by J B Hawker
“Humph!” she snorted, snapping on rubber gloves to protect her professional manicure. “Food isn’t everything. Man, or woman, doesn’t live by bread alone, remember?”
“A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou, will keep me happy...if we substitute grape juice in the jug, so as not to offend,” Jorge teased.
“I’m not sure these people would offend so easily. Did you know they pulled a murdered girl’s body out of the woods a week or so ago? I thought we were leaving crime behind us when we moved to Green Acres.”
“I heard about that. It was the Presbyterian pastor’s wife who found the body, but apparently the girl died almost half a century ago. It hardly indicates a current crime wave. How did your meeting with the other pastors’ wives go today? I think it’s great they have a support group here, don’t you? You won’t find this sort of cooperative spirit between denominations in every community.”
“It was okay, if you can overlook the usual provincial, bigoted attitudes you always find in these inbred hick towns,” Melissa said.
“Why, what happened?” Jorge asked in surprise.
“Just a snide, supposed compliment about Orientals. I set her straight, though. You should have seen the look on the ignorant woman’s face! She won’t make that mistake again soon.”
“Come on, Melissa, you didn’t offend these ladies, did you? What did you say?”
“Only what they needed to hear. I told her Orientals are rugs and that I am Asian. I also explained your cultural heritage, just in case she has a problem with Hispanics, too.”
“Melissa, we’ve talked about this before. You can’t go around with a chip on your shoulder. I’m a pastor with my own congregation, not on staff in a big, metropolitan church, and this is a small town where gossip travels quickly. If you alienate these women, word will get back to our people. You could poison them against us with even an off-hand comment. Starting a Yellow-Lives-Matter campaign, with no real provocation, can only hurt us.”
“Don’t preach to me, Jorge. I’m not one of your flock, remember. That woman offended me, and I had every right to put her in her place. I think you should be on your wife’s side.”
“If my wife is on my side, she will support me and keep a guard on her mouth while we get established in our new community, or I will never get a chance to move up to being senior pastor of the big city mega-church of your dreams!” Jorge said, throwing the dishtowel onto the counter and opening the kitchen door.
“Where are you going?” Melissa called after him.
“I’m taking a walk,” he said and stepped out, closing the door firmly behind him.
Chapter 6
Detective Ransom put down the telephone and called his sergeant into his office.
“I just spoke to the medical examiner, Forester,” Ransom said. “They’ve completed the autopsy on those remains found above Bannoch a few weeks ago.”
“What’s the report say?” Forester asked.
“Much the same as the preliminary findings. The body was that of a girl, approximately twelve to fourteen years old. The condition of the body matches the earlier guess on the time of death as some time in the late sixties. Seems to have been in that box the whole time without being moved.”
“Any cause of death.?” Sergeant Forester asked.
“Nothing definitive, yet. However, the autopsy turned up one surprise. They found a fetus in the girl’s pelvic cavity. The remains of her uterus appeared torn, but there’s no way to know how it happened or if that was the cause of death. The condition of the remains makes it impossible to know, for sure. However, the Medical Examiner suspects, because of the pregnancy, the date of death, the age of the deceased and the damaged uterus, the cause of death may have been a botched abortion. They were illegal back then, so there were a lot of amateur efforts. Too many ended in the death of the mother.”
“I suppose that’s one reason the procedure was eventually legalized. It’s a whole lot better to have it done by a doctor, than in some dirty back alley,” Forester commented.
“I suppose,” Ransom agreed.
“But let’s not rush to judgment about the C.O.D. This girl may have run away because she was pregnant. Maybe she got scared and hid in that chest and died of asphyxiation, or she could have been kidnapped, taken to the woods and assaulted.
“There were several sexual predators active in this area forty years ago. Have we narrowed down the list of outstanding Missing Persons to those matching the deceased, yet?”
“There were only a handful in the reports from that time, but one of them had a local connection. Think we should eliminate that one first?” Forester asked.
“Tell me,” Ransom said.
