Spoils of Eden (12 page)

To Eden, Dr. Jerome was the wise and noble traveler, the hunter and the finder of the golden grail, the hero who fulfills the divine quest and returns home with accolades. During lunch she tried to avoid looking at Rafe Easton, though she was fully aware of his presence. How could she not be? Unlike sleepy Zachary, swishing a pesky fly away from his nose, Rafe was not lounging at all, but standing, arms folded, and attentive to every word her father spoke. And it was Rafe who was asking Jerome the most knowledgeable of questions, so much so that her father looked surprised and altogether pleased.

Then something happened that changed the afternoon.

“Someone is coming,” Candace said, stretching her neck to look over the railing at the wide court below. Eden, too, arose from her chair and went to the edge of the lanai. She feared it might be Townsend and Silas after all, which would throw new tensions into the mix. She glanced at Rafe. He stood watching the horse-driven buggy progressing up the dirt lane. Celestine came up beside Eden. Eden could feel the tension radiating from her.

“It’s not Townsend or Silas,” Celestine said calmly.

The buggy came to a stop below. A lone man climbed down from the seat and stood facing the plantation house. He was wearing a knee-length coat and a wide-rimmed canvas hat, and carrying a black leather satchel under his arm as though it contained gold bouillon. He lifted his head and looked up at them.

Dr. Jerome responded with a note of eagerness. “Why, it’s Herald Hartley, my research assistant. This is a surprise!”

Jerome went on to explain that Herald Hartley had been detained in California, and that he hadn’t expected him to arrive in Honolulu until the New Year. Hartley was in contact with a medical research colleague in San Francisco, trying to arrange a reunion between Dr. Jerome and a certain Dr. Chen. Jerome wanted Dr. Chen to appear with him before the Kalihi Board of Health to present
their research. Both men were world travelers seeking to discover supplementary information on tropical diseases and herbicidal “cures,” like chaulmoogra oil.

Herald Hartley looked to be in his late twenties, of pleasing appearance, with chestnut colored hair, a fashionable mustache, and steady, deep-set eyes of an unusual amber color. The moment he stepped onto the lanai he noticed Eden.

“My daughter, Miss Eden Derrington,” Dr. Jerome said, then proceeded with other introductions. Rafe measured Hartley. Eden sensed Rafe’s dislike from the first glance.

After introductions, Hartley was seated in a cane chair in the breezeway with refreshments, still clutching the black satchel. He then focused his attention on her father. “It is my misfortune to bring you tragic news. Dr. Chen, our colleague, has passed on. His death occurred last month at his Chinatown abode. It was a terrible accident. Terrible. He made the mistake … of bravery.”

Dr. Jerome stared at his assistant. For a moment he turned ashen, then he leaned back into the cane chair in silence.

“My dear fellow,” Grandfather Ainsworth suggested, horrified, “are you telling us that this ally of yours, Dr. Chen, contacted leprosy on his own person like Priest Damian of Molokai?”

Priest Damian, as Eden well knew, was now deceased. He had served for many years at the Kalaupapa leper camp and, in the end, had succumbed to the loathsome disease. Though Eden held the memory of the priest in honor because of his selfless dedication to the sick and infirm, she believed he’d been reckless in his approach. Damian had convinced himself he was invulnerable to catching leprosy unless God wished for him to suffer the ravages of the disease, and if not, he could take risks. He, therefore, took almost no precautions. He would drink from the same cup and eat from the same plate as lepers who were far into the final stages. He would smoke his cherished pipe, then offer it for a few good puffs to one of the lepers. The leper would puff on the pipe for a time, his mouth disfigured, and then hand the pipe back to Priest Damian, who would
then replace the stem in his own mouth and puff on. He did this sort of thing for many years, which to Eden, was medically unwise. She would have scolded him had she been there, priest or no, but he remained one of her heroes, a Frenchman for whom she retained high respect. Few would live so selfless a life.

Eden recalled a nurse cleaning nauseating wounds of a leper, while a visitor stood afar looking on. “Horrible! How can you do that? I wouldn’t do that for any amount of money.”

The nurse, silent for a moment, said calmly, “Nor would I. But for Jesus I’ll do it for free.”

