The Priest Who Ate A Poison Petit Fore

by Kee Patterbee

  “Well, anyway, thanks for getting me off. Now, any ideas on how we’re going to do this?”

  “You’re the genius, Sherlock. I’m just the bumbling sidekick.” Hymn pointed to his leg brace.

  “What we need is… fudge. Let’s stop at that shop and figure it out.”

  Hymn gave a chuckle. “Sweets. Of course. Mags? You up for some?”

  Magdalen drew her hands down her curvaceous form. “With a body like this, need you ask?”

  Once in the senior community, Hymn made his way to the town’s center. He pulled into a spot in front of a store called Spur of the Moment.

  “Best fudge ever. Is that right?”

  “It is,” Magdalen agreed. “Trust me, I know fudge, and there’s more. Just you wait.”

  “You and my Gran are going to get along well.” Hannah looked to Hymn. “What kind do we get?”

  “Ladies call.”

  “Ooh, that’s going to be tough.” Magdalen took Hannah by the arm. “This is going to blow your mind.”

  Once inside, Hannah stared wide eyed through a display case, amazed by the multitude of fudge flavors as well as other sweets. “Wow, so many choices.”

  “Any will cause your tongue to give you black eyes trying to lick your lips for the last bit,” an older voice called out.

  Hannah noted the deep, southern accent. She looked up to see a woman behind the counter. The woman held a broad, almost grandmother like demeanor. Hannah assessed her. Mid-70s. Grey haired. Short. Maybe 5’0. Thin. Deep green eyes. Grandmotherish, rolled through her mind.

  Unable to make up her mind, Hymn solved her dilemma by ordering a sampler tray. He also managed to get twice the amount when he mentioned that they were considering it as part of the wedding reception fare.

  Before filling the order, the woman produced three coffees. While she did so, Hannah noticed a portrait placed behind the counter on the wall. It was of a man who, yet again, she assessed. Late 70s. Large, friendly smile. Heavy. Glasses. Small eyes. Underneath the picture were several sympathy cards taped to the wall. A crayon drawing, in what appeared to be the hand of a child, hung prominently. It showed a man with wings rising to the sky as several people waved. Crude scrawled words read, “We miss you, Mr. Lindsay.”

  Seeing where Hannah stared, the woman smiled. “That was Ed. He started this place. He was a pastry chef.”

  Hannah noted the word was. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did he pass?”

  The clerk gave a pained smile. “He did, thirteen months ago. It was sudden, you know? But we had fifty-seven good years. We spent the last twenty right here.”

  “Your husband,” Hannah said. She reached over and took hold of Hymn’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

  The woman reached over the counter and offered her hand. All took turns shaking. “Stella Lindsay. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She turned back to look once more at the picture of her late husband. “I wish you and yours as much,” Stella said as she returned to filling a large box with candy. “Are you here visiting?” she asked further.

  “We are. Over at the medical center. Reverend Whipson. He’ll marry us in a few days.”

  The woman bristled, but continued with her work. Her face became solemn, her once pleasant demeanor gone. Hannah glanced over to Hymn, but he said nothing. However, the woman’s reaction intrigued the sleuth. The center or the Reverend, she questioned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Do you know the Reverend?”

  The woman affirmed she did. “It’s not you, dear, nor the Reverend. He’s a dear, dear man. A God fearing man, but…” She placed the last piece in the box, closed it, and handed it to Hymn. “Well, it’s the center. The place scares a lot of us. It’s sort of taboo to mention it. Silly nonsense, to tell you the truth. But in a community like this, we all know each other for the most part. A trip there often means not returning. Seems of recent, there’s a lot of that going on.” She motioned back to the picture. Doing so, she placed her hand on her chest and fondled a necklace. Hannah glanced the piece over as she did so. St. Peregrine medal, she noted. Patron of those suffering.

  “That’s what happened to my Ed. Went in for a treatment for Behçet’s Disease, but he had a heart attack instead.”

