Saving Medesha

by DK Land

  “Of course, Doctor,” said Shauni.

  After Dr. Roberts left to tend to the grieving parents, Shauni said to Harold, “Oh, Daddy! Isn’t it just horrible? All this sudden illness with these young kids, and now, that poor little Sadler boy.” She put her face in her hands, as tears began to well up in her eyes.

  Harold placed his arm around his daughter and said, “Now, Honey. You can’t let your emotions take hold of you at a time like this. These people are going to need all the help they can get. You’re going to have to be strong for them, and for all those sick kids in there, you know.”

  She smiled through her tears, and said, “I know, Daddy. It’s just that this is such a small hospital, we don’t usually get this many sick people in a whole month. And, we NEVER have this many with the same exact symptoms. The doctors and all of us nurses are wondering if this really is a ‘Tin Lizzie’.”

  Harold cleared his throat, and straightened his shoulders. “Shauni, I want you to realize that I am not just your father here. I’m also the investigating officer for a possible crime, or accident which occurred up on Jefferson’s property.”

  Shauni stepped back, and said, “Daddy! What do you mean, a possible crime. You’re not insinuating that Jefferson could have had anything to do with that poor boy’s death, are you.”

  “Shauni!” he replied firmly. “All I’m saying is that there has been a death by other than natural causes, and it is my duty to investigate that death. I am required to question, not only Jefferson, but you also, Shauni.”

  She forced herself to calm down, as she said, “Okay, Daddy. I understand. It’s just that… well, could it possibly wait until another time? With all that’s going on now, none of us has any time to do much of anything except try to tend to the needs of these poor kids.”

  “Sure, Honey,” he said. “I understand. I’ll come back in a few hours, maybe. Oh, would it be possible for me to talk to Jefferson before I leave?”

  “Daddy,” pleaded Shauni. “Jeffer is probably busier than any of us. He’s got a ton of blood, saliva and urine samples that he’s trying to process right now. He won’t even allow me to come into the lab. He says he doesn’t need any distractions, so there are no possibilities for error.”

  Harold knew when he had reached the end of his leash. “Okay, Shauni. Could you give me a call when things seem to slow done a bit around here, please?”

  She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Sure, Daddy. If it ever does slow down, I’ll give Irene a call so she can get in touch with you.” With that, she disappeared down the corridor.

  As he drove away from the hospital, Harold looked down at his watch. He couldn’t believe that it could only be ten-thirty in the morning. It seemed as if the day had already been a week long. This had most definitely been the busiest morning of his twenty plus years as sheriff.

  He pulled out onto Main, and headed east toward the marina. He thought to himself. “Boy, it sure seems later than it is. I’m hungrier than that ol’ walleye, Wilbur.” Like a light going on, he suddenly realized, “Oh that’s right! I seem to have left my breakfast up on Quail Creek.” He continued down Main until he came to Mabel’s, where he pulled into a diagonal parking spot in front of her door. Before he opened the car door, he reached for his radio. “Irene, this is Sheriff Wheaton.”

  “This is Irene. Go ahead, Sheriff.”

  “Irene, I’m parked across the street at Mabel’s. If you should need me, that is where I’ll be for approximately the next hour.”

  “Ten-four, Sheriff.”

  He smiled to himself. “She always tries to sound so official, but she always comes across like an old maid teacher trying to play the part of a gangster.”

  * * *

  Jefferson had walked out into the corridor outside the Pathology Lab. “Hi, Audrey. You wouldn’t happen to know where Dr. Slocum is, would you?”

  The busy nurse quickly shot back an answer, as she continued down the hallway. “The last time I saw him, Jefferson, he was conferring with Dr. Roberts in the Morgue.”

  He walked down the corridor and entered the tiny hospital Morgue. “Say, Gerard. Can I interrupt you fellas for just a minute?”

  Both doctors were standing over the body of Willy Sadler. Dr. Slocum looked up from the body and replied, “Sure, Jefferson. What’s the problem?”

