The Morelville Mysteries Collection

by Anne Hagan

  “How long do you think that will be Sheriff?”

  “It’s not usually more than a day or two.”

  “All right then.”

  I let myself out. As I walked away from the house a sense of foreboding overtook me. I blew out a breath and tried to shake the mental cobwebs from my head. I didn’t have any way of knowing what was to come and dwelling on it wouldn’t clarify anything for me.

  Chapter 4 – Inquest

  I figured I ought to go to the station and start a file on the death of Ben Tracy but, in my mind, I really felt that his passing wasn’t due to foul play and that the paperwork could wait. We had all of the witness statements on paper and that was the key anyway. I headed instead toward Genesis. I wanted to try to make up for our cancelled date with Dana.

  I stopped in the hospital gift shop and contemplated the selection. I’d stopped and bought her flowers before and, though she professed to like them, I wasn’t feeling it from her and giving them just wasn’t me. I really wanted to take her something she’d truly savor and enjoy. I had to settle for a stash of M&Ms and chocolate bars.

  As I rounded the corner to her room, Dana’s nurse, Tron, cornered me in the hallway.

  “What happened today sweetie?”

  “Well hi to you too Tron! What do you mean?” I didn’t think word was out about the death at the festival yet. We were planning on keeping things on the Q-T as much as possible, pending the coroner’s report.

  “Sorry Sheriff. I meant with Dana. She was back here pretty early and she’s seemed a little depressed ever since.” He flipped his hand back through the air in an exaggerated gesture.

  I’m pretty sure Tron is gay and I’m even surer he knows the true score between Dana and me. Still, I was cautious. “Oh. Unfortunately duty called for me and our outing got cut short. She was really looking forward to spending a little time away from the hospital, I think. I’m going to try to make it up to her, at least a little bit...” I really didn’t know what else to stay to him so I just tipped my head his way and then ambled into Dana’s room.

  Dana was sitting up in bed seeming to stare through the wall mounted television. The sound was on mute but she didn’t appear to hear me come in. I cleared my throat.

  Dana startled and turned toward me. When she realized it was me standing there, the corners of her mouth turned up in the slightest of smiles but it was enough to make me relax and let out a breath.

  I went over and gave her a quick hug. “Brought you a little something to start to make up for our epic fail of a date today.”

  “It’s not your fault Mel. It is what it is. So, what did you bring?” Her eyes took on a little bit more of a glow.

  “It’s not much. I held out the bag.”

  Dana took it and peered inside then let out a whoop. “Yes! Chocolate!”

  “Well alrighty then! I know how to brighten your mood now!”

  She squeezed my arm then ripped open a Take 5 bar. I pointed at it. “You like those, I take it?”

  “They’re one of my favorites; a little bit of everything I like all in one candy.” She dumped the rest of the bag into her lap.

  “Good to know.”

  “Mel, there’s nothing here I don’t like. Thank you!”

  “Promise me you’ll hid most of that from the staff and not eat it all at once!”

  “Promise.” She held up her hand in a Girl Scout style promise gesture. “So, anyway, fill me in. What happened after I left?”

  “Not much. The coroner came and took Tracy to do an autopsy and I interviewed the two contestants whose dishes he tasted prior to keeling over.”

  Dana raised her eyebrows. “How did that go?”

  “About like I expected it to. They’re both twice my age plus and they’ve both been entering food contests for years. I didn’t get any sort of sense of hanky panky at all. My deputies took statements from the staff and the other judges while I went to relay the news to the widow.”

  “Ouch! Bet that wasn’t fun?”

  “It never is. And, frankly, she’s an odd one.”

  “How so? Do you suspect her of something?”

  “No, I don’t really suspect her of anything...It’s just, well, it’s hard to put a finger on but she’s a woman in her 40’s who appears to live in the hippy, flower child era of the ‘60s. She’s just odd...they were odd as a couple...I don’t know. Something just feels off about the whole mess.”

