by J A Whiting
“I do. Shall I wait until after we’ve eaten?”
“It’s okay,” Angie told the chief. “We don’t need to wait.”
After clearing his throat, Chief Martin said, “The testing was done very quickly. We called in a favor in order to get the work done. It seems Perry Wildwood had antihistamines in his system. He also had a fatal dose of melathiocaine in his bloodstream. The medical examiner reported that it would have been administered by injection.”
“It was an overdose?” Jenna blinked.
“It was definitely an overdose.”
“Perry was a medical student,” Ellie observed. “He would probably have access to medications and substances. He injected himself then?”
“That question has not been settled,” the chief said. “The amount of melathiocaine was such that it would only have taken seconds to render the man unconscious. The medical examiner believes in such a case, the needle and syringe would still be in place in the arm, or at the very least, would have fallen to the floor if it had been self-injected.”
“The syringe wasn’t found?” Courtney asked.
“I didn’t see one when I was there,” Angie told the family.
“A search of the room did not turn up a syringe,” Chief Martin said.
“So Perry Wildwood did not self-medicate?” Josh asked. “Someone else administered the drug?”
“So it seems.” The chief gave a nod.
Euclid let out a low hiss.
“What is melathiocaine used for?” Tom questioned.
“Topical melathiocaine is rubbed on the skin to numb the area in cases of poison ivy, a burn, a cut or scratch, or insect bites.” The chief took a swallow from his glass and continued. “An injection of melathiocaine works to reduce pain for an invasive procedure like surgery, needle puncture, putting in a breathing tube. It is sometimes used for relief of headaches or migraines.”
Finch asked, “Do you think Mr. Wildwood may have had a migraine, someone tried to help by injecting the melathiocaine, and the young man had a fatal reaction to the drug?”
“It’s certainly a possibility. A friend or acquaintance may have tried to help with the headache by administering the injection, then panicked when Perry fell unconscious,” the chief said.
Ellie scowled. “If someone you knew had a serious reaction to something, wouldn’t you call an ambulance?”
“Yes, but if it was another medical student or someone studying in a field of medical support, that person might lose their license to practice … or may never be allowed a license to work,” the chief said.
“There are two other people living in the boarding house who are students in medical professions,” Angie said. “Megan Milton is a pharmacy student and Andy Hobbs is a student nurse.”
“Oh,” Jenna said with wide eyes. “Maybe one of them tried to help Perry and when Perry had the bad reaction, he or she took off with the syringe and anything else that might point to what had happened.”
“Time for some conversations with the people in the house,” Courtney said.
“Exactly,” The chief agreed.
“Do you know any more about the young man?” Finch asked. “Friends? Dates? What he did in his spare time?”
“We don’t know much yet. Only what you know already.” The chief outlined the information they had so the others would be brought up to speed. “Single, didn’t date much, no siblings, parents are gone, only a mention of a distant uncle, grew up in Maine. Perry was described as likeable, kind, helpful, nice to be around. The people in the boarding house liked him. That’s all that’s been found out so far. An officer was sent to find and speak with the medical students who knew him.”
“Let’s consider that Perry did inject himself,” Angie suggested. “What could have happened to the syringe?”
The family members thought for a moment.
Jenna said, “Someone might have entered Perry’s room, found him unresponsive, saw the syringe, and took it away.”
“Why though?” Tom asked.
“The person could have assumed Perry committed suicide and did not want people to know what he’d done.” Jenna gave a shrug.
“So that person would have found Perry after he died,” Ellie said. “Taking away the syringe wouldn’t result in any criminal charges, would it?”
“The circumstances surrounding the removal would have to be considered,” the chief said.
“Is there another reason someone may have removed the syringe?” Angie asked.
Courtney said, “The person may have worried the police would think he or she gave the injection and wanted to avoid being investigated as a suspect in a murder.”
“Why would the person think he’d become a suspect?” Jenna asked. “What could he have done that would make him worried about such a thing?”
“Mr. Wildwood and the person may have gotten into an argument or a fight,” Finch said. “There may have been witnesses to their disagreement.”
“Or the person might have had feelings for Perry that weren’t reciprocated,” Ellie said. “The feelings might have been obsessive. The person might have been overly attentive to Perry trying to change his mind, maybe the person stalked him. Others might know about this behavior and might accuse the person of killing Perry because he didn’t return the feelings.” Ellie held her hands up in a helpless gesture. “It’s outlandish, sure, but it’s happened.”
Courtney nodded. “Mr. Finch and I have seen several true crime shows dealing with that exact situation.”
“Gosh. This could be a very tangled web that we have on our hands,” Jenna said.
The family processed the information while the table was cleared and the raspberry cooler cake and the coffee were brought out.
When everyone was settled around the table again, Angie asked the chief, “How would you like us to begin? Where should we start?”
“I’d like two of you to go to the boarding house to speak with Maribeth. As you can imagine, she’s very upset. She needed a little medication for the anxiety. I talked to her late this afternoon and she seems to be holding up. If you could start by speaking with her, I think it would be a good beginning. She might have some insight into Perry’s mood and mindset. She might be familiar with his visitors. She could suggest who you might talk to about him, friends, people he may have dated.”
