The Priest Who Ate A Poison Petit Fore

by Kee Patterbee

“Okay, it all makes sense, but to what end? What’s your point?”

  “I have two, in fact. One, they attacked Rhoades for evidence which they think we have. Two, what good is revenge if you don’t see it through.”

  Hymn and Magdalen both stiffened. Hymn was the first to speak.

  “You think they’re coming back here?”

  “I do. Think about it. Cate was asking Janus about his sister. He can put two and two together. Per Al, she mentioned that it was me who had her consider him. The only way I could know some of the information was if I had other evidence. Cate’s a victim of opportunity and panic response.”

  “Then why’d they leave Al,” asked Buster.

  Hymn’s grimaced. “He served no purpose. Cate was the maid of honor. Janus knew her importance,” he inferred.

  Borden ran his finger under his chin. “Okay, if they’re coming back here, and assuming they left Twilight at around, say eightish, give or take that would put them here,” he twisted his neck and stiffened, “soon I would imagine. Real soon. You think they’d go back to her place?”

  “I doubt it. They know we have evidence against them. I would imagine they think you’ll be looking for her there, or even where he lives. My guess, they’ll go straight to the target.”

  “Mudbug,” Hymn said.

  Hannah noticed the low, determined tone in her husband’s voice. It was a combination of annoyance, frustration, and anger. She had been witness to it once before when someone attacked her during a prior case. The man showed great loyalty to those he deemed worthy of his love. This display was Hymn being focused and ready to take on, and take down whoever stood in his way. She reached over and took hold of his hand. He shot her a look before he relaxed a bit. It gave her great joy to know that she at least had a calming effect on her husband.

  “We need to get in there, then,” Hymn said. “Protect her. How many ways in are there?”

  “A dozen or more,” Holmes told. “It’s a small facility but there is the front, emergency, cafeteria, loading docks, and several others.”

  “Problem is, there’s just me now. My deputy is handling some issues in Tartarus.”

  “What about hospital security?” Magdalen asked.

  “To be honest, it’s not world class. For the most part, they just give people directions and such. It just a volunteer job to keep them occupied.”

  Papa Jay crossed his arms and grimaced. “What you mean to say is that they’re old.”

  Gran popped her husband on the arm.

  “What, woman? It’s true. Didn’t say he was wrong, but it’s true.”

  “I just don’t want anyone hurt, sir.”

  Gran, taking sudden offense as well, tapped an urgent finger on the tabletop.

  “Well, neither do we.” She pointed to everyone as she mentioned them. “My husband. My granddaughter. Her husband. Our friends. So, we get that, but we have a stake in keeping them safe. We may be old, but we’re not useless.”

  Hannah, listening to the banner, motioned for everyone to settle down.

  “Well, regardless, we’ve got to get a move on and protect her. I’m capable of handling myself,” Hymn informed.

  “I can cover something,” Buster agreed.

  Magdalen looped her arm around Buster’s and gave a smiled. “We can all watch an entry or cover an elevator.”

  Gran thumbed at Papa Jay. “Like I said, we’re old, not useless. Between Grumpus and me, we can eye the front entry, inside and out.”

  Hannah produced a concerned look, but Papa Jay waved her off. “We’ll be fine, Sweetness. Just fine.” He flexed his arm muscle displaying the fading battleship tattoo. “Still got it.”

  “Oh goody. The Good Ship Wrinkles has come to port,” Gran commented with noted sarcasm.

  “Woman, you never complained me getting shore leave.”

  Gran pulled her husband in for a quick smooch.

  Watching the display, Borden cleared his throat and agreed. “All right, you two take the main lobby. Henry, emergency room. You won’t look out of place there.” Looking to Buster and Magdalen, and their clutched hands, he thought for a second. “Main elevators.”

  When the officer turned to Hymn, the new groom cut him off. He motioned to Hannah and himself. “We’re going to ICU.”

  “I didn’t think you could be in the room.”

  “We can’t,” Hymn interjected, “but you have to pass the waiting room to get in. If they come, we’ll be there.”