  “I’ve been running into some peculiarities in the lab,” said Jefferson. “Are we absolutely sure that all of the samples that were taken from these kids were kept completely isolated and uncontaminated?”

  With a sudden look of concern on his face, Gerard said, “Well, I think Cindy and Shauni took all of the samples, and both of them are very careful. I can’t imagine either of them causing any cross-contamination. What kind of peculiarities are you encountering?”

  “Well,” he answered, “this is rather unbelievable, but we’ve got three samples each, from fifteen patients, and all of the samples that I’ve looked at so far appear to have come from one single uninfected person.”

  “That’s impossible!” blustered Dr. Roberts. “There is absolutely no way they could all test the same!”

  Jefferson held his hands out in frustration. “I know that! I have to admit. I’m completely stumped. I’m finding no signs whatsoever of any biological invasion, or chemical imbalances. The urine and saliva samples show no significant variations or abnormalities. The one common denominator that I’ve been able to discover, is that every single blood sample types out as ‘AB negative’.

  Both doctors glanced at each other. “Could there be a mix up in labeling?” asked Gerard.

  “Even if there was a mix up,” replied Jefferson, “there should still be noticeable differences between each sample. I don’t know. I’m at a complete loss. None of this makes any sense.”

  “Are you sure the equipment isn’t faulty?” asked Dr. Roberts.

  “At this point, I’m not sure of anything,” said Jefferson. “I ran two samples of my own blood, and one sample of Shauni’s to double check the equipment, and it all seemed to check out properly.”

  Gerard began to reach up to scratch his head, when he realized he’d just been using his hands to inspect the dead body of the Sadler boy. He walked over to the trashcan and pulled off his latex gloves. “Dan,” he said to Dr. Roberts. “I think I’ll go to the lab with Jefferson, and see if we can get to the bottom of this. We just might have to take all new samples, and start the procedure all over again.”

  Dan Roberts exhaled disgustedly, and said, “Okay, Gerard, I guess I’ll get done as much as I can here before we get swamped again with more patients. Boy, I tell ya, we sure don’t need anymore poop in our soup.”

  As Gerard and Jefferson walked back down the corridor to the lab, Jefferson said quietly, with a slight smile, “Poop in our soup?”

  Gerard smiled back. “That’s Dan Roberts. The more baffling this disease gets, the more poetic Dan gets.”

  When they entered the Pathology Lab, Jefferson showed the sample slides to Gerard. “Here, look at these under the scope. There’s no difference.”

  Gerard bent over the microscope, and studied the slides carefully. He looked up at Jefferson. “You’re right! They do look the same! Should we get new samples?”

  “Well,” replied Jefferson. “I think that we should get a few more. If they show the same results, then I think we’ve got a bigger problem than we thought we had.”

  * * *

  Mabel’s Coffee Shop had become quiet again. The breakfast and morning coffee crowd had left, and it would be nearly an hour before the lunch rush would begin. With no customers in the diner, Mabel and Harold had decided to have their lunch together in the back booth while Tandy busied herself at the counter

  Harold had described how his unusual morning had progressed. Mabel was feeling the small town shock of the loss of one of Medesha’s youngest. “Oh, Harold!” she exclaimed. “That poor little Willy Sadler. What a shame. How are his parents taking it?”

  “I’m not su
re,” replied Harold. “With everything that’s been happening, I haven’t had the time to talk to them. I had to send Larry Walsh over to inform them when I found the body.”

  He rested his forehead on his left hand, as he slid his fork around on his plate with his right. “You know?” he said absently. “Now I’m not even hungry. I keep thinking about that poor kid hanging there from that tree branch by the back of his shirt. He was just sorta swishing around in the water like a bobber on a fishing line.”

  She scolded him gently. “Harold! You can’t just let your mind dwell on that. You’ve got to put it aside, and try thinking clearly. I know it was a terrible thing to discover, but you’ve got to keep focused on the problem at hand.”

  He looked over at Mabel, and smiled. “I know, Dear.”

