by E. Joan Sims
I pulled Watson over to the edge of the lush green lawn and turned off the engine. Andy Joiner lunged against the side of the car and leaned heavily on my door while he caught his breath.
“P…aisley,” he panted, “c…can you please come back up to the house?” He took a deep breath. “Maybe you can help us with something.”
“Sure thing, Chief!” I grinned wickedly at him. “Always delighted to cooperate with the powers that be.”
He gave me a sour look and turned to trudge back up the hill.
“Want a ride, Chief? You look a little out of shape there. Be glad to give you a lift.”
He made an obvious effort to try and pull in the little pot belly his wife’s good cooking had encouraged over the years and doggedly climbed the steep drive while I slowly drove beside him
“Mom, give the poor guy a break,” whispered Cassie.
“Shhh! You had your idea of fun. Now I’m having mine.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Andy recovered from his exertions while I parked the car. His color was still high, and he was sweating like a horse, but he managed to maintain his dignity in front of the other officers.
“We can enter the house through the garage,” he said stiffly, as he pointed the way. “Follow me, please.”
Andy’s polite demeanor made me ashamed of the way I had teased him. He kept up a running conversation as we entered the house. I missed most of what he said while I stared in awe at the beautiful paintings Julie Baxter had obtained since I had last been a guest in her home. The walls of the long hallway leading from the kitchen to the main part of the house served as a sort of minor art gallery. A series of skylights overhead opened up the narrow passage to the bright sunlight. The space was filled with the brilliant colors of paintings hung all along the expanse. It was a dazzling spectacle.
“…perhaps the young lady would like to wait here with Officer Harley.”
“Do I have to, Mom?”
From the grim look on Joiner’s face he wasn’t going to change his mind.
“I guess so, Cassie. I’ll be right back.”
I hadn’t heard what Joiner was saying as we entered the house, so I was not at all prepared for the horrible sight of Dr. Edgar Baxter sprawled across his big walnut desk with a large ragged hole in his head and brain tissue leaking out across his blotter.
“Uhhh…My Lord! Oh God, I didn’t know.”
Andy came from behind and supported me as I backed up and sat down heavily in a big leather armchair. Blackness washed over my vision for a moment, and I found it hard to breathe. My thoughts scattered, searching desperately for something trivial, something other than the scene of violent death confronting me.
I finally managed a deep breath and sat back in the soft comfort of old leather as my vision cleared. I found myself thinking that this was just the sort of chair I had always wanted for the library on the farm. I wondered absently where Edgar, or maybe Julie, had found it. I put my hands palms down on the seat next to my thighs to push myself deeper into the enfolding leather. As I moved back, my fingers brushed against what felt like a glass tube. I gently folded it into my palm, hoping Andy hadn’t noticed.
“Are you all right, Paisley?”
“What? Oh…I guess so.”
Andy crossed over to a small table in the room and poured me a glass of water. As soon as I was sure he wasn’t looking, I put the glass vial in my pocket. When he turned back to me, I took a sip from the glass of water he offered, then wet my fingers and rubbed my temples.
“I was just…I didn’t know about…” I stammered, feeling the sting of tears in my nose and throat.
“I guess you didn’t hear me before.”
He knelt on one knee in front of me and examined my face carefully.
“Do you need to leave? You don’t have to stay, you know.”
I patted his big shoulder gratefully and then blew my nose on one of the tissues he offered.
“I’m sorry I made you run up the hill. It was mean of me.”
He laughed. It was a big booming laugh, and somehow it cleared the room of ghosts. The lifeless body that had once been our dedicated family doctor had become a pitiful and gruesome object, but one I was finally able to deal with.
“What happened to him?” I asked in a voice that was still a little shaky.
“Well, from the looks of him I would say he’s a goner,” he answered sardonically
The memory of Joiner huffing and puffing up the driveway gave me a moment’s pleasure. Apology be damned!
“I would agree,” I responded with careful dignity. “The question was meant to be how did it happen?”
“We found a shotgun on the floor beside the desk. It would appear that it was the murder, or maybe even suicide, weapon.”
“You think he might have killed himself? But why? Was there a note? There always has to be a note.”
“Whoa there! You’re way ahead of us. I don’t have access to a whole lot of forensic science here in Rowan Springs. The state folks are sending down some specialists to help look for things like powder burns and bullet angles. We’ll have to wait until some of those tests come back to say much more.”
“Andy, you don’t fool me. You may be a country cop now, but you used to be a big city detective. You’ve seen a lot of murders. The story around town is that’s why you moved your family here three years ago—to get away from all the violence. I’m sure you know more intuitively than any fancy forensic specialist can tell.”
He stared at the discarded flesh and bone that used to be Edgar Baxter. He hadn’t known Edgar Baxter as well as my mother had—as a trusted physician and friend. To Andy, the body in front of him was just the focus of another crime scene.
“And just why should I share that intuitive knowledge with you?” he asked politely.
There wasn’t a trace of the old country-boy accent he sometimes affected in his voice.
It felt weird grinning in a room that was beginning to stink of death, but nevertheless, I gave him a big one.