  Borden glanced around at all and agreed. “Alright, it doesn’t cover everywhere, but it’ll have to do for the moment.”

  “What about you?” Hannah inquired.

  “I’ll be with the guards, watching the monitors. We’ll keep in touch via cell. With any luck, we’ll spot them before they get even close to inside.”

  Buster raised his hand as if in a classroom. Borden pointed as if the teacher.

  “Problem. I have no idea what these people look like.”

  Gran and Papa Jay admitted the same.

  “The solution is simple,” Henry stated. “In the main lobby to the left is a memorial case dedicated to Gabriel Wormwood. There is a picture there with his wife. If I am not incorrect, Father Janus’ picture resides in the chapel along with Jonathan’s. I suggest those of us who have not seen them pay each location a quick visit.”

  “Oh, goody,” Gran said with excitement. “A stakeout. It’s been a while.”

  “Hmm,” Papa Jay interjected, “should have brought my pistol.”

  Gran rolled her eyes.

  “Do not engage them yourselves, okay? These two are dangerous. We don’t know what they may do now they’ve been found out.”

  A few minutes later, everyone readied to exit the RV. Gran first made sure everyone was wearing a coat. “It’s chilly out and in the hospital too. Jayland, put our coat and gloves on.”

  “Woman, I’m a grown man. Just get the dogs ready. I’ll walk them out front while I wait.”

  “Y’all go on. We’ll be right behind you.” She slipped one of Gigantor’s small coats onto Hazelnut.

  Several minutes later, everyone was in position within the hospital, having first viewed who they were looking for. Gran waved everyone along before she sat in the lobby chair and pretended to read. She waved to Papa Jay, who stood outside with the two canines on leashes.

  “Be careful,” Hannah insisted, kissing her grandmother’s forehead. “And watch out for old Two Gun out there,” she added, thumbing toward the window where she could just view her grandfather.

  “Oh, we’ll be fine, dear. You just go and have a good time.”

  Hannah half laughed as she walked away with Hymn. “Only Gran would find this fun.”

  “She’s not the only one.” Hymn squeezed his wife’s hand. “I know someone just like her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  When Hannah and Hymn stepped from the elevator on the floor, they exited out into the hallway and toward the ICU waiting room. When the room came in sight, Hymn came to a dead stop. Glancing over to see what was going on, Hannah saw his eyes widen then narrow to near slits. Fear? Anger? She turned to peer where he was staring. Her eyes widened as well. Already here.

  From her vantage point, Hannah could see Whipson through the large, glass pane windows of the waiting area. The room was empty except for two individuals. Whipson sat, pushed forward in his seat. He leaned outward, his elbows resting on his knees, staring forward. She noticed him bobbing his head as though he were agreeing. Like a confession, she considered. He was holding hands with Janus, who held a similar position.

  Hymn moved to run as best he could, but Hannah held him back. “No,” she said in a low tone. “What if he panics? He might have a weapon and we need to find out where Cate is.”

  Hymn tensed up but held steady. “What do we do, then?” He scanned the room. “No sister,” he added with noted urgency.

  “We just walk in as if it were nothing, then we’ll figure it out.”

  They heade
d into the room. Hannah sat beside Whipson. Hymn took a seat beside Janus, who never looked his way. Instead, the priest stared ahead at the Reverend.

  For what felt like an eternity to Hannah, no one spoke. Then Janus glanced at her. He gave her a smile, but not one that she expected. In her mind, it should have been his large, man-in-the-moon grin. Instead, it was a sad, almost apologetic one. When he spoke, it was soft and hurting.

  “I had to come back and apologize.”

  Hymn shifted uneasily in his seat as Janus turned to him.

  “Relax, young man. I have no ill will toward Jonathan.”

  “What about my friend?”

  “She’s fine. You’ll find her in the emergency room. Just a little sleepy.”

  Hannah glanced at Hymn. “Holmes doesn’t know what she looks like. He wouldn’t be expecting her.”

  “Call him.”

  Hannah pulled out her phone and was about to dial. She stopped when she realized that by his body language, her husband was readying himself to take the man down. Before she could intercede, Whipson gestured with a hand for him to stop.