  Hannah thought back to her conversation with Whipson. She recalled every name of purported victims that he mentioned. Each was also on a list she sent Cate in an email. Harry Bunn. William Watterson. Janet Tyler. Lee Falk. Laurette Bowen. Alicia Jean Marsh. Al Denton. Pepper Mothershed. She looked back again to the picture. There were others, she determined.

  After again apologizing, Hannah, Hymn, and Magdalen made their way to a small table and began sampling the sweets. As she enjoyed each bite, exchanging pieces with Hymn and Magdalen, she wiggled her nose in thought.

  “Did he mention that guy to you?” Hymn asked.

  “No, which disturbs me. If he missed him, how many more are out there that he didn’t catch?”

  Magdalen sat back and looked over a piece of Rocky Road fudge. “He’d make nine, right?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  Letting out a breath before popping in a treat, Hymn gazed over at Hannah. “Numbers are growing.”

  “Do you think the Reverend would help?” Hannah inquired.

  Magdalen shook her head. “Not if it involves anything questionable.”

  “Hmm. Calvin and Susan are out.”

  Hymn stiffened and shook his finger in the air. “Maybe not. I mean, Calvin, for sure, but Mudbug might if she thought it would help the Reverend or Calvin.”

  A pensive look came to Magdalen. She peered at Hymn for a second. “It’s kind of using her, don’t you think?”

  “A little, I suppose.”

  “Are you good with that? I can tell you two are close,” Hannah asked. “She and you had a thing, right?”

  Hymn said nothing but narrowed his eyes as he peered deeply at Hannah. “Dead…” he said in a serious tone. Then a smile came. “… Wrong.”

  Hannah looked to Magdalen who finished off another small piece. “They were just friends.”

  “Nothing more,” Hymn assured. “Like I said, she belongs to Calvin.” He took a long swig of his coffee. “But it’s nice to see you can be jealous.”

  Hannah crossed her arms in defiance. “I’m not jealous. That’s childish. I just see the way you two are around each other. You call her Mudbug and…”

  Hannah’s words fell away as she saw Magdalen and Hymn raise disbelieving eyebrows.

  Hannah squirmed, and she gulped. “Well, maybe, just a bit, but she had years around you. I’m just getting my time in.”

  “And let’s hope it’s a long time indeed,” Magdalen said, raising her coffee cup in an impromptu toast. Everyone clinked them together as Hymn leaned in and tapped at his lips, indicating a kiss. Hannah obliged. “Nothing to be afraid of, Sherlock. You’re stuck with me now.”

  “I’m not stuck with you yet.” She looked down at her cell phone and checked the time. “Not for another… six days, eight hours and twelve, and eleven minutes.”

  “Hmm, not much time before I’m imprisoned.”

  “Then let’s go see her.” Hannah looked down at the now half-eaten box, “Right after we order some of this for the reception. Lord, it’s so awesome. Gran is going to freak, and these petit fours, these are the ones. We’ll need a lot. I hope she can manage.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s a breach of doctor-patient confidentiality,” Susan said. The expression on the doctor’s face was a troubled one. She shot an icy stare toward Magdalen and Hymn.

  Hannah read the glare to mean the doctor found it almost insulting that her friends would ask such a thing of her. Nevertheless, getting to the records of the suspected victims was essential to her moving forward in the investigation. She needed to convince the woman sitting across from her that it was in that best interest to do so. To do this, she pulled out the ace in the hole. “I understand, but this whole thing is troubling your grandfather. We’re just hoping to put it to res
t so that he can fulfill his remaining days with an easy heart.”

  Susan turned her attention to Hannah. She pulled her lips inside her mouth. The sleuth could tell she was teetering in her direction decision wise. She just needed to tip it in her favor. “As I understand it, there are circumstances in which you can disclose information. Like when a patient dies, and it helps with an inquest or investigation.”

  “That’s if it’s official. None of you work in law enforcement anymore.”

  Hymn leaned forward. He dropped his head to look at Susan from under his brow. From beneath a frown, he took on Hannah’s tactic. “Mudbug, listen. You know Mags and me. This is about more than just the Reverend. It’s about the people that died. Now, I doubt there is anything to all this, but if there is, don’t you think they deserve something? Let’s just say there is something happening. Wouldn’t you want to know? Wouldn’t Calvin?”

