Malpractice in Maggody (33 page)

I put my arm around Dawn’s shoulders. “You must have been enraged. Did you track down the doctors’ names on the Internet?”

She nodded, but I felt her muscles tighten. “It took me ten minutes. Sunny hung there all night. They found her in the morning.”

“So how did you find out that Randall Zumi was going to be a partner in the Stonebridge Foundation?”

“I had to wait for almost ten years, and it wasn’t easy. I wasn’t about to get myself checked into that hospital. Finally, a friend of my mother’s went to Dr. Stonebridge for a face-lift and all that crap. He let something slip about his hush-hush project in Arkansas. A psychiatric facility. It was a long shot, but I searched the Internet and found the stuff about the property sale. Zumi’s name was included. After that, it was easy to find the application for the license for a rehabilitation facility. I may not have been as smart as Sunny, but I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks.” She hiccuped. “Not as stupid as you think, either.”

“Then you did what was necessary to get yourself in a position to be ripe for a few months of rehab. How did you convince your lawyer to choose this place?”

Dawn took another swallow of scotch. “He’s such a little twit. He insisted that I go to this place in San Diego, but I walked out. I dropped a few hints about needing to get out of the state and suggested he call Stonebridge. Then I bitched like hell all the way here, just to make him feel as if the whole thing was his idea.”

“Did Dr. Zumi recognize your name?” I asked. “You and Sunny were pretty famous back then.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m sixty-five! I don’t know if he figured out the connection, but if he did, what was he going to say? ‘By the way, your sister was one of my patients. So sorry I gave her all that Thorazine and she killed herself.’ Give me a break!”

I edged to the end of the bench. “It didn’t take you long to find a way to get your revenge, did it? You were very clever.”

“Of course I was. I searched his room, just to make sure he was the one, and finally found his résumé. On the second day after I got here, I started bitching about how sore I was from the exercises, so Zumi agreed I could have Demerol at night. I pretended to swallow them, but as soon as the maid looked away, I spit them out and hid them. Yesterday I ground up four tabs and waited until Zumi left his office. I put it in the gin bottle. I didn’t leave my fingerprints, did I?”

“No, the bottle had been wiped clean of any prints but Zumi’s. That’s what made me suspicious. There should have been all sorts of prints on the bottle. Somebody sold it to Dibbins, and either he or his valet packed the bottles in his bag. Brenda Skiller put the bottles in a box, but saved a few of them for her depressed colleague. But there were no other prints.” I gave her a moment to mull that over, then said, “We won’t find any prints on the wine bottle in Dibbins’s room, either. You were very careful, Dawn. Almost too careful.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d have to do in Dr. Dibbins,” she said, almost pensively. “I found the wine bottle down at the end of the other hall in this ghastly room, and I was going to drink it myself. But then I thought I might as well hang on to it in case I needed it. You never know.”

“You must have overheard me talking to Dr. Dibbins this afternoon.”

“I was afraid he could be bought for a Cadbury bar. That’s pathetic, isn’t it? He had millions of dollars, but he would have shot off his mouth for a dollar’s worth of chocolate.” She rose and went across the path to pick a flower. “Do you know what this is?”

It was dark by this time, and I was beginning to regret having chosen such an isolated spot. “No, sorry. I can identify dandelions and daisies, but that’s about it. Molly’s murder is the one that puzzles me. Why kill her?”

Dawn began to sway back and forth. “It was just one of those things. I knew Toby would look guilty as sin, so you might go after him. Even better, I’d seen Zumi mooning after her like a puppy, so I figured that could be the reason he committed suicide.”

“You killed her just to muddy the water?” I said, appalled.

“Like I said, it was just one of those things. Once I realized she was in the garden, I found her and gave her a big hug. We sat and talked for at least an hour, girly talk. Then I hit her with a rock and held her facedown in the water until she stopped kicking. I never liked her, anyway. I know I’ve put on some pounds and let myself go, but once I’m clean and back to normal, I’ll be a hell of a lot sexier than she’d ever been. It got so sickening to watch all the men, including those Mexicans, panting whenever she walked by. It was really annoying. She should have stayed home, had a couple of babies, and hung out with the other bovines, getting fatter and dowdier. You ought to see some of my cousins in Stubbett.”

“I can understand why you did what you did, Dawn,” I said, “but I can’t just forget about it. Two people are dead, and another one may be joining them.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sat back down and picked up the bottle of scotch. “You sure you don’t want to try this? I promise you’ll like it.”

