The Hunt Chronicles: Volume 1 (20 page)

The sheet of paper
was dated the Tuesday before Arnold’s murder.  It read:

MEMO TO PERSONNEL FILE

LEON KINNEY

Today
was a scheduled meeting between Leon Kinney and me.  Topics of discussion
included an upcoming budget amendment hearing and possible exhibit revisions,
as well as my upcoming retirement.  I informed Leon that though his work
has been beyond expectations, I had decided to recommend another employee for the
position of Curator after my departure.  Leon said he respected my
decision, though he feared I would regret it after my decision was announced
and my replacement appointed.  I thanked Leon for his dedicated service
and ended the meeting. 

“Well?”  I
asked.

“Well what?” 
Leon replied.

“You told me you
didn’t know who he was recommending, Leon?  You told me you didn’t know
anything about this mess.  Why are you did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie,” he said,
almost shouting.  “You asked me if I knew who he was recommending for the
Curator position and I told you I didn’t and that is the truth.  I don’t
know who he recommended or would have recommended
,
I
just know it wasn’t
me
!”

“Come on,
Leon!  You should have told me about this.  You should have told
Tuttle about this.”

“I didn’t even
remember the meeting until you asked me yesterday, and I had already talked to
Tuttle by then.  What does it matter, Reevan?  The man said he
wouldn’t recommend me because of my lack of management experience.  He
said with more time I could run that museum someday, or any museum.  I
thanked him for his kind words and the meeting was over.  It’s not like
I-oh my God…” his eyes widened.  He came towards me and thrust his wrinkled
finger into my shoulder.  “Do you think I killed him?  Killed him for
a
job
?”

“I didn’t say that,
Leon.”

“No, you didn’t, but
you’re thinking it
aren’t
you?  Admit it, you
are.”

“Read it again,
Leon.  You told him he would
regret his decision.
 What the
hell is that all about?  Sounds like a threat to me.”

“I was referring to
Dennis
Trago
.  I figured he was going to
recommend Dennis for the job.  He turned me down, Dennis’ promotion seemed
certain.  Arnold always said he did good work, not to mention
all of the
butt kissing he’s been doing.  Read the memo
again, does that sound like a man who has just been threatened to you?”

“It doesn’t matter
how it sounds to me, Leon.  It matters how a Sheriff will see this when
he’s on the hunt for a murderer.  You have to bring this to him before he
finds out on his own.  It will look ten times as bad if it looks like you
withheld this information.”  Leon walked back to his front door and leaned
on the knob.

“If you believed me,
you’d see it how I do Reevan. 
A harmless memo about a
harmless meeting, and nothing more.”

“But it’s not
nothing if-” Leon opened the door and stood silently.  “What? What are you
doing?  You’re kicking me out?”

“Peering
through my personnel files, making wild accusations.
  I can’t be friends with someone who thinks I’m
a murderer, Reevan.  Get out of my house.”

“Leon, I never
said-”

“I said
get out
!” 
With that, I straightened my collar, pushed back what was left of my hair, and
started for the door.  As I stepped over the threshold, Leon spoke
again.  “You’ll have to get your next fifteen minutes of fame somewhere
else, Reevan Hunt.  We’re fresh out in here.”  I stopped and turned
to him.

“It’s your fault I’m
here, Leon Kinney. 
You
invited me to a dinner so
you
could
impress your starchy science geek boss and his
dweeby
employees.  You’re too busy riding my coattails to step on a soapbox and
preach to me.  You know where I am when you’re ready to apologize.” 
I turned and walked briskly down the walk, my heart pounding.  I heard the
door slam as my own fingernails gouged into my palms. 
You could’ve
handled that better
Little Reevan said. 
You didn’t handle that
well at all.

