The Priest Who Ate a Poison Petit Four

by Kee Patterbee

  “Brain injury. All right, we need a neck brace and board. Where’s that gurney?”

  Magdalen rose just as two men pushed their way in through the door with the stretcher. Gran and Hannah stood back watching as the physician directed the action. Hannah leaned over to Gran, whispering.

  “Whatever he had was in his locker. I’m going to need to get to it after they get him out of here.” Hannah cocked her head in the direction of the facilities manager. He stood between two shelving rows, watching. “You think you can keep him busy long enough for me to find the locker and get it open?”

  Gran half grinned and whispered back. “Honey, distraction is my middle name.” She reached over and patted her granddaughter’s arm before moving to stand across the way from the manager. Both the elder Starvling and the man watched for a few moments more as the medical personnel stabilized Rhoades. Then they loaded him onto the gurney.

  Hannah was unsure of her grandmother’s plan, but she knew it would be dramatic. Gran had a flair for the theatrical. She was not disappointed. After Rhoades’ removal, followed by the physician, the woman, and Magdalen, Gran started after. Just as she stepped before the facilities manager, she stumbled into him. Doing so, she knocked over several more containers, almost pulling another shelf down.

  “Oh!” Gran cried out as she flailed about, coming to land on the hapless manager.

  “Careful there, young lady,” the man said as he attempted to catch her.

  Hannah watched, as the elder Starvling half dragged the man to the floor before he steadied her. The sleuth half laughed as she drifted back into the far reaches of the shelves, hiding herself. She continued to listen as Gran hammed it up.

  “Oh, I think I’ve twisted my ankle.”

  “Well, let me see.”

  “Owwwwwww.”

  “Oh…I…better get that doctor or that nurse back in here.”

  “Would you, dear? I’ll just wait till you get back.”

  “Okay.”

  From her hidden spot, Hannah watched as the man exited. She then headed out toward where Gran sat smirking.

  “Drama queen,” Hannah commented with a wink to her grandmother as she passed by going toward the lockers.

  “You need some help?”

  “I think I got it. Listen for them.”

  Gran rose and headed to the door, cracking it to peer out. Hannah, reaching the lockers, scanned them. Marked on a piece of faded tape was Rhoades. She looked down to the lock. Padlock. Great. Upon further examination, she found to her amazement that the key was in place. She twisted the key, removed it, and opened the door. Inside, she found nothing that stood out as evidence. There was a change of clothes, a towel, and Toiletry items, two books. However, there were no packages, bags, or boxes; nothing that looks like evidence. She ran her hands over the clothes, finding nothing. Examining further, she pulled out the two books. One was a Bible: King James Version. She ran her thumb along the pages to leaf through them. A business card rested in Revelation. Hannah pulled it out. After reading it over, she slipped it into her blue jeans pocket. The other book caused her eyes to widen a slight bit. A Murderous Little Town. Hmm.

  “Hannah,” Gran called out.

  Knowing this meant that someone was coming back, Hannah slipped the Bible back into place but held onto the copy of the other book. She closed the door and slipped the lock on. Then she moved over to where Gran had resumed her position on the ground. Just as she knelt beside her grandmother, the door opened and the facilities manager entered. Behind him, to both Starvlings’ surprise was Magdalen.

  “Are you all right, Ms. Starvling?” Magdalen asked.

  Hannah noted the curious look on her sister-in-law’s face when their eyes met. Hannah’s semi-pursed lips said everything without saying anything. She let it fade as fast as she had assumed it. Magdalen caught on and tried to hide a bemused expression.

  “Oh, I think I’ll be okay, dear. Just had a clumsy fall is all. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s nothing. Hannah, be a lamb and help me up, will you?”

  Hannah resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Gran’s dramatics. She rose but the facilities manager stepped in to help.

  “Oh, you are such a good man. Handsome too. Your wife is a lucky woman…” Gran smiled as she glanced over the name embroidered on his jumpsuit. “Lee.””

