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Authors: Janis Harrison

BOOK: Bindweed
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“No. He was jabbering about a bowl of white worms until he noticed that the front of Elsie's pants were wet.”
I frowned. “A bowl of white worms? Is this another ‘critter' story?”
“No story, because I don't know the facts. I wasn't paying any particular attention to what Toby was saying. My mind was on the stock that had just been delivered. I'd ordered a bag of yeast, but the order had been screwed up. I needed that leavening for a batch of dough. When something like that is on my mind, I don't often hear what's going on around me.”
Standing a step behind her husband, Martha nodded emphatically.
I gave her an understanding grin, but turned back to Mr. Barker. “Do you know which shop Toby was at before he got to yours?”
Mr. Barker thought for a moment. “Normally it would have been Leona's, but that day it had to have been Melba's because Toby said he was working backward. I didn't question him as to why he was running his route the opposite way. I'm sure that in his mind, he had a good reason.”
Lew jiggled my arm. “We have to move forward,” he said, nodding to the space that had opened ahead of us.
Mr. and Mrs. Barker murmured good-bye and departed, leaving me with something more to ponder. Was it important that Toby had changed his route? I'd never given much thought
to when Toby came into the flower shop. If he showed up, I had something for him to do.
The line inched forward.
But what if Toby reversed his route? What if a store owner was expecting him at a certain time, but he made an unexpected appearance at an inopportune moment? What if he saw something that upset him?
The line was moving more quickly. I shuffled forward.
More important, what if Toby saw something that upset someone else—namely, his killer?
Hear no evil. See no evil. Speak no evil.
Again Lew jiggled my arm, bringing me out of my thoughts. I'd been staring at the carpet. When I looked up, I was at the foot of Toby's casket. My heart dropped, then righted itself, only to pound erratically.
The mahogany finish gleamed richly under the lights. The spray of red and white roses I'd made looked elegant, but neither the casket nor the flowers suited the Toby I'd known. I wished now that I'd used bright, bold sunflowers with assorted greenery, fall leaves with spiral eucalyptus. I wished I'd tucked in miniature orange and yellow roses that were sweet and innocent. I wished I could turn back the clock and visit with Toby more fully about what he'd done with his days.
As I advanced to the front of the casket, Lois, Lew, and I stood shoulder to shoulder, staring down at Toby. Just as Bernard had assured me, Toby appeared to be sleeping. His long eyelashes feathered a pattern on his cheeks. His lips seemed to be tipped up in a smile. Tears welled in my eyes.
Lew reached into his pocket. Through a mist of grief, I watched him slip a key under Toby's folded hands. In a broken whisper, Lew said, “There's no locked box for you. I'm so sorry.” Lew's voice cracked as he repeated, “I'm so sorry.”
I knew why he was apologizing, but the couple behind Lew seemed startled by the guilt in his voice. Taking Lew's arm, I urged him away from the casket. All Lew needed was for the couple to report to Sid that they'd seen a man at the funeral home standing at Toby's side begging for forgiveness. While Lew pulled himself together, I greeted Avery Wheeler. As Toby's legal guardian, Avery stood in the space usually designated for family members.
Avery's bulbous nose was red with emotion. His eyes were bloodshot and watery. He was a good-size man with a paunch, but tonight he seemed shrunken and fragile. Even though he had his cane in his hand, he was tottery on his feet.
I put my arm around him and said, “Why don't you let me get you a chair?”
He drew away from my embrace. “As Toby's representative, that action could hardly be classed as dignified.” He patted my arm. “But I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
“You have to take care of yourself.”
“Yes, Bretta, I know. And I will, as soon as the last person goes out Bernard's front door.”
I smiled. “You're a proper man, with proper ideas, but you're too stubborn for your own good.”
Avery smoothed his prominent salt-and-pepper mustache with his little finger while keeping a watchful eye on me. “In another time and another place, we'll discuss who is the more stubborn, but for now, I'll let your remark pass.”
