Second Chance at Life

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Second Chance at Life Page 20

by Joanna Campbell Slan


  "The day before the VIP event."

  "Is it possible that she invited the Wentworths?"

  I hadn't thought of that. "Maybe."

  How well did I know Honora? After all, she was the person who suggested that we drop by the Wentworths' house.

  Suddenly, I didn't feel much like eating.

  CHAPTER 58

  Saturday night

  The morgue in Fort Pierce, Florida

  ~Lou~

  What Lou learned at post-mortems often helped him in his investigation. A chance remark by the medical examiner could spur a question that when followed to its conclusion led to a resolution of a case.

  Tonight, however, his presence seemed pointless. After leaving Davidson’s office, Lou felt exhaustion creep up on him. His stomach was still queasy from the cheeseburger. The vending machine snacks hadn’t helped. The lack of sleep was catching up with him. And he couldn’t stop thinking about Skye.

  Their Saturday night meetings had been the high point of his week. The fact that she was angry preyed upon him. Try as he might to compartmentalize, he couldn’t. Thoughts of her snuck up on him. He could still see her expression as she poured the water on his lap. Worst of all, he knew he’d hurt her deeply, and that caused an ache in his throat.

  It also rattled him.

  “You’re in love, stupid,” said Showalter.

  “Not likely,” said Lou.

  It was almost as if someone had reached in and squeezed his guts, hard. The pain only grew in intensity. Worst of all, he wasn’t sure what to do next. How could he dial everything back? Make amends without admitting he was wrong?

  “I’m not wrong. I have a job to do,” he mumbled to himself as he reached into the locker at the morgue. Stepping into the white Tyvek suit gave him a sense of purpose, even if the motion was merely habitual, without the benefit of thought.

  He tried to make his mind a blank, a receptive clean slate, as he walked into the room where Josiah Wentworth, or his mortal remains, rested on a soulless metal table. The cool lighting emphasized the waxy tone of the Senator’s skin. The man had lived much of his life in the limelight. Now the harsh glare of the overhead fixtures robbed him of his last shreds of dignity. Every skin tag, age spot, wrinkle, and gnarled hair seemed to signal surrender.

  “Let’s do this thing,” said Faraday. Before he started, he turned to Lou and gave him a cold stare over the top of his surgical mask. “By the way, I know you complained to your boss about me. Next time, be man enough to tell me to my face instead of running around my back.”

  Lou was glad his white mask hid his expression. Faraday was right. Lou owed him the professional courtesy of confronting him, man to man, rather than whining to Davidson.

  Whining, or was it whinging, as Adrian Green had said?

  “Whatever,” said Showalter. “You didn’t handle that right and you know it.”

  The rest of the hour crawled by. Josiah had lived a long life, and if looks were any clue, a hard one. The flaccid muscles and lumpy purple veins made a mockery of the once powerful senator. He'd seen pictures of the young Josiah, fresh-faced and goofy, but tall and lean. This thing, this carcass, this empty cocoon, was shrunken. Tired. Depleted.

  A great reason to die young, thought Lou.

  Lou tried to stay focused on what Faraday was saying as he peeled, plucked, weighed, and measured. The thick lumps of flesh reminded Lou of the giblets his mother removed from the turkey when preparing their Thanksgiving dinner. Really, what are we but animals? He mused. Bigger, smarter, and more cunning, but for all that, not so very different. Not when reduced by death to our elemental nature.

  “In the end, we take everything with us, and yet we have nothing,” said Showalter. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “I wonder what secrets our Senator is taking with him.” Lou shook his head.

  “I can tell you a couple he’s sharing,” said Faraday. “His body is riddled with syphilitic lesions. He must have contracted the disease at a very early age.”

  “He and his wife never had kids,” said Lou. “Maybe that’s the reason.”

  “Doubtful,” said Faraday. “It’s rare for syphilis to be the cause of male infertility. Of course, it is possible that his wife chose to abstain from sex because of the disease.”

  “Or he contracted it because they had an unfulfilled sex life,” said Lou.