  “It’s alright, son. We’ve been talking. I understand. This is as much my fault.”

  “You didn’t do this. They did.”

  Janus turned to face his accuser. His face was stoic. “No, I did.”

  Hannah paused to consider Janus’ response. “Why?”

  “Because they were suffering. I am much opposed to that. It’s so, unnecessary. My mother, she didn’t suffer. At least not when she died. But beforehand…” The priest’s words trailed off for a second before he started again. “My father was not the most likable of fellows. He had too much of the Irish in him I think, by his mother.” He let go of Whipson’s hands and leaned back into his seat. “A bit of a temper and all that. Rough handed when he got in the spirit.” He shrugged and loosened his collar. “I was just telling Jonathan here, everything. That I found out tonight he was the one who…” He let out a breath of air. “The one who was with my mother the night she passed on, and I forgive him for that. It’s what we do, you know. Our business is to forgive others and ourselves.”

  Hymn glowered. “Is that what you call what you did to Susan? Forgiveness?”

  Janus shot him a hard look and pointed a finger. “I had nothing to do with Dr. York. Let me be clear on that. All the others, they were mine. I take full responsibility for them.” He shook his head. “And for poor Richard. That was an unfortunate mistake.”

  Listening, Hannah became intrigued. All fears left her as she had reached the final story. “The prize,” as Gran referred to it. However, upon hearing it, some things were not fitting.

  Questions began to pour into Hannah’s mind. The man was confessing to all the murders, but not for what happened to Susan. Covering for his sister? She decided that there was just one way to get the answer she wanted. Ask. “You’re saying your sister had nothing to do with this?”

  “No, she had everything to do with this.” Janus placed a hand on his chest and closed his eyes as if he were focusing. He coughed once and glanced around. “She convinced me. Told me that the work she was doing was God’s work. She said since it was his work, I should be happy… they didn’t suffer. Like my brothers. Like my mother before… she passed…”

  Janus grimaced hard as Hannah noted the color draining from the man’s face. When his eyes rolled back into their sockets, he slumped down into his seat. Hymn managed to catch him before he slid all the way out.

  “What the hell?” the new groom said, laying the man on the floor. Hymn’s eyes rushed up to meet Hannah.

  “Raymond?” Whipson said, kneeling down beside Janus and taking up his hand. “I understand.”

  It was then Janus gave a faint smile before grimacing hard. His back arched before falling back in slow motion as if being placed with care back upon the ground. Hannah placed two fingers on his neck to check for a pulse, despite her certainty he was already gone. The lack of a pulse confirmed her suspicions. Hymn moved in to do CPR, but his wife sat back on the floor. “It’s over for him,” she said, placing an arm on Hymn’s bicep. Hymn moved out of the way, taking a seat next to the Reverend. The three sat staring at the body. Hannah noticed a small candy wrapper fall from his open hand. He poisoned himself. For the first time, she looked over to the small table next to the Reverend. A box of petite fours sat open.

  “Sir, you didn’t eat any of this, did you?”

  Whipson shook his head.

  Hannah glanced around the room, twisting her nose several times in the process.

  “Did his sister come with him?”

  Whipson’s eyes watered up as he peered at her. “Who?”

  “Ms. Wormwood. Ruth Wormwood.”

  “Up…for a moment. She sat with him and then excused herself.” The Reverend gave an odd expression. “His sister?”

  “Twins. Fraternal it would seem.”

  Whipson coughed hard before answering. “She brought the box.” He peered down at the body, centering on the now freed wrapper. “But Raymond said not to eat them.” Coughing even harder, the Reverend began gasping for air.

  “Stay with him. I’ll get some help,” Hannah said as she started for the door.

  “But where’s---” was all Hymn managed before Hannah disappeared out into the hall. She headed down toward the nurses’ station. Reaching the desk, she found a male nurse. “We have an emergency in the waiting room.”

  “Emergency?”

  “One’s dead and one can’t breathe. Get someone down there. NOW!”