I shook my head at him and moved on. Lois was headed for the door, pulling on her coat. Lew was behind me. I turned to him, thinking I'd ask about his conversation with Sid, but stopped as a sudden hush filled the chapel. Everyone was staring at the entry. I looked in that direction and saw Abner framed in the doorway.
With every eye on him, he stepped into the funeral home. He acknowledged Bernard with a slight nod. Ignoring the line, Abner walked directly to the casket. He stood with his head bowed. His shoulders were squared, as if to ward off the barrage of hostile glares directed his way.
The tension in the room mounted. No one spoke, but there was a restlessness that couldn't be ignored.
After a few moments, Abner faced the crowd. His expression was grim. Without a word, he made the long journey back to the front door. On the threshold, he turned to say, “You've all passed judgment on me. In your eyes I'm guilty, but the law sees things differently. I've been released from custody because they couldn't make a case against me. There's a reason. I'm innocent of any wrongdoing connected with Toby's death.”
Someone snorted in disgust.
Abner's lips trembled, and he fought for control. Slowly his gaze traveled the room. “I have an advantage over all of you. I know I'm innocent. But you might want to think about this. If I didn't harm Toby, then who did? Who walking among you is free to kill again?”
The next morning I awoke with several thoughts flitting through my weary brain. I'd been up and down most of the night, getting little sleep. Seeing Toby in the casket, hearing the pain in Abner's voice, speaking with others who had loved Toby had kept my mind spinning. Around three o'clock this morning, I'd stared out my bedroom window, across the treetops to Bailey's house. A light had been on, so I figured he'd been working on his book. I needed to talk to someone and would have welcomed Bailey's input, but for what I had in mind, there was really only one person who had the authority to hear my questions.
I threw caution to the wind and went to see Sid at the hospital. I arrived about a quarter till seven. The shifts were changing and the nursing station hummed with activity. From the deliveries yesterday, I knew Sid was in room 621. Since I didn't need directions, I breezed down the corridors as if I had every right to be there before visiting hours.
Sid's door was open. I peeked around the door frame. I wanted to save both him and me the embarrassment if he was perched on a bedpan. Thank goodness he was fully clothed and stood at the window. I rapped on the door.
Sid spoke without turning. “You're up bright and early, Bretta. I saw you get out of your vehicle and race across the
parking lot. Even from the sixth floor, I could tell you were hell-bent on some mission. I hoped you had business in some other area of the hospital.” He sighed and faced me. “But since you're knocking on my door, I guess I'm the lucky one.”
Sid's skin was pasty white, but his eyes were clear and bright. I would have liked a more receptive welcome, but that would've been asking for too much. He'd undergone an appendectomy, not a personality transplant. I took heart from the fact that his tone was mild and he wasn't blustering. I gestured to the empty room. “Where are all your flowers?”
“I had the nurse take them to other patients. I can get out of here faster and with less fuss if I'm traveling light. They say the paperwork should be done by eleven o'clock. I'm ready now. My ride should be here at eight. I have things to do, and waiting for hospital personnel to get their act together isn't one of them.” He waved me to a chair. “Sit if you want. I'm standing. My butt is sore from wallowing in bed.”
“I'm surprised you're going home so soon.”
Sid quickly set me straight. “I'm not going home. I'm going to work, but they don't have to know that. For all the hoopla I've been through, I have a couple of pitiful little laser holes in my belly and some nasty bruises on my arm where some inept witch couldn't find a vein. Hell, I've had worse pain. Grappling with that punk spraying graffiti on county bridges comes to mind. The little snot played dirty, scratching and clawing like a girl.”
I ignored that sexist reference. “Last night at the visitation I discovered that Toby reversed his route on the day he died. Mr. Barker said Toby came into the bakery right after lunch instead of his usual time, which was later in the afternoon.”
“Does that make a difference?”