“You don’t have to, but I think you want to. You are as fascinated by violent death as I am. That’s why you became a policeman in the first place. You may have moved back here because of Constance and the girls, but you still share my morbid curiosity about the criminal mind.”
“Or the reasons why decent, normal people become criminals,” he added.
“Exactly!”
“I’ve heard you’re as cunning as your mother. Are you giving me a snow job?”
“Maybe.”
He laughed again. This time I joined in.
“Well, I can tell you that we didn’t find a note. The shotgun is a fancy collector’s item which shouldn’t be hard to trace and…Are you sure you’re all right? You still look a little pale.”
“I’m fine now, really. What did you want to ask me? Why did you bring me here in the first place?”
“Under…well, underneath the body we found a laptop computer. There were no identifying marks on it, but a disc inside had several chapters and some notes for a novel. The author is Leonard Paisley?”
I tried to get up, but Andy gently held me in the chair.
“Believe me, Paisley, this is as close as you want to get.”
“Edgar Baxter was the one who stole my computer? I can’t believe it.”
This wasn’t a part of my theory at all. I never figured the town’s leading physician for a sneak thief.
“Why didn’t you report the theft? That little piece of plastic and technology must have cost you a pretty penny. And a work in progress, with all your notes? That can’t be unimportant to you either. Why didn’t you call it in?”
I couldn’t tell him the truth, not just yet, anyway. And I couldn’t think fast enough to tell a lie that would sound like the truth. I fell back on that ancient weapon of southern womanhood: I pretended to swoon. I’m sure Andy didn’t fall for it, but he had no choice. He called for someone to help him carry me outside to the car. Cassandra ran
alongside us, her eyes wide with alarm.
“My Mom, is she all right?”
I moaned loudly to announce my pretended return to consciousness.
“She’ll be just fine. Just let her get some fresh air. And here…”
The icy cold water was totally unexpected. Andy had dumped a big soft drink cup of the stuff over my head. I came up gasping, cursing, and damning the man for getting in the last word!
“She’s fine. You can take her home now,” he said to Cassie with a huge grin. “Tell her we’ll call if we need anything else. And here…” He handed her a computer disc. “Here’s her book. We’ll need to keep the laptop for a while but there’s no reason for her not to have the disc. I know how much it means to her.”
Cassie helped her poor dazed mother into the car and hopped into the driver’s seat.
“Get me out of here now!” I whispered, trying not to move my lips.
Cassie turned startled eyes on me, “Mom! You’re all right!”
“Move it on out!”
“Okay! Okay!”
Chapter Thirty-three
As soon as we were down the driveway and out of sight I sat up and shook the ice and water out of my hair, giving my daughter an unexpected cold shower.
“Mom!” she protested.
“I’m sorry. Damn, damn, and double damn! I’m going to get that man if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Joiner?”
“Yes!”
I fished around between the seats and found some old napkins from the Dairy Queen. I patted my face and shirt as dry as I could until the paper disintegrated into a sodden mess.
“What happened to Dr. Baxter? Did he have a heart attack?”
“I’m afraid not, Cassie. Andy Joiner says it looks like he shot himself.” I didn’t tell her that I had my own doubts about calling it suicide, or that the shotgun looked all too familiar.
“Oh, how horrible! Then you must be right! Dr. Baxter’s the one responsible for all the dead babies. I can’t wait until we tell Ethan that we’ve solved his mystery!”
I didn’t interrupt her litany. I couldn’t. My teeth were chattering too hard.
“Do you want to go home and change?”
“No, I’ll be okay. Just turn on the heater. I’m freezing.”
I huddled in front of the heater vents. By twisting and turning I exposed as much wet fabric as I could to the warm air. By the time we got back to town, I was as dry as I could get. My hair was a different story. Auburn curls stood up and out in every direction. I had never looked more like Raggedy Ann.
“Nobody will take me seriously looking like this,” I moaned.
“Which nobody do you have in mind, Mom?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “Somebody with a lab that can tell me what’s in this little bottle.”
I pulled the small yellow-capped vial I had found in Edgar Baxter’s house out of my pocket.
“What is it and where did you find it?”
“I don’t know what it is. I found it tucked in between the cushions of a wonderful leather chair.”
I held the vial up to the window and squinted. I could see nothing in the colorless liquid but tiny little black dots. “You know anybody with a lab around here, or even a junior chemistry set? Anybody with a microscope?”
“Ethan told me that the extension service of the state agriculture college out on the Teddyville road has a pretty decent lab. He went there several times. I went with him once and met the guy in charge, Barry Sedmonds. He’s really nice. If I thought you would go for a man with a huge grey beard who wears overalls all the time I would have introduced you earlier.
“No time like the present. I’m sure to make a fantastic impression myself.”
“Let’s go then!”
The local extension service was the place that farmers in Lakeland County came to analyze the soil on their land. They also brought in all kinds of creepy crawlers to find out what was eating their corn, or sorghum, or fescue. I had never had a reason to visit before, and now I was sorry. It was quite a lovely place.