What I didn’t like was the way she seemed to be judging its potential as a weapon. There was no convenient fountain, but I doubted that would be a factor. Her identical twin sister had developed a serious mental illness, and their genes had come from the same pool.

“Maybe later,” I said. “Why don’t we go see what Toby’s doing?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, I’m in charge until Brenda gets back. I think we should clean up the table and decide where to sleep tonight. What do you think about the gym? It’s got pads on the floor.”

Dawn cocked her head as she looked at me. “Don’t underestimate me, Chief Hanks. I’ve already told you I’m not stupid.”

“Call me Arly,” I said quickly. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Did I ever tell you about the five years I lived in Manhattan? The ethnic food was fantastic. Can you get good Thai in L.A.?”

She was puzzled enough to lower the bottle. “You’re asking me about noodles and lemongrass?”

Before I could come up with a lame response, a bulky figure came stumbling down the path, grunting like a wounded animal. Both of us instinctively moved closer together, despite the fact she’d been on the verge of bashing me with the bottle. I clutched her hand as we both stared.

“There you are!” boomed Vincent Stonebridge, his hairless head glinting in the moonlight. “Where the hell is everybody else?” He lurched to a halt and pointed at the bottle in Dawn’s hands. “How dare you steal that from me? You’re in big trouble, little lady. I’m going to see you have high colonics for a month! What’s more, I’m going to call your mother! What do you have to say to that?”

Nothing, obviously. Dawn shoved the bottle at me, then leapt up and ran down the path. I waited until I could no longer hear her, then stood up. “Take this,” I said, putting the bottle in his hand. “Let’s put you back to bed. You can make all the calls you want in the morning.”

Stonebridge belched. “That might be prudent. Just who are you?”

I took his arm and steered him toward the pool. “Don’t worry about it. Everything will be clear after you’ve had a nice long rest. Wouldn’t you like to lie down?”

He moved obediently, although we had some tricky moments on the brick path. I draped his arm over my shoulders and persevered until we reached his apartment. His hairpiece was on a pillow as though it were snoozing. I gave Stonebridge a parting shove, and watched as he flopped across the bed. Had I been a better person, I would have removed his shoes and gone so far as to find a blanket to throw over him. I turned off the light and went into his office, locked the door, and picked up the phone to call Harve.

The dispatcher sounded choked up when she told me that Sheriff Dorfer had not returned, nor had Palsy. I assured her that it wasn’t her fault and hung up before she broke out in tears. I decided that I had two options: I could go around the pool to the gym, where Toby was likely to be pedaling the stationary bike hard enough to end up in Boone Creek, or I could stay where I was, which was safe. I had no idea where Dawn was. I did not want to step outside and find her waiting for me, when the most lethal weapon I had available was a framed photo of Stonebridge shaking hands with Governor Arnold.

I sat behind the desk for a long time, chastising myself for my foolish behavior. Before I’d set foot in the garden, I was certain that Dawn was guilty. I hadn’t been able to determine how Molly’s murder fit into the scheme, but I would have sooner or later. I hoped her family never found out that her death was merely “a distraction.”

After half an hour, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I tiptoed into Stonebridge’s apartment and utilized the bathroom, but I had the decency not to look in his medicine cabinet for denture adhesive or makeup. He was doomed already. I wondered how long it would take him to learn how to speak Spanish. Maybe he could go back to the village where he’d hired his peons and take lessons. I didn’t care.

I went to the window in the office and peeked through the blinds. Nothing, except the remains of the picnic on the table by the pool, was worthy of my attention. The sidewalk was reasonably dark, although the exterior lights were on. When I opened the door, the guard dog began to bark. That was a good sign. I darted to the door of the main building and went inside. There were too many places for Dawn to hide; I had no chance of finding her if she was still around. I looked out the front door at the gate. It was open, suggesting she’d fled. If Harve would just call me, I could tell him what had taken place and he could take over. I was not about to be a posse of one. I’d never quite grasped the reasoning behind the army’s latest recruitment slogan: Be an army of one. Hell, I wanted a battalion, and then some.

Headlights flashed as a car turned into the driveway. Harve, I thought, allowing myself to relax. Or at least a deputy with a gun. The car stopped in front of the porch. My eyes widened as Jack opened the door and got out. He waved as he came trotting up the steps. I went out on the porch and flung myself at him. Eventually, he unwound my arms from around his neck and frowned at me.

“What’s going on?”

I was still reeling, but I pulled myself together somehow and said, “You don’t even want to know. What are you doing here?”