“What about Megan Milton and Andy Hobbs? Should we speak with them?” Angie asked.
“Definitely,” the chief said. “They might know quite a lot about Perry. Whether or not they’ll share that information is yet to be seen. And of course, one of them may have helped administer the injection and will try to steer you in a different direction. You know the drill. Keep on your toes around these people. Watch their body language. Nonverbal communication is often more telling than actual words.”
When Euclid made a grumbling sound deep in his throat, Chief Martin looked up at the cat and then said, “And remember to pay attention to tone of voice.”
“Don’t worry,” Courtney said with a wink. “We’re experts by now. And if we can’t help you crack this case, there are two clever felines who will step in.”
“I’ve no doubt.” The chief gave the cats an appreciative nod.
“What about the other two boarding house residents?” Finch asked. “Mary Bishop and Roger Winthrop. I assume they’re most often at home in the house?”
“Mrs. Bishop has a part-time job at a doctor’s office. She works two or three days a week,” the chief said. “She’s also very social and meets friends every day. Mr. Winthrop does some tutoring at the house and writes science textbooks, but he sometimes works from the house when he’s writing so he’s at home most of the time,” the chief said. “Their insights could prove to be very helpful. You can add them to the list of people to talk with.”
“Would anyone like to go with me tomorrow?” Angie asked. “I have to make a delivery to the boarding house anyway so it would be a good time to speak to Maribeth.”
F
inch said, “I might be more helpful when you talk to Ms. Bishop and Mr. Winthrop. Being an older person, I might better connect with those two. Perhaps, I’ll wait and accompany you when you meet with them.”
“That’s a great idea, Mr. Finch,” Angie agreed.
“I’ll go tomorrow,” Courtney told her sister. “I like Maribeth. I already have a rapport with her. I think she’s a character. She comes into the candy store a lot and we have good conversations.”
“Perfect,” Angie said.
Only half-kidding, Courtney narrowed her eyes and warned the family, “When you’re in that house, be super careful around everyone. It wouldn’t take much to sidle up to someone and stick them with a syringe of melathiocaine. We don’t want to be anyone’s next victim.”
Her sister’s words caused Angie’s stomach to drop like a stone as cold sweat ran down her back.
5
It was late afternoon when Angie and the bake shop’s assistant manager, Louisa, walked up to the door of the Sweet Cove Museum. Located a few blocks from the shops and restaurants of Coveside at the southern end of town, the museum was one of the finest of its size in the country. It housed collections of American art, photography, maritime art, Native American art, and Asian art, as well as an expansive collection of textiles. A soaring glass roof covered the atrium at the middle of the museum with four brick buildings radiating out from the center. The open light-filled space led visitors into the galleries and studios.
“I’ve always loved this place,” Louisa said. In her late twenties, the young woman had lovely skin and long black hair with the ends tinged blue. Having been a dancer since she was a little girl, no matter what she was doing, Louisa’s movements were fluid and graceful. “I used to come with my mother and grandmother to see the galleries.”
“It’s a beautiful museum.” Angie opened the door and entered into the welcoming foyer that led into the airy atrium. The museum director, Wilton Rutherford, sixty years old, athletic, and well-dressed, stood to the side speaking with a woman and when he spotted Angie and Louisa, he and the woman hurried over to greet them.
“This is Bonnie Most a member of the board of directors. You don’t have any idea how much we love your bake shop,” Wilton said. “It would make a perfect addition to the museum.” Wilton and Bonnie led the two young women to a corner of the atrium. “We envision tables and chairs here with potted trees and with rectangular planters here and here,” the Bonnie gestured. “The planters would be filled with seasonal flowers, greenery, and decorations.
Milton moved a few yards to the right. “Over this way, we’ll build the kitchen area to your specifications. A bake shop cafe would be a very attractive addition to the museum and a lovely benefit for the visitors to have such delicious bakery items, coffees and teas, breads, soups, salads, and sandwiches available throughout the day.”
“What do you think of the space?” Bonnie asked.
“I think it’s very nice,” Angie said. “Very bright and open.”
“Come to the office suites. We have some tentative plans to show you.” Milton led the way through one of the galleries to the management offices and into a sitting room decorated with early nineteenth-century furniture. Large glass windows looked out over the beautifully landscaped gardens.
Angie and Louisa admired the room and then took seats at the wooden table where computer-drawn images of the new museum bake shop café rested across the surface. Bonnie and Milton explained the layout and then showed renderings of the envisioned café and kitchen within the atrium.
Louisa couldn’t help letting out an ooh when she saw the pictures. “This is gorgeous. What do you think, Angie?”
“The space is great, really lovely.” When Angie leaned over the designs, her hair fell forward and she pushed the strands back behind her ears. “Do you have copies of the plans? I’d like to show them to my family. My husband is a real estate developer and owner of the Sweet Cove resort and my brother-in-law owns a renovation and construction company. I’d like their opinions and I’d like to review the plans with my sisters and a family friend.”
“Of course,” Milton said. “We have copies in a folder for you to take along with you.”
“What’s your initial impression?” Bonnie asked. “Is this something you think you’d like to pursue further?”