  “When will you hear from the coroner?”

  “Probably not until Monday. Hopefully this death has got something to do with natural causes and I can put the whole mess to bed.”

  I passed a pleasant hour with Dana just chatting about every last thing we could think of then I convinced Tron to let me take her to the cafeteria for dinner. An aide helped me to get her out of her bed and into a wheelchair and away we went. The food we had certainly wasn’t like the delicacies of our famed Mushroom Festival but it wasn’t half bad either and certainly better than lukewarm food on a tray.

  ###

  Monday, May 26th, 2014

  I was at my desk by 7:30 on Monday morning. Before it was even 8:00 AM, Holly a sergeant on the force and my right hand in the office, buzzed me.

  “Dr. Kreskie is on line two Sheriff.”

  “Thanks Holly.” Well now, that was fast! Must have been a routine autopsy. I picked up the phone and addressed the County Coroner, Dr. Lucas “Luke” Kreskie. “Hi doc. How are you this morning?”

  “Busier than a one armed paper hanger in a wall paper factory!”

  “That so?” I just had to laugh. Luke Kreskie was about my dad’s age and often spoke in the same folksy, down home style as my mom. It was humorous coming from a doctor and surgeon who was also the elected County Coroner.

  “I only have a couple of minutes Sheriff. Got a full house over here. I just wanted you to know that I’m ruling the death of Ben Tracy a homicide and ordering an inquest.”

  I almost fell out of my chair. And back to business we go! “What! Why?” I was dumbfounded.

  “I’ll courier over the preliminary toxicology report but the bottom line is he suffered a myocardial infarction – a heart attack – from arsenic poisoning that appears to have been going on long term. We’re examining hair samples. I should know more later today.”

  “Long term arsenic poisoning? So, not in the food from the festival?”

  “No ma’am. The festival food was fine. No traces of anything unusual.”

  “Okay doc. Thanks for the heads up.”

  Kreskie said his goodbyes quickly and hung up. I laid my forehead down on my desk for a few seconds. “Wow!”

  I buzzed Holly. “Can you come in here please?” She was standing in my doorway seconds later.

  “Yes Sheriff?”

  “Kreskie is sending his pre-lim tox screens on the Ben Tracy death at the Mushroom Festival this weekend over by courier. It seems he was poisoned.”

  “Poison mushrooms Mel?” The look on her face was one of sheer horror.

  Holly and I had been friends on the force long before I stepped into the temporary role of Acting Sheriff. I thought nothing of her calling me Mel in the office and frankly I felt bad about unintentionally misleading her about the poisoning. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to throw you there. Not mushrooms; believe it or not, arsenic!”

  “Rat poison; in this day and age?” She’d instantly switched gears from horrified to quizzical.

  “I know, right? Anyway, he’s ordering an inquest. We need to gather up the witness statements that were taken on Saturday and all of the photos and so forth and start a case file.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “And please, let me know as soon as the courier gets here.”

  “Will do.”

  The tox screens may have been preliminary pending the results of the hair sample tests but Kreskie had also sent along his preliminary report and it really painted quite the picture. It was obvious he’d examined Tracy’s corpse closely and reviewed his medical re
cords.

  I gleaned from the report that the body of Ben Tracy, aged 44, showed evidence of heart and coronary artery disease. Those findings were backed up by Tracy’s medical history which also evidenced long term heart rhythm problems. Blood samples analyzed so far by the toxicology lab showed concentrations of arsenic and, to a lesser extent, the recreational drug MDMA know as Ecstasy on the street. No trace of either arsenic or Ecstasy was found in any festival food tested.

  My own limited knowledge of medicine and forensics was sufficient enough for me to know that ingesting either Ecstasy over a long term or arsenic could be causes of heart rhythm problems that could lead to a coronary attack. And if someone was lacing Tracy’s Ecstasy with arsenic... I shuddered at the thought.