  She reached across to touch his hand. “You’re going to have to conduct your investigation into this thing, and move on. Go ahead, and talk to Jefferson and Shauni. Ask them the questions you need to ask. I’m sure that you’ll conclude that this was all just a very sad accident.”

  He looked up from his plate. “Now, Mabel, don’t misunderstand me. I keep having this feeling that Jefferson knows something about the death of Willy Sadler.”

  Confused by his statement, Mabel replied, “Harold, I truly don’t understand where you come up with some of your ideas.”

  He looked around to assure himself that nobody could overhear their conversation. “Honestly, I can’t explain it. I have had suspicions about Jefferson Cordain for years now.”

  Suddenly, Mabel shook her finger at him. “Now, you listen to me, Harold Wheaton! That young man is a thoughtful, generous, and decent person. I won’t have you going around causing him difficulties.”

  He smiled at her. “Now, Mabel, I asked you to give me the benefit of the doubt. Would you please just try to understand what I’m trying to say here?” He sighed as he looked down at his plate. “I really try to see the good in everybody that I meet. Now, believe it or not, but that attribute is not the best feature to have in a law enforcement officer. We are supposed to suspect the worst in every situation.”

  “But, Harold,” she pleaded. “Why, Jefferson?”

  The eggs on his plate seemed to become the object of his frustrations, as he slashed at them with his fork. He looked across the table at Mabel’s confused expression as he continued, “Years ago… when Jefferson was still a teenager, he’d come here with his family from… well, God knows where they would come from. Probably Paris, or Singapore, or some other exotic place. Anyway, they’d come here for a couple weeks… and then they’d leave. Then you usually wouldn’t see them until the following summer, when they’d show up for a couple weeks again.”

  Mabel interrupted, “But, Harold! They are very rich people! They have interests all over the world, for heaven’s sake!”

  “I know that!” he replied softly. “But, the thing that always bothered me was… well, when they would leave Medesha after their two weeks, they always left without Jefferson. The kid was only a teenager, and they would leave him here all by himself. He’d stay here until the fall when he had to go back to his fancy pantsy boarding school.”

  “Well,” she said rather sarcastically. “That is sure a good reason to suspect him of being a bad person.” She paused. “You know what I think your problem is with Jefferson Cordain? I think that you’re just like me. You’re a small town person that has always lived a small town life, and you just can’t understand why a person would live here if they didn’t have to.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Mabel, that’s not the problem!”

  “Harold!” she scolded. “You’ve got to be honest with yourself! You can’t… well, for that matter, none of us small town folks can relate to the life that Jefferson and his family has had.”

  “No, Mabel, that’s not it,” he answered. “All those summers, when he was living up there at the other end of the lake by himself, he would usually drive that fancy Chris Craft boat of his down to the dock here at Medesha, and make eyes at Shauni. He was always trying to hang around wherever she was.”

  “So that’s a crime?” she asked.

  “Mabel! He was seventeen! Shauni was only twelve!”

  She leaned back in the booth and smiled. “Oh, I see where this is going. You didn’t want any older boys making passes at your daughter… Well, I’ll tell you one thing, Harold. When I was twelve years old… if I looked like Shauni, when she was twelve… I bet I would have been able to get you interested in me way back then. Shauni was a very beautiful, mature looking twelve year old.”

  He defended himself. “And he was still five years older than she was.”

  “Did anything ever happen between them?” she inquired with sudden concern.

  “No,” he answered. “As far as I know, Jefferson has always treated Shauni with complete respect. But, he’s always been so rich, and Shauni’s the child of a poorly paid public official. That’s like water and oil. They just don’t mix.”

  “Okay,” replied Mabel. “It is my conclusion that you and Jefferson’s mother will probably never marry each other, because the two of you don’t have much in common. But, Harold, that has absolutely nothing to do with Shauni and Jefferson. They have a great deal in common. I mean… look at their interests. Shauni has become just as involved in this genetic thing that Jefferson is working on, and, from what I’ve been able to understand, they are both working on some kind of ‘Spirit Capsule’, or some such thing. Harold, from my point of view, these kids were made for each other. Sure, you and I don’t understand a lot of what they talk about most of the time, but you and I don’t have the education and interests that those kids have.”

