Blood Relations (12 page)

“Well, for one thing, home is a half a mile walk that way. Eleanore's is right there. Plus, I don't think the kids need to see you with somebody else's blood on you.”

“Good thinking,” I said.

“I am capable of it once in awhile.”

“Can I come down now?” Collette called from the road.

“Yeah,” Colin yelled. “Come and take Miss Marple to Eleanore's.”

Getting up the bank of the river was a joke, since it was slippery with snow and I couldn't use one of my feet. Not to mention that I was shaking and my teeth were chattering from being in the cold water. Collette pulled and tugged, trying to get me up over the bank, but I just couldn't get enough of a hold in the snow and push myself with one foot at the same time. “This isn't working,” she said.

“Get behind me and push,” I told her.

“I love you, Torie, but not that much.”

The CSU pulled up about that time and began unloading equipment. The snowflakes were bigger now; everything was covered with at least six inches of snow. And that meant the footprints and evidence down on the river were quickly being covered up, as well. I just gave Collette a defeated look and sat down. Reluctantly, she got behind me and sort of positioned my butt on her shoulder and pushed. “If I've ruined my shoes, there is going to be serious hell to pay. And just for the record—this is the first time I've ever touched another woman's butt.”

“Shut up,” I said.

I felt a hand grab mine and start pulling me up as Collette was shoving me. When I got to the top of the road, I found Elmer Kolbe standing there, smiling down at me. He reached down and helped me stand, then gave Collette a hand as she tried to climb up the bank, which was now a wall of slushy mud. So much for her expensive Italian shoes.

“Thanks, Elmer,” I said. “I don't think I would have made it without you.”

A few people had now gathered in the area, and Eleanore had come out on her front porch to see what was going on. It was more or less her backyard, after all. With the help of Collette and Elmer, I hopped on one foot to the Murdoch Inn and then up onto the porch.

“Oh my Lord. What's happened?” Eleanore asked.

I held a hand up to her, indicating that I would tell her in just a minute.

“Would you run home and get me a pair of sweats?” I said to Collette. “They're in the middle drawer in the chest.”

“Sure,” she said.

“Oh, and clean underwear, too.”

“Okay, Anything else?”

“Mmm, my purse. If you want to stay with the kids so Rudy can take me over to Wisteria General, that's fine. Or else you can take me and he can stay with the kids. I don't care either way.”

“We'll work it out,” she said.

I turned to Eleanore, who was in her robe and had her hair up in curlers. She looked weird without all of her makeup and jewelry. She had no eyebrows. All of this time, I never knew she had no eyebrows. She must have penciled them in.

“Eleanore, I'm all yours. Sheriff says to run me a bath,” I said. “But you know, I think I'll just take a hot shower instead.” I didn't want to be in the same water that Professor Lahrs's blood would be in.

“Of course,” she said. “Right away.”

Elmer helped me hop my way inside.

Fourteen

I was clean and dressed in dry clothes. Thank God. Of course, I would never be entirely convinced that little river organisms hadn't infiltrated my body by way of the gashes in my foot. And no matter how many times I'd scrubbed Jacob Lahrs's blood off of my skin, it still felt as if it were there.

My foot and ankle looked like they had gotten caught in a meat grinder. Nothing really bled profusely, but I had large amounts of skin missing in various places. I was about ready to put my tennis shoe on the other foot and leave for the hospital, when the sheriff walked in.

I was seated at the table in the kitchen of the Murdoch Inn, with its array of copper pots and pans hanging from the middle of the ceiling and what seemed like a thousand and one sunflowers scattered about the room. They were everywhere—on the wallpaper, the curtains, stuck to the fridge, and a big silk bouquet of them in the middle of the table.

“What's up?” I asked, putting my shoe on my right foot. My lips were still a little blue when I'd stepped out of Eleanore's bathroom, and I still had a mild case of the shakes. But the hot shower had done wonders to warm me up.