  The nurse rose and rounded the desk toward the waiting area. Hannah was about to follow when it hit her that all which occurred distracted her from a larger problem. Excused herself echoed in her mind. Why? She stopped. If she wanted him to suffer why give him the candy before she got to Susan. Her eyes narrowed. She’s sacrificing her brother. She knew he would cave. She looked back to the left of the desk at the double doors leading to the ICU. “It’s a distraction,” she muttered. Darting toward the entrance, she slapped the large red button next to the doors. The large glass panels slid open, and she darted in.

  “You can’t be in here now,” someone yelled, but the sleuth paid them no heed. She ran along the large area, past rooms divided by glass panels. Some were easy to see into. Others had pulled around curtains, obscuring the patient. As she passed one, she glanced to the wall mounted marker board which displayed the patient’s name. Slowing to read one, she felt an arm grasp her bicep.

  “You can’t be in here,” a large woman in a nurse’s uniform said in a stern voice. Hannah jerked free.

  “Dr. York is in danger. Where is she?”

  The woman stepped back, stunned at the aggressive sound of the sleuth’s voice. “I… I’m calling security.”

  “You do that.”

  Hannah continued around the room until she came to one with curtains closed. Glancing over, she saw the name York written. She yanked the glass door open and parted the curtain. Her eyes fell to Calvin, who lay sprawled on the floor. Two small stun marks showed on the back of his neck. She could tell by his chest movements that he was still breathing. Wormwood stood next to Susan on the opposite side, drawing fluid from a vial. Seeing Hannah, she paused. As the sleuth moved toward her, Wormwood withdrew the syringe from the container and held it high in the air, ready to plunge it into the IV.

  “Don’t,” Wormwood threatened.

  Hannah came to a stop. “I’m stopping. Let’s just talk about this.”

  “No time for that, I’m afraid.”

  Glancing the woman over, Hannah noticed she had cut her hair short. She had dyed it a darker shade than before and she wore no glasses, but did have on a nurses’ uniform. It occurred to her this was how the woman had slipped past everyone without recognition.

  The two women stood locked in their respective places. Hannah’s mind raced. She drew back upon the lessons of negotiating a situation from her training as an agent. In a standard negotiation, the threat, being
Wormwood, would want something. Freedom, money, or some other goal, but in this particular situation, that presented a problem. What Wormwood wanted was for Whipson to suffer. At present, that meant seeing Susan dead, something Wormwood was self-capable of achieving. Need something to negotiate for.

  All of a sudden, the intercom sounded. “Code Blue. ICU waiting. Code Blue. ICU waiting.”

  Hannah watched Wormwood as her face pulled away slightly. Her eyes rolled to the ceiling as if she could see the words. A second call followed the first. “Security needed in ICU. Security to ICU.” Hannah repressed a grin. She found her answer. Let’s negotiate.

  “You’ve got time now. The Reverend’s dead.”

  Wormwood’s expression changed from confusion to slow building rage.

  Clarify the situation.

  “No reason to hurt her now or my friend. Where is she?”

  Reassess.

  Wormwood’s hand hovered above the IV infusion point. “Bastard.” Her voice was cold, distant, and angry. Over sixty years of pent up rage, without warning, lost its outlet.

  Off track. Situation critical.

  “He owed us.”

  Sympathize.

  “I get it. He caused your mother’s death.”

  “He destroyed us. Tore us apart.”

  Stall. Let her talk it out. Empathize.

  “I can see that. Your brothers and you. Raymond. He’s your twin, right?”

  By this time, Wormwood was struggling. Uncertainty played on her face and she talked less to Hannah than to herself.

  “I imagined making him suffer for years, even after Ray found me.”

  Wormwood let out a distraught laugh. To Hannah, it sounded almost sad. Like that of a lost child who confused emotions. Taking the opportunity, she stepped closer to the bed, more toward Susan. Wormwood did not react.

  “When did you find him?”

  The woman looked up. There were no tears in her eyes, just fury. Unbridled anger, but she was calm for the moment.

  “Four years ago. He took over the chapel. I met him at a function. He mentioned where he was from and it hit me like a bolt out of the blue.”

  “So you recognized him.”