Herald Hartley’s voice summoned Eden back to the moment. “Dr. Chen didn’t die of
leprosy
. However, I suppose we could say … he died from his own research.”

“What kind of research?” Rafe asked briefly, causing Herald Hartley to turn his head and take a long look at him.

“Why, he was testing the use of rare herbicides, Mr. Easton. Scarcely known on the mainland, and even less understood.”

“The San Francisco authorities didn’t mention any herbs by name?” Rafe asked.

“Offhand, I really couldn’t come out and say. Dr. Chen took risks, as Dr. Jerome will tell you. Great risks, actually.”

“Using herbicides on his own person? What kind?”

Eden looked at Rafe. Was he challenging him? Why?

“I don’t know, Mr. Easton. There was … a packet of dried leaves found open on his research table, and an empty cup with residue. The authorities are working to identify what the leaves were. So far, they can merely guess. Personally, I believe the herb was from Tibet—not that I could identify it. I’ve not been there. It was boiled into a tea. The liquid is thought to be what took his life.”

“A tragedy,” Dr. Jerome lamented. “I would think Dr. Chen to have been more cautious.”

“One would think so,” Rafe said. “The Chinese are especially wise in the use of what we call
herbicides
. They know the difference between herbal medicines and outright poison. So it must have been
a very rare packet of leaves. Wouldn’t you say so?”

Eden tensed.

Herald lifted his water glass and squeezed a section of lemon into it, then stirred vigorously. His lower cheek and lip twitched. “Yes—yes. I thought so, too. I told the police so.”

“Police?” echoed several surprised voices. “You were involved with the police?”

Herald looked at his water glass as though it bubbled up with information.

“Yes, it was an unpleasant experience for me. There was some question about his death actually, not resulting from accidental causes. I believe it’s all cleared up now.” He took a large, white kerchief and blotted his forehead.

“And to think I might have met with him in Chinatown before I voyaged to Honolulu,” Dr. Jerome said disconsolately. “Unfortunately, when I arrived in San Francisco, he was unavailable. He had visitors, family from Shanghai I believe. I left Herald to stay on in California to see if he could arrange for Dr. Chen to come to Honolulu. When I met up with Ainsworth, we boarded the steamer for home.”

Herald said with a heavy sigh. “Well, I ignored nothing, I assure you all. Had I arranged to meet Dr. Chen even a few days sooner, perhaps I would have noticed something that might have changed events, who knows? At least we would know more about his latest experiments with Tibetan lore.”

“There’s no accounting for hindsight,” Grandfather Ainsworth said. “We would all live wiser lives if we knew the future.”

“Would we? I wonder, sir,” Rafe said. “Much of the future of the world is known, yet even those who understand often ignore it.”

“Sadly so. Yes, you have something there.”

Silence prevailed. Eden looked at her father. Dr. Jerome frowned, his lean, sun-tanned face creased with tired lines of age and possible illness. “Most astounding,” he murmured, still benumbed by the loss of his ally. “Troubling, as well. We must make certain to uphold his name in our studies. Perhaps even name our
new clinic after him. It would indeed be fitting.”

Eden came alert. New clinic? Had her father returned to Honolulu to begin a leprosy clinic? Her heart began beating faster. It seemed that no one else caught the implication of what he’d said until she found Rafe watching her with a slight ironic smile. She looked away.

Great-aunt Nora picked up the pink feather fan from her lap and swished it around her face and throat. “Sounds like a lot of poppycock stew to me. Tibetan herbs, old wives’ tales. Do tell me, Jerome, why do intelligent medical people, such as yourself, seem to think that if they travel to Timbuktu and hobnob with civilizations grounded in darkness and idolatry, that somehow or other, magical cures for all sorts of physical evils will sprout and abound?”

Zachary gave a short laugh.

So he isn’t sleeping
, Eden thought, irritated.
He’s treating Father carelessly
.

“Maybe your Dr. Chen was victim of one of those mysterious tong wars,” Zachary said lightly.

“Oh do be quiet, Zachary,” said Candace.