The sheriff nearly knocked one of the pans down as he made his way toward the table. I always forget how tall he is, until something like this happens. He steadied the pan with his hand. “You see the footprints down there in the snow?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I saw them when I first went down there. I just thought they belonged to whoever was doing the moaning.”

“Looks like there are several sets. A few lead down to the boat, although they weren't necessarily made at the same time. In fact, I think one or two sets were from earlier, because there is more snow covering them than the other set. Only one set leads back up the hill. I think those were Collette's. I can't be sure right now.”

“Well, that's good,” I said. “Right? You can follow them straight to the perp.”

Colin hung his head in thought. “Seems our perp was a little smarter than that. I can only find one set that actually leads away from the crime scene. I think the perp realized he was leaving prints and headed for the river.”

“That's it?” I asked. “So, what, is he still in the river?”

“I'm thinking he might have been in the river when you went down there.”

I laid my head on the table. “Great.”

“I think he just simply walked up the river, or down, as the case may be. Staying close to the edge, of course. And then got out at some point. But the snow will completely cover the prints before we can track them. Who knows how far he walked?”

“You're serious,” I said, looking back up at him.

“Yeah.”

“Wouldn't he have a bad case of frostbite?”

“Possibly,” he said. “I've got word out at the hospitals within sixty miles to call me if they get a patient with wet feet and frostbite, possible hypothermia. But who's to say he'll go to a hospital? Who's to say he won't get on a bus and go to a hospital in another state? Or if he had it all planned out, who's to say he didn't have a car waiting somewhere? All he has to do is cross the river on the ferry down in Sainte Genevieve.”

I thought a moment. Would the perp think to do that? If it had been premeditated, I could see it. But if it had been an act of passion? If it were something the perp hadn't intended to happen, would he think to cross the river and go to Illinois to go to a hospital? I don't know if I'd think that clearly if I'd just smashed in somebody's skull.

“Any sign of a struggle? Like a fight?”

“It's too hard to tell.”

“Do you think it was premeditated?”

“Most likely. In fact, I think the perp waited for him to go down there and then followed him.”

“Can you compare the prints to everybody's shoes in town?”

He laughed at me. “Okay, let's say for a moment I have those kind of man-hours and I could literally compare every pair of shoes in New Kassel. The snow fell too fast to get a clear visual of the prints. I've got the scene covered with a big tarp now, so no more snow will fall on it, but I think the damage has already been done,” he said. He paused a moment and thought of something. “We got pictures of them, but I really think the snow was too heavy. They were mostly obscured by the time we got there. We might be able to narrow it down to the size and type of shoe, based on the photographs. Sneaker, boot, whatever. But I don't know that I can narrow it down to brand or specific treads. And, like I said, I'm not sure what the photographs will even show.”

The throbbing in my foot was becoming unbearable. “You really think the perp was still down there when I got there?”

“I don't know,” he said. “Maybe, maybe not. Lahrs could have been lying there moaning for a couple of hours.”

“In which case, the perp would be long gone.”

“Right.”

“Anybody missing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean from here. The inn. Jacob's two assistants, or Mr. Chapel from Channel Six news?”

“Newsome is checking on that as we speak.”

“I just had a thought,” I said. “If the actual event occurred earlier than we thought, it's possible the perp could have already been at a hospital and was released before you ever put out the APB.”

“True,” he said.

Something didn't set right with me. I wasn't sure what it was, but the thought of some guy walking around in the river for an hour just didn't seem right. It was twelve degrees outside. He wouldn't be that stupid. That was, of course, if the perp was a guy. Could have been a female. Although less likely. Not because women are less stupid, but because the type of crime seemed to fit a man.

“So did you notice anything else while you were down there?” he asked. “Anything at all that you think might be of use?”

“You mean did I see a guy hiding in the river?” I asked, nearly laughing at him.

“Well, I might get lucky. You never know.”

