Dorothy’s tea kettle shrieked and Josie lifted it off the burner and carried to the table. The hot water released the sharp odor of Earl Gray. Josie continued her rant. “Let me enlighten you about law enforcement’s tacky grid of technology systems out here. Some of the county sheriffs just barely know how to operate a fax. Even Lottie has to go to the historical society to transmit some files.”
I said nothing.
“And see that goddamn snow?” She waved her hand toward the window. “See? That means powerlines will be iced over. Or down. On the ground somewhere. With understaffed crews busting their asses trying to get everything up and running again. Some of the lines will be brought down when trees or posts topple over. The crews will take care of the hospital first. Which makes sense. But still.”
“We have great systems here in this house. State of the art. Nextech put in everything Keith asked for.” I was tempted to drag her to the cable box and make her look.
“So what makes the power out here any better?” Dorothy asked. “It snows here too.”
“Keith’s generators.” Josie walked over to the ash tray and crushed out her second cigarette. “He could run Manhattan on all his substitute systems.”
“Keith doesn’t want to take a chance on his vet clinic freezing,” I explained to Dorothy. “He has a fortune tied up in medication and equipment. And he can’t risk having power go off during surgery.”
“Under the best of circumstances, the only place in town that gives a nod to the twenty-first century is the historical society. And Lottie paid for everything there.” Josie reached into a purse and pulled out another cigarette and helplessly looked around for her misplaced lighter. Spying it on the windowsill, she walked over and retrieved it. She turned the lighter over and over, then placed it beside the coffee pot and her still unlit cigarette. I stared. She never misplaced things and normally, she immediately put her lighter back in her purse.
My sister is an unusually mindful person. It unnerved me to see her so rattled. Her face had a grayish cast. Her glossy hair was coming unpinned.
“Won’t that be fun? Interrupting the ‘girls’ at the historical society to call the KBI and transmit confidential information?”
“It won’t be that way forever,” I protested. “We are going to have state-of-the-art equipment in the new regional center.”
“Are you sure of the funding, Lottie? I’ve heard budget cuts in Kansas have been very severe.”
“I’ve been promised. That’s all I know. Dimon said so.”
“Another thing, Dorothy. Have you noticed there aren’t any women on the team other than Lottie?”
It was the last straw. They were on the team too. They were women.
So this was how it was going to be. Not only was I going to have to put the menfolk in their place, I was going to have to take on my sister—an arrogant psychologist—and a mystery writer who was undoubtedly planning a new series based on these crimes. Plus, a crazy killer.
Whether due to frustration or being cooped up or our anguish over our helplessness to find a murderer, we were getting on each other’s nerves.
I refused to contribute to their bitchiness. “Excuse me, I’m going to get dressed.” I headed for the stairs before I said something I would regret.
Chapter Eleven
Keith had left a note by the phone saying he was out doctoring a sick horse. I went into the master bathroom. There were large his and hers walk-in closets at one end. I raked through my clothes and pulled out a pair of cranberry corduroy slacks, and grabbed a blouse in a companion print. I slipped into my Danskos and headed for the mirror. I winced, then opened my makeup cabinet and proceeded to do my best.
I made a mental note to make an appointment at a spa in Hays. The works, I decided, as soon as they could get me in. At least microdermabrasion. Maybe even a chemical peel. In the meantime, a layer of moisturizer and foundation and taking care with my eye makeup did wonders. A touch of blush and some lipstick did even more. Pleased, I decided that I looked just right. Professional without being affected.
I straightened my shoulders and went down the stairs and back into the kitchen to take charge of the investigation. Keith came through the back door. Tosca wriggled off of Josie’s lap and headed for his arms.
“Everything go all right with the house call?”
He nodded and rose from his haunches holding the ecstatic little shih tzu.
“Good. You’re just in time for the fireworks.” I phoned Dimon right there from the kitchen where everyone could hear and put the call on speaker phone.
“Frank, I’ve decided in the future all meetings will be held here at the farm until the regional center is built and fully equipped.”
There was absolute silence on his end. Then, “Why would you make such a stupid move, Lottie? It’s not suitable. You can’t meet in a goddamn farm house. There’s no precedent for it. Besides it won’t look good.”
“There’s no precedent for this kind of case either. But I don’t have anything to work with. My job is to actually stop a killer, and I really don’t care what things look while I’m doing it. We have state-of-the-art electronics out here.”
That thrum again, but I didn’t give him a chance to marshal his thoughts.
“Also, our farm is central. I’ve gone to great lengths to include someone from all nine counties in this investigation. You’ve approved my list. Not that I need your approval since you gave me full autonomy. This is where we’re going to meet until the legislature funds a building and equipment.”
“Your place isn’t central for everyone. It will be damned inconvenient for Dr. Ferguson. He’ll have to drive all the way from Topeka.”
“Yes. I used to drive all the way to Topeka. Same distance.” I slammed down the phone.