  A couple of hours later, with an inquest taking shape and the hair samples back, I resigned myself to opening a murder investigation. Tracy’s hair samples showed he was a long term user of MDMA and that he’d been ingesting arsenic somehow for months. It was time to find his drug supplier and to figure out how he was getting the arsenic – either mixed with Ecstasy or by some other means.

  I radioed my patrol deputy, Joe Treadway, and asked him to meet me at the Tracy home. He’d been on the scene at the Festival taking witness statements so it wouldn’t take long to brief him on the latest developments. We had a couple of Detectives on the force but they were already bogged down with cases from a rash of other craziness that was going on in Muskingum County. I’d just have to lead this investigation myself.

  I met Deputy Treadway in front of the house and gave him a quick rundown then I led the way up the front walk. Mrs. Tracy didn’t meet me at the door this time. In fact, as a raised my hand to knock on the storm door, I realized the main door was ajar. Inside, I could see a bit of the front foyer. There were coats strewn across the part of the floor that was visible.

  I unbuttoned my holster, put my hand on my gun and then whispered to Joe, “Something isn’t right.”

  I stepped to the left of the door and he went to the right to take protection from the solid walls at either side. Once we were in protected positions, I rapped and called out, “Mrs. Tracy?” The only response was the crash of something hitting the floor somewhere deep in the house.

  We had to go in. I pulled open the screen and stepped inside and right, gun drawn, toward the parlor. Treadway went left toward the stairs.

  The parlor was in a shambles but empty. I could see through to a dining room of sorts that also looked a mess. There was more noise coming from what I now realized must be the kitchen. Someone swore and sent a drawer full of utensils clattering to the floor.

  I motioned my deputy into the hallway and then I stepped quickly but quietly through the parlor into the dining room. We were hoping to catch whoever was trashing the place in the act. Approaching the door between the dining room and the kitchen with caution, I caught site of a highly disheveled Liberty Tracy in the act of trashing her own home. She was yanking out drawers and dumping them. Cabinets hung open everywhere.

  I stepped directly into the doorway, service weapon in front of me at the ready. Treadway did the same from the opening into the kitchen at the end of the hallway from the foyer.

  “Mrs. Tracy?”

  She whirled and flung an oven mitt she was holding at me. Not realizing what it was at first, I ducked instinctively and scooted left, toward Treadway. He holstered his pistol in a practiced motion while moving in on her quickly. He flung his arms around her flailing form and tried to subdue her.

  Her eyes were wild and she was full of adrenaline. I hit my mike and called for backup as I moved in to assist. It was all we could do to wrestle her to the floor after a herculean effort on both of our parts.

  “The wolves! The wolves! Stop them! You have to stop them!” She kicked and screamed and cursed. I hung on for the ride.

  “She’s high and tripping hard on something Sheriff!” Treadway was doing everything in his power to keep her from getting loose from the two of us.

  I just shook my head. I had nothing to add to his heated observation and no idea what to do next except to hold her down until more help arrived. I keyed my mike again and radioed for an ambulance too. Liberty Tracy was going to need to be thoroughly detoxed before we could get any useful information out of her.

  Chapter 5 – Dana

  We spent the better part of an hour working to strap Libby Tracy to a gurney and then trying to get her into the squad that arrived in what seemed like hours after I called but had actually been less than eight minutes. Another patrol deputy and I followed the squad to Genesis in our respective official vehicles. I got an emergency warrant issued and ordered Treadway to stay behind with a third deputy and a photographer to conduct a search of the house. I wanted the damage documented and whatever she had taken found if there was any left to find.

  It took the two paramedics, the two of us and three Genesis staff members to get her moved from the gurney, strapped into a bed and roomed where she would not be a danger to herself and others. Since Genesis has doesn’t have a locked psych ward, she was in I posted the deputy that was with me to watch her room and called Holly to get a rotation schedule going for watches so no one spent more than a couple hours at a time playing babysitter while she was high and hallucinating.

