by Abigail Keam
“Drink your tea, Josiah. It’s getting cold.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I dove into the coffee cake and sipped my tea. The stack of vacation pictures was still on the kitchen table. I pulled out a bunch and began to peruse them. Just something to do while sipping tea. There were quite a few of Selena and Dwight at the beach, looking very young and happy.
Ginny joined me. I handed her a stack of pictures after I had looked at them. Apparently Selena and Dwight had taken lots of vacations over their ten years of marriage. It was nice to see them beaming for the camera. Then I came across a few with Dwight, Selena and Farley. These pictures seemed more worn and bent at the corners . . . as if they had been handled more often. They were at Devou Park in Covington. There were quite a few pictures of the three of them together standing with the skyline of Cincinnati behind them. Obviously they had had a stranger take pictures of the three of them.
Then one caught my attention. It was a close-up of Selena facing the camera with Dwight in the background with his back turned looking at the skyline of Cincinnati. I realized that Farley must have taken this picture. What struck me was the expression of Selena looking straight into the camera. But she wasn’t looking at the camera. She was looking as the person taking the picture and it was the look of love.
I slid the picture into my coat pocket when Ginny went to refill her mug. “Ginny, do you know when these pictures were taken? That’s Devou Park. I used to sled down this hill they’re standing on.”
“Great view, isn’t it. I think those were taken several years ago.” Ginny thought for a moment. “Yes, it was two years ago. Dwight and Farley were attending a conference in Cincinnati and Selena decided to go with them. I took care of the baby.”
There was no point in pursuing this with Ginny. She was trapped with Selena until her power came back on.
I said my goodbyes and headed out to Matt’s cold car. I had a time getting the door open, as it had frozen shut. Finally the next-door neighbor, who was out shoveling snow, helped me pry it open.
Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers.
Heading back to the house, it began to snow heavily. I made better time as the snow gave the SUV better traction than the ice and I was able to make it home in an hour. That gave me plenty of time to “bend my mind around that picture,” as the locals would say.
Goetz was wrong about one thing.
It was becoming clearer to me that Dwight had met an awful fate, but it wasn’t from the hands of strangers. It might have come at him from those he had loved and trusted.
Ain’t love grand!
54
“You’re to stay in the car.”
“But you might not ask the right questions,” I whined.
“I’ve been asking the right questions for close to three decades. I think I know what I’m doing,” retorted Goetz.
“But it’s my theory.”
“That’s the only reason you’re along for the ride. I have my doubts. You can’t kill someone with a piece of chocolate, no matter how damn big the piece is.”
“I think you can. In fact, I ordered a centerpiece exactly like the one Ginny did. I’m going to give it to Charlotte’s boyfriend to do an experiment on since your lab is too cheap to do so. In fact,” I said, getting out of the car, “I ordered it from here.”
I went inside the candy shop, ignoring Goetz’s hateful looks. Kentucky is known for certain types of food: country ham and beaten biscuits, mint juleps, burgoo, fried chicken, Kentucky Hot Brown, Kentucky Bourbon and Pecan cake, Derby Pie, but nothing says Kentucky like Bourbon balls.
A Bourbon ball is a bite-size candy made with chocolate, powdered sugar, pecans and lots and lots of Bourbon. A pecan half traditionally sits on top of the candy.
Ruth Booe, known as Mrs. Boo, invented Bourbon balls, after a dignitary, Eleanor Hume Offutt, suggested mixing Kentucky Bourbon with chocolate in 1936. Thus a great candy was born.
I tell you this so you will understand why I bought six boxes of Bourbon balls along with my chocolate centerpiece. I love them and Lady Elsmere expects them when she comes “a calling.” Just a little tidbit of information.
The clerk called into the candy-making room for John. We could see John through the glass that separated the candy room from the sales room. He went into a freezer and brought out a huge styrofoam box. Inside was my chocolate horse.
“Is this the exact horse that Ginny Wheelwright bought last year?”
“Terrible about her son, ain’t it.”
I nodded.
“This is the same mold we used for Miss Ginny’s horse. She had ordered it a month before. We usually don’t do horse centerpieces unless it is around Derby time and then we do a lot for private parties and hotels. That sort of thing. We’re known for this chocolate horse.”
“What’s the weight on this thing?” asked Goetz.
John scratched his chin. “It comes in a little under twenty-three pounds. It’s solid chocolate.”
“Why’s it frozen?” I asked. “It has a bloom on it. The chocolate is discolored.”
“The horse is always kept either in a cooler or a freezer until several hours before use. It’s to keep the chocolate firm. As you can see, the legs are like the legs of a real Thoroughbred. They need to stay firm to support the rest of the centerpiece. Now we have an arm connecting the horse to its platform, which helps to support the centerpiece, but sometimes the horse will still tip over. We have to be careful with them.”
“But it looks ugly with the discoloration.”
“That’s nothing. Right before it is placed on the table, a hairdryer is used to take off the bloom. Makes the chocolate shiny. The instructions come with the horse.”
“Wouldn’t freezing it make the chocolate brittle?”