  Harold looked down at his plate. “Well, when Shauni was growing up, I just never thought of her as being the wife of some filthy rich world traveler.”

  Mabel leaned forward on her elbows and said softly, “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re really afraid that if Shauni marries Jefferson, she’ll be gone from your life. She might fly out of here on a private jet, and never return. Or even worse, she’ll return as a different person.”

  “Well,” he admitted, “I guess that’s part of it. I don’t want to lose my little girl. I’ve always been so proud of the woman she’s become, and I don’t want her to change. But, there’s also the nagging feeling I’ve always had about Jefferson. These ideas of his. They scare me.”

  “They scare you?” she asked. “Why would they scare you? He has the mind of a curious scientist. His curiosities about the spirit world aren’t new. It’s just that he has a brilliant mind and the money to buy the equipment he needs to actually experiment with his theories. None of this makes him a bad person.”

  Just then, the cowbell clanged over the door. An elderly man wearing denim coveralls walked in slowly. He was extremely thin and slightly bent over. Mabel called out, “Good morning, Julius. How are you feeling?”

  Julius Benson had been employed by the Vandervork family for as long as anyone could remember. He was the caretaker of the estate over on Vander Island. Once each day, Julius would bring the Vandervork boat across from the island to the marina to pick up a few groceries and stop by Mabel’s to buy the daily newspaper. His wife, Ingrid, was the housekeeper of the estate, but she never left the island. It had been many years since anybody had seen Ingrid in town. In fact, if you weren’t at least a teenager, you probably didn’t know that old Julius Benson even had a wife.

  With a heavy German accent, and just a hint of a smile, he answered Mabel. “Good morning, Miss Martin. I guess I’m about as well as I can hope for, considering the fact that I’m almost eighty-nine years old.”

  Harold turned around and waved. “Hi, Julius. Good to see you. How’s Ingrid been lately?”

  The old man lifted his hand in a slight return wave, “Mornin’, Sheriff Wheaton. Oh, I guess that old lady is still kickin’. She always seems to find the time to boss me around on a daily basis, so I guess she’s happy and healthy enough.”

 
Without another word, the old man picked up his newspaper, dropped two quarters on the counter and walked out the door.

  Harold chuckled. “He sure is a strange old coot, isn’t he? Always says ‘Hi’, never says ‘Goodbye’.”

  Mabel smiled. “He is kind of a funny old gentleman.” Then, as if she felt guilty for actually saying something bad about another person, she added, “But, he sure is sweet. Why, one time he actually brought me a bouquet of wildflowers from the island.”

  Tandy called out from behind the lunch counter, “Say, you two love birds. Would you like some more coffee?”

  Mabel looked questioningly at Harold as he shook his head. “No thanks, Honey,” she replied. “Harold doesn’t have a porta potty in his cruiser, and I don’t need to fill up with coffee just before the lunch rush.”

  She turned back to Harold. “Now, tell me about these suspicions you have about the poor little Sadler boy’s death.”

  He cleared his throat, as if he was expecting to be scolded again for talking badly about other people. “You remember how things were here in Medesha before the hospital was built seven years ago, don’t you?”

  “Harold, I’m not senile,” she replied. “Of course I remember! Whenever anybody had any kind of medical problems, they had to go over to the clinic that Preston Vandervork had set up at the factory. That wonderful man helped everybody in this town at one time or another. Sometimes, I think the only reason Preston went to medical school was so he could help the people of Medesha. Why, for several years, he helped with the prenatal care and delivery of almost every kid in this town. In a way, I think that the hospital being built wasn’t such a good thing for Preston.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Harold.

  “Well, when the hospital opened, and Dr. Roberts came to town, that spelled the end of Preston’s clinic at the factory. Since then, we seem to see less and less of Preston. I think the clinic gave him a feeling of being needed. Now, he seems to be so lost and alone.” Then she added, “I think it has affected his health too. He seems to be a little sickly whenever you see him.”