Lethal Lineage (15 page)
The next day at the historical society I was too edgy to do research. We were all miserable. Keith likes to be in charge and make things happen, but he was trapped by trivia. Spending bored days behind a desk, thinking they couldn’t go on forever, but they could. Josie was driving Keith’s pickup, backtracking to locate petitioners willing to take charge of the recall election.
On Edna’s fourth tape, I finally pulled off my headphones, and stood up in disgust. I rifled through the printouts of her disconnected memoirs, trying to decide if some of the tapes were missing, or she was more addled than I had thought. She had just leap-frogged from her life in Iowa to her life in Kansas.
My cell phone shrilled. I jumped, swore, spilled coffee, and made a mental note to change the ring.
“Sam, here. Dimon called. Some news finally.”
“Good? Bad?”
“Neither. Just news. The poison was heavy duty. Totally unexpected. Off the wall. That’s what took the toxicologists so long.”
My office phone rang. I let it go.
“It’s from a poison dart frog. One of the most poisonous varieties known.”
After we hung up, I called Josie.
She listened. “I’ll call Harold. They are keeping him in the loop since he’s still a consultant for Carlton County.”
I touched my fingers to the pulse in my throat and waited for her to call back. Bishop Talesbury’s face swam before my eyes. I had sworn there was no way there could have been a murder in that little church. No way. But there was and we knew it. The bishop had flown in from Africa. We knew that. And now we knew he’d known Mary Farnsworth.
Ten minutes later, she called with background information. “It’s natural habitat is South America,” she said. “Not Africa. There has been lots of traffic back and forth between there and Africa since colonial days. Exchanges of products and goods. But even if there wasn’t this connection, Harold says there’s a thriving pet market for poisonous frogs.”
“But how, Josie? How? Let’s go for a touch of reality here. Aren’t the secretions of these little critters used on the tips of poison darts? We were both there. Talesbury didn’t just suddenly whip out a blow dart gun and start firing away.”
“No. That’s true. But here’s what we do know. The KBI says Mary Farnsworth absolutely did die from this poison and no other. She was in full view of over one hundred people. Maybe more. This particular poison is so lethal two grams can stop an elephant in its tracks. She had time to run from the rail to the anteroom. If she had been targeted with this in the sanctuary, she couldn’t have taken two steps.”
“Is there another way to use this poison other than injection?”
“Actually, there is, but it’s not like anyone handed her a cup of poison and told her to drink it five minutes later.”
In my heart, I wanted the killer to be Talesbury because I despised the man. But my head took over. “We’ve got to pull out all the stops and find the man kneeling next to Edna.”
“It’s a little late for that.”
“Yes.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I just wish we’d known from the beginning that Mary’s death wasn’t simple. There were so many steps we could have taken.”
“You couldn’t have known that, Lottie. You did everything you could.”
“Not everything. I’m going to start calling everyone I can think of who was there that day and see how many had cameras. Maybe someone has a picture.
“My money is still on the bishop,” Josie said. “But Harold says the KBI is going to send someone out here right away to help with the investigation. Until now, they’ve just supported us with lab work.”
“Our fault on that. One of the agents should have observed the autopsy. But we blew that too.”
“Harold told me to warn you not to go off half-cocked. Let the A team take over. We have to do this by the book and not make any accusations before we can back them up with proof.”
“I understand.” As soon as we hung up, I called Keith.
He listened. “That’s incredible. I know a little about toxins from my veterinary training, but an ag vet isn’t exactly up to speed on poison dart frogs. I know there’s one that secretes the most poisonous substance in the world.”
I couldn’t remember the Latin name Josie gave me, but I was certain he would call her the moment he hung up.
“It surprised me how long some of these poisons last on the tip of a weapon.” I eyed my computer and blessed Google. “I imagine we’ll have plenty to talk about at supper.”
“Ah hell, there’s just no way it could have happened. But you can bet I’ll think about it all afternoon.”
“Keith, why don’t you let Sam take over the next couple of days? I know you’re going crazy just sitting there, when you could be tilling the oats field. Or something.”
“I don’t want to slight my job. Have that old bastard think I’m just dabbling.”
I didn’t dare laugh. I had used those same words myself, when I was justifying my job to him. I suspected he remembered them. Verbatim.
“Really, honey. Harold says we can’t do a thing on our end. The KBI is taking over. There’s too many things that don’t add up. There’s absolutely nothing we can contribute. Nothing.” I said again just in case he didn’t get it the first time. “Nothing.”
“Yes, I can,” he said. “I’m going to set fire to that little son-of-a-bitching church. It’s been nothing but trouble from the beginning.”
I didn’t bother to say goodbye.
***
Myrna Bedsloe came in and asked to exchange her latest story. “I just remembered the great aunt on my Uncle Charlie’s side. His third wife? The poor soul doesn’t have kith or kin to put in a word about her. Am I limited to one story?”
