by Mark Reps
"Yes, Doctor."
"Mrs. Funke, it looks as if your prayers have been answered."
The old woman was staring so deeply into her son's eyes she didn't hear a word Doc Yackley said.
"Hemlock you say, water hemlock?"
"It smells like sour carrots when it's thrown back up," said Song Bird.
"When I pumped his stomach, it smelled just like rotten carrots. I remember it as clear as a bell."
24
The once hulking frame of Deputy Delbert Funke had been reduced by illness to a gangly stick figure of his former self. Nevertheless, the sheriff's face burst into a smile as he walked into the hospital room and saw his deputy standing and looking out the window.
"Delbert! Damn but you're looking good."
"Don't kid a kidder, Zeb. I got a mirror in the bathroom."
"Let me put it this way. You're looking a might better than you did a week ago," said Zeb.
"Zeb, Sheriff Hanks I mean, Deputy Steele stopped by earlier. She brought me up to date on what's been going on. I think I have something that might help."
"Why don't you sit down, Delbert. You shouldn't be straining yourself."
Delbert sat on the edge of the bed. His breathing was heavy and labored, obviously winded from the activity.
"It's about that snooping around you wanted me to do on Mrs. Espinoza, Father McNamara's housekeeper."
"What did you find out?"
"She's a real nice lady. I didn't want her to think I was spying on her. So, I kind of asked her what she thought about the way Father McNamara died."
"Yes, Delbert?"
"Well, after I asked her that question, I could've knocked her over with a feather. She blessed and crossed herself three or four times, like so."
Delbert rapidly made a backward sign of the cross on his face, aping the housekeeper's behavior.
"It was like she was trying to ward off evil spirits or something. You know, like Catholics do."
"Yes."
"Then she mumbled off a whole bunch of words in Spanish. I told her to slow down cuz I don't habla no Española but just a little bit. Then she started talking just as fast in English. I could hardly understand a word of that either."
"Did she seem excited? Or upset?"
"Both, I guess. When I finally got to hearing what she was saying, as near as I can figure anyway, she was saying she thinks the devil came right into the priest's house on the night Father McNamara died. She says half in Spanish and half in English, the diablo, that's Español for devil, came and carried old Padre McNamara right down to Route tres, seis, seis, in his rocking chair and set him down in front of that big ol' semi-truck. Well, shucks, I knew right off that was crazy talk."
"Did you ask her why she believed the devil had paid a visit to Father McNamara?"
"No. I couldn't hardly get a word in edgewise because then she started talking about how the Pope himself was friends with Father McNamara. Talk about double loco-loco. She said Father McNamara got letters from the Pope. She said she saw the letters with her own eyes."
"Did she say if Father McNamara saved the letters? Are they still in the rectory?"
"Naw. I asked her that too. She says Father McNamara destroyed every single one of them right after he read them. One time she even walked in on him when he was burning one of them. She asked the padre why he would burn letters from the Pope. He said they weren't really from the Pope, but they were from some other place in Rome. The church headquarters. I forget the name of it."
"The Vatican?"
"Yeah, that was it."
"Go on, what else did she say?"
"She was worried about Father McNamara. She figured burning letters from the Pope was probably a real big sin. She was superstitious and all like a lot of those old Mexican Catholic women are. She figured throwing those religious papers in the fire was like giving them right to the devil. Father McNamara told her it was okay because he was only following orders."
"Following orders?"
"Dang, that is exactly what I said. Mrs. Espinoza didn't know what following orders meant, but I think I got it all figured out. I was gonna tell you that night up on the mountain when that little doctor invited you, me and Jake to dinner."
"What's your idea, Delbert? What do you think was going on?"
"You remember how those Catholics like to eat their fish on Friday?"
"Yes."
"Bein' there aren't so many lakes in Arizona and there's a lake up there on the mountain, maybe the Pope was buying a lake for the Catholics to fish in."
"Thanks, Delbert," said Zeb. "I'll give it some thought. Now I think you better lay down and rest."