  “You wouldn’t know it to hear her talk.”

  “Well, you tell her that if she wants to get rid of you, you know one lady who’d take you in a second.”

  Lee half laughed and half blushed. “Well, you seem okay now. Are you sure that you can walk? I can get you a wheelchair if you like.”

  “Oh, no, I’m fine now, just was a bit all panicky. That poor man and all. I think I’d just like to make my way down to the cafeteria and get some hot tea or something. Thank you for everything. You’re a peach.”

  With that, Magdalen and Hannah ‘helped’ Gran walk out. Within a few steps, she announced that she was good, and she was ready for her tea. As they exited the room, Hannah shook her head as she kept her eyes downward to the floor.

  “You think maybe you overdid it a little? Handsome. You’d take him in a second. He’s no Papa Jay.”

  “Oh, hush you. No one’s like your Papa Jay, but you got what we wanted, didn’t you?”

  “I think so. I’m just not sure what it means.”

  “What are you doing?” Magdalen inquired.

  “See this?” Hannah pointed to several small smear marks that appeared one after the other down the hall, back toward the elevators. “It’’s paint.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “They run back in the other direction too,” Gran noted.

  “Yup, but I’m interested in these. Come on.”

  As the women followed the markings, Hannah noted the spacing. Small stride. She also took note of the length and shape of the marks. Medium sized. Outward curve.

  “Hard to tell if they are male or female,” Gran observed.

  “Yeah, and it’s thinning.”

  Half way down the corridor, the trail ended.

  “It wore off.” Hannah glanced back up the corridor. “They took Rhoades that way.”

  Magdalen gestured yes. All up the hallway were large footprints and streaks left in multicolored paints.

  Hannah wiggled her nose before answering. She pointed to the smaller spots that led in the direction of the elevators. “I think these belong to whoever did this to him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because everyone went that way with Rhoades. See the wheel marks and footprints? All are from the spilt paint on the shelving. Even the facilities manager went in that direction when he went to get you. Whoever left this…” Hannah motioned the other way, ““went in the opposite direction toward the elevators.”

  “So it wasn’t an accident,” Magdalen asked.

  “No, the padlock on his locker had the key in it but it wasn’t open.”

  Gran tapped at her lips with a vertical index finger. “Something interrupted him.”

  “Someone, you mean.”

  “But why pull a shelf onto him?” Magdalen asked. “Why not just kill him outright if you’re going to that much trouble?”

  “Pushed onto him, and it was to make it look like an accident, I’m sure. Bet you a cookie his injury did come from a blow to the head, just not one that came from the shelves or something on it. It happened before.”

  “Whoever did this wanted what he had. They waited for him,” Gran inferred.

  “But they got scared when I started pounding on the door.”

  Magdalen frowned. “But there was no one in the room when we came in.”

  “No, because they left after we entered. We all rushed past the front shelves. That’s where I hid. I’d imagine this person did the same. I noticed the markings leading up to the door, but they mixed with those of the doctors, nurses, and yours.”

  Magdalen looked down to see paint smears along the edges of her sneakers.

  “Ah
, dang it, these were new.”

  Gran patted Magdalen on the arm. “They’ll clean right up, dear. Promise.”

  “Whoever did this didn’t get much on their shoes. From what I could tell, it was just on the bottom. So they never got close to him or got to the locker.”

  Gran agreed. “Because they would have had to walk through the paint, right? Like everyone else.”

  “Uh huh. Instead, they just got a little under their feet which means they stood back for a second, looking the scene over.”

  “Remorse?”

  Hannah shrugged. “Maybe, or they were enjoying it.”

  Gran placed her hands on her hips. “So, this is all fine and dandy, but did it pay off? What did you find?”

  Hannah retrieved the business card from her pocket and held it up alongside the copy of A Murderous Little Town. Both Gran and Magdalen examined them.

  Gran took particular interest in the card. “Pasithea Pharmaceutical. Hmm, does that mean anything?”

  “Not yet, but I found it in his Bible.” Hannah waved the book. “And a copy of this.”