Her little boy started batting at her eyes and she blinked and tried to grasp his little fists without letting him drop to the floor.
“No, you’re not limited,” I said. “As long as it’s about a different branch of the family, you’re free to submit all the stories you like.”
I eyed the clock. I wanted to run over to Edna’s and grill her. That was the right word, too. So far, I’d been very careful, but with a different kind of questioning she might remember more about the stranger. Besides, by now she trusted me. There was no way a KBI interrogator could do a better job than I. Compiling oral histories was an important part of my training.
“Gotta run,” Myrna said cheerfully. “Don’t we sweetkums?” The little boy shrieked and giggled and poked her in the cheek. “Mom’s in the car. We’re on our way to Dunkirk to the podiatrist. She’s having a little trouble walking and hollers half the night from the pain in her feet.”
The other boy threw a truck across the room and she hurried to pick it up. “At least I think it’s her feet. I never know. Last week we went to the stomach doctor, but he said there was nothing wrong.”
She grabbed the other kid and left, and I picked up my purse and a stack of files, turned out the light, then whirled around. Chip entered before I could get out the door.
“Miss Lottie, he said. “Am I catching you at a bad time?”
Trapped. I’d been stalking this man for over a year. The little gift photo album had done the trick. Short of spitting chewing tobacco, he could do anything he wanted to right in this office if he cooperated in transmitting his family history. They had even raised sheep.
“Why no, Chip. Come right on in.”
Using the pretext of bringing more tapes, I dashed over to Edna’s after Chip left. She took forever to answer the door and for a moment I was ashamed at risking stressing this poor woman even more.
But I had to talk to her before the KBI did.
“Hello Lottie,” she said, then invited me inside. “But the house is a mess.” It wasn’t. Except for the little piles on her dining room table, the place was spotless. Considering the shape her hands were in, I could just imagine how hard she struggled to maintain her standards.
As usual, she wore a bibbed apron over a faded housedress and her feet were shoved into old felted slippers with slits cut to accommodate her bunions.
She seemed even thinner than a week ago. More vulnerable.
“Your stories are wonderful, Edna. There’s so much information. It’s the kind of details historians love. In fact academics depend on the great journals ordinary persons left behind.”
She beamed. “Don’t seem like I said anything that would mean much to anyone.”
“Oh, but you did.” We chatted a bit more. About spring. About flowers. Then I noticed the cloud that came over her face with I mentioned her garden. She shut up. This was clearly the way she handled situations that made her uncomfortable. She avoided them. Changed the subject.
It didn’t matter. I pressed. “Edna, I have a few more questions about the stranger in the church.” She stiffened. I proceeded. “Sometimes persons remember details after an event when they absolutely have to. I want you to relax while I ask you a few more questions.”
“I, I can’t,” she stammered. “I just can’t. I thought you just wanted to bring more tapes. Didn’t know you came here to ask questions because you work for Sam.”
I felt like a hawk swooping down on a helpless little bird. “The man’s skin. Was he dark? Light?”
“He was normal. I don’t know.” Her eyelids fluttered.
“The color of his tie? The color of his jacket? Do you remember?”
“No.” Her skin was so thin that I could see her pulse speed up in her throat. “I can’t remember. Please. I can’t.”
Ashamed, I patted her hands. “That’s all right, dear. I just thought there was a chance you might recall more by this time.” There was no way I would allow some fierce interrogator to bully this woman. It was out of the question. Her immediate physical reaction scared the hell out of me.
“Have Elmira call me if you think of anything and I’ll come right over.” I rose and started toward the door.
“I can’t sleep at night,” she announced. “Can’t sleep at all.”
I stopped. I couldn’t just leave her this way. I turned and went back and kissed the top of her head. “Put this out of your mind Edna. Don’t give it another thought. Just work on your tapes.” Her chest fluttered with a sharp intake of breath.
“There’s so many more things I would like to know about. Did you quilt? I would love to have your memories about quilting groups.” She nodded. “And church groups? Did you attend a ladies’ aid or missionary society? And by the way, I don’t have tapes on how you ended up in Kansas. There’s a gap.”
She quivered, then trembled and stiffened like she’d been shot. Spittle ran down the corner of her mouth.
I reached for the phone and dialed the hospital. “Send an ambulance to Edna Mavery’s house. Immediately. She may have had a stroke.”
After they arrived, I called her son.
***
Later, although her doctor assured me I had done nothing to bring it on and it was a passing transient ischemic attack, I knew better. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gone there in the first place. They would keep her overnight although her symptoms disappeared in a couple of hours and she didn’t appear to blame me for ending up in the hospital.
“I’ll wait until Stuart gets here,” I said.
“No need,” she said. “I know you have work to do.”
“Edna, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Nothing you did, Lottie. Nothing you did.”
But again, I simply knew better.
***
Stuart arrived and rushed to her bedside. When I went back in, I smiled at the change in her appearance. She perked right up.