“No,” I said. “In fact, it seemed like an unusually quiet evening. Everybody was inside early because of the snow. I mean, people tend to go home early on Sunday evenings anyway because of school and work the next day. But it was quieter than normal. Ask Collette what she saw.”

“I will.”

“I'm sorry, but I was really more concerned with the body.”

“Let's get you over to the hospital, get you some antibiotics and a tetanus shot before you get lockjaw,” he said. His eyes suddenly lit up. “On second thought, you with lockjaw would be a blessing. You wouldn't be able to open your mouth!”

“You can shut up anytime now. I just suffered a traumatic event, you know.”

THE NEW KASSEL GAZETTE

The News You Might Miss

By

Eleanore Murdoch

 

I just have one thing to say. This town functions quite nicely on its own, and as soon as outsiders come in, somebody turns up dead. Of course, my husband, Oscar, reminded me that without the generosity of the tourists, we would be in the poorhouse or working the midnight shift at a fertilizer plant. Still, what happened to Professor Lahrs is most distressing. Especially since it happened a few hundred feet from our home. And how much tourism will we continue to have if people get murdered when they come here? Really, we must come up with a plan to screen those who come to spend any length of time in our town. That's all I have to say.

Oh, and the winner of the snowman contest was Davie Roberts. His snowman was a self-portrait. He used some blackberries his mother had in the freezer to give his snowman two black eyes. Father Bingham found this ingenious, and probably felt a little sorry for him, too.

Until Next Time,

Eleanore

Fifteen

The next morning, the sun shone brilliantly on the new snow. The sky was a deep, deep blue as I dropped the kids off at school and headed out to Wisteria to see my mother. I'd called Helen Wickland and asked her to take over my tours today, because there would be no way I could climb the steps of the Gaheimer House on my left foot. It was sprained all right, and I could barely walk. It was a good thing that I needed only my right foot to drive. My arm was killing me from the tetanus shot they had given me, and I think there were sections of my rear end that were still numb. Have I complained enough?

I pulled into my mother's driveway about ten minutes later and wondered where the time had gone. Some days when I make the drive out to Wisteria, I notice every little side street and house. Then there are other times that I'm so deep in thought, it seems like I leave New Kassel and then suddenly I'm in my mom's driveway. Which was how it felt today.

I knocked on the door and then went on in. I never wait for her to tell me to come in. The knock was just so she knew I was coming through the door. My mother and I had lived together entirely too many years to become formal with each other now. Besides, she was going to baby-sit for me today, so she was expecting Matthew and me.

“Hello!” I called out. I reached down and took Matthew's coat off, then mine, and tossed them over the chair by the door. I was not walking to the coat closet if I didn't have to. I usually threw my coat over the chair anyway.

“We're in the kitchen,” Mom called out.

It's a good thing Matthew can walk now; otherwise, I would have had a heck of a time carrying him in the house. I walked—no, make that hobbled—through her living room and into the kitchen, where she and Colin were drinking coffee and reading the paper. Colin immediately put the paper down. “How's the foot?”

“I'm all right. Just can't put a lot of weight on it,” I said, sitting down as fast as I could. “And I have to wear a house slipper, even in eight inches of snow.”

My mother smiled at me then, as if I should have known better than to put my foot through an eighty-year-old piece of wood. She held her hands out to Matthew, who instantly climbed up her wheelchair and onto her lap. My mother is a beautiful woman, with a long oval face, large brown eyes, and creamy skin. Her salt-and-pepper hair is nearly the only thing that gives away her age, other than the slight crow's-feet at the corners of her eyes. And you couldn't tell that she was in a wheelchair until she actually pulled away from the table. She had been one of the last polio victims of the 1950s, and it left her without the use of her legs. But that hadn't stopped her from getting married, having me, and cleaning her own house. And then snagging the sheriff. Plus, she is an outstanding cook. Now that I thought about it, maybe that was why I'd dropped all that weight. She had moved out last year.