  “What is it?” Magdalen asked.

  “A book about serial killers from around the area. It just so happens I spoke with the man who wrote this earlier. He’s the doctor who was with Susan when she passed out.”

  Magdalen’s eyes opened a bit and she reached for the book. Flipping through it, she glanced over a middle section full of pictures. “These are of older killings. What does that have to do with all this?”

  “I’m not sure just yet, but I know two things. One, that doctor is updating the book, and two, Rhoades had a copy in his locker where he said he had evidence.”

  “Could be he was just reading it,” Gran suggested.

  “Did he strike you as the reading type?”

  “No, not in particular.”

  Magdalen agreed as well. “So, are you suggesting the clues Rhoades found was that card or this book?”

  “Either or both. They were the two out of place items in his locker. The Bible, I get, but he’s a janitor. There’s no reason for him to have a business card from a pharmaceutical company. A book on serial killers just seems off, don’t you think? I mean, given his friendship with the Reverend.”

  Magdalen scratched her forehead as she stared downward. “I’m trying to put this all together now. You’re saying that the card suggests something about the killer. Being a drug company, it would belong to a doctor, and a doctor wrote that book.” She looked up to Hannah. “Could it be that easy?”

  Hannah shrugged. “I wouldn’t think so. It’s just a possibility. One in a long list at the moment that seems to ebb and flow. When I met the author slash doctor, Dr. Holmes, he didn’t strike me as the crazed killer type.”

  “They never do,” Gran informed.

  “In fact, he was rather helpful. He was the one who asked the local sheriff to look into some of the deaths. He came across the same pattern the Reverend did. He even agreed to sign off on an exhumation of one of his patient’s bodies.””

  “Doesn’t sound like he’s too worried if he did do this,” Gran inferred. ““You know what we ought to do? See if anyone saw whoever left that room. That might clear things up in a hurry.”

  “True enough, but the hall cuts back just up here.” Hannah turned to look back in the direction of the elevators. “And there’’s not a clear line of sight either way. We’ll just have to ask around. I’ll head this way. Gran, charm some workers up and down the hall. See if one of them may have been down this way. Magdalen, if you don’’t mind, check with the nurses. Camaraderie might get you somewhere.”

  Both agreed. As they started to part company, Hannah turned back to Gran. “Do you need to give Papa Jay a call?”

  “That old grumpus is fine. He’s out walking the dogs and headed to some candy shop.”

  “Spur of the Moment?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “That’s the lady who sent the wedding candy. You better be careful. Ms. Lindsay is a widower. She might be looking for hubby number two.”

  Gran placed a hand on a hip and huffed. “If I catch the old coot chasing a new squeeze, I’ll be the widower and you can visit me in jail. Besides, he’ll never find anyone as sweet as me. I don’t care if she’s covered in fudge and sugar.”

  Both Hannah and Magdalen laughed as all went their separate ways.

  Walking back along the corridor, Hannah found only two people. They stood together near the vending machines in a small alcove across from the elevators. Hannah made a quick assessment of them, turning her attention first to the woman. Late 20s. Average height and weight. Blonde hair. Amber eyes. She then did the same of the man. Late 20s. Medium height. Athletic. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Short facial hair. Giving them a smile as she approached, she made one other observation. A couple, she noted. After a brief inquiry, Hannah found that they recalled seeing two individuals come by while standing there. One was a tall, large, and older man with grey hair and beard and wearing glasses.

  “I think he had a cane too,” the woman said.

  The man agreed. “I think he was a doctor. He had on one of those white coats they wear around here.”

  Holmes, Hannah inferred. “You didn’t happen to notice… and this is going to sound weird, but… well, if he had paint on his shoes?”

  The couple peered at the sleuth for a moment before indicating no. The strange look on their faces let Hannah know that they were beginning to question her sanity. Still, feeling no need to explain, she pressed on for more information.

  “You said you saw someone else?”

