Death by the Bay

by Patricia Skalka

  “Because she was crying.”

  Cubiak sat down and pulled his son onto his lap. “Do you remember when I told you that there are things that might not make sense to you now but will when you’re older?”

  “Like why you and mom drink coffee?”

  The sheriff smiled. “That’s one of them, and this is another. My friend Francisca didn’t come here because there was something wrong. In fact, everything had turned out the way she wanted it to, and she came to thank me for helping her.”

  “She wasn’t crying because she was unhappy?”

  “No, son, she was crying for joy.”

  Joey frowned. “I don’t understand grown-ups,” he said.

  Cubiak hugged the boy. “That’s okay. Some things about life are confusing. Sometimes things happen that none of us ever fully understand.”

  “Like magic?”

  “Like magic,” Cubiak said. He hesitated a moment, and then he thought to himself. Or even like miracles.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  While reading fiction, I often wonder about the genesis of a story: did the plot originate with a news article, a comment overheard on the train, or an incident from the author’s life? Unlike the other volumes in the Dave Cubiak series, which have no basis in reality, Death by the Bay was inspired by a real event.

  In the early part of the past century, my maternal grandparents were immigrant farmers in central Wisconsin. In their community of Eastern European newcomers, most families were large. One couple had only one child, a daughter who was severely disabled. Desperate to help her, the parents sent her away with a “doctor” who promised a cure. The girl was never seen again, and the anguished parents were left to grieve and endure the pain of their tragic error for the rest of their lives.

  I was horrified when my mother told me this story and even more appalled to learn that one of her younger sisters, my aunt Rose, narrowly escaped the same fate. As an infant, Rose was afflicted with polio, which compromised her speech and physical mobility. One day the same “doctor” appeared at my grandparents’ door with a similar offer to heal Rose. My grandmother grabbed a broom and chased the man out of the kitchen and through the farmyard all the way to the road.

  The tragedy of the stolen girl haunted me for decades. What had happened to that poor child? How could anyone be so heartless? Prior to turning to fiction, I had been a nonfiction writer, and for years I thought about trying to research the story and expose the villain, who by then was probably dead. But too much time had passed and, of course, there were no records or viable means of verifying the details. My only recourse was to fictionalize the event, which I did in this book.

  For historical data on the use of children as medical research subjects, I relied on information from a number of sources. Children as Research Subjects: Science, Ethics & Law, edited by Michael A. Grodin and Leonard H. Glantz, was especially insightful, as were articles from the New England Journal of Medicine, the National Institutes of Health, and the Associated Press. The article from Scientific American cited in chapter 6, about the link between Down syndrome and Alzheimer’s, was published in the July 1, 2014, edition of the magazine. All errors are my own.

  Comments, corrections, and questions from my loyal readers helped shape the narrative. My thanks to my daughters, Julia and Carla Padvoiskis; my former boss and mentor Norm Rowland, and the women in my writers critique group—Ellen Pinkham, Esther Spodek, and Jeanne Mellet—for their diligence. A second round of applause to Julia for the original map she created for the book.

  Thanks as well to Director Dennis Lloyd and the outstanding staff at the University of Wisconsin Press, who make all the pieces fall into place; to copyeditor Diana Cook, for her careful review of my work; and to graphic designer Sara DeHaan for the spectacular cover.

  Finally, I owe a debt of gratitude to former executive editor Raphael Kadushin, who retired from the University of Wisconsin Press last fall. Raphy was the acquisitions editor who took a chance on the first Dave Cubiak mystery and opened the door to all those that followed. Without him, I wouldn’t be here now. Former communications director Sheila Leary and former marketing director Andrea Christofferson also were part of the original team that worked diligently to ensure the success of the series. To all three of you: happy reading, happy travels, and endless thanks.