“I would.” Angie nodded. “I’ve had expansion in the back of my mind for some time. I didn’t think it would happen so quickly though. It’s taken me by surprise and I need to give it a good deal of thought, but it seems like a very good opportunity.”
Wilton opened an armoire to reveal a coffee bar and he took out glass cups and mugs. “How about a cappuccino or a latte?” When the women agreed, the man began to work the machine. “I have a smaller version at home. I love coffee.”
Bonnie carried the first two beverages over to Angie and Louisa. “Have you heard the news about the boarding house? A possible homicide took place there.”
Angie was surprised that Bonnie brought up the case and wasn’t sure she wanted to share with the board member or the museum director that she was there shortly after the body had been found. “We heard, yes. Terrible.”
“Such a young person,” Louisa said. “Maybe it wasn’t a murder. Maybe he had an undiagnosed heart defect or some other physical problem.”
Bonnie sat across the table with her cup. “I wonder. It would be ironic wouldn’t it? If the man was in medical school and he had a defect that was never discovered by a health professional.” The woman sipped from her mug.
“I met Perry Wildwood once at a charity event,” Wilton said as he sat down with his mug of coffee. “He was the president of the medical school student association. We had a long conversation. I was impressed with him, very intelligent, yet he had an easy way about him. Very approachable and a winning personality. A real shame. A terrible loss. I think he would have gone on to do great things. He had a strong interest in neurological issues. He told me he suffered from excruciating migraines.”
Angie’s senses perked up. “Did he? Did he tell you how he handled them?”
“Perry said he’d tried everything to no avail. He mentioned he’d hoped to become a surgeon, but that specialty would be impossible due to the frequent, incapacitating headaches.”
“Did he talk about treating himself? Trying different remedies himself?” Angie asked.
“He didn’t go into such detail,” Wilton said. “I remember he’d said he’d been to many different doctors. Nothing helped.”
Bonnie spoke up. “My brother is a doctor. I believe it is frowned upon for doctors to self-prescribe medications and they definitely can’t prescribe controlled substances for themselves. A medical student certainly wouldn’t be able to do such a thing.”
“Did Perry talk about how his migraines impacted his studies? Was he able to keep up with classes and rotations?” Angie asked.
“He didn’t say much about that other than to mention it had been difficult to manage the work with the migraines,” Wilton said. “I never realized the disabling nature of severe headaches. Anyway, the young man’s passing is a real loss.”
“Do the police think Perry was murdered?” Louisa asked.
“I believe the investigation is on-going,” Angie said.
“I like the idea of living in a boarding house,” Bonnie said. “If you’re a student or young professional or someone who doesn’t have relatives around, you have the benefit of interacting with other people, different ages in a quiet, family-type atmosphere. It seems healthier than living in a dorm surrounded by same-age people who are probably stressed out a lot of the time. I’ve met the owner of the boarding house. Maribeth Perkins, a very pleasant woman.”
Angie’s eyes widened. “Where did you meet?”
“We were taking a gardening course together. It was held at the horticultural hall,” Bonnie said. “We got to talking. She was very attached to the residents of her home. I loved the idea of bringing back the boarding house.
Maribeth’s place is always full so there must be a niche to fill.”
“Maribeth contracts with me to provide baked goods for her house,” Angie said.
“So you know her,” Bonnie said. “How is she holding up? She must have been horrified that the young man was found dead in her house.”
“She was quite distraught, of course,” Angie said. “But I’ve heard she’s doing better. I’ll see her tomorrow.”
“Please give her my regards,” Bonnie said.
“I can’t imagine how Perry’s girlfriend is managing,” Wilton said with a sad shake of the head.
“Perry had a girlfriend?” Angie asked. “I’d heard he wasn’t in a relationship.”
“When I met Perry at the charity ball, he had a woman with him. He introduced her to me as his girlfriend. Perhaps they’d broken up?”
“I don’t know,” Angie said. “Do you remember the woman’s name?”
Wilton tapped his chin with his forefinger. “Let me see. I’m usually good at names. Hmm. Oh, yes. Maura. That was her name.”
“Do you remember her last name?”
“I don’t recall hearing the last name.”
“What did she look like?” Angie asked.
“Very attractive. Short hair, almost cut like a boy, elfish. Blue eyes. Slim. Not tall, average height,” Wilton said.
“Do you know where she lived?”
“Near the medical school and the hospital,” Wilton said. “Maura told me she’d love to have a room at the boarding house, but the place was full. She complained about her studio apartment being in a very noisy building.”
“Was she a medical student?” Angie questioned.
“She was. I think she was ahead of Perry in school. She told me she was going into anesthesiology.”
“A demanding field,” Angie said.
“She seemed like a nice person. She seemed to dote on Perry,” Wilton said. “Poor woman. I hope she’s doing okay.”
Angie was amazed that her business meeting at the museum had provided such unexpected information. Perry had severe migraines and not much had helped him despite getting the advice of several doctors. Perry had dated a med school student named Maura. Bonnie had met Maribeth at a gardening class and had the impression that the woman was very pleasant and was devoted to the boarding house occupants.