“It might if people were used to him coming around at a certain
time, and he dropped by earlier than expected. Perhaps he saw something that got him into serious trouble.”
“We checked his route for the day he died, but no one mentioned a change. I'll look into it. Anything else?”
“Mr. Barker said that when Toby came into the bakery, he was talking about a bowl of white worms.” I proceeded to tell Sid the other “critter” stories Mr. Barker had related to me.
Sid wasn't impressed. “‘Snips and snails and puppy dog tails.' Boys like creepy crawlers.”
“I know that, but what if those white worms were maggots?”
Sid's upper lip curled. “That's too damned visual. I had rice for breakfast.” He thought a second, then asked, “Where would Toby see such a thing?”
Those questions had kept me awake most of the night. Maggots suggested death and decay. But why a bowl? Were the maggots feeding on something in the bowl? How big was the bowl? Where had Toby been? I hadn't come up with any answers last night, which was why I'd come to Sid. I'd just worked up my courage to put my questions to him when the phone rang.
Sid picked it up. “Sheriff Hancock.” He listened to the voice on the other end. “How bad is it?” He muttered under his breath. “Just left her house? Okay. I'll take over from this end. You stay there and go over everything with a magnifying glass. I mean it, Deputy. I don't like coincidences. This ties in. I don't give a rat's ass what anybody says. You stay there. Be on the alert for any corroborating evidence. Got it?”
Sid slammed down the phone. He was already on his way to the door when he enlightened me. “Leona Harper is being transported to the ER.”
It took a couple of heartbeats to get me up to speed. By that time Sid was out the door. I hurried after him. He hustled
down the corridor, holding his side. I caught up to him at the elevators. He poked the button for the ground floor.
I asked, “What's wrong with her?”
“She's unconscious.”
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open, and we got on. Sid leaned weakly against the wall. His skin was the color of oatmeal. His hand shook as he made a quick swipe across his face. “I don't want questions, Bretta, so here's what I've got. Yvonne Pritchard tried to call Leona last night, but she didn't answer. Yvonne assumed Leona was still at the funeral home. Yvonne tried again this morning and still couldn't get an answer. No one picked up the phone at the dress shop, either. Apparently, Melba Cameron, Leona Harper, and Yvonne Pritchard have exchanged house keys. If for any reason one of the three is worried about the welfare of another, she can get inside the house. Yvonne was worried about Leona, so she used her key.”
The elevator doors opened. Sid stepped out and headed for the ER. I loped along about a step behind him. I said, “Leona came by the flower shop yesterday afternoon. We visited about the people on Hawthorn Street. I learned from her that Abner has a gambling problem, and that Josh is about to lose his video store.”
“Old news.”
“You didn't bring any charges against Abner.”
“Not at this time. Avery Wheeler is trying to decide if he wants to pursue a case of fraud, but with Toby dead, he's not thinking too hard on it.”
“Do you have another suspect in mind?”
“What's in my mind isn't any of your business.”
I frowned. “That hardly seems fair. You don't have any reservations when it comes to picking
my
brain.”
Sid slowed and looked over his shoulder at me. “I asked for your help at Toby's house the other day and you stiffed me.”
This man could aggravate me faster than anyone I knew. I could have pointed out that
he
had been the one who demanded that before I spoke, I had to be sure of my facts. Now, at his convenience, I was to spout every thought that zipped through my brain.
In a huff, I walked past Sid and pushed open the glass doors that shut the ER away from the rest of the hospital. The noise level was high, the lights brighter. The pace was hectic, and to my inexperienced eyes it seemed disorderly. Several people dressed in green scrubs scurried in and out of curtained enclosures.
Suddenly Sid snorted. “Nurses ought to be in white. Yesterday morning I woke up to a woman standing over me. She was wearing a Mickey Mouse-printed shirt. Hell, for a minute, I thought I was in the children's ward. Professionals should dress accordingly.” He touched his blue shirt and sighed. “I miss my khaki.” His hand rested briefly on his hip. “I miss my gun.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt you'll need it.”