“I tried all afternoon to call you, just to make sure you made it back safely. I finally got worried enough to call your mother.”

“Oh, god,” I said as I sat down on one of the wicker chairs.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he said defensively. “I am entitled to be worried about you, aren’t I?”

I rather liked the idea. “I guess so. I hope you didn’t go into detail about last night.”

He sat down next to me. “I described everything we did, from lunch to our antics in bed. She was gratified to hear all about it. After I’d finished telling her about your amazing talents and that certain thing you do so well, I asked where you were. She was upset, to put it mildly. She said you’d been out here all afternoon. She tried to call at one point to tell you something about Mexicans—I never quite understood—and then started rambling on about people getting murdered. I didn’t have anything better to do, so I thought I might as well come down and put her mind at ease.”

“You’d better be lying about some of that,” I said. “But, yeah, there was another attempted murder this afternoon, and I ended up babysitting the famous quarterback and the perp. I don’t know where she is at the moment. The gate was open, so I’m assuming she’s long gone.”

“Maybe not,” Jack said. “Ruby Bee told me how to find this place. When I came down the road, I saw this young woman whirling around and shouting. I pulled over and asked if she needed help.”

“And then, being a good-hearted soul, you let her get in the car? Didn’t your mother ever warn you about picking up hitchhikers?”

He leaned back and crossed his legs. “Shall I continue? It took me of all of ten seconds to realize I had a drunken psycho in my car. She was babbling about all the people she’d killed and how she’d have gotten away with it if you hadn’t butted in. I didn’t care for that, so I bundled her up and put her in my trunk. If you listen, you can hear her feet pounding.”

“You can’t leave her there. She’ll suffocate.”

“No, she’ll be fine. How are you?”

“Relieved,” I admitted. “It was pretty crazy there for a while. If you’re sure she’ll be okay, let’s just leave her there until the sheriff or one of his deputies shows up. Dr. Stonebridge is out for the duration, and Toby will probably pump iron all night.”

“Then we can just sit here?” he murmured.

“Till sunrise, if need be.” I settled into his arm, and we gazed at the sky. I don’t know when Harve finally called, but I roused myself and went inside to answer the phone. That was the end of it, as far as I was concerned.

M
rs. Jim Bob was fed up. She was sitting at the dinette, shredding paper napkins and brooding. Somehow, Jim Bob had managed to evade her all day. She’d left so many messages at the SuperSaver that she’d lost count. He was a weasel, she told herself as she took a gulp of chamomile tea to steady her nerves. Brother Verber was almost as bad. Here she was, needing his wisdom and guidance in her moment of need, but he was holed up somewhere. She vowed to never again volunteer to supervise the rummage sale, even if it meant the little heathens would have to get by without the donation.

And her so-called friends—well, they could just find out how taxing it was to run the Missionary Society, keep track of the hymnals, and make sure the Sunday school teachers were adhering to the Gospel. Let them eat somebody else’s cinnamon rolls after the meetings. She’d wash her hands of the whole lot of them, and they’d be mighty sorry. Ingrates, every single one of them.

But Jim Bob was by far the most sinful, and she wasn’t about to allow herself to be embarrassed by his behavior. Even if she was to resign her presidency, she was still going to hold her head up high as she drove through town. She’d heard the rumors that he was luring in otherwise upstanding citizens to gamble away their hard-earned money. Kevin was a prime victim, along with Jeremiah McIlhaney, not to mention Earl Buchanon, who should be at home fretting about his wife. She owed it to the community to stop the game and send these sinful men crawling home to pray for forgiveness.

She finished her tea. There was no choice. Jim Bob may have thought he was crafty, but she knew perfectly well that the game was going on in the back of Roy’s antiques store. She picked up her purse and went out to the car. The idea of catching them gave her a glow of grim satisfaction.

There weren’t any trucks parked in front of the store, but Mrs. Jim Bob figured they’d be parked around back where nobody would see them. She yanked at the rearview mirror and made sure her hair was tidy. Then, armed with the knowledge that the Almighty Lord was on her heels, she marched through the shop and threw open the door to the back room.

What she saw wasn’t at all what she expected. The men were seated around a table, but instead of holding cards, they were holding up their hands. Their faces were all paler than a baby’s bottom. Kevin, in particular, looked like he was liable to throw up all over the plastic chips scattered in front of him. Unattended cigars smoldered in ashtrays. Glasses of whiskey remained untouched. Nobody spoke, or even twitched. It was like she’d stepped into a grainy photograph.