  “Or his interests ran in another direction,” said Showalter. “Wouldn’t be the first time that a man got married rather than come out of the closet."

  "I can also tell you that if he hadn’t died of poisoning, he was soon to expire from cirrhosis of the liver," and Faraday paused. "Which oddly enough also prolonged his life."

  "What do you mean?" asked Lou. “Back up a step. Was he or was he not poisoned?”

  “I think he was poisoned." Faraday stared down at the open cavity with its wetly purple shapes.

  “You’re not sure?” Lou asked.

  “I won’t have a definitive answer until the toxicology screen comes back. That said, look at all these crystals in his kidneys.” To illustrate, Faraday offered his extended hand. In the cradle of his palm rested a drooping overlarge kidney bean sliced in half. The inside was decorated with yellowish pearls. With a gloved finger, Faraday removed one and held it up for inspection.

  "See these?" Faraday pointed to a cluster of shards. The thin, sharp edges reminded Lou of the crystals he'd grown as a kid from a kit. "Must have caused him a whole lot of pain."

  “Any ideas what sort of poison it was?” Lou asked.

  “Not yet. I'll send the samples to the lab for tests.”

  “No guesses?” Lou was getting a second wind.

  “I’d put my money on ethylene glycol. Commonly known as antifreeze.”

  “Why?” asked Lou.

  “All the signs are here.” said Faraday, pointing to a container with ugly brown slush inside it. “It would have been easy enough. The Senator liked his tea Southern-style with lots of sugar. I know that from reading about him over the years. It would have been easy enough to introduce the poison to his drinks. But that being said, the fact that the Senator liked to imbibe liberally saved his life. The chemistry is complex, but the metabolites from the ethylene glycol bound together with the alcohol and mitigated the damage done by the poison."

  "In layman's terms?" asked Lou.

  "Someone was poisoning the Senator, but it probably took a lot longer than expected to get the job done. The alcohol in the Senator’s bloodstream offset the poison. Checking his urine for crystals should tell me what we need to know.”

  “Quickly?”

  “Not in this case,” said Faraday. “He was dosed with small amounts over time and—”

  “I meant, can you tell us quickly whether it was ethylene glycol or not?”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I have an answer,” said Faraday.

  “Poison,” said Lou, shaking his head.

  “Your second homicide this week,” said Faraday. “Busy. Especially for a small department like yours. Of course, there’s always the possibility that the two deaths are the work of one killer.”

  “Right,” said Lou.

  Only a single point of connection, one name, linked Josiah Wentworth and Kathy Simmons.

  Cara Mia Delgatto.

  CHAPTER 59

  ~Cara~

  The Treasure Chest didn't open on Sundays until noon so I slept late, waking drowsily to look at the clock and close my eyes. However, staying in bed all morning wasn’t an option. I had too many things to do.

  I’d been dreaming about a man. He’d taken me into his arms and kissed me and…

  What happened next?

  I couldn’t remember.

  Through my half-opened eyes, I watched Luna’s whiskers twitch in her sleep. She’d fallen totally in love with Nathan Davidson. When he walked me back inside the store, the gray cat had come flying off the top of the refrigerator and landed in his arms. Wrapping her front legs around his neck, she’d rubb
ed her face against his over and over.

  “You didn’t even bother to play hard to get,” I said to Luna, as she yawned in my face. “Meet the man once and you’re smitten. Girlfriend, are you always so forward with men you hardly know?”

  Her answer was to switch her tail at me.

  Jack pushed her aside so he could lick my face. He’s learned to ignore her, and she’d returned the favor in spades.

  “Okay, I get it. You’re hungry, right?”

  It had become a habit for everyone to arrive at the store around ten for breakfast. MJ and Skye alternated working on weekends, but they still liked to stop in on the Sundays they weren’t scheduled. That gave us plenty of time to plan the upcoming week. The ritual had become the highlight of my life. Not only did MJ and Skye enjoy talking shop, they also shared fashion advice, diet tips, and on occasion, glimpses into their private lives. Slowly, surely, the three of us were becoming best friends.