“Old Doc Haleby in Bannoch, the assistant coroner, you know, had a young cousin who disappeared around the time of his family’s tragedy, when their house burned. That’s about the time of the death of this girl. I figure we could get a DNA swab from the doc to see if there is a familial match. He’s bound to at least be glad to finally know what happened to his cousin, if it is her. If there’s no match, we can go on to the others on the list.”
“Sounds about right. I’ll run by his office and get the swab today, so we can get things moving. Good work, Forester.”
*
“Paisley? The doctor can see you, now,” Bitsy poked her head into the waiting room and called out. “How’s your knee doing?”
“It’s much better, thanks,” Paisley replied as she walked into the exam room with no sign of a limp.
Gwennie Barthlett waved to her when she walked by the reception desk. “Tell your mom I’ll be by after work to pick up that little table she refinished for me.”
“Will do, Mrs. Barthlett,” Paisley replied as she was ushered into the exam room.
“Has your mother uncovered any new surprises on her wanderings, Paisley?” Bitsy asked while checking the girl’s pulse and blood pressure.
Unable to reply with the thermometer in her mouth, Paisley simply shrugged.
“We were all so shocked when Doc told us about that body turning up. Just imagine it moldering away up in the woods all these years. I heard they think it’s been up there since way back in the sixties. I figure it was one of those free-love hippies who over-dosed on LSD, or some other nasty drug. Just sit tight. Here’s a magazine for you. Doctor will be in as soon as he can.”
Paisley glanced at the torn and creased cover of the Field and Stream Magazine Nurse Bitsy had given her, noting it was more than a year old, before tossing it onto a table. She was eager to get this final check-up over with, so she could be declared fit to return to the volleyball team.
“She’s a nice girl, isn’t she?” Gwennie said to Bitsy in the reception office.
“Yes, and not as flighty as her sister. In looks they are two peas in a pod, but so different in every other way.”
A sweet-faced older woman walked up to the reception desk.
“Hi, Mrs. Kocourek,” Gwennie said.
“How are you, Joanne?” Bitsy greeted the woman.
“I’m just fine. Thought I’d stop by to pay my bill and show you the darling pictures my daughter, Annalies, sent me. She took them at Easter, when my whole bunch came to dinner. Look at Kristen hunting for eggs with the grandbabies, Gianna and Angel Lilyanna. Gianna is Joshua’s oldest; you know.”
The women were huddled over the photos, exclaiming at Mrs. Kocourek’s beautiful family, when Detective Ransom appeared in the reception window.
“Can I help you?” Gwennie asked as Bitsy bustled away and Mrs. Kocourek quickly stuffed the photos into her purse and stepped aside.
“I’d like to have a few minutes with Doctor Haleby,” Ransom said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but it’s important,” Ransom replied, holding up his badge.
“He’s with a patient. Can I tell him what this is about?” Gwennie asked.
“Just tell him I need to see him and that it should only take a moment of his time,�
�� Ransom said before taking a seat in the waiting room.
Gwennie hopped up and hurried to the hallway where Bitsy stood, listening.
“Tell Doc there’s a detective from Tillamook here to see him, would you? I wonder what it is about?” Gwennie said.
“Assistant Coroner business, of course!” Bitsy said. “I’ll just pop in and let Doctor know this man wishes to speak with him before he sees Paisley. You can go back to your desk and take care of Joanne’s payment.”
After dismissing Gwennie, Bitsy rapped softly on an exam room door and stepped inside.
“Excuse me Dr. Haleby. May I have just a moment?” she asked when the doctor looked up from palpating Mrs. Wigman’s distended abdomen.
“You can sit up now, dear,” he said to the woman on the table. “I’ll just step outside for a minute while you get dressed, then we’ll have a nice chat about your tummy problems,” he added, before joining Bitsy in the hallway.
“What is it, Nurse?”
“There’s a detective to see you. He says it is important, and it will only take a moment. I thought you would want to take care of him before seeing your next patient,” she explained.