“Especially the delicate parts. That’s why we recommend that it stay in its container until several hours before it is presented or it’s at a cool room temperature. Don’t take it out hours before and put it on a table on a hot day . . . say if the event is taking place in a tent or something like that. One just has to use common sense when gauging the temperature.”
“I’m taking it that if the centerpiece falls or is dropped . . .” pointed out Goetz.
John interrupted. “Then parts of the horse might shatter like the neck or the legs if cold. The main body will be okay. Usually it’s the horse’s mane or tail that gets mangled first. That’s why it should stay in its container upright until right before presentation.”
“If a leg snaps off, can it be put back on?”
“Sure thing. Just use the hair dryer to heat the break and seal it back together again. That happens to us and we just stick the legs back on. When we’re done, you can’t even tell.”
“I guess an amateur couldn’t make it look as nice as you.”
John shrugged. “It depends on the person’s skill.”
“Did Ginny Wheelwright pick up her horse in person?”
“Yes,” interrupted the sales woman. “I waited on her personally. It was on the thirtieth of June. She was very happy with the horse. She buys a large chocolate piece every year for her son. I mean she used to buy.”
“Was the horse in good condition?”
The sales lady in her pink apron pulled out a receipt from a drawer. “I got this out from our files when you called.” She handed it to Goetz. “The horse was perfect.” She pointed to writing on the receipt. “See, I even wrote down what Miss Ginny said about it. She said it was the best one she had gotten for her son. She was very pleased with it.”
“The reason we sell so many of these large centerpieces is that the horse looks like it’s in motion.”
“Yes. It’s lovely,” I concurred before looking at Goetz.
“Thank you for your time,” nodded Goetz as he picked up the box.
I picked up my Bourbon balls, thanked John and his saleslady and followed Goetz out to his car. He put the horse into the trunk.
“What now?” I asked.
“I guess we go see if we can kill a man with a chocolate horse.”
55
Goetz and I went to the lab after hours. It wasn’t long after I knocked on the glass door that Charlotte let us in the anthropology building at the University of Kentucky.
“Thank you for doing this, Charlotte,” I said.
“Has everything been set up?” asked Goetz, looking into offices as we passed by them.
“Sure. We’ve got a camera recording the experiment and can give you a copy before you leave.”
“I’ll want the media card,” advised Goetz.
“But Dr. Cardello wants a copy to show his students.”
“No can do at this time. It’s part of an investigation. Maybe afterwards.”
Charlotte looked miffed. “Well, you tell him. My boyfriend and Dr. Cardello went to a lot of trouble and expense.”
“Send me a bill and I will have the city reimburse them.” Goetz handed Charlotte his business card.
She looked at it before putting it in her pocket. “If the city is going to reimburse us, then I guess it’s okay.”
We walked into a cavernous laboratory where two men were adjusting a pole upon which rested a replicate of a human head made out of some sort of pink shiny gel. A pair of dentures were inserted where the mouth would be on a human.
The men turned when they heard us enter the room.
Charlotte whispered in Dr. Cardello’s ear. She must have told him about not keeping a copy, as he didn’t look pleased. But he didn’t mention it as he greeted us, shaking our hands after Goetz set down the box with the horse.
“Let me show you what I’ve done,” prompted Dr. Cardello.
I could tell Dr. Cardello liked being the center of attention. He must have loved the attention of having Charlotte and her boyfriend look admiringly at him.
“This pole is flexible and I can tighten to what I think proper in any given experiment. I have given it the same flexibility that I think a man weighing 172 pounds and the height of 5 foot, 10 inches would have if hit in the face. He would swing back or fall down completely. I’ve made it so that an impact would make his body sway like this.” Dr. Cardello gave a brief demonstration.
“The head is made from a special plastic that acts as skin.” He knocked on it. “It looks wet but is not. It is dry and feels like the real thing.” He pushed on the cheek. It made an indentation that rebounded like actual skin would. “Underneath is styrofoam shaped like an adult skull.”
“We thought about using a watermelon but decided this would be better,” teased Charlotte.
Both Dr. Cardello and the boyfriend beamed at Charlotte.
I had a brief uncomfortable thought that maybe Charlotte was doing both of them. Hope the boyfriend didn’t find out.
Dr. Cardello clapped his hands together. “Let’s see the weapon of choice.”
Goetz pulled the chocolate horse out of its container and put it on the table.
Charlotte, the boyfriend and Dr. Cardello circled the horse, giving it their rapt attention.
“Do we know at what temperature the horse was when used?” asked Dr. Cardello.
“We are assuming it was frozen or near frozen,” I replied.
Goetz leaned forward and pointed to the front left leg. “This part would have made contact with the mouth. That’s were the tooth fragments were found. Right, Charlotte?”
“Yes, right there,” pointed Charlotte.
“That would indicate that the attacker was right handed,” advised Dr. Cardello.
“Does anyone know how it was displayed?”
“I do,” I piped up. “It was turned this way and the break on the horse was here.” I pointed to the horse’s legs.
“Charlotte, you are the height and weight of the average woman. Let’s stand you here. And Nathan, you are about the weight and height of the missing man. I am going to stand you in front of Charlotte, facing her. Yes. That’s good.” Dr. Cardello looked to Goetz for approval.