  “And what if they are all connected and someone wants to point to you?” Magdalen offered.

  Susan stiffened and her eyes widened. Hannah knew Magdalen hit a raw point. Drive it home, she thought.

  “What if someone tries to point them back to your grandfather?”

  “Or Calvin?” Hymn added.

  Susan twisted her face in a nervous manner. She looked around as if searching for someone listening in on the conversation. “All right, but you keep Calvin and my grandfather out of this, no matter what. It’ll take me awhile. I can’t just request nine records of past patients at once without raising some questions. I’ll go through several of the staff.”

  “Can you cross reference terminal illnesses against heart attacks or strokes?” Hannah inquired.

  After a moment’s thought, Susan gave a slow nod of the head. “How far back?”

  At first, Hannah was not sure how to answer. An hour earlier, she would have requested the eighteen months as noted by Whipson. However, with the revelation of the similar death of Ed Langley from Spur of the Moment, she was now considering going back even further. “Three years to begin.”

  “That’s beyond Pawpaw being here, and Calvin and me.”

  Hannah affirmed. “That’s the point; to put everyone out of consideration.”

  “Calvin can’t find out,” Susan insisted in a near halting voice.

  “I understand. Just give us a call when you have them.”

  After getting Susan’s cell number, Hannah exchanged her own with the woman. With that, the physician departed for rounds. Hannah, Hymn, and Magdalen watched as she walked away at a slow, troubled pace.

  “That was easier than I expected,” Magdalen noted.

  Hymn shifted his weight and glanced over to his fiancée. “Well, it suggests, at least in part, that she’s not involved.”

  Hannah produced a curios expression. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because she agreed to help without much of a fuss. If involved, she would have at least refused.”

  Hannah’s eyes moved back down the corridor where Susan disappeared.

  “Maybe, or she could be getting them to alter before we get a look.”

  Hymn sighed. “Cynic.”

  “Consider all possible scenarios,” Hannah responded. “Let’s see if we can find the Reverend.”

  Once again, Hannah and Hymn, with Magdalen along, approached the reception desk. This time, a woman whose badge read Ruth Wormwood, manned the station. Unusual name, Hannah thought before she continued to assess the woman. Early to mid-60s. Short. 5’3” or 5’4”. Light dyed blonde hair. Tan. Slim. Athletic. Narrow, dark blue eyes. Pretty. Well maintained. Hannah glanced over the two large, diamond-incrusted rings that graced her fingers. Wealthy.

  “Hello,” the woman greeted, “whom are we visiting today?”

  “Reverend Whipson, please,” Hannah answered as she noted the woman’s mid-southern drawl. Texan.

  Wormwood lifted a finger and waved it for a second. She looked down to her event log and drew a finger with painted nail down the list, “I believe he left a note. Oh yes,” she stopped and tapped at the paper, “here it is. I’m sorry. He’s in a meeting with Father Janus. Would you like to wait?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” a voice called from behind the three. They turned to see a man dressed in gray with a priest’s collar. Almost in an instant, Hannah analyzed him. 5’6” or 5’7”. Short. Early to mid-60’s. Scarecrow thin with dishwater blond hair. Gaunt. Long, slender nose. Narrow, dark eyes. Beard the color of hair. Mole, center of left cheek. She studied him for a second more, noting that his eye color was almost undetectable due to the constant squint he held. When he smiled, it was in a toothy manner, with near perfect, long white structures. He spoke in a smooth voice.

  “The meeting hasn’t started because I’m late, as usual.” Glancing to the receptionist, he smiled and added, “I was attending to church business and lost track of time. Hello, Ruth, good to see you’re feeling better. I’ll take them up since I’m on my way to meet with him.” The receptionist acknowledged with a head bob and a gracious, toothy smile. Hannah noted the interaction. Familiarity crossed her mind. Janus then offered his hand to the trio. “I’m Father Janus.”

  “Father,” Hymn responded, taking the man’s hand and shaking.