“You may show him into my office. When he leaves bring Mrs. Wigman to me. I’ve got some pretty bad news for her, I’m afraid.”
Detective Ransom introduced himself and shook the doctor’s hand. “I’m working the case of that body in the box. The one you picked up in the woods for us a couple of weeks ago, Doctor.”
“Oh, yes, of course. How can I help you?”
“The autopsy has been done and we know the deceased was a teenage girl, about five feet tall and small-boned. She may have died about the same time your young cousin was reported missing.”
“Oh, I see,” Haleby said. “And you think this body might be the remains of my cousin, Victoria?”
“We would like a sample of your DNA to confirm or eliminate that possibility. Would you mind giving me a swab today?”
“Of course, of course, I’ll call the nurse for a swab kit,” Haleby reached for the phone on his desk, but Ransom forestalled him by pulling a kit from his jacket pocket.
“I can do it. Thanks,” Ransom stood and swabbed the inside of Doctor Haleby’s cheek, then inserted the swab into the evidence sleeve and tucked it back into his pocket.
He shook Haleby’s hand once again, noting the doctor’s pallor.
“I imagine this is difficult for you, Doctor, even after all these years. I’ll do my best to get you the results as soon as possible. Thanks for your time.”
Haleby stood, nodding distractedly as the detective took his leave, then quickly sat back down, frowning, thinking about his cousin. Victoria had disappeared from his life so long ago. Although only thirteen, she had already been a beautiful young woman. They had been close.
A rap on the door brought his thoughts back to the present and the life-changing news he had for his patient.
He stood, composed his features and guided Mrs. Wigman to the chair recently occupied by the detective.
Leaning against his desk beside her, Dr. Haleby took her hand. Smiling sadly, he began, “Well, Molly, I’m afraid it is what we’ve feared...”
*
In the Presbyterian Church basement social hall, Judy was presiding over the monthly meeting of the Presbyterian Women. In keeping with the occasion, she wore a businesslike navy blazer over her macramé vest and the floral dirndl skirt she’d fashioned from a vintage tablecloth.
“It has been moved and seconded that the proceeds from this year’s Together in Service project will go to the Tillamook Crisis Pregnancy Center to encourage women in crisis pregnancy situations to carry their children to term. Is there any discussion?”
A middle-aged woman in the back of the room stood up.
“The chair recognizes Millie,” Judy said.
“I like the idea, but before I vote for it, I want to know what-all is included in encouraging the women to have their babies. Will we be holding signs and praying outside abortion clinics? I wouldn’t be comfortable with anything like that,” Millie said and sat down.
Two other women stood, and Judy gestured to them, indicating who should speak first.
“I agree with Millie. I want to help the Crisis Center without doing anything radical or controversial.”
She sat and the next woman spoke.
“I think what we want to do is offer friendship to the girls during their pregnancies and provide whatever practical help the Center suggests. They would know best what is needed. I do hope we can provide layettes for the newborns, though. I love making those sweet little garments to welcome a new life,” blushing a little, this speaker returned to her seat amid a chorus of comments agreeing with her sentiments.
“Would you like to amend your proposal, Constance?” Judy asked the woman who had made the original motion.
The details finally worked out to everyone’s satisfaction, the motion passed, and the rest of the group’s business was quickly dispensed with.
From the dais, Judy observed the women converging on the refreshment table. She shook her head with a slight chuckle at their resemblance to a flock of hungry chickens, and then joined them, shrugging off her business persona along with her blazer. She could perform her official duties when it was called for, but it sapped her creative energy.
Observing her transformation, a few eyebrows were raised, but most of the women had long ago resigned themselves to their pastor’s wife’s style. They merely smiled as she approached, grateful the vest was lined across the front and the yarn was woven into tight rosettes covering the appropriate areas of Judy’s generous bosom.
After the meeting, Judy was alone, putting away the folding chairs, when Ken came downstairs.
“How went the PW meeting, Madam Chairman?” he asked, giving her a kiss on the forehead.