  I wondered what they’d say if I told them about my evening with Nathan Davidson. I’d almost expected him to kiss me goodbye. In fact, I would have welcomed it. After we talked about Poppy and the Wentworth situation, the rest of the evening was enjoyable. He proved to be a well-read, well-traveled man, who loved the outdoors. I liked hearing about some of the cases he’d encountered in his career. In return, he wanted to know about St. Louis, my family, and how my son was doing.

  All in all, the best time I’d had in ages.

  The memory put a spring in my step as I whipped up a frittata, adding lots of leeks and asparagus to the eggs and potatoes. Once that was in the oven, I toasted slices of bread. After they popped up, I put them in a toast rack, an English invention we should use here. By holding the slices vertically, side by side, the rack keeps them from getting soggy. I wrapped the whole shebang in foil and put it in the oven so the bread would stay warm. After mixing the frozen orange juice, I set a big pot of coffee brewing. While the wonderful fragrance of food filled the air, I rummaged through my desk. Finding a pen, a pencil, and a piece of paper, I sat down to work on a Zentangle design. I began by drawing a string, which might best be compared to a scaffolding or skeleton. Next, I filled the spaces between the strings with different repetitive patterns, called tangles. As I worked, it occurred to me that I should probably go take teacher training, like Kiki had done. If I became a CZT, a Certified Zentangle Teacher, we could offer classes here at the store. Over the past two months, I’d learned how important special events were for bringing people through the door. Once they visited The Treasure Chest, they tended to become repeat customers.

  Becoming a CZT would also give me a reason to work on my tangles regularly.

  While Jack ate in his crate, Luna crunched kibble under the folding card table. I quickly moved into a zen-like state. My pets seemed to have agreed to a wary détente. They weren’t friends, not yet at least, but they weren’t fighting with each other either.

  The coffee was filling the carafe when Skye came downstairs, dressed for her job at Pumpernickel’s. Her server's uniform surprised me. Even though MJ was scheduled to work the sales floor, I'd been hoping that Skye and I could spend the day working on new craft ideas for the store. She looked at my tangle and said, “That’s gorgeous! Remind me where you learned to do that?”

  I smiled. “My friend Kiki taught me.”

  “I could never do that,” she said, with awe in her voice.

  “Of course you can. I can show you,” I offered, as I stood up to get more supplies.

  “Some other time. I told them I could work a full shift at Pumpernickel’s today. Marcia’s kids are sick with the measles. Nora’s kids have it too. I guess it’s going around.”

  Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. "Are you okay?" I asked.

  "Allergies. By the way, don't worry about resupplying our handmade items. I've got a few new ideas buzzing around," she said, and her face lit up the way it always does when she's being a craft diva. "Wait until you see."

  "I know I'll love them," and I gave her a hug before she ran out the front door.

  I switched on the small transistor radio that we kept on an upper shelf. Senator Josiah Wentworth's death topped all the news stories. Condolences for his wife were coming in from leaders all over the world. One reporter touted an exclusive with Jenny Beth. She’d answered a few questions about the Senator’s career. The piece ended with Jenny Beth proudly proclaiming, “The Senator’s legacy must go on, and I intend to see that it does.”

  What legacy? I asked myself.

  I really needed to bone up on Florida politics.

  MJ and Sid arrived at the same time.

  “I’ve got something totally awesome to show you,” said Sid. “Check this out! Remember, I got the shopping basket up last night?”

  “Yes,” I said, although I didn’t remember. I knew he’d been busy, but I hadn’t questioned what he was doing.

  “Look at this! Can you believe it?” He leaned over my computer and punched in a half-dozen keystrokes. “See? MJ? You, too!”

  He turned the monitor toward us. At first, I thought I was reading the report wrong. The numbers were that staggering. Overnight we’d sold several hundred dollars’ worth of Honora's miniatures.

  “More good news,” said Sid. “Look at this, MJ. Three leads for Highwaymen paintings. Can you believe it?”

  “You’re kidding,” she said, coming closer to scrutinize the information.

  "Way to go, Sid!" I said. I gave him a one-armed hug. “That’s absolutely terrific!”

  I would have said more, but our land line rang.

