While the digested remnants of finery didn’t appear to be from the garment that Dr. Kendall was wearing in the picture, the rhinestones were the same size and the fabric the exact style and texture.
“Has this woman ever been on this property?” Dirk asked. “Think about it. Be sure.”
“Not that I know of,” Paul replied.
“Me either,” said Dee, “and one of us is always here. With the goats and the horses, we don’t like to leave the place unattended for long.”
“Except for when we went to Brianne’s funeral,” Paul said.
“True.” Dee nodded thoughtfully. “We were gone for a couple of hours that afternoon. And as I recall, it was a day or two after that when I found the fancy manure. I thought it was weird, rather funny actually, and I remembered where I’d dumped it . . . in the back corner of the compost bin.”
“Could someone have gotten into the house that day, when you were gone to the funeral?” Dirk asked.
“Sure,” Paul said. “I only lock the doors at night, and not even every night. This is a very safe area. We’ve never felt afraid out here.”
Savannah wasn’t concentrating on what they were saying. She had spotted something else on the plate. Something tiny, but colorful, embedded in one of the soft pellets.
“Somebody hand me a knife, please,” she said.
“What?” Paul looked disgusted at the thought of what she might want it for.
But before he could object further, Dee had opened a drawer, taken out a table knife, and given it to Savannah. “What is it?” she asked.
“I want to see what this is. It doesn’t look like something that was in the goats’ feed, if you know what I mean.”
She used the tip of the knife to remove what looked like a tiny coral-colored bead. “Do you have a little plastic zip baggy?” she asked.
This time it was Paul who supplied what she needed.
“Gimme a bigger one of those bags,” Dirk said. “And a fresh, unused paper bag if you’ve got one. I’m going to have to take that coffee tin and that”—he pointed to the manure—“with me.”
As Savannah slipped the tiny bead into the sandwich-sized bag, Dirk asked her, “What is that?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I’m afraid I’ve got a good idea where it came from. And boy, do I ever wish I didn’t.”
Chapter 28
As Savannah walked out of the house with Dirk and his bags of new evidence, her heart was heavy.
“There has to be some sort of explanation,” she told him when they got back into the Mustang. “I’m telling you, if it’s Dr. Kendall who did this, I’m the worst judge of character ever. I thought she was awesome.”
Dirk placed his bags carefully on the back seat, then said, “You only spent a few hours with her. What’s that saying that Granny’s always telling us about personality and character?”
“Someone’s personality is obvious within the first ten seconds after you meet them. But it takes years to learn their character.”
“True. But I just can’t believe it. I’d have to have more than an empty coffee tin and some sparkly goat crap to convince me.”
She started the car and headed down the canyon. As she approached the main road, she heard a pleasant little chime from her car phone system.
“Tammy,” she said. “What’s going on, sugar?”
“I’ve got some news for you.”
“About Waycross?” she asked hopefully.
“No. He’s about the same” was the sad response. “It’s about the case, and it’s kinda sad, too.”
“Uh-oh.”
Dirk said, “Give us whatcha got, kiddo.”
“I’ve been digging into Dr. Kendall’s personal history, and I found something. I don’t know if you’ve heard it or not, Savannah, but I got the idea it isn’t public knowledge.”
“What’s that?” Savannah asked.
“She’s never been married, but when she was young, she had a child. The little girl’s name was Allison. She would have been about forty now, if she’d lived.”
Savannah was afraid to ask, but she had to. “What did she die of?”
“Novak’s disease,” Tammy replied. “It causes problems with the lungs, sort of like cystic fibrosis, but you can inherit it from only one parent. And that parent doesn’t always manifest the disease themselves.”
“How old was Allison when she died?” Savannah asked.
“Six.”
“Damn,” Dirk said. “That’s young. Poor kid.”
“I know.” They heard Tammy sniff. “It’s a really awful illness, too. I couldn’t stop crying when I read the list of symptoms. I think of Vanna Rose and . . . I can’t stand to think of a child going through all of that.”
“I know, honey. Fortunately, it’s a rare disorder, but I’ve heard of it,” Savannah said. “I wonder if the girl got it from Dr. Kendall or her father.”
“I don’t know who the father was. He was listed as ‘Unknown’ on the birth certificate. It appears Dr. Kendall was a bit of a free spirit back then.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“But I did a search of her family, and she had a brother who died of Novak’s.”
“Before or after her own kid was born?” Dirk asked.
“Long before. He was an older brother. He passed at the age of nine. Earlene was seven.”
“Then she knew it ran in the family,” Savannah said. “But she chose to have a child anyway.”
“Maybe she didn’t realize that what her brother had was hereditary,” Tammy suggested, “or the pregnancy was unplanned, and she didn’t feel it was right to have an abortion.”
“That’s all possible.” Savannah couldn’t help feeling sorry for Earlene Kendall, whatever her circumstances had been forty years ago. “But it must have been devastating to watch your child suffer like that, knowing they would die early from a disease you had passed to them. You would never, ever get over something like that.”
“That’s for sure.” Dirk reached into the glove compartment, took out his stash of cinnamon sticks, and stuck one in his mouth. “It would mess you up, somehow, some way.”
