“Were you suspicious about the way George died?”
“Marian just acted funny,” he said. “I found out she had taken out a life insurance policy on George about six months before he died. I think that’s why she wanted him to move back to Springfield. It was one of those double indemnities. She collected two hundred thousand dollars three weeks after George died, did you know that?”
“No, I had no idea.”
“A couple of weeks after that, Marian told me not to call her any more,” he said. “I’ve never seen or heard from them since.”
“Do you think Marian had something to do with George’s fall?”
“Thinking and proving are two very different things,” he said. “I’ll say this. If she married my dad, I’d be watching Marian and your father real close. He might be in a lot of danger about now.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
After a surprise phone call from Meadow Knull, I was on my way to St. John’s to meet with her again. She wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy on the phone. We agreed to meet on neutral ground, which made me a little leery about what to expect. For all her outward poise and determination, I suspected Meadow needed someone to talk to about the confusing medical information she was receiving.
I’m sure Meadow remembered the exact moment in time her childhood ended, far earlier than it should have. It’s a bond we shared though Meadow wasn’t able to recognize it because she was still a rookie at identifying a fellow survivor. My mother was a paranoid schizophrenic. My childhood ended one rainy night when I was 12. Since my father delivered newspapers for a living, he was gone a lot at night and that occasion proved to be no exception.
Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled all around me as my mother shook me awake and led me into her bedroom. My mother kept rambling about a miracle and asking did I see her? Barely awake and profoundly confused, I answered in the negative. I can still remember the look of extreme disappointment that appeared on my mother’s face.
She finally explained she could see the Virgin Mary and looked at me as if the reason I couldn’t must be that I was unworthy. As I walked back to my bedroom, I also felt disappointed because I knew my childhood was over. What I didn’t realize at the time was that my journey as my mother’s keeper had just begun.
I had been aware something was very wrong with my mother for a long time, but until that night I had been unable to attach a name to it. Her behavior that night was so disturbing that I finally had to accept the truth; my mother was crazy.
I suspected Meadow had a similar story. She seemed to have assumed a role as protector of her mother and siblings that was designed mostly to shield them from Walter Knull. There was a history there that had to be ugly. That much was clear.
I made my way to the burn unit waiting room where Meadow was camped out with several open textbooks spread around her. When she spotted me she stood up, took her glasses off, and walked toward me with a look of resigned recognition on her face as if some unknown entity was forcing her to meet with me.
“Ms. Talty,” she said as she put her hand out. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
“You’re welcome,” I said as I shook her hand. “Why don’t you call me Kitty? How can I help you?”
“I’m having some problems with my father, Kitty,” she said. “He’s threatening to get a lawyer so he can try to get power of attorney and custody. He insists he’s clean and sober and is going to take me to court. I want to be sure the checks keep going to my friend’s office.”
“I talked with the adjuster. As long as you have power of attorney everything will stay the same. Do you think your father will make good on his threats?”
“Probably,” she said. “He’s been hanging around the hospital and talking to reporters trying to get sympathy.”
“What does he really want?”
“He wants custody of the money,” she said as a look of disgust spread across her face. “He smells a possible lawsuit and maybe some kind of settlement. That would be easy money for him.”
“There’s got to be some way to discredit him. You spent a lot of time growing up trying not to rattle his cage, right? Do the opposite. Make him mad and get it on video or something. He’s still drinking, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “I’ll give it some thought. That’s not a bad idea. Walter Knull drunk is not a pretty sight. I’m also worried about my mother. The doctors told me she has pneumonia.”
“That’s almost inevitable with a burn as serious as your mother’s. The antibiotics should take care of that. If the pneumonia clears up and she gets through the next couple of weeks without any further complications, she should gradually improve. Then they can get her off the vent and start skin grafting. This will be an agonizing back and forth process.”
“What if the pneumonia doesn’t clear up?” she asked.
“That would be a very ominous sign. Look, I think you’re really trying to figure out if your mom’s going to make it or not. Is that what you need to know?”
“Yes, I guess that’s it,” she said. “The doctor doesn’t want to answer that question. He keeps saying I need to have hope.”
“He’s right. At this point no one can state with any degree of certainty how this will go. If her lungs don’t respond to antibiotics the next step may be kidney failure. That sets up a multi-organ failure scenario. Until we get to that point you need to have hope that your mom is going to make it.”
“Would you mind if I called you if I have questions?” she asked.
“Anytime. That card I gave you has my cell phone number on it. You can always reach me on that. Do you still have it?”
“Yeah, I have it,” she said as a look of sudden enlightenment appeared on her face. “Thank you for coming and thanks for the great idea. I think I know just how to make Walter show his true colors.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I couldn’t stop thinking about Meadow Knull as I drove back to my office where Crazy Cindy was waiting for me. The only difference between Meadow and me and Crazy Cindy was the in-your-face nature of Cindy’s dysfunction. Her frequent hand washing, profuse sweating, and fearful behaviors are impossible to conceal. The rest of us become practiced masters at hiding our insecurities, our paranoid thought patterns, and our strange reactions to certain events.