Mrs. Jim Bob felt hot breath on her neck. Startled, she swung around. Standing behind the door was a woman with messy white hair, dressed in a stained blue sweatsuit. Her eyes looked peculiar. To make matters worse, she was holding a gun.

“Just who might you be?” Mrs. Jim Bob demanded.

“I am a United States senator.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in all my born days.” She snatched the gun out of the woman’s hands. “I don’t even want to hear your excuses for being here. Now you just be on your way, whoever you are.”

Mrs. Jim Bob nearly shrieked when Roy and Jeremiah jumped up and grabbed hold of the woman. It was downright rude, she thought, and cast a bad light on Maggody. Once she was mayor, she’d organize a hospitality committee to make sure this sort of thing never happened again.

Dahlia was sitting on the stoop, heaving and sighing. Mebbe she’d been too hard on Kevvie, going after him with a broom and all. She didn’t recollect anything about her pa, but she knew her cousins and uncles drank whiskey. Their wives groused about it, but they didn’t seem to do anything to put a stop to it. It was all her granny’s fault, she thought gloomily. If she hadn’t had to put up with her, she might have let Kevvie off with a scolding.

She saw a scrawny figure coming down the road. Her granny, of course. She hadn’t been eaten by a bear after all. Dahlia sat and waited, her brow lowering with each step the old lady took.

Her granny stopped at the gate. “I ain’t comin’ in, so don’t get all het up. Jest put my belongings in a paper bag and bring ’em out to me. One of these days you’ll be real sorry about the way you treated me. Get movin’, lardbutt. I ain’t got all night.”

“Where are you goin’?” Dahlia asked.

“None of your beeswax. I don’t aim to be a bother to you no more. I have found somewhere else to stay where someone will appreciate my cookin’ and cleanin’. Why are you still sitting there, gal?”

Dahlia’s chins rippled as she chewed on this. “You ain’t shacking up with Petrol again, are you?”

“What if I am?” her granny replied hotly. “He’s got the biggest pecker I ever seen—and I’ve seen a bushel and a peck of peckers in my life.” She cackled. “I may be old, but I ain’t dead yet. You want me to fetch my things, or are you gonna do it? Time’s a-wastin’. Petrol picked me a nice mess of collard greens, and they’re simmerin’ on the stove.”

Dahlia struggled to her feet. “I don’t want the twins to hear your trashy talk. Don’t you dare set foot in my yard ever again.”

“Like I’d want to? Lemme know when you birth that bun in the warmer. It ain’t that I care, but I might as well write it down in the family Bible.”

“Yeah,” Dahlia said, wondering why she felt so sad all of a sudden. “I’ll be sure Kevvie goes by and tells you.”

Jack spent what was left of the night in my apartment, but we were both too tired to do anything of prurient interest. He drank a cup of instant coffee, trying not to wrinkle his nose, and then headed home. I took a long shower, then reluctantly went to the PD to call Harve for the gazillionth time. I’d catch hell from Ruby Bee for not stopping at the bar & grill first, but I didn’t care.

The evil eye was blinking, so I decided to listen to the messages while I made some decent coffee. There were the expected garbled messages from Ruby Bee, interspersed with increasingly distraught ones from Jack. This continued long enough for me to fill a mug and settle behind my desk. There was a bizarre message from Roy about someone who’d attempted to stick up the poker game, followed by a second sarcastic one saying he’d taken the interloper to the county jail. Elsie McMay left a message that she’d shot out a window at the high school but would have a word with the principal and handle the matter herself. Dahlia had called to say that I didn’t have to worry about her granny anymore. Since I’d totally forgotten about it, I was pleased, although I would have to call her back at some point and make sure Dahlia hadn’t carried through with her threat to dump her granny on a back road.

The message that rocked my socks was from Eileen Buchanon, Maggody’s very own missing person. She was calling, she claimed, from a motel near Mount Rushmore, and had maxed out her credit card buying souvenirs. If Earl didn’t wire her money, she’d be obliged to hold up a liquor store to pay for enough gas to get home.

I pushed the replay button and listened to the message again. That was going to require my immediate attention, I realized. I made a note of the name of the motel and the town so I could call Earl with the details. It had the makings of a real interesting homecoming party.

I fixed myself another cup of coffee and called Harve. The dispatcher, who now seemed to consider me her best friend, warned me that he’d been even more churlish than usual when he came in. I thanked her politely.

“So what’s going on?” I said as soon as he picked up the receiver.