“It was good. We voted for the Crisis Pregnancy Center in Tillamook to be our Together in Service project for this year. I hope I’ll be able to donate the cute cradle I’m working on to the Center,” Judy said. “I’m having such fun re-purposing the drawers from the antique dresser I found and this one is turning into something really special. I didn’t have a use planned for it, though. We certainly won’t be needing it and I didn’t want to sell it. I was afraid I’d have to turn it into a planter.”
When she took a breath, Ken gave her a hug. “I’m happy for you. The Pregnancy Center is a worthy project,” he said. “I’d better get back to my sermon. See you tonight.”
“I’m trying a new recipe. I think you might like it,” she called after his retreating back.
Ken responded with a chuckle, saying, “That remains to be seen.”
Chapter 7
Astilbe was walking along the downtown street, managing a bouncy step in spite of the overloaded backpack she wore. Paisley had remained at school for volleyball practice and Astilbe found the car locked when she’d tried to leave her books in it. The car keys were in Paisley’s gym locker, so Astilbe had decided to take her books with her, rather than trekking across campus for the keys.
Astilbe was stronger than she looked, but the bag seemed to get heavier with each step. Only two blocks from the doctor’s office, she dropped the bag to the sidewalk, stretching her back and rubbing her shoulders. She noticed a pile of old clothes in the nearby entry recess of an empty storefront. Well-trained by her mother never to overlook a chance to recycle or re-purpose others’ discards, she stepped closer and was surprised to find the emaciated form of a woman inside the bundle of assorted castoff clothes.
“Excuse me, ma'am, are you okay?” she asked, tiptoeing nearer. “Do you need help?”
The woman moaned, rolled over and opened one rheumy eye. She mumbled something and swatted weakly at Astilbe, as though at a pesky fly.
Astilbe wasn’t sure what to do. The woman was obviously either drunk, drugged or very ill. Either way, she was completely vulnerable lying on the sidewalk and Astilbe couldn’t leave her.
&
nbsp; She rummaged in her backpack and pulled out her phone. Her friend, Tessa Williams, would know what to do; her dad was a deputy.
Astilbe called Tessa and told her about the woman.
“Just stay there, Astilbe. I’ll call my dad and call you back,” Tessa instructed.
Astilbe stood watch on the woman, pacing back and forth and checking the time on her phone every few seconds. She was going to be late for Work Experience at the clinic, if she didn’t hurry.
Her phone chirped and at almost the same moment Deputy Williams pulled up in his cruiser.
“My dad’s on his way, Tilly. Just stay there and he’ll take care of that woman,” Tessa said.
“He’s here, now. Thanks, Tess. Byee!”
Astilbe pointed out the woman and asked Deputy Williams what he was going to do.
“I’ll take her to the ER and find out what her problem is. If she’s ill, they will take care of her. If she’s under the influence, she’ll be held at the jail until she’s sober.”
“I hope she’s going to be okay. Should I stay with her?” Astilbe asked.
“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Thanks for reporting her. You did the right thing. Now, run along and I’ll take it from here,” Williams dismissed her.
Reluctantly, Astilbe swung her book bag over one shoulder. Taking a last glance at the confused woman who was resisting the deputy’s efforts to get her into his cruiser, Astilbe trotted toward Doctor Haleby’s. When she swept into the office, a few moments later, she was flushed and out of breath.
“Who’s chasing you, girl?” Gwennie asked. “What’s happened?”
“You are late,” Bitsy said before Astilbe replied.
“I’m sorry! I knew I was going to be a little late, so I ran. This heavy backpack made it rough going and slowed me down. Sorry,” she gasped out in apology.
“What made you late,” Gwennie asked. “I can’t remember you ever being late before” Gwennie added, while looking pointedly at the nurse.
“There was a lady lying on the sidewalk a couple of blocks from here. She was sort of out of it and I thought she might be sick or something. I couldn’t just leave her, so I called for help and stayed with her until Deputy Williams came,” Astilbe said when she’d caught her breath.