  “Thanks again for having dinner with me last night,” said Nathan. “I enjoyed myself. I hate to ask this, but you remember what I told you about the department being shorthanded? I was wondering if I could come over and talk to Sid. We need help with a computer problem. You know Ollie Anderson? Lou’s partner? Ollie’s sick with the measles. So is our ace computer guru. Frankly, I’m out of options. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to sign Sid on as a consultant.”

  "Of course you can come by. But whether Sid chooses to work for you is up to him. If you hustle, you can join us for breakfast.”

  "On my way!”

  CHAPTER 60

  ~Cara~

  “What was that all about?” asked MJ. “You’re blushing.”

  “Nothing.” I looked away and busied myself putting jam and jelly on the table.

  She persisted. “Oh, right. Nothing? You’ll have to do better than that.”

  I explained that I’d had dinner the night before with Nathan Davidson. “But it was a working dinner,” I hurried to add. “We talked about Poppy’s visit to the Wentworths.”

  “A working dinner at Riverwalk? With an eligible bachelor? I’ve been trying to get Nathan Davidson to ask me out for ages,” she said. “He can barely remember my name. You go, girl.”

  I blushed harder. “Yes, well, maybe you’ll have another shot at him. He’s going to join us for breakfast.”

  I explained that he wanted help with the computer and finished by saying, “Sid? Whether you want to work with him is entirely up to you. I’ll back you up, whatever you decide.”

  “I…uh…it sounds totally sick!” he said. Translation: Fantastic! “Like CSI for computers. Totally awesome. Except that I’m supposed to be working for you, Cara.”

  “I’ll consider donating your time as doing my civic duty. If Davidson needs too many hours, we’ll revisit the situation.”

  “One hundred percent.” Translation: I’m in total agreement with you.

  We’d barely finished our conversation when the Captain walked in, carrying a Dell notebook computer under one arm. Luna came out of nowhere and once again threw herself into his arms. Nathan managed to juggle the computer and the animal admirably. I took her from him, although she struggled to be free of me.

  “Lucky for you that you’re so coordinated,” I said. “If you hadn’t caught her, she would have dug her claws in and climbed you like you were a tree.”


  Davidson laughed. “I used to play catcher on a baseball team. Of course, a mitt would have been helpful in this situation.”

  “That cat has no shame,” said MJ.

  “None,” I agreed. “The frittata is ready. So is the toast. Help yourselves. Can I pour you coffee, Nathan?”

  “Yes, please.” He pulled up a chair.

  Sid gulped down his food and wiggled restlessly. He was full of impatience to get working on the computer.

  Luna wound her way through Nathan’s legs, purring loudly.

  “Where did you get this cat?” asked Nathan. “She’s certainly a sweetheart.”

  “Cara inherited Luna from Kathy Simmons,” said MJ. “Her roommate dropped the animal off. Skye says that we’re nine parts retail shop and one part no-kill shelter.”

  “Ah,” said Nathan. "That reminds me. Cara, do you have any way of tracing the photo that Kathy Simmons bought from you? Could you even describe it?"

  "I can do better than that," I said. "A copy is up on the bulletin board. Darcy Lahti dropped off the original when she brought me Kathy's cat.”

  “Could I have the original?” he asked.

  “Hang on a sec."

  I went to my desk and fished around.

  "Here," I said, taking the empty seat next to him and handing over the photo. "You now have the original. Skye scanned it into my computer and made several copies. I put that copy on the bulletin board to remind me that I’m carrying one in my purse to give to Kathy’s mother at the funeral. Since Kathy bought the framed photo for her, it seems like the right thing to do. I've been meaning to tell Lou I have the photo, but I got busy and I wasn't sure that it mattered."

  "I'm not sure it does either," Nathan admitted.

  CHAPTER 61

  Nathan explained what he needed to Sid. The young man nodded and turned to me.

  “Cara? I am totally down with helping Captain Davidson. The only problem is that we’ll need to use your desktop computer, too. Is that okay?”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t do anything until I copy the hard drive on the Kathy’s notebook. Otherwise, I run the risk of losing stuff,” he said.

 

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