“I’ll go on now,” I said.
“I’ll be right back.” Stuart kissed his mother’s withered cheek. “Lottie and I need to talk.”
She gazed at him in admiration, then squeezed his hand.
“I ought to be shot,” he said immediately. “Not seeing her more often than I do. Leaving her to cope by herself.”
“Stuart, you need to know that I was trying to get your mom to remember more details about the episode at St. Helena. I’m so sorry. Despite what the doctor thinks, I’m afraid I helped bring this on. I wish I hadn’t upset her.”
He gave my shoulder a little squeeze and looked at me sadly with his kind grey-blue eyes. “Life here by herself is simply getting too hard for her. That’s what’s upsetting. But she won’t hear to moving out of her little house whenever I bring it up.”
“You’ve done everything right,” I said. “It’s best to leave aging parents in their own home as long as they want to stay there. As long as they can. It’s the ‘can’ that’s hard to judge. And a lot of them go down swinging before they’ll give up their independence.”
“My wife and I both work. So it will be assisted living for her, but if she were in Wichita, at least we could visit and have her over to the house. Take her places.”
Although I still felt guilty, it was nice to know he understood I hadn’t intended to upset his mother.
“Anyway, thanks, Lottie. I’m going over to mom’s house and drop off my things. I’ll stay there tonight. It will give me a chance to look things over. See how she’s been living. I’ll check her refrigerator and see what she’s been eating.”
“OK. Here’s my cell phone number.” I reached in my purse for my notepad and handed Stuart the piece of paper. “If anything comes up or I can help in any way, please let me know.”
“Will do,” he said. A nurse went into Edna’s room and I stared at her closed door, again struck with remorse.
He followed my gaze. “I would hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t been there. I thought she was getting along great. She was tickled plumb to death when you brought her that tape recorder.”
“Don’t mention it. I was glad to do it. Her life in Iowa was fascinating. I loved all the details about raising chickens.”
His brow furrowed and he looked at me with a strange expression on his face. “Iowa? Mom has never lived in Iowa. She’s spent her entire life in Kansas.”
***
By the time I drove home, I had decided what to do. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I do not have the right to expose secrets. And I know plenty about people’s lives that their children have never heard about. I know about illegitimate children, insanity in families, shameful tales, and about criminals lurking in the family tree. Their secrets are safe with me. It was Edna’s place to tell Stuart she’d had another life before she married his father and that he had a half-brother and sister.
The only thing that was my business was learning details about the man kneeling next to her. My distress over upsetting her overwhelmed any desire to push her again. I would simply warn the KBI that she need to be handled with kid gloves and then to leave the questioning to their most skilled interrogator.
***
Josie had left a note on the table that she was still explaining the muffed petition to signers. I smiled. Her Mercedes was gone and so was Tosca. Apparently she’d decided to quit trying to fit in and had risked going as her natural self.
I headed for my chair, put my feet up on the ottoman, pulled a cotton throw over me, and feeling like a two-year-old seeking the security of a “blankie,” I snuggled down with my head resting on a pillow against the broad leather arm.
Keith’s movements woke me up. “I wanted to have supper ready,” I said. “Make like a decent wife.”
“No need. I’m not hungry.”
“OK.” I smiled and resnuggled. He laughed at my relief and tussled my hair. “I had a terrible day,” I said. I told him about Edna.
“I can top that,” he said. “I took two calls from businessmen who were madder than hell. An electrician said there’s a rumor going around he uses substandard wire in his houses, and the manager of the local grain elevator says the prices he’s offering to farmers were screwed with on the local cable channel.”
“Rotten tactics, but nothing tangible there that we can charge Deal with. For that matter, we can’t even be sure if it’s the sheriff or one of his friends.”
“Exactly. Even if we were certain of the who, which we’re not, we can’t charge him with anything but slander. But can you imagine how long that will take? And then we’d have to round up people willing to file charges.”
“Not likely to happen, since we blew the petition.”
“Shadow boxing. I hate it.” With that he left the room and came back with a bottle of brew.
We turned on the TV and watched the evening news. Josie came up the drive and in a few minutes Tosca scampered into the room and headed straight for Keith.
“I’m not cooking,” I said.
“I’m not either,” Keith echoed. “You’re on your own.”
Josie laughed. “First break I’ve had all day. I won’t have to go for my run waddling like an overstuffed turkey.”
She flopped down into a recliner and kicked off her shoes. “There are some really terrific people out here,” she said. “It’s surprising how well they handle situations that could fell an ox.”
“Going to hang out your shingle here?”
“N-o-o.” She drawled out the word. I teased Tosca out of Keith’s arms with a single toss of her little ball. She hit the floor running and we all laughed when it bounced against the wall and she tumbled trying to reverse her skid.
Then with a single word on the local news we all stopped horsing around and stood like statues.
Deal.
The anchor on the Wichita television station stuck a microphone in Sheriff Deal’s face.