Still, it’s hard for me to give up calling my secretary Crazy Cindy. Of course, I am much more comfortable having Cindy’s dysfunction front and center than to analyze mine too closely. Feeling guilty, I gave Cindy my friendliest smile when I walked in the office, which only got me a suspicious, curious look in response.
“Hey, Cindy, how’s it going?” I asked.
“Just fine, Kitty,” she said, eying me suspiciously. “Did Roni get hold of you?”
“No, I couldn’t hear my cell phone so it went to voice mail. I was at St. John’s.”
“She called and asked me to set up a meeting tomorrow,” Cindy said. “She wants to meet with you and Lionel Phelps. I set it up for 11. Is that OK?”
“Yeah, that works. I’ll see if I can reach Roni. I wonder what she’s found out?”
“She didn’t say much,” Cindy said. “She was on her way to the airport and her cell phone kept cutting out. Do you have a minute? I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“I just wanted to tell you something,” she said. ”I would be happy to help you with surveillance or anything else you need. I guess I was hoping you might give me a chance to do that.”
Concerned Cindy had somehow read my thoughts, I searched her face for some sign that would confirm my suspicion. All I could spot was sincerity with a smattering of innocence. The guilt I felt when I first entered the room intensified. I wondered if I had ever really tried to understand Cindy’s demons; what it must be like to actually believe snakes might be able to slither through vents or drains.
“You know, Cindy, I think maybe you can help me, especially if Roni needs to keep inve
stigating her new stepmother.”
“OK, then,” she said as the phone rang and she answered. “Yes, Mr. Phelps, Kitty is right here.”
“Thanks, Cindy, I’ll take it in the back,” I said as I walked to my desk and picked up the receiver. “Hi, Mr. Phelps, what can I do for you?”
“Call me Lionel,” he said.
“OK, I can do that if you’ll call me Kitty. I hear I’m finally going to meet you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “I have some information for you. I ran a check on Dung/Ho. Roni told me you nicknamed her Ho Chi Minh.”
“Yeah, it’s a bad habit I’m working on.”
“Well, here’s what I got so far,” he said. “She’s been here in the U.S. about 10 years. She doesn’t have an arrest record. I also checked out that restaurant you followed her to. It’s owned by a woman named Sandra Ho. The interesting part is that she came to the U.S. about the same time as Dung. Sandra Ho has one arrest for prostitution.”
“What do you think that means?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. I think you need to send someone in the restaurant the next time Dung goes in there. Maybe then you can figure out if there’s a connection. It’s not that hard to get false documents. The other interesting thing is that black Mustang.”
“Why is that interesting?” I asked.
“That vehicle is registered to David Tran. He’s a well known Vietnamese mob guy here in St. Louis.”
“There’s a Vietnamese mob here?” I asked.
“Yeah, they’re into drugs and prostitution just like every other mob. We can talk about this more tomorrow, but I think you need to keep following these people and get some pictures. Then maybe we can sort them out.”
“Well, I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow, then,” I said as I ended the call.
The next couple of hours were spent answering phone calls and writing reports. Cindy was long gone. I was packing it in to go feed Harley and her brood when my cell phone rang.
“Hello, this is Kitty,” I said.
“Kitty, this is Meadow. You need to turn on your TV and watch Channel 5 news.”
“OK,” I said as I reached over and turned on the small wireless on my desk. “What am I going to see?”
“I don’t want to spoil it for you since it was your idea. You know, I spent the first 20 years of my life trying to put out all the little fires so Walter wouldn’t blow his top. Always trying to smooth things over, calm the waters. It’s remarkably easy to pour gasoline on Walter and fan the flames. Watch the news.”
Meadow had hung up; I was tempted to run upstairs to watch the news on my big screen, but I was afraid I’d miss it so I stayed glued to the smaller set. I was starting to think Meadow was wrong when the weather and sports segments ended, which usually indicated the news time was running out.
The announcer then started the last story. “We have an update for you on the condition of Beverly Knull. As you may remember, Ms. Knull was critically burned at the Big Shot Fireworks Factory three weeks ago. Lisa Rolwes has been covering this for us. Lisa, what is Ms. Knull’s status?”
“Mike, Beverly Knull remains in critical condition at St. John’s. Her former husband, Walter Knull, has been trying to get power of attorney and custody of their children who are now in the care of his oldest daughter, Meadow. Late today, we were at the Knull home when Walter arrived. Roll the tape.”
Walter Knull stood outside his former home, yelling obscenities that were mostly beeped out. “Meadow, you heartless beep. How could you say that beep beep to me? I’m you’re beeping father, you beeping beep.”
The camera panned back to the reporter. “Mr. Knull appeared to be staggering and his breath smelled of alcohol. Meadow Knull refused to be interviewed, but she did release a statement that says in part, ‘My father’s long standing problems with alcohol are well documented. That is the reason I have custody and power of attorney.’ This is Lisa Rolwes, reporting from South St. Louis.”
