Innocent Bystander

by C. A. Asbrey

  A grin tugged at Nat’s lips as he gave a noncommittal reply. “You get that a lot, do you?”

  “Mostly from the wife. She’s kinda obsessed with her own sister, wondering why nobody has tried to do away with her yet. I ponder on that myself sometimes. Usually on a Monday. We have dinner with her family on Sundays.”

  Nat’s brows arched. “Women, huh?”

  “Yeah. You can’t live with them.” The pharmacist’s eyes gleamed as he pushed the fat paper bag back at Nat, “You can’t get them to eat a pound-and-a-half of Epsom salts at one sitting, neither.”

  ♦◊♦

  Abigail untied her bonnet and pulled it away from her dark head as Nat followed her into their little apartment.

  “Well, that wasn’t any use.” He plunked the bag down on the table. “I really thought this stuff was something to do with the way he kills. The look on his face was pure evil. Maybe he just has a horrible smile? I’ve met a few of those in my time and they weren’t all killers.”

  “A red herring.”

  “Huh?”

  “A decoy, a misleading trail, a false clue.” Abigail walked over to the window and peered over at the Bartholemew house once more. “It’s anything which distracts us from the real cause of death.”

  “If you like. Is that detective talk?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows? I think it’s just a figure of speech. So it’s not the Epsom salts. We’re back to wondering how he kills once more.” She threw herself on the chair and leaned her head all the way back, staring at the ceiling as though inspiration was to be found in the damp spot above her head. “I’ve been thinking about how I’d do it, but then I keep seeing that everything I come up with doesn’t fit this crime.”

  Nat arched his brows. “You think up ways to kill people?”

  “Of course. The best way to catch people is to put yourself in their shoes. Everything I come up with means being ill beforehand, though.”

  “You merit some watching,” Nat said with a grin. “What if they were ill the night before and he didn’t call for help?”

  “Possibly. I thought about that, too. Strychnine can be rather sudden, and Bartholemew may have ignored the seizures and symptoms. We’re getting better and better at finding metal poisons, but plant-based poisons can be harder to trace, especially when a doctor may not even think to look for them.”

  Nat’s jaw firmed. “Any particular one?”

  “I’m thinking of a few. Aconite? Digitalis, maybe. They both affect the heart. I wonder if an ordinary doctor would miss the signs at the time of death, and it may have dissipated by the time the pathologist studied the poor woman they exhumed. I need a lot more information. I don’t know enough. I need to send a telegram to Dr. MacIvor to ask some questions.”

  “Darlin’, speaking as a man you’ve been mad at more than once, I reckon you know more than enough. In fact, it’s quite worrying.”

  “You’ve nothing to worry about, Mr. Quinn. When, and if, I punish you, you’ll know all about it.” She fixed Nat with a broad smile. “I’ll just shoot you.”

  “That’s not funny, Abi.” A wry smile played over his lips.

  She stood, a lopsided grin decorating her amused face. “No? You prefer poison? Are you hungry? I can cook.”

  “What’s brought on this light mood? I’m not complaining; apart from your killer instincts, it’s good to see.”

  “Maddie is safe. She’s in jail and having a horrible time, but she’s safe.” Abigail’s brown eyes softened. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.”

  Nat’s cheeks dimpled. “What else was I gonna do? She’s your sister.”

  “She gave Jake a hard time.”

  “He’s big and ugly enough to look after himself,” Nat answered. His heavy sigh made his shoulders heave. “Anyway, I promised myself not to make any moves while you were going through hard times, and I’m doing my best to stick to that. I want you for you, not because you owe me anything, or feel beholden. I want you as my partner in life, not a prisoner of gratitude. Who’d have thought it, huh?”

  “Not me, that’s for sure.” Abigail emerged from the bedroom bearing a pile of books. “Have you found religion or something?”

  “Something.” Nat’s eyes twinkled. “Something real special. I had a lot of time to think since I saw you last.”

  She paused, her frame heaving as she placed the books on the table. “And?”

