed. “That would depend on the woman. If she were pregnant, I’d say that she would be lucky to survive. If she weren’t, I don’t know.”
“Thank you, Tommy. You’ve been very helpful.”
“I take it that this conversation is not for public consumption.”
“You always were a bright kid, Tommy.”
“Gee, thanks, Phil,” she replied.
“Give Doug my regards.”
She smiled wryly. “Maybe, if Spider stops working double shifts in an effort to find out who’s been breaking into houses in the county and if he finally runs down the person who killed Pete Burgess, I might get a chance to tell him anything. But, as it is, you probably see him more than I do.”
“Has he made any progress on cracking those cases?”
“Not much, honestly.”
“Hmm . . .”
“Now, that’s a lawman’s look, if ever I saw one.”
“Refresh my memory, the break-ins took only children’s clothing?”
“And a TV, a VCR and a collection of movies, and a Nintendo and some game tapes, and an insulin kit from the Peterson’s house. But no cash, even though the Peterson’s had several hundred dollars lying on their bedroom dresser.”
Tommy sighed as she looked at my face. “Remind me to invite you to play poker. I could use the money. You think that this has something to do with Alicia.”
“You know that I can’t comment on that.”
“She buys that particular herbal blend. I blend it for her, specially.”
“When was the last time that you made a batch up for her?”
“Ten days ago, or so. I don’t know. Before she and Geoff went to Chicago.”
“Was anyone else in the store while you were blending the tea?”
“Glenna Clary came in.”
“Was that unusual?”
“No. Glenna stops by every once in a while. She’s not exactly my best customer. But, then again, she lives alone and hates to cook.”
“Why does this stick in your mind?”
“You asked if anyone else was in the store. Glenna was here. I had been just about ready to vacuum seal the bag of tea for Alicia when my cheese delivery arrived. It took me about fifteen minutes to take and verify the delivery. Glenna made herself a cup of tea, grabbed a cookie, and did her shopping while I was busy checking in the cheese.”
She could have gone all day without saying that. Was Glenna involved? Glenna had been in love with Geoff for as long as Phil could remember. She had the motive—wanting Geoff for herself—and the opportunity—left alone in the storefront.
“You said that you sell pennyroyal to local vets?”
Tommy nodded. “Glenna buys dried pennyroyal flowers for use in her kennel and oil for her grooming operations.”
That wasn’t a piece of the puzzle that I particularly wanted to have. Could Glenna have done this?
“You don’t think that Glenna had anything to do with this, do you?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Have you seen Alicia today? How is she holding up?” Tommy asked.
“I guess that they are going to keep her in the hospital today for observation. Geoff is with her.”
“Meli
e Morrison and I were going to give her a surprise bridal shower on Thursday. Do you think that she is still going to be up to it?”
“She needs all of her friends around her, now more than ever.”
“Yeah. I can understand that,” Tommy Liguori replied. “I have to think of something nice to do for her. I think that I’ll take her a couple of pecan honey buns from the bakery. Comfort food. They are her favorite. But what do you say to someone at a time like this? That you’re sorry? Somehow, that just doesn’t cut it, does it Phil?”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“Unless I’m asked about it under oath, I don’t know anything about this conversation which we’ve just had, Phil.”
I smiled. “Thanks for the information about the tea. You’re a good woman, Thomasina Liguori.”
“Tell that to a group of people who still call me ‘Sin’.”
“Well, that would give the phrase ‘As ugly as Sin’ a totally fresh meaning.”
Tommy smiled tightly. “I do have shelves to stock. Do you need anything else?”
I walked the seven blocks from Tommy’s health food store down to the county courthouse. The county’s reasonably modern jail sat just behind the nineteenth century gray stone architectural monstrosity known as the courthouse.
A youngish jail matron, named Stephanie Scott, was doing dispatch /receptionist duty from behind a thick enclosure of bulletproof glass. The blonde jail matron looked up and motioned for me to take the phone from the wall. “Well, well,” she said, her green eyes twinkling with mischief, “To what do we owe the honor?”
“Sheriff in?”
“I’ll buzz you back. Try the door after the second buzz.”
The door closed automatically behind me. “Doug in his office?”
“You know the way, Phil. But then again, you know the way to a lot of places where I haven’t seen you lately.”
I laughed. “One of these days, Stephanie, I’m going to take you up on the offer.”
“Promises, promises.” She dismissed me as a call came through on the radio. Duty took priority.
I moved down the sealed concrete floor of the freshly painted hallway. Even through the closed door of the Sheriff’s office, he could hear Doug Webb’s bass voice. The words were indistinct, but the meaning was more than clear from the tone of the voice. Someone was being called onto the carpet.