“Don't matter. I still miss it.”
“They're here,” said a woman standing near the entrance.
The outer doors swooshed open, and two men rolled in a stretcher. Hospital personnel converged on the patient. My heart hammered as the drama played out not more than twenty feet from me. I heard snatches of conversation. Some of the medical terms I didn't understand, but I got enough to know that Leona's air passages were swollen. She was wheeled into a curtained cubicle and Sid and I moved closer. We kept out of the way, but when the blanket was removed from Leona, I heard a nurse gasp.
“Sweet mother of Jesus,” she whispered.
For the blink of an eye, no one moved—except me. I maneuvered myself so that I had a quick glimpse. Leona was naked, her body as red as a rose and covered with oozing blisters. Her eyes were slits in a face that was bloated beyond recognition. Her lips were puffed out, exposing teeth in a macabre smile. The ER staff closed around her, shutting off my view.
A man with a stethoscope dangling around his neck turned, saw Sid, and strode purposefully toward us. I figured he was about to give us the boot, but he said, “I'm Dr. Emery. Are either of you family? This woman is having an allergic reaction to something. It would help to know her medical history.”
“I'm Sheriff Hancock.”
Dr. Emery turned to me. I shook my head. “I'm not family, but Leona told me that one time she almost died from an allergic reaction to poison ivy.”
The doctor frowned. As he moved away, he muttered, “If that's the case, it looks as if she took a bath in it.”
Bath? My eyes opened wide. “Sid,” I said, “Leona received a gift of bubble bath yesterday. When she stopped at my shop, she was on her way home to bathe.”
“Who gave it to her?”
“She thought it was from a customer named Mrs. Darby.” I proceeded to tell him about the brown sack, bottle of bubble bath, and the bag of cinnamon disks. “Leona didn't see Mrs. Darcy leave the package on the counter. She just assumed that's who it was from because the woman had given her gifts in the past.”
Sid said, “I need a phone.” He sprinted off.
I hung around the ER, but Sid didn't return. It didn't seem right to go off and leave Leona, so I went to the waiting room
and sat down. I picked up a magazine and flipped the pages, but I didn't read a word.
My thoughts refused to leave that bottle of bubble bath. Leona hadn't known for a fact that Mrs. Darby was the one who'd left the bottle on the counter. She'd assumed it was Mrs. Darby, but what if it was someone else? Who knew she was allergic to poison ivy? And why target Leona? What did she know?
I switched gears. How would a person distill the poison? Boil it? Strain it? Mix it with store-bought bubble bath?
I had questions and I wanted answers. I didn't realize how antsy I was until Yvonne and Phillip arrived. I sprang to my feet, anxious to be on my way.
After Phillip had gotten Yvonne settled in a chair, he asked, “How's Leona?”
“There hasn't been any word yet.”
He glanced at Yvonne. “I wanted to take her home, but she insisted on coming to the hospital. If she doesn't take care of herself, she'll be in a bed upstairs herself.”
“I need to be here for Leona,” was Yvonne's wobbly reply.
She was a basket case. Copious tears had reddened her eyes. The heavy folds of skin around her neck and face sagged. I touched her lightly on the shoulder. “I heard you found her.”
Tears welled up and dribbled down her cheeks. “I wanted to check on her last night, but Phillip told me I was being neurotic. He said that just because Leona didn't answer her phone didn't mean something was wrong.” Yvonne pressed her hands tightly together. “We had a pact, and I broke it.”
“By not going over there last night?”
“No. No. Melba, Leona, and I swore that if one or the other of us had to be transported to the hospital, the one who found
us had to make sure we were presentable. She was naked, and I couldn't make myself touch her. Her skin was covered with watery blisters the size of teacups.”
Yvonne hung her head. “She's my best friend. She takes such pride in her appearance. When she finds out she rode to the hospital without a stitch on, she'll be mortified.”

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