The small low-lying buildings were set unobtrusively on several beautifully green and verdant acres of everything that can be grown in this part of the country. A roadside stand selling big red tomatoes and Indian corn and green beans was an advertisement for the expertise of the farmer scientists. Each one of the little white buildings was festooned with trellises of climbing roses, morning glories, and scarlet runners. It was a beautiful and calming sight. I almost forgot why we had come.
“Wow, Mom, did you see those tomatoes? Gran would love to have some, I bet. And let’s get some to take to Mabel.”
“I’m hungry,” I realized. “What time is it?”
“Almost four o’clock.
“Gee, how time flies when your having fun.”
Cassandra drove to the end of a neat one-lane gravel road behind the buildings. From the back, I could see that they were actually greenhouses. The glass was covered with shutters which could be moved about on a series of rolling tracks built on the eaves of the roofs. It was an ingenious plan for getting most of the sunlight during winter months.
“Barry’s office is in the last building. I’m sure he has a microscope. But be prepared, Mom. He’s a little bit of a loon.”
“All my best friends are loons. He’ll fit right in.”
Cassie parked Watson as far off the narrow road as she could. We got out and walked across the gravel to the little building.
“Are you sure he’s here? I don’t see any more cars.”
“He doesn’t have a car. He says they aren’t environmentally efficient. He’s here. There’s his bicycle.”
“Oh,” I said under my breath, “He’s one of those sorts of loons.”
But as soon as I met Barry, I realized he was a loon after my own heart.
“Cassandra the beautiful! Welcome back. I’m delighted to see you. Where’s your good-for-nothing Romeo?”
The big man in red plaid flannel and vast amounts of denim ushered us into the warm and earthy-smelling confines of the greenhouse. His beard did resemble steel wool, but when he brushed past me to secure the door, it felt as soft as goose down.
“All my babies are going to sleep,” he explained as he shut the door carefully and pulled a heavy sheet of plastic down over it to prevent any possibility of a draft. “I don’t want them to catch a cold,” he said, as he gestured towards the plant beds extending back the length of the greenhouse.
The big man turned and looked me up and down.
“I’m supposing you’re Cassandra’s famous mother, Paisley Sterling. I would say sister, but I’m hoping you’re not that young because she is a mere child. You want to have dinner with me Friday night? I’m fixing venison spaghetti. I may not be Robert Redford but I have a terrific personality.” He leered comically at me as he continued, “And you, my sweet Paisley, have enough good looks for the both of us.”
I laughed. I couldn’t resist his effervescent smile and bright green eyes. They were the youngest part of him. I judged his age at about forty something. He was still firm and athletic, and the face behind the beard was smooth and unlined. The only wrinkles he had were laugh lines around those terrific eyes.
“Sorry, Barry—about the lack of introduction, I mean,” Cassie offered in a somewhat distracted voice. I could tell she was surprised that Barry didn’t know about Ethan’s escape. “This is my mother, Paisley DeLeon.”
“Then you’re married?” He looked at Cassie and back at me and blushed an indecent red. “Oh, of course you would be, you’re her mother. Oh, well, never mind. Next time around, next life.”
He busied about and found two rickety old three-legged stools and pulled them up to his lab table for us.
“What can I do you fer? As my maiden uncle used to say.”
“Mr. Sedmonds,” I started.
“Barry, please,” he insisted as he put one big hairy paw on my arm.
“Barry, I found this at the scene
…somewhere this morning, and I’m really curious as to its contents. At first I thought it was water, but if you look really closely you can see the tiniest spots of something in it. I was hoping you would let me borrow your microscope.”
I put the little bottle with the yellow cap on the lab table in front of him. He sat back in surprise and almost fell off his seat.
“Well, there’s no mystery here. I’m sorry I can’t pretend and play the role of all-powerful scientist, but this is just too simple.”
“It is?” asked Cassie.
“Sure is, honey,” he answered.
“Then what is it?”
“Haven’t you ever been to an allergist?” he asked me.
“Sure, just last week. I had some poi…”
“Well, then you must know that this is the weakest dose of an allergen. Most allergy docs I know have the same system. The yellow tops are for the first immunotherapy inoculations, and they go on through a series of stronger extracts. Those are in the same bottles topped in green, blue, and red. What are you allergic to?”
“Nothing, I guess. I had…”
“Dust mites! That’s what gets me—the little buggers. Damn dust mites make me about sneeze my beard off. I had to have shots for dust mite allergy for three years! Twice a week for three years! Can you imagine?”
“Well, I don’t…”
He grabbed the little bottle.
“Let’s see if we can tell what this is in here.”
Cassie was laughing. I had to smile. The man was a tornado in blue denim.
“You’re right, my sweet lady! There is the tiniest of somethings in this bottle,” he said, turning back from his microscope. “And I would hazard a guess that this is an allergen for Goldenrod.”
“Goldenrod?”
“Yes! Because it has an artifact.”
“Artifact?”
I was beginning to sound like an echo.
He slammed the bottle down on the table and barreled past me in the confined space again. This time I could swear he pinched my buttocks. I gave a little jump and Cass looked at me quizzically. This was no time to get on my feminist high horse, I decided. I was brimming over with excitement. I had the feeling that this bear of a man was coming close to solving Ethan’s problem.