“There’s something else,” Tammy continued. “I managed to find some email addresses and screen names that she obviously intended to be anonymous on various social networks and forums. When she’s not officially speaking as herself, she’s extremely outspoken about people with fatal genetic disorders not bringing children into the world.”
“That’s understandable, I guess, considering her personal history.”
“No, I mean rabid. She never mentions her own daughter, but she attacks other people with genetic disorders who’ve either chosen to have kids or are considering it. She’s accused them so viciously that she’s been kicked off a number of websites for being abusive.”
“Wow, that’s a long way from the woman I met,” Savannah said as she pulled onto the Pacific Coast Highway and headed toward Santa Barbara. Turning to Dirk, she said, “You and Gran are right. It takes a long time to get to know a person’s true character.”
To Tammy, she said, “Thank you, darlin’. I can’t say I’m happy about what you uncovered, but we needed to hear it. Now, if you aren’t busy, could you call Ryan and John?”
“Sure. And tell them what?”
“Ask them to meet us in that parking lot behind Dr. Kendall’s Santa Barbara office. Make sure they bring the van and recording equipment. We’re on our way there now. I’m going to have another talk with Dr. Earlene. And I want to be wearing a wire.”
After the phone conversation was completed, Savannah turned to Dirk. “You don’t mind if I interview her first, do you? I think I might be able to get her to talk. She and I sort of, well, bonded. At least I thought we did.”
“I don’t mind at all. I agree you’d probably get farther with her than I would.”
“Thanks.”
He gave her a sad, soft smile. “I’m sorry, babe. I know you’re bummed about h
earing all that stuff. You said there had to be some sort of explanation.”
“Yeah, and it turns out there is. I just wasn’t expecting something like that.”
Chapter 29
A little over an hour later, a “wired-up” Savannah walked into Earlene Kendall’s office and was relieved to find the doctor there and alone.
Unfortunately, the vibrant colors and furnishings of the room did little to cheer her, as before. This time, they seemed false somehow, like a fanciful façade that overlaid a much darker, more sinister, structure.
As before, Earlene was wearing one of her signature garments of flowing silk, brightly patterned and embellished with crystals.
She jumped up from her seat on the sofa, tossed the book she had been reading onto the mandala table, and hurried toward Savannah, a smile on her face.
To Savannah, the smile seemed as false as the room’s bright colors and patterns.
“Savannah! How nice to see you again!”
“You, too,” she lied. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced like this.”
“Not at all. Please have a seat.”
Savannah sat on the sofa and placed her purse close to her thigh. It held her Beretta, and as benign and charming as her hostess appeared to be, she couldn’t forget that Earlene Kendall was a murder suspect.
Savannah didn’t want her weapon too far away.
“Shall I make us some tea?” Earlene asked.
Savannah couldn’t help noticing that, although the woman’s mouth was smiling, her eyes were bright with something that looked like suspicion mixed with anger.
“No, but thanks,” Savannah replied. “I just thought I’d stop for a few minutes.”
Earlene settled onto the sofa a few feet away and began toying with the rings on her fingers in a way that Savannah hadn’t seen her do before.
“I’m glad you came by,” Earlene said. “I saw you and Andrew leave together last night, and I’ve been a little worried about you. You know, after all we talked about before. How did it go?”
“We went out for sushi. He drank far more saké than he should have and tried to convince me that I should commit suicide with him.”
“Seriously? On the first date? Boy, he moves fast.”
“I know, huh? He was telling me the easiest ways to do it and—”
“There are no easy ways. Even when the mind is ready to go, the body doesn’t give up all that quickly.”
“He also pressed me to film my death and broadcast it to him. Supposedly, so that he could do the same thing at the same time, and we would ‘walk into the next room’ together.”
Earlene gasped. “I can’t believe this. I’ve been harboring a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Do you think he did the same to Brianne and Nels?”
“We’re considering all possibilities,” Savannah replied evenly.
She could tell that her noncommittal answer hadn’t pleased Earlene, and she wasn’t sure how to read that.
If she was innocent of the murders, she’d want her friends’ killer to be uncovered and brought to justice. If she was guilty, she would, no doubt, prefer that Savannah accuse someone else.
“Whether he hurt Brianne or Nels remains to be seen,” Savannah said. “But Andrew Ullman isn’t his real name, and he’s wanted in two other states for manslaughter. He encouraged and advised some depressed people to end their lives in places where that’s a serious crime. He’ll be arrested and extradited very soon.”
“Thank goodness. Or, I should say, ‘Thank you!’ Otherwise, I’d be looking over my shoulder every minute, wondering when he was going to show up here and worrying what he might say and do to my group members.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But you don’t think he was the one who was behind Brianne’s death and Nels’s?”
“I thought he might be, so I went out to Brianne’s house to see if Paul could identify a picture of him.”
Savannah watched for it and saw a slight narrowing of the eyes, a wee furrowing of the brows.
No, Earlene didn’t like the sound of that.
“It’s such a beautiful estate,” Savannah continued, forcing a light, happy tone. “Lots of land, a beautiful post-and-beam, barn-shaped house, horses, and the cutest little goats you’ve ever seen. Have you been there?”