“A day without you would be a day with sunshine. It’d include fishing, beer, a picnic basket filled with Mrs. Dorfer’s ham salad sandwiches and fudge brownies.” He stopped and scritched matches until his cigar was lit. “Dawn Dartmouth is not enjoying our hospitality, but the boys from the psych unit at the hospital are gonna pick her up any minute. It took four of my deputies to haul Toby Mann out of the gym. I couldn’t think of anything to charge him with, but I was skittish about turning him loose. He’s in the break room right now, signing autographs. We left Dr. Stonebridge to sleep it off. He’s gonna be right bewildered when he wakes up and finds out he’s the only one out there.”

“What about Dr. Dibbins? I asked. “Did he make it?”

“Oh, yeah, he most certainly did. The hospital administrator’s already called this morning, demanding that we take him off their hands. I told him it wasn’t any of our business. Brenda Skiller’s staying with him, driving the nurses up the damn wall. I left a message for the prosecutor, but he’s not likely to call me back until he gets to his office tomorrow morning.” He paused for a moment, then added, “We found the Mexicans, in case you was worried about them. That accident last night that Palsy went out to see about—one of the vehicles was the van from the Stonebridge Foundation. None of them must have been injured, ’cause they were long gone when he arrived. Think I should inform the immigration boys?”

“Let ’em be,” I said. “Maybe they’ll find less stressful work and end up paying taxes like the rest of us.”

“What the hell,” Harve said magnanimously. “You don’t have to spend the day hunting for that wacky senator, by the way. She’s already over at the psych ward, trying to recruit the staff to join the revolution. I don’t think she signed anybody up yet, but you never know. Guess I’ll be calling all the patients’ families today, telling them what-all’s been going on.”

“The media on it yet? Are you going to get some publicity for all your diligence and hard work?”

I could almost see the gloat on his face. “Might just happen ’long about noon,” he said, puffing on his cigar. “Might see my face on the front page tomorrow, if I can keep the prosecutor from claiming all the credit.”

“I guess the only person we’re still missing is Walter Kaiser.”

“Oh, we got him locked up, too. That dispatcher, whatever her name is, told you about there being a hostage situation, right? Well, it turned out to be the Kaiser fellow right in the thick of it.”

“He took somebody hostage?” I said, astonished. “He seemed way too laid-back to bother.”

Harve laughed. “He claims he was the hostage. Seems he went to the bar and picked up a pretty little thing, not knowing that her boyfriend was an ex-Marine. He lured her out to that hippie van of his. The boyfriend didn’t much like this, so he started taking potshots in the parking lot. It gets kinda confusing after that, but the best I could tell, the girl skedaddled away. Her boyfriend and Walter ended up in the van, smoking pot and threatening to kill anybody who got within a hundred feet. We just waited until Walter came outside to piss, and grabbed him, then busted into the van and handcuffed one really messed-up ex-Marine.”

“And that’s why I was out at the Stonebridge without any backup? So you could sit in your car and wait half the night? I could have been killed, you know.”

“But you weren’t, so quit your yammering. I’ll expect your reports in the morning, typed up real nice and neat.”

I was tempted to throw my mug at the wall. “In the morning, you asshole? You’ll be lucky to get them in three days.”

“Nine o’clock, on my desk. Have a nice day.”

I slammed down the receiver, then rocked back and willed myself to settle down. It seemed like I was going off like a firecracker more often than was healthy. Maybe it was nothing more than PMS, I thought as I inspected the map of South America on the ceiling. The spider had disappeared into the rain forest, or more likely, the crack by the wall. He’d be back, and I supposed I would be, too. Unless I got a better offer.

Ruby Bee and Estelle were munching biscuits at the end of the bar. Ruby Bee looked over her shoulder at the clock. “Arly might be along shortly,” she said.

“And?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

Estelle dabbed her lip with a napkin. “You could tell her.”

“I thought about it all last night, once she’d called to let me know she was okay. That fellow from Springfield stayed with her. I saw him driving off this morning.”

“You’re avoiding the issue.”

Ruby Bee sighed. “Maybe it’s best to let her figure it out herself. I don’t want her to think I’m butting into her private affairs.”

“Maybe so,” said Estelle. “She must not have noticed she missed her period last month, but she’s gonna miss another one before too long.”

“It ain’t gonna be easy,” Ruby Bee said, mostly to herself. “But it’s not up to us to tell her what to do.” She wiped her eyes. “You want some more coffee?”

“I’m thinking I might have a small glass of sherry.”

“That’s the best idea I reckon I’ve heard in a long while.”