“Damn, that girl is good,” I said as I laughed, flipped the TV off, and left the office.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A cool, rainy morning awaited me outside, making me glad I could take the elevator down a couple of floors and put off trudging through the foul mess for a couple of hours. I was thinking about Walter Knull’s drunken rant on the way down. Cindy greeted me with a smile and a cup of coffee.
“Hey Kitty, did you see that story about Walter Knull last night?” she asked as she handed me the mug.
“Thank you, Cindy,” I said as I took a sip. “Yeah, Meadow called me. I don’t think Walter is going to have much of a chance of getting custody after that little episode.”
“Did you have something to do with that?” Cindy asked.
“I might have mentioned something about getting some video of Walter drunk.”
“I thought so,” she said, smiling triumphantly.
“Are you suggesting I’m sneaky and devious?”
“Or maybe just clever,” she said. “Clever enough to keep a bad man from getting custody of his kids.”
Roni burst into the outer office, rainwater dripping off her jacket as she balanced her umbrella, a briefcase, and a stack of folders.
“Hey, you two, how’s it going?” she asked as I grabbed the folders.
“Good,” we both said in unison as the outer office door opened, allowing David Weller and Lionel Phelps to enter the office. Roni made the introductions and we headed into our office. David Weller seemed like a force of nature despite being confined to a wheelchair. Lionel seemed slightly nerdish but in a vaguely interesting way.
“I think Cindy should join us,” I said. “She’s willing to help me with some surveillance.”
“OK,” Roni said, staring at me with a puzzled look. Cindy smiled and nodded as she took a seat.
“I guess I might as well start,” Roni said. “I spent yesterday in Lexington, Kentucky. My father’s new wife is named Marian. I interviewed Marian’s brother and her former brother-in-law. She hasn’t spoken to her own brother for 30 years. He doesn’t have any use for her or trust her. He said she got pregnant and married her first husband to escape, but it didn’t work out very well.”
“So, that was husband number one?” Lionel asked.
“Yes,” Roni said. “Her brother thinks Marian grew up poor and didn’t like it very much. Her former brother-in-law, Ronnie, was even more vocal. Marian’s husband fell down the stairs and died. Ronnie doesn’t think it was an accident. I got the impression he believes Marian tossed him down the stairs so she could collect on a life insurance policy she took out on him about six months before his death.”
“That sounds ominous,” Lionel said. “Did anyone investigate?”
“Marian had him cremated right away,” Roni said. “The local sheriff said there was nothing he could do at the time. What do you think, Lionel?”
“It’s interesting that there’s no body to exhume,” Lionel said. “It’s possible it’s just what it looks like, an unfortunate accident.”
“Sounds kind of ominous to me,” I said.
“I worked on a female serial killer case,” Lionel said. “This particular killer was what we refer to as an Angel of Death. She was a nurse who killed 22 people. At least that was the number we were able to prove. We thought the actual number was higher. There are categories of female serial killers.”
“I thought serial killers were all male,” David Weller said.
“That’s what everybody thinks,” Lionel said. “Everybody has heard of Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and John Wayne Gacy. Those killers are instantly recognizable for their exploits while no one has heard of Genene Jones, Bobbie Sue Terrell, or Jane Toppan, even though their body counts were higher. We’re getting ahead of ourselves here. All we know for sure is that her first husband died under mysterious circumstances. Having said that, I think you need to keep digging and interview the rest of Marian’s husbands.”
“Don’t you mean surv
ivors?” I offered.
“Yes, we know they’re all dead except for one,” Lionel said. “That seems like a definite pattern. Marian could fit the profile of the Black Widow. They usually have six or seven victims. Their motive is profit; usually life insurance payoffs. The weapon of choice is usually poison.”
“That’s just great,” Roni said. “Marian collected a two hundred thousand dollar life insurance payout after her first husband died. My Dad’s already been in the hospital because he took some homeopathic medicine Marian gave him. Maybe I should warn him.”
“You know him better than any of us,” Lionel said. “How would he take that?”
“He’d probably get mad,” Roni said. “He’s very loyal. He’d feel like he was betraying Marian. It’s going to take more than one incident to make him listen.”
“What’s the next stop on your list?” I asked.
“Husband number two lived in Springfield,” Roni said.
“Missouri or Illinois?” Lionel asked.
“Oh, Missouri,” Roni said.
“Maybe you should check out number two,” David said. “Then you can decide if you want to talk to your dad.”
“While you’re in Springfield I can check out Ho Chi Minh,” I said.
“That’s the nickname you gave Dung, right?” Lionel asked.
“Yeah, I have a bad habit of doing that,” I said. “I guess I should work on that.”
“I think it’s charming,” Lionel said as everyone in the room turned to stare at him.
“You do?” I asked as I smiled at Lionel. Maybe not such a big nerd after all. “You said the black Mustang belonged to David Tran. What do you know about him?”
“He runs the local Vietnamese mob,” Lionel said. “They are into the usual things like drugs and prostitution.”
“I was thinking Cindy and I could follow Ho tomorrow,” I said. “She has physical therapy again. She’s probably already made me, but Cindy could follow her into the restaurant to get some idea what she’s doing there.”
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