  “You’re right. Everything you said to me in Pettigo was what I needed to hear. I have to give this life up. I want to be with you, Abi. I know I’ll always be wanted, but every passing year will mean Nat Quinn will be consigned to history by inches. Folks’ll stop looking, eventually. When this is all over and your sister is safely back at home, I want us to make plans to go away somewhere. To settle down.” His dark eyes melted into a glowing warmth. “That’s if you’ll still have me?”

  Her jaw dropped. “Why? Why all of a sudden?”

  “Sudden? I’d have gone with you last winter in Pettigo if we hadn’t had that stupid fight. I’ve known you for nearly two years. If we lived normal lives, everyone would be asking why we were taking so long.” Nat flicked up an eyebrow. “So, will you still have me?”

  “Are you asking me to marry you, Mr. Quinn?” Her stomach did that now-familiar flip of excitement, but her eyes held a steady and controlled gaze.

  He tilted his head, holding her gaze all the while. “If that’s what it takes. I kinda got the impression you needed me to prove myself first, so I figured I might as well start right away.”

  “I—” She trailed off, words failing her.

  “No need to reply now, Abi. I understand that you’d be giving up a lot for me, so I figured you might want to see me live an honest life for a bit.” He frowned and moved closer. “When I saw your sister in the distance, I thought she was you. It hit me right between the eyes how empty my life is without you in it. I’ve spent every day of my life trying to find that high, that wave of joy and exhilaration you bring. Nobody ever made me feel the way you do.” He reached out and grasped the top of her arms. His gaze searched her face for answers. “Then it all fell away. It wasn’t you. Finding out you were married was a kick in the guts, too. It felt like you were gone, not even an option anymore. It hurt like hell. I never want to feel that way again.”

  “Do you really mean that?”

  “More than anything I’ve ever promised in my life. I want to be with you until the day I die. I want us to have children. I want everything normal, beautiful, and real. And I don’t want it with anyone but you.” His eyes glistened with an intense hunger. “I was too scared to tell you I loved you until it was almost too late. I’m never going to make that mistake again, Abi. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  She stared up at him, his pupils so wide and black she could see herself reflected in each dark orb. “What about Jake?”

  “He’s got two kids. The mother married someone else when she got tired of him never being around.” Nat shrugged. “He travels to see them now. He can do it from wherever we settle. It’s not like they’re local for him, now. Changing is hard. I guess I made excuses so I didn’t have to. That ain’t happenin’ anymore. I thought I’d lost you. I’m not gonna do that if I can help it.”

  A smile of appreciation flickered across her face. His accent strengthened when he became emotional. His defenses were crumbling bit by bit until he showed his human vulnerabilities. “What will you do? For money, I mean?”

  “Who knows? I haven’t thought out the details yet. All I know is that you’re going nowhere without me.”

  She slowly closed her eyes and breathed heavily. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes, darlin’. Tell me to stay and I’ll be by your side forever.”

  Abigail’s hand slid up to his neck, stroking and caressing as she went. Her long fingers intertwined in his hair running in gentle circles in his scalp. “I’m sure we can work it out. We’ll find a way.”

  Velvet li
ps nibbled on the shell of his ear before she worked her way down to suck on the fleshy lobe, stretching it between her sensitive lips. She felt his face turn toward her, meeting her eager lips with equal zeal. It had been too long, and the simple act of feeling alive and needed by another human being flooded back to fill her soul once more.

  Nat groaned and pulled back. “No. I promised myself I’d be a perfect gent and if we keep this up I won’t be able to stop myself.” He held her out at arm’s length, his dimpled smile twinkling with honest regret. “I’ve turned over a new leaf, dammit.” He frowned. “Any chance I can make all these promises tomorrow and just be myself for today? We’d have more fun.”

  “No loopholes, Mr. Quinn.” She patted his face, pulling back her hand as he grabbed at it. “But please, be yourself. You’re really quite a braw beast.”

  “Beast?” His brows rose in indignation.

  “It’s a Scottish expression,” she laughed. “It’s a compliment. Don’t be so touchy.”

  “Fine, but let’s not share this with Jake yet. He’ll up and disappear on me to make sure he’s not a burden. He can’t know what we’ve got planned until I get the chance to speak to him properly.”