  “Yeah,” the man answered. “A woman. She was maybe 60. Not too tall.” He held out his arm to show a height.

  Seeing this, Hannah set the height at about 5’4”.

  “She dyed her hair. You know, light blonde, like some older ladies do. To keep it from going all grey,” the woman interjected. “She was well dressed too.””

  “And in a hurry,” the man added.

  Further inquiries from Hannah revealed nothing else. Thanking the two, she once again headed back toward where Gran and Magdalen had disappeared. Along the way, she thought of the descriptions given. One, to her mind, was Holmes. Without a doubt, she thought, but as she passed the same marks on the floor as before, she recalled that the couple described the figure as using a cane. Holmes’ limp is to the right. Cane to the left per normal usage. The marks on the floor all curved in wide arcs. From the length, Hannah determined them to be from where paint oozed up along the left outer shoe. She stopped to scan the marks all over, but there was no sign of a cane tip imprint. Wiggling her nose, she considered how she had seen Holmes use his cane. He kept it close to the left foot when bearing down. Thinking further along, the arched smear would have been near where the cane imprint should be. She found it improbable that enough paint to leave so many marks would not have eased up under the cane tip as well.

  Scanning the scene, a wave of frustration came over the sleuth. She closed her eyes in an attempt to focus. Though she was sure Holmes passed the couple, she was unsure if it was he that had exited the maintenance room earlier. More so, he had every reason to be on the floor. He’s a doctor, she chided herself. Patients. Opening her eyes, she stared at the book she still clung too. She was now questioning whether it was even a clue. Maybe Rhoades does read. She flipped through the books pages. In the front, she found Holmes’ signature. Autographed. Her frustration grew further. In her mind, the signature suggested that the janitor had brought it to work for just that purpose.

  Rubbing her eyes and the bridge of her nose, Hannah felt lost in a myriad of clues, all leading to nowhere. She shook her head and turned just as a lady passed. Scanning the woman, Hannah recalled the other description given by the couple. A woman. 60s. Around 5’4”. Hair dyed light blonde to keep it from going all grey. Well dressed. The passing female, other than being in her 70s by Hannah’s determination, fit the bill. Just to be sure, she glanced to the woman’s
shoes. They were too small and held no visible signs of paint. “Great,” she half mumbled. “They described the majority of women in an upscale retirement community.””

  The only other possible clue was that the described female was in a hurry, but to Hannah, this bore little weight. People are always in a hurry. Maybe Gran and Magdalen are having better luck. Having come to a dead end, she again headed up the corridor. She retrieved and studied the business card while doing so. “Pasithea Pharmaceutical,” she commented half aloud. Though she never heard of the company before, the word Pasithea, she was familiar with. Greek mythology. One of the Charites. The personification of relaxation, meditation and hallucinations. Hannah grinned. Anesthesia. She drew inspiration from this. Unlike the book, this was a clue and in all probability, one that Rhoades had collected on purpose. From her work in the FBI, she had read over many cases involving anesthetics used as poison. One in particular came to mind. Succinylcholine. There was just one problem with the theory. You have to inject it. Again, she stopped in the hallway as she pondered the card. “Unless,” she said half aloud.

  “Unless what?” a voice answered back, causing the sleuth to jump and spin around.

  “What?”

  “You said unless,” Borden responded. “Unless what?”

  The lawman had a puzzled look on his face as Hannah held up the card.

  “I was just thinking about this. It’s a clue. At least I think it is. What are you doing here?”

  “Someone called and said there was an accident. They mentioned a name. Jackie Rhoades. It sounded familiar, and then I remembered you mentioning him.”

  “I did. He’s the Reverend’s friend and former partner back in the day. They served time together.””

  Borden scratched under his chin. “Yeah, I remember that. So, do you know what happened to him?”

  Hannah gave an odd expression. “Sort of,” she said, before explaining all that had occurred. She recounted everything, including the footprints, the descriptions by the couple, and the card. Glancing it over, Borden took out his glasses and read it. ““Any theories yet?”