“Lecture number six of the day,” Zachary murmured. “Who said I was joking, old girl? It so happens I’ve been reading up on the tong wars. Gruesome, they were—or
are
. Depends. After all, Uncle Jerome just said he couldn’t visit him because of visiting relatives from Shanghai.”

Dr. Jerome appeared not to hear the chatter and went on gravely. “The grief I feel over Dr. Chen’s death is not my personal loss alone. The loss is to the medical profession. He was to discuss his years of work with the Board of Health at Kalihi.”

“Did I hear you correctly, sir, when you stated that Dr. Chen had recently returned from Tibet?” Rafe asked.

“Yes, though I couldn’t tell you from where in Tibet,” Dr. Jerome said. “Are you interested in the region, Rafe?”

Rafe smiled. “Not in particular, sir. My interests remain here, in Hawaii.”

“Well, you have much on your hands,” Jerome complimented.

Ainsworth looked pleased. “Good, good,” he said to Rafe. “We need you in the islands.”

Eden caught Rafe’s eye. She arched a brow.

“In my humble opinion, there’s too much interest in Hawaii. And I’m not speaking of you, Rafe.” Great-aunt Nora turned her noble silver head toward her brother Ainsworth. “You haven’t told us yet about your meetings in Washington, Ainsworth. Did Lorrin Thurston do any arm-twisting among the United States senators
?
I hope he found Uncle Sam daunting.”

Rafe smiled, but Ainsworth looked at Nora with gravity. “No arm-twisting, my dear Nora, but discussions? Most beneficial. The Secretary of State proves to be a friend and ally of Hawaii. Just the same, we can discuss all that later. This is Jerome’s hour. Go ahead, Rafe; what were you saying about Tibet?”

Nora stood to her feet, shaking her skirts out. “I’ve had enough talk on such depressing subjects as leprosy and murder. Coming, Candace?”

Murder! Eden began to feel a whisper of unease in the rustling of the palms and ferns.

Candace laid a hand on Jerome’s thin shoulder as she went past into the house. “Sorry your homecoming was accompanied with unhappy news, Uncle. Welcome home nonetheless.” She followed Great-aunt Nora from the lanai.

Eden noticed that Candace had not made the same departing “welcome home” remark to her grandfather. If Ainsworth had noticed, it didn’t show.

“Murder? Rubbish,” Dr. Jerome said, his cheeks ashen. “Accidental ingestion of poisonous herbs, if indeed that was the cause of Dr. Chen’s death, is anything but criminal intent. I’ve almost made a mistake like that once or twice myself.”

“Your aunt Nora misunderstood my explanation, I’m afraid,” Herald Hartley said, his countenance apologetic as he looked from face to face.

“What was on your mind, Rafe?” Ainsworth persisted. “About Tibet?”

“Nothing in particular, sir.” Rafe looked at Hartley. “Did you say earlier the medical report didn’t disclose the plant that poisoned Dr. Chen?”

“I believe that’s correct,” Hartley said stiffly.

“Then you seem to be saying you don’t know for certain that Dr. Chen actually died of some noxious herb.”

“Well, yes, I guess that is so. I do not know for sure. The police wouldn’t say. I suppose I am assuming somewhat.”

“Although I was unaware of what he was working on in Chinatown,” Dr. Jerome offered, “it does seem most probable it was a careless accident on his part.”

“Even though I suppose his death may turn out to be heart failure from natural causes,” Herald Hartley said. “Whatever the cause, it’s a great loss.”

Eden was listening intently. She grew restive.
Rafe’s questioning of my father and Herald Hartley borders on a detective-like attitude. As if my father would know anything about Dr. Chen’s death! Why should he?

Eden stood abruptly. “You, too, have made many difficult journeys and risked your health in search of knowledge and cures. I suspect you know as much as did Dr. Chen. If you’ll excuse me, Father, Dr. Bolton sent me to speak to Great-aunt Nora about her new medication. I brought it from Kalihi this morning.” Without a glance at Rafe she turned and left the lanai.

The afternoon ended peacefully enough, and the red-gold of sunset began to mingle with purple hues as dusk settled over Hawaiiana. The soft night whispered its arrival with the rustle of noble coconut palms making swaying shadows on the front lawn.