  ♦◊♦

  “So, we got you into another hotel,” Jake held up two fingers to the barman indicating his order, “right after we got you into some pants and outta yet another fight.”

  “It wasn’t a fight. It was an argument.” Tibby corrected.

  “Whatever it was, I need a drink after it. I’ve seen you open your pants in public twice in the same day. You gotta stop pullin’ dumb stunts like that.”

  “It’s not dumb if it works.” Tibby grasped the shot glass which slid across the bar top toward him. “They weren’t going to let me change at the Occidental until it was more embarrassing for them to prevent me.”

  Jake shook his head and sighed. “So what did she take? That Callie clearly needed somethin’, and you had to be in the room to get at it. What was it?”

  Tibby’s lips spread into an insipid grin but he remained silent. The gunman’s blue eyes narrowed, the voice hardening. “This ain’t a game, Tibby. They needed a key didn’t they? They also needed to try to set you up for jail to buy time to use whatever they took. You know as much as they do now.”

  The journalist’s nose crinkled in distaste and nodded. “Yeah. The file was in a compartment my trunk. I’ve got a special lock on it so it can’t be picked by just anyone. It’s based on Chubb’s Detector lock and jams up if you try to get into it without the key. Unless you’re very expert, that is.” He caught Jake’s eye. “Like your friend, for instance. He’s pretty good at that kinda thing isn’t he?”

  A frown flickered across Jake’s face. “How’d you know that?”

  “He picked the lock of that room in Bannen, didn’t he? The one where the woman was being beat up.”

  “You’ve got a memory like an elephant, ain’t ya?”

  “Well, we need that in my line. Much like yours.”

  Jake sipped his drink and stared ahead. “So how do I find this Callie?”

  “I don’t know where she’s staying, and if she’s pulled a stunt like this, she’ll be using a false name.”

  Jake threw back the rest of his drink. “I didn’t come down in the last shower of rain. You know how to find her. I’m goin’ to the latrines and that should give you time to think about it.” Ice blue eyes turned on the journalist. “And don’t even think about tryin’ to give me the slip. We had a deal, Tibby, and I’m gonna hold you to it even if I have to track you down to whatever rock you crawl under between jobs. Got that?”

  “My dear friend, I want that file back, too. We are in this together.”

  The gunman shook his tousled head. “Don’t even try to draw me into your world. We want the same thing, but we ain’t partners. If you cross me, you’ll be my enemy, too. Got that?”

  Tibby gulped, his hands tightening on the edge of the bar at the chill in the tall man’s tone. He forced an insipid smile. “Jake, I want your help to get the file back. I’m not going to cheat you. I like you.”

  “Yeah, I can’t tell you how warm that makes me feel inside.” Jake’s skeptical tone was flat and cold. “I’ll be back in a minute. Stay there.”

  The little man swung back to the bar and reached out for his glass. It was gone. He blinked and peered about, fixing on the smirking man next to him. The grins and gleeful snorts from the three men nudging one another showed they were clearly egging on the thief with the kind of peer pressure normally seen in schoolrooms.

  “That’s my drink,” said Tibby.

  The stranger turned a smug sneer on Tibby. “It can’t be. It’s in my hand.”

  “It’s mine.” Tibby appealed to the barman for help. “He’s got my drink.”

  The server rolled his eyes. “Have you seen how busy it is in here? I ain’t got time to watch everyone’s stuff. Look after your own drink.”

  “I’m trying to. Give me that.” Tibby reached up but the taller man held the glass up high, way out of the reach of the tiny man. “You know that’s mine.”

  Tibby jumped and stretched, huffing in his exertion in a game of alcoholic-keep-away much to the amusement of the ring of bullies who sniggered and jeered.

  “Look at the size of him. He’s a midget.”

  “I am not.” Tibby jumped once more. “Midgets are medically four-foot-ten. I’m five-foot-one.”

  “Five-one,” guffawed a vacant-looking goon. “You is a giant midget.”

  “Please, I’ve had a terrible day. Just let me have a drink in peace. Give me my glass.”