Harold had joined the gathering around the table. I whirled around to face them. “Now that the gang is all here. We have a great deal to take care of before the next whole group meeting so let me get to your assignments right away. You first, Keith. As painful as this is going to be for you. I want you go back out to the Suters’ and figure out why that kid was in the Garden of Eden to begin with. There has to be a reason.
“Victimology,” Harold nodded his approval. “That’s always the first step.”
“And why would anyone want to kill this apparently perfect kid?” Josie said. “That’s been bothering me the most.”
“Not apparently, Josie. Is perfect—was, rather, damn near perfect.” Keith didn’t bother to disguise his sorrow. “No one’s perfect, I guess. But Brent came awfully close. Not perfect in a goody goody sort of way, either.” He looked out the window.
“Dorothy, we’ll have a thorough report about the crime scene today. Copies of all the photographs the team took in addition to the pictures you took before the team from Topeka got there. You are very, very good at noticing details.” To say the least. She was like having a live-in spy satellite in my house. “Go over this report and compare it with the photos. See if you can spot anything we need to zero in on.”
“Harold, included in the autopsy reports Topeka is sending over will be lots of photos. I want you to go over those and let me know if you have any questions before Brent Suter is buried. And the baby also. We don’t even know whose baby this is. Was. For the time being she will be held in the morgue at Topeka while we try to find the mother.”
Alone in a morgue. Taken from the arms of cold statue to lie on a cold slab. I shuddered.
“And that leaves you, Josie. I want you to find out everything you can about the members of our team. We need to start compiling a list of strengths and weaknesses. For instance, is David Hayes the computer expert he thinks he is?”
“Right. And I want to know more about Dr. Ferguson.” A faint smile crossed Josie’s face.
I grinned. “I don’t think he will be around too much longer. A couple of trip
s across Kansas to this farm and I kind of think he’s going to want a new assignment.” I made another note on my planning list. “Also, I want you to meet Merilee Suter. Either on a visit with me or by yourself. Whichever you think would be best. I want your professional opinion on the state of her mental health.”
“Okay, but it will be a little hard to tell without running some tests.”
“I know, but I’m worried about her.”
“What about Sam?” Keith asked.
“I want him and Sheriff Winthrop to put their heads together and figure out how someone got that baby up into the arms of Reaching Woman.”
“Will Sheriff Winthrop be included on the regional team?” Dorothy asked. Clearly she had enjoyed his attention.
“Just on this specific case. His county is outside the proposed jurisdiction. But obviously he wants it included. If I let that happen it’s hard telling how many other counties will want to be part of it. Then we might as well be a satellite of Topeka taking orders from Dimon or God only knows who.”
Harold nodded thoughtfully. “You’ll have your hands full with nine counties.”
“It’s a load.”
“What’s the next step after we finish the work you just assigned?
“I want written reports. Not just the facts, I want your insights and opinions and gossip and old wives tales. Everything. I mean everything.”
A fax tone shrieked in Keith’s office. He rose and came back with a large stack of reports and copies of photos. “From Dimon,” He walked around the table and gave the crime scene photos to Dorothy, and the autopsy information to Harold. “Looks like Lottie is going to keep busy figuring out the next steps while Josie sorts out how crazy we are individually instead of just in a group. As for me, I’ll be at the Suters helping them figure out who would want to kill the all-American boy.
***
After Keith’s car disappeared down the lane, we cleared the table and went to separate areas of the house to concentrate. Dorothy went to her car and retrieved her laptop computer.
Josie collected a list of the team members from each of the nine counties then disappeared upstairs to see if anything on the Internet popped up about persons involved in the investigation. It didn’t take her long. In a little over an hour she was back downstairs with a preliminary report. “They are all bland, bland, bland. Except for Dr. Ferguson. And guess what? His military records are sealed.”
“Okay. I’ll bet there’s no way to get access to them. Go ahead and finish. We’ll compare notes when we’re done.”
“When will that be?”
“Probably later today. Everyone is going lickety-split.”
Dorothy came into the kitchen. “All done.”
“Everything written up, too?”
“Sure. I’ll find something else to do while everyone finishes. I imagine the last person will be Keith since he’s making a physical call instead of just looking at photos or using a computer.” She headed for the bay window chair. “Back to my favorite pastime.” She plopped down and picked up the commonplace book.
Josie headed back up the stairs to finish writing her report, but Dorothy called after her before she got to the top. “I need to know something from a psychologist’s point of view. What does it mean when someone suddenly starts writing in free verse?”
“I honestly don’t know. He hasn’t done it before?”
“No. I just think it’s odd, that’s all.” She flipped ahead in the notebook. “The writing gets really messy for a while. Which is strange because before this, he had an immaculate hand. Almost calligraphy. It goes on for about five more pages.”
Josie shrugged and didn’t come down again until it was time for supper.
Keith didn’t come dragging in until after four. “Still want a written report?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“It will take a bit.”
“I’m ordering in pizza so take your time. No need to rush.” I glanced around the room at all the exhausted faces. “In fact, I think we need a break. We’ll start again tomorrow after we’ve had a decent night’s sleep. Dorothy, you’re welcome to stay here tonight it you want to.”