“No” was the quick answer. “Brianne and I only knew each other through the group here. We never met outside of the meetings.”
“Too bad. Those goats are just adorable. Though you have to watch out for them. What they say about them chewing on everything is true. One of them nearly ruined the cuff of my best basic white blouse.”
Glancing down at the doctor’s ring finger on her left hand, Savannah saw that it was no longer bare. Like the others, that finger was also adorned with a silver ring. This one was studded with small, turquoise and coral beads.
Savannah reached into her purse and pulled out the plastic sandwich bag. “I found something while I was up there. It reminded me of you.”
Earlene stared at the bag. “Really? What was that?”
Savannah leaned toward her and took hold of her left hand.
For a second, she thought Earlene would snatch it back, but she didn’t. She submitted as Savannah held the bag next to her ring finger.
That was when Savannah noticed something else. A small injury, hardly more than a superficial scrape, on that finger. There was another even smaller one on the pinky next to it.
“Ouch,” Savannah said. “You hurt your hand.”
“No big deal. I was cutting a sheet of metal and I scraped it with a dull saw blade.”
“Hmm. Looks more like a bite to me.”
Earlene didn’t reply, but Savannah felt her hand flinch ever so slightly.
“You weren’t wearing this ring the last time I saw you,” Savannah told her. “Was it out for repairs? Oh, that’s right... ‘cutting a sheet of metal.’ You make your own jewelry. You probably fixed it yourself.”
“I do all of my own jewelry repairs.”
Savannah slowly twisted the ring around, studying all sides of it, until she found one small stone that was far paler than the others. “Too bad you couldn’t replace that missing coral bead with one that matched the others better.”
“It’s hard to match coral,” Earlene snapped. “It comes in so many different shades.”
“Really? I have one here that looks like a perfect match to the others. What do you think?”
Savannah let go of her hand and lifted the baggie to her eye level, where she could see the tiny bead more clearly.
“How lucky for you! I found your missing bead!” Savannah exclaimed cheerfully, as though informing her best friend that she was a lottery winner. “And you’ll never guess where. Not in a million years.”
Earlene gulped. “Where?”
Savannah put the baggie with the bead back into her purse and pulled out the even larger bag—the one containing the manure.
She dangled the clear bag in front of the woman’s eyes. “It was here in this goat poop.”
Turning the bag back and forth, she let the doctor get a good look . . . at the manure . . . at the sodden fabric . . . at the glistening rhinestones.
“Now, ain’t that about the fanciest doody you’ve ever seen in your life?” she said. “Laced with China silk and spangled with fine Austrian crystal.... Like the silk and rhinestones you’re wearing.” She leaned forward and pretended to study the doctor’s kimono more carefully. “Hey, exactly like what you’re wearing.”
Savannah waited for Earlene to reply. But she just ducked her head and sat quietly as tears began to fill her eyes.
“This was found on Brianne’s property. My husband, who’s the police detective assigned to Brianne’s and Nels’s case, found something else there. In her kitchen. An empty coffee tin.”
Once again, Earlene said nothing. She didn’t even ask the simplest questions that an innocent person would. Like, “What’s important about an empty coffee t
in?”
She just sat there, her head bowed as the tears began to roll down her cheeks.
“At one time, it contained coffee that Brianne’s ‘friend’ gave her. Coffee that she drank and drank as she got sicker and sicker. Now it’s empty, and whoever got rid of the leftover coffee washed the tin thoroughly. Just in case we got that far with our investigation and decided to test it . . . as in, test it for a rare but highly effective cocktail of drugs that, when ingested, would bring on symptoms similar to Halstead’s.”
Earlene began to cry in earnest as she twirled the newly-repaired ring on her left hand so hard and so fast that it tore open the small bite. The wound began to bleed.
“My partner had another detective go to the Farrows’ residence a while ago and guess what? There was a similar tin there, too. Candy had thrown it away, but he found it in the trash. Thoroughly washed. Spotless. He asked Candy if it was possible for someone to get into her home undetected, like when she was away at her husband’s funeral. Turns out, like a lot of trusting people who don’t know better, she leaves a spare key under the mat.”
When, once again, Earlene said nothing, Savannah started to be concerned. She had to get some sort of confession out of her. So far, the recording that the guys in the van were getting would be worthless. Savannah knew she’d need a lot more than just herself making barely-veiled accusations and Earlene weeping.
“What I don’t understand, Earlene, is why you didn’t just take the tins with you. Why did you stay and risk getting caught while you cleaned them?”
No reply.
“My guess is . . . you thought that finding empty tins would be less suspicious than someone discovering that they were missing altogether.”
Earlene shot her an ugly, angry look that gave Savannah instant access into the other side of the woman.
That one glance said it all.
Dr. Earlene Kendall wasn’t just a kaleidoscope of color and light. Not by a long shot. She had a lot of pain and its resulting anger stored inside. As a result, she was a highly dangerous person.
Savannah thought of all that Tammy had just told her on the phone. The excruciating secrets this successful, prestigious physician was hiding from the world.
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