  “Yeah, give ’im his glass, Fred,” scoffed the large one with greasy hair sticking out from under a tatty cap.

  “Sure.” The stranger swilled back the contents before he held out the empty glass. “Here.”

  Tibby pulled back his reaching hand, his bottom lip growing and trembling beneath great blue globes which glistened with tears. “You drank it?”

  The men threw back their heads and guffawed, slapping one another on the backs and seeking support for their helpless mirth at this unexpected reaction. It was beyond anything they’d hoped for.

  “Yeah, get yourself another.” The bully snickered.

  Tears streamed down Tibby’s face. “I don’t want another drink. I wanted that one. It was special.”

  Fred leaned forward, leering into Tibby’s face. “Well, you can’t have that one. I drank it.”

  “He’s cryin’. Can you believe this?” asked the smallest bully. “A grown man sobbin’ like a baby.”

  “I don’t believe this.” Tibby leaned over the bar, his shoulders heaving with deep sobs. “First of all, I get taken to jail for a crime I didn’t commit. Then I get fired, and to top it off, my wife told me she’s leaving me.” He backhanded away glistening tears as the band of bullies fell quiet. “This has been the worst day of my entire life. I come in here for a quiet drink and now, I meet you. Why do you want to stop me from committing suicide? It’s too cruel.”

  “Suicide?” a small voice murmured from the gaggle of miscreants.

  “Yeah.” Tibby turned on the bully, pointing an accusing finger. “He drank my poison. A man can’t even kill himself in peace anymore.”

  Tibby kept right in character and watched Fred grasp his throat. “Poison?”

  “I tried to tell you, but you kept pulling it away from me. I came in here to kill myself, but now you even took that from me.”

  “He’s bluffin’,” cried one of the crowd.

  “Ya think?” demanded another. “How often d’ya see a grown man cry in public?”

  “He ain’t exactly a grown man,” answered his friend. It wasn’t helping though, Fred’s eyes bulged and he doubled over thrusting his fingers down his gullet.

  Fred’s friend grabbed Tibby by the lapels and shook him violently. “What kinda poison was it?”

  The journalist wailed and whimpered as Fred buckled at the knees. “What kind?”
<
br />   “Strychnine,” Tibby sniveled. “What have I got left to live for?”

  “Strychnine?”

  “Yeah, that’s why I had with whiskey. It kills the taste.” Tibby paused. “Along with the crushing pain of my pointless existence. I guess your existence has been rendered meaningless, now.”

  “I need a doc,” Fred bellowed, running for the door.

  “A doctor won’t be able to help,” Tibby called after the departing crowd. His tears had dried up and his smile returned with suspicious alacrity. “But get your stomach pumped, just in case.”

  The barman wiped the bar with a grubby cloth and eyed Tibby with caution. “I ain’t gonna have no trouble in here.”

  “Hey, if you’d adopted that stance a minute ago, I wouldn’t have been driven to subterfuge.”

  The barman frowned. “There ain’t nowhere around here called Subterfuge. This is the Flying Horse.”

  Tibby sighed. “Two more whiskeys, please.” His face lit up at the sight of Jake returning from the latrines. “Ah, you’re back. I just ordered some more drinks.”

  Jake’s brow met, picking up on the undercurrents and sideways glances going on around them. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Nothing.” Tibby smiled his most innocent smile. “Some bullies took my whiskey but I told them how tough my day had been and they left.” He lifted the shot glass replete with amber liquid. “I ordered us some more. Now, about Callie. I’ve had a few thoughts.”

  Chapter 12

  A Week Later

  “Doctor MacIvor says they can test organs for plant alkaloids using something called the Stas-Otto test, and that it was done in Mrs. Mitchell’s case. There was nothing.” Abigail dropped the telegram on the table and sighed. “I did think I was onto something. You told me you’d found belladonna in Bartholemew’s house.”

  “Yeah, it’s poison isn’t it?” Nat replied.

  “Yes, deadly nightshade. It’s also used by women to dilate their pupils. It struck me that it could be used as an eye drop to cover up the effects of other poisons which make the pupils contract. You know, to make the eyes appear normal so a doctor wouldn’t look any further into the death.”