“If you don’t mind, I think I will.”
When I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night I noticed a light shining from the bottom of the stairs. I went to the landing. The lamp beside my chair was still on. I went downstairs to check and found Dorothy fast asleep with the commonplace book on her lap. Jeans clad, she wore one of her seemingly endless supply of heavy cable sweaters. She exuded a faint aroma of lavender. Head drooping on her chest, she snored gently. Her heavy plain features complemented her pleasantly stocky body.
I had a sudden insight that she had been born into the wrong century. It was easy to imagine her on a homestead gathering cow chips for fuel, bearing children, wringing out the weekly wash, and cooking all the meals over an old stove. It was much harder to imagine her on the streets of New York.
Shamelessly studying this human enigma as though she were a concrete statue I wondered about her road less traveled. Did she regret never marrying? Had she taken lovers? Did writing make her happy? I switched off the lamp and turned on a dim night light next to the stairs. At some point she might want to go up to her bedroom and I didn’t want her to stumble.
Curious about the variation in handwriting, I carried the commonplace book to the sofa and began to read.
Someone left a New Testament and a Book of Common Prayer outside St. Helena’s Episcopal Church. It was going to rain so I rescued them. I know about the Bible and all that stuff but Biddy has never taken me to church. She says it’s not for the likes of us and I would be an embarrassment to her.
I skipped back and forth between the two books and checked off the things I thought were a good idea.
I believe in God the Father, the creator. Knowing about God makes some things a lot clearer. Like where the Earth comes from. I had already figured out before I found this Bible that in the beginning there had to be something that always was. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Believing in God is easy.
But Jesus! I believe in Jesus but I don’t like him. According to a creed in the Prayer Book he became man. But why would he want to? I’ve never known anyone—male or female—who is kind. I would never want to be like Jesus. If I saw him coming down the road I would cross to the other side.
And then there is the Holy Spirit and I love the Holy Spirit with all my heart. He’s what makes my heart glad when all my little animals are around me. He’s what makes the leaves greener and shimmery some days. Some days I lie beneath my tree so filled with joy I become one with all the creatures and the land and sky and I’m overwhelmed with tenderness for everything living.
On one of the days when I felt like that, I held a Communion service for the animals. The right words are in the Book of Common Prayer. I used a stump for an altar and covered it with leaves. On it I placed a couple of nuts for the squirrels and seeds for the birds. They all came. Even the crows gathered.
We made a joyful noise unto the Lord.
The Father, the Holy Spirit. Sorry, Jesus, but two out of three is plenty good enough.
***
The next morning we were all a mess. Keith cussed a blue streak when he spilled some of his coffee. Dorothy dashed over to clean it up like she was an indentured servant. I overcooked the scrambled eggs. Josie chain-smoked without a single “I’m sorry.” Most surprising of all was Harold. After wandering from window to window and gazing at the ice-clad horizon, he ate a couple slices of toast then announced that he was “going for a stroll” before we got started.
By the time he got back Sam had arrived. I had called John Winthrop and invited him to sit in if he liked, but he begged off saying he had plenty of snow-related emergencies of his own to contend with. “Just give me the bottom line,” he said. “I’m still
busy asking around to see if anyone saw anything.”
“Okay. We’ll have a meeting with everyone here in a couple of days.” I explained the reason for the switch to our farm. “We’re technology paradise. The Hays location is not. Maybe meeting here will light a fire under the state budget committee. We’ve tried pleading and logic. Now we’re going to apply shame.”
“We both know who is not going to like this one,” Winthrop said after a long pause. “Two whos, actually.”
“Yes. Dimon and Dr. Ferguson.”
I made a fresh pot of coffee and we all gathered around the large cherry table in the family room. “Dorothy, you go first. What did you find in the crime scene photos?”
She rose and walked around the table passing out copies of her report. “Please check the upper right hand corner. See all the footprints leading to the mausoleum? Those were made by the ineptest first-responders on the planet. They destroyed any credible evidence. Unless the crime scene investigators from Topeka find something having to do with fiber, we’re hosed.”
“So nothing we need to follow up on?”
“No, but I included some recommendations in my report. Obviously, these two murders, the boy and the baby are our immediate priority, but I believe you need to be improving the system as you go. The regional center is yours to set up any way you like. You need to start by going to every single town and training response teams so they won’t screw things up again. But you have a real advantage right now. No one knows what a regional center should look like.”
“If this works, I think Kansas will be divided into regional multi-county law enforcement centers.” I made a follow-up note of Dorothy’s suggestion for first-responder training. “Josie, you’re next. What did you find out about the team members?”
“No red flags for any of them No criminal records. Not even sealed juvenile records. I hit a little speed bump with Dr. Ferguson because he was in intelligence in the Army. There were some things I couldn’t access, but that is usually the case with the intelligence branch. He taught here at Hays one semester before he was called to Iraq. Did you know that?”
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