"You're right, I am a little tuckered," said Delbert, lying back down on the hospital bed. "Oh, Zeb, there was one other thing. I don't think it means anything. You remember the night the padre died?"
"Yes."
"Mrs. Espinoza said Father McNamara had a dinner guest."
"Did she say who it was?"
"She didn't know his name. She said he was a funny looking hombre, no bigger than an el ratón. I think that means mouse or rat or something like that. She said he had big thick glasses."
"Thanks, Delbert. You've been a great help. Get some rest."
"Okay, boss."
"Say, Delbert, mind if I use the phone? I gotta call the office."
Sheriff Hanks question was greeted by a rippling snore.
"Helen, put me through to Deputy Steele, would you?"
Kate answered on the first ring.
"Sheriff, I'm glad you called. I just got a phone call from Farrell's secretary. I think she was feeling guilty for being a little short with us the other day. I told her I would drop by and have one last look around."
"Good idea," said Zeb. "I keep getting this vague feeling we overlooked something."
"I'll keep that in mind. I'm on my way over there now," said Kate.
"I'll call Doc Yackley and see if he's heard anything from the lab on Farrell's blood and tissue samples. Why don't you meet me at the Town Talk when you're done, and we'll go over everything," said Zeb.
As she drove to the real estate office, Kate's eyes were drawn westward toward the top of Mount Graham. Its thundercloud encased peaks defined the boundaries of the Indian spirit world. Up high, where the sky kissed the land, was the holy turf of ancient shrines and sacred stones. The clouds near the peaks of Mount Graham parted, revealing an aqua blue sky. As the billowy formations drifted away and separated, Kate's imagination returned to childlike eyes while she envisioned thousands of images in the slowly moving clouds.
25
Inside the Town Talk, Zeb walked past a trio of old men shaking dice and took a seat near the kitchen. Doreen scampered across the room to greet him.
"Good morning, tootsy-wootsy. What's shakin' your booty this morn'?"
"Delbert's on the mend. Song Bird's medicine is working."
"Hallelujah! Praise the good Lord and the Indian spirits both," exclaimed Doreen.
"What's all this blubbering about?" asked Jake.
"Ya big galoot, didn’t cha hear the good news?"
"What? Did you win the lottery or something?"
"Naw, but if you leave a nice tip, I'll buy me a ticket on Saturday. The jackpot is up to fifty-one million buckaroos."
"I'll leave the tip if you tell me the happy news."
"Zeb just told me that Delbert's improvin' like crazy. Ain't that great?"
"Now that is good news, Doe."
"Lordy, I almost forgot. I got a business to run. Coffee for the good guys?"
Doreen poured a couple of cups of fresh brew for the officers as Deputy Kate Steele walked through the door.
"Katie, I suppose you already heard about Delbert?" asked Doreen.
"Good news travels fast."
"Anything besides a cup of mud for the likes of you two? Katie, coffee?"
"Coffee's good."
"Same here," said Zeb. "Go ahead and take care of your real customers."
"I suppose with Delbert on the mend, I've got about a week to help you solve the Farrell case?" said Jake.
"Well, Jake, even if he is out of the hospital in a week, I doubt he'll be ready to get back to work any time soon. You'd better plan on sticking around a while. Deputy Steele and I can use your help."
Jake sipped his coffee, unable to hide his joy at being able to remain on the job.
"What did you find out, Kate? Did Miss Thompson spot anything unusual while she was cleaning up?" asked Zeb.
"No, but she's still in a tizzy over the missing coffee cup. Excuse me, missing espresso cup. I figured maybe he broke it and tossed it out without telling her, so I went behind the building and had a look in the dumpster."
"Makes sense," said Jake.
"Darla walked out there with me. She pointed out where Farrell parked his car. He parked in the same spot every day. According to her no one else ever parked back there."
"How'd she get to work?" asked Zeb.
"She walked."
"Find the espresso cup?"
"No, but something else grabbed my attention. There were two parking spots next to the trash bin. Farrell's was well worn and rutted. But the other spot, the one Darla said no one ever parked in, had a fresh set of double wide tire tracks."