  The detox would take a day or more but everyone was under strict orders to let me know when Libby Tracy was coherent again. I resigned myself to playing the waiting game but, for the time being and while I was here, I could see Dana.

  ###

  Dana was sitting up in bed talking on the phone when I got to her room. From the little she said in response to what she was hearing, I could tell the call was business and not social. I signaled to ask if she wanted me to step out of the room. She shook her head no so I stood a little away from her and peered quietly out the window. It was a very small room though and I could hear every word on her end...not that she was making any effort to talk softly.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “There’s no concrete timetable. I’m just being told that it should all come back but that it will take time.” Her tone was tinged with stress.

  This doesn’t sound good...

  “Yes. It is possible I won’t regain full use, but...” She was cut off by whoever she was speaking with.

  I turned and looked at her. I could tell she was getting upset by the look on her face and the color rising in her neck and cheeks.

  She listened for perhaps another 30 seconds. “Yes, of course I can handle that! My brain is fine ma’am!”

  Oh, oh! She’s pissed now!

  Again she was quiet for several long seconds and then she spoke again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. Yes sir, I can be available and of course I can find something nearby. I’ll work on it. Just keep me updated on dates and such, please?”

  She must be on a conference call...ma’am, sir...

  There was another long pause and then finally, she thanked whomever she was speaking with and hung up.

  I was at odds about what to do or say. I asked, “Is this a bad time? I can go.”

  “No, no. Please stay.” Her eyes pleaded with mine.

  “Okay. So then, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s going on?”

  She swallowed hard and looked past me toward the window. “That was a freakin’ tag team...an HR rep and the Field Office Supervisor in Chicago. They wanted to know what my medical status is.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “Agreed! The problem is they’re pushing hard because I was the lead on the case that landed me here,” she gestured at the bed, “and the court battles are ramping up. The lead suspect wants to cop a plea based on limited physical evidence of her involvement in the whole smuggling operation and hearsay evidence that she ordered a prison hit. We can’t find the supposed hit man that was released on parole a month after the hit. Without my testimony, they don’t have much of a case against her on either major charge.”

  “Why can’t you testify?”<
br />
  “Exactly! Why can’t I? That was my point! My leg is a mess but my brain is just fine, thank you very much!”

  “As is your mouth.” I spoke softly and smiled to soften the blow.

  Dana started to say something but then she shook her head and smiled back. “Oh you!” She flung her hand toward me.

  “So do you need to make any appearances for depositions or to give evidence or anything? Where would you have to go?”

  “They’re supposed to let me know so arrangements can be made for me to be there. They’re holding Delores Chappell, your former neighbor and the suspected ringleader in my case and several others, at a correctional facility near Columbus. They haven’t decided to move her specifically out of Ohio yet because of her age and the fact that there is a federal court house right in Columbus.

  “Then what about everyone else that was collared that’s still here?”

  “The other guys may be moved or they may not be. If they’re moved, it will be to either Illinois or D.C. depending on charges and pleas. That agent from Secret Service that was working on your local counterfeit money case with you is pushing for a couple of guys to be moved to D.C. where he’s apparently still holding those three guys he took into custody while he was here.”

  “Agent Webb?”

  “Yeah, him,” she said like it was distasteful to her. “Beyond that, a lot is riding on what happens with Delores and what the other agencies that are involved are planning.”

  The case was still very fresh in my mind. “When you say “other agencies”, I’m confused. Besides the Secret Service over the money counterfeiting, there’s only ATF over the smuggled weapons, right?”

  “Yes. But it’s not just Webb at Secret Service that’s got skin in the game. His higher ups at the Treasury Department, no doubt fed by him, are screaming bloody murder that their case takes precedence over the others and they want la-de-da-de everybody and everything moved to Washington. AFT is fine with doing things either here in Ohio or in Chicago depending on where the most defendants are located but they also think their case is hotter than my case.” She threw her hands up. “I really need to get back in the mix very quickly!”