Goetz gave a little nod.
“Now – we don’t know what tooth the fragments are from. Right?”
“That’s correct,” answered Goetz. “We don’t have a body as of yet. And you stand by the conclusion that the fragments were from a tooth?”
“I’d swear in a court of law,” replied Dr. Cardello. “Okay. Charlotte. Pick up the horse and swing it at Nathan, but don’t make contact. We just want to look at the motion at this point.”
Charlotte reached over and tried to pick up the horse in one hand but she couldn’t get her hand secure enough to lift it. Finally she had to put both hands around the middle of the horse in order to lift it.
“Now swing it,” admonished Dr. Cardello.
Charlotte gave it her best, almost dropping the horse in the process.
Goetz grabbed it before it fell. He grimaced at me. “That rules out Selena. She’s smaller than this little gal.”
“That depends,” Dr. Cardello added. “If a woman was angry, she might have the adrenaline surge to swing it.”
Shaking her head, Charlotte admitted, “It was too slippery. See, it’s sweating now.”
“What if the horse had been out of the box for a while and heated with a hair dryer?” asked Goetz.
“There were no handprints around the middle of the horse. Only the front left leg was mangled. I remember Ginny showing me the damage before the party. She was very upset.”
“What about the platform it was on?”
“Just like this horse, it was on a thick corrugated platform sprinkled with a glittery powder or sugar. But I didn’t see the platform, as Hershey kisses had been placed all around the horse and on the platform covering it. If it had been damaged, no one would have seen it. The platform was not in the garbage where the horse was found.”
Dr. Cardello motioned to Nathan. “Let’s see if you can pick up the horse and swing it.”
Nathan changed places with Charlotte while Dr. Cardello placed the stick figure in front of him. “Now, Nathan, do what Charlotte did, but don’t hit our dummy yet. I want to place a net to catch the horse just in case.” Dr. Cardello put thick bubble wrap all around the stick dummy. “Okay. Try it.”
Nathan’s right hand easily grasped the horse and he swung it slowly toward the dummy.
All of us brightened at seeing this.
Nathan put the horse carefully back on the table.
“Now, Nathan, pick up the horse and swing it hard, as though you mean to strike a person. Be mad. Be really forceful,” requested Dr. Cardello.
Nathan gave Charlotte one last glance before taking several deep breaths. Giving a terrible cry, Nathan picked up the horse and slammed it into the dummy’s head.
The two front legs of the horse shattered, but much of the horse remained intact and in good condition. Nathan put the horse down and licked chocolate off his palm.
We all stepped forward to evaluate the head.
The left side of the face was crushed. Several teeth were missing.
The head looked as if it had been smashed with a hammer.
Goetz’s expression didn’t change. He just said, “Doc, I’ll need several copies of that tape.”
56
Even after Goetz showed the tooth fragments and the tape of the experiment to the D.A., the case went nowhere.
The tooth fragments and the chocolate horse retrieved from Selena’s garbage were dismissed as evidence, as the police had not properly bagged them into the chain of evidence.
The D.A. would not pursue the case further until there was a body, even though Goetz requested a warrant to dig up the yards of Selena and Farley. Nor would the D.A. go to a judge requesting a subpoena for Farley’s or Selena’s phone and bank records.
As Goetz was formulating a new theory of what had happened to Dwight, Selena and Farley had “lawyered-up” and refused to co-operate any further with the police. All contact had to go through their lawyers.
I even received a nicely worded letter from Selena’s l
awyer asking that I have no further contact with her and that legal action would ensue if I should have any future contact with her family or property.
This case was a mess. There seemed more questions than answers. There were just too many loose ends.
Where was the missing cashiers check for two hundred thousand dollars?
Why did Billy Klotter say he found Dwight’s wallet in the rented fishing boat while the Whitley County police report said that it was found in the glove compartment of Dwight’s pickup?
Then there were the two separate statements from the Dupont Lodge desk clerks, Darlene and Steve, contradicting each other identifying Dwight’s picture.
And Goetz could never find a medical report of a scorpion bite concerning anyone involved in the case, though he tracked down all the emergency rooms and clinics near Laurel Lake.
It was another dead end.
As the days drifted into weeks and the weeks became months, even Ginny gave up hope that Dwight might still be alive somewhere.
Kentucky had had a hard winter that year. Spring had to fight its way through the late snows and unusual cold temperatures to establish a foothold in the Bluegrass.
I went on with my life and didn’t see Ginny again for some time. I left several messages for her to call but she never did. I even went to her house once, and seeing that her car was gone, left a note on her front door, but she never contacted me.
That’s how grief affects some people.
They’re act as though they’re living, but they’re really dead. Or they might as well be.
57
“So what do you think really happened to Dwight?” asked Matt over a cup of tea.
He and I were seated on the patio taking in the warm day.
Matt had taken the cover off the pool, and perhaps in a few days the swimming season could start. Especially if the days were sunny.
“Do you think the pool should be converted into a salt pool?” I replied, ignoring his question.
“Why are you being so hesitant?”