  “Please, call me Ray.” The clergyman stepped back and looked the two over. “I’m guessing you must be Hymn and Hannah,” he said with another toothy grin. “He speaks of you two in high regard.” He looked over to Magdalen, adding, “I’ve heard him mention you in the same manner as well.”

  Hannah started to respond, but Hymn interceded. “Well, we think the same of him.”

  “Walk with me,” Janus responded.

  Hymn walked almost beside the man. Magdalen followed one step back, Hannah noticed. Instant respect, she determined. Turning her eyes to observe Janus, she recalled his last words and analyzed them. Not a request. Expected, she concluded. Authoritarian.

  Janus led them to an elevator, talking along the way. He explained that he was second behind Whipson as on staff clergy and a member of the Episcopal faith. Hannah found that his conversation was a one sided affair. He’s interested in what he has to say only, she concluded. No room for others. Odd.

  When they reached the third floor, the doors opened and everyone stepped off. Janus led the three to a small office. Upon entering, Hannah noticed the forward desk and a door leading to another room. Sitting behind was a young man wearing a black habit. Late twenties. 5’10” to 5’11”. Hazel eyes. Weighty. Dishpan blond. Glasses. Thick lips. Glancing over his desk, she noticed it was unkempt, cluttered with stacks of files. The trashcan held several candy wrappers and an empty box.

  Janus made introductions. “This is Brother Wessel.”

  The man offered his hand but maintained a stoic expression. “Richard, if you prefer.”

  “Brother Wessel works for the Reverend and here in the hospital as well.”

  “Beyond these duties,” Wessel gestured toward the desk, “I’m part of the nursing staff.”

  Hymn and Magdalen nodded but Hannah found herself fascinated.

  “How interesting. I wasn’t aware that you operated outside the church.”

  “Most people are unaware. I believe they still have the impression we don’t talk and hang around the church chanting or beating ourselves.” He smiled. “I can assure you, we live quite full lives.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  Janus cleared his throat and Wessel turned his attention to his duties.

  “I’m sorry,” Wessel said in an apologetic tone. “Let me get the Reverend for you.”

  The young brother moved to the rear door and knocked. Watching the situation, Hannah again reaffirmed her assessment that Janus was authoritative. She also noted he held a certain sense of demanded order. Impatient, was the word she applied to his growing mental file.

  Whipson opened the door and smiled. He stepped out with open arms to entice a hug. Magdalen responded first, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Then Hannah gave him a hug. As he wrap
ped his arms around her, she noticed a second figure standing to the rear. His unexpected appearance startled her though she sized him up all the same. Smallish. Late 70s. About the same age as Whipson. Square face. Bulbous nose. Hunched a slight bit. Grey hair. Worn, brown eyes. Glancing him over, she studied his clothing. He wore a medium blue coverall jumpsuit that was well maintained but worn. She determined him to be on the janitorial staff. Custodian. Seeing him lift a hand and gnaw at a nail, she added, nervous and mousy by nature.

  After Whipson shook Hymn’s hand, he introduced them to the man.

  “This is Jackie Rhoades, an old friend.”

  Rhoades gave a nervous smile and quick head bob of acknowledgement.

  “Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he expressed in a quick manner.

  Whipson looked to Rhoades. “We’ll have to talk later. It seems I’m running behind.”

  Rhoades nodded and produced a weak smile. He then moved past everyone and exited the door. Whipson watched, and once the man was out of sight, he said, “So, what brings this unexpected pleasure? I’ve got a meeting with Father Janus here, but it shouldn’t take long, don’t you think?” He looked to Janus.

  For a second, Janus said nothing, a slow smile forcing its way onto his face. “No, I wouldn’t think so. In fact, why don’t the four of you talk? We can reschedule for later.”

  Though he was agreeable, Hannah could tell the change in plans aggravated the priest. Controlling, she added.

  “Oh, no, it’s us,” Hymn half apologized, “we came unannounced. We shouldn’t have interrupted.”

  “No, No, that’s fine,” Janus insisted. “I have patients that I can minister to.” He looked back to Whipson. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Jonathan. I’ll call with the time.” With that, he turned and exited as did Rhoades. After he was out of sight, Whipson turned to the trio with a smile. “Now, what can I do for you?”