"Double tire tracks?" asked Jake.
"A lot of the new, fancy trucks have a second set of tires on the rear axle," said Zeb. "Somebody was probably driving through the alley and did a U-turn."
"Just thought I'd mention it," said Deputy Steele. "Did you get a hold of Doc?"
"He was busy. I left a message."
"The more I think about it, good old common sense tells me it is highly unlikely Farrell would hang himself. What do we really know about him?" asked Zeb.
Deputy Steele flipped open her small notebook.
"He's well to do but not rich. He has no real debt to speak of. He's been married to the same woman, Zelda, for twenty-five years. They have two adult children. No one in the family has any arrest record. He's been the owner of Rodeo Real Estate for twenty-two years. He and Zelda liked to vacation. France was their favorite spot. They didn't really live extravagantly. He was active in civic and church organizations. Most of his friends seem to be from his business associations."
"Any known enemies?" asked Zeb.
"None that I could find," said Kate.
"Did he have any major confrontations with people on the commission or people who brought matters before it?"
"There was a mild disagreement or two along the way, but nothing hostile," said Jake. "I think when you saw his reaction to my questioning the land deals up on Mount Graham, you saw him at his most confrontational."
"For argument's sake, let's say he didn't commit suicide. Let's assume he was murdered. Somebody would have to have a reason to kill such a seemingly innocuous man," said Zeb.
"A hidden enemy? An old grudge?" questioned Kate.
"Maybe he screwed somebody over in a real estate deal?" offered Jake.
"If he was murdered, he had an enemy who wanted him out of the way, maybe needed him out of the way," said Zeb.
"Who would gain with Farrell out of the picture?" asked Deputy Steele.
"Telephone for Sheriff Hanks." A bellowing Doreen Nightingale held up the telephone and called out in perfect mimicry of an old movie hotel bellhop. "Telephone for Sheriff Hanks. Here ya' go, honey bear," said Doreen. "Doc Yackley wants to talk to you."
Zeb took the phone. He talked to Doc Yackley quietly for a brief minute before returning to the counter and his fellow lawmen.
"It was poison, all right," Zeb announced. "The lab tests confirmed it."
"What did Doc have to say?" asked Jake.
"The lab identified something called lobelia in Farrell's system. He said around here they call it Indian tobacco or water hemlock," replied Zeb.
"I've heard of Indian tobacco. People say the taste is really bitter," said Jake.
"Doc Yackley said in small liquid doses they use it as a muscle relaxant. Indian tobacco can also be used to make someone sweat like crazy. He said the Apaches use it to sweat out evil spirits. Larger doses are toxic, even deadly. He said Farrell's autopsy findings, the dilated pupils, the excessive sweat stains on his clothing, the changes in the lung tissue and death due to respiratory paralysis match the signs of water hemlock poisoning to a tee."
"Did he say how much hemlock was found in his system?" asked Kate.
"Four times as much as it would take to kill a man," said Zeb.
"Only a person who was bent on killing themselves would take that much of a poison. Maybe we are looking at a suicide after all," said Kate.
"If that is the case, there is a lot of evidence that doesn't make sense. The neck burns, the broken neck, the fingernail marks that were dug into his ankles, the lack of rope fibers under the fingernails, the excessive wood shavings on the body and the floor," said the sheriff.
"Granted, but how would someone have gotten Farrell to take that much poison? At gunpoint?" asked Jake.
"Wait a second," said Kate. "Didn't Darla Thompson say Farrell drank espresso all day long?"
"Yes, but so what?" asked Zeb.
"Have you ever tasted espresso?" asked the deputy.
"No. I'm not sure exactly what it is, other than French coffee," said Zeb.
"Coffee steamed under high pressure. It's thick, rich and aromatic, very bitter tasting..."
"Bitter? Like water hemlock?" asked Jake.
"Espresso is so strong I'll bet it could easily hide the taste of four or five drops of lobelia."
"There's one other thing Doc told me. Something Song Bird told him about Delbert," said Zeb.
"What's that?" asked Kate.
"Doc said Song Bird told him Delbert had been poisoned with water hemlock."
"Anyway, Doc can verify that?" asked Kate.
"The poison's been out of his system too long, but Delbert's symptoms matched up with water hemlock poisoning. Doc said if it's true there's no way to prove it."
"Now we've got two poisonings on our hands. Delbert's and Farrell's."
"Jake, what do you know about water hemlock?"
"When I was a kid, we called it Pukeweed. The ranchers called it cowbane."
"Pukeweed, water hemlock, lobelia, Indian tobacco. It'd be nice if we kept to one name," said Zeb. "Let's call it water hemlock."
"In the old days every cowboy had a story about it. The one I remember hearing is about how the dumbest calf in the herd would eat some cowbane, excuse me, water hemlock, twitch like crazy and drop over dead in a fit. I guess it was quite a sight. I even heard of calves becoming so crazed they'd run right off a cliff," said Jake.
"What does water hemlock look like?" asked Kate
"Parsnips," replied Jake.
Suddenly Jake's hand began to tremble.
"Damn it!" cried Zeb.
"What?" asked Kate.
"The answer's been right here under our noses. I know where and when Delbert was poisoned."
"Jesus, Zeb, you're right," said Jake.
"Where? When?" asked Kate.
"The night before he got sick. When we were up on Mount Graham. Jake and I were taking a look at the land the Catholic Church was buying up through Farrell's real estate office. Jake was suspicious because Farrell was trying to railroad something through the county planning commission. The land was near a place where my grandfather had taken me years ago. It was also an Apache holy place."
"What's this have to do with Delbert's poisoning?"
"Delbert happened by on long-distance patrol when we all ran into Dr. Bede," said Jake. "We were returning a briefcase he had left behind here at the Town Talk. He came across as a pathetic sort of man. You know the type, a loner, no friends. I guess you could say we sort of felt sorry for him. When he asked us to stick around for some dinner, we did."
"I'm not sure how this ties into the poisoning. Are you saying Bede poisoned Delbert?"
"Maybe, maybe not. If he d
id, it might have been accidental."
"What do you mean?" asked Kate.
"He made dinner for us, like I said. We had hamburgers, potatoes, carrots and parsnips."
"Parsnips? Do you think he accidentally fed you water hemlock instead of parsnips?"
"It could have happened that way," said Zeb.
"How come you and Jake didn't get sick like Delbert did?"
"I hate parsnips. Always have. I wouldn't have put any on my plate. No, wait a minute. Bede served us. I tossed mine away when Bede wasn't looking."
"I did too," said Jake. “But I saw Delbert take a bite, make an ugly face, swallow halfway and then spit the rest out. He definitely got some in his system."
"You don't think it was an accident, do you?"
"I don't know, Kate," said Zeb. "But it is kind of hard to believe that a professional who studies plants for a living might not be able to distinguish a poisonous plant like water hemlock from a parsnip."
"Just because someone is book smart doesn't mean they have a corner on common sense," said Jake. "But what on God's green earth could be his motive for poisoning us?"
"I don't know. Maybe he thought we were onto something." said Zeb.
"I suppose you're certain Bede poisoned Farrell too," said Jake.
"Somebody poisoned him. Water hemlock appears to be the common thread."
"Do we know anything that connects Farrell to Bede?" asked Kate.
Jake sat quietly thinking for a minute before responding to his deputy.
"The only time I think Bede and Farrell even laid eyes on each other was at the county planning commission meeting," said Zeb.
"That was the night Farrell was trying to railroad through the conditional land use permit for the Catholic Church up on Mount Graham," said Jake. But Bede was nothing more than a casual observer. Besides if this has something to do with Mount Graham, shouldn't I be the one he was going to poison and not Farrell. After all, I was the one who was questioning the goings on up there, not Farrell. Farrell was for it."
"It's beginning to look like Bede's actions were no accident," said Kate.