Emily
Sellars
’ father was the first Dr.
Sellars
in Pendleton.  His office and home were actually the same building…sort of
a duplex arrangement.  Emily followed in Daddy’s footsteps from the very
beginning.  As a girl, she’d visit the office after school and hand out
lollipops to the children inside riddled with measles or the chicken pox. 
As a teen, she worked as a receptionist on the weekends.  Her college days
left her in a nursing capacity, and by the time Old Doc
Sellars
retired for Florida, little Emily had two medical degrees and years of
experience in a big city hospital.  She bought the whole place from her
Dad and took care of the residents of Pendleton from then on, carrying on a
proud family tradition.

I stood in front of
the office door for a few moments, too nervous to knock on the glass. 
What
if she
lies
the little voice asked. 
You
saw them arguing.  You know she went back.  What if she lies to
you?  Can you still fantasize about a liar? 
A
murderer?
  I always thought the great thing about fantasies was
that you didn’t have to answer to anyone about them.  I ignored my nosey
conscience and pressed on.

“The office is
closed today,” a voice said from behind me.  I turned quickly to see Emily
standing in the other doorway leading into her home.  She wasn’t wearing
any makeup, or a stunning blue dress or even a white lab coat.  She wore
bags under her eyes, uncombed hair and bare feet, not to mention a plain pink
T-shirt and gray sweatpants.  The mat under her read WELCOME, but I didn’t
believe it.  “Come in,” she said plainly and disappeared into the
shadows.  I followed.  A light breeze followed behind me, opening the
door wider and waking a set of wooden wind chimes that hung just left of the
door jam.  I acknowledged them and shut the door behind me.

“So, you
called?”  I asked aloud.  We had been sitting at the dining room
table for almost two minutes without a word between us.  The wind chimes
faintly reminded us that our ears were still on land, but our thoughts raced
and rambled at a level high above our bodies.  Her blue purse and dress
hung over the chair at the head of the table.  I looked in their direction. 
She had probably taken them off and flung them there after the party two days
ago, yet there they remained, telling the story of a man’s death.

“That I did,” she
said, getting up and leaning on the back of her chair.  “I needed to
talk.”

“I do too.”  My
fingers, laced in front of me on the table, diverted my eyes.  “They found
a petal in his office, you know. 
A white petal from a
white orchid underneath one of the chairs.
 
Any
idea how that could’ve gotten there?”

“There’s a garden in
the building, Reevan.  That thing could have been there for ages.” 
My eyes rose to meet hers.  They were trembling and watery.

“Not true,” I
said.  “The petal was fresh, Emily.
Still fresh and
alive.
  It wasn’t there when Arnold showed me around his
office.  I’m sure it wasn’t there.  At least, I think I’m sure. 
No, it wasn’t there for ages.”

“And
what?”
  She snapped. 
“You think I waited for everyone to leave so I could kill him?  Is that
it?”  Her eyes began to well up.

“I didn’t say that,”
I said, standing and circling the table.  “I didn’t say that at
all.”  I put my arm around her and guided her into the living room. 
We sat on the couch, and I waited for her to compose herself.

“So what are you
saying?”  She finally asked.

“I’m saying that the
police are going to ask you about that petal on the floor.  They are going
to ask you where you were last night.  They are going to ask you what that
argument was about.”  Her head tilted up slowly.

“You told them about
that?”  I nodded and stared at the far wall.  A Monet print hung
there, and I remember thinking how easily I could
loose
myself in that pond, beneath the lily pads.

“I gave my statement
yesterday.  I had to tell Myron Tuttle what I saw, Emily.  I told him
heard your raised voices.  You’ll need to explain that soon.  You’ll
need to explain it all.”

“And
my flower?”
  She asked.

“No, I didn’t
mention the flower.  That I, well I just couldn’t bear to-”

“Why
not?”
  She interrupted.

“Because
it was too special to spoil with a police inquisition.”
  I smiled, and she smiled back.

“Just as well,” she
said,
her voice and eyes drying up.  “It wasn’t my
petal hiding under his chair, Reevan.  I never went into his office that
night.”

“But then how-”

“I never went into
his office that night.”  Her eyes burned into my sockets, her bloodshot
whites wide with insistence.

“Okay, okay.” 
I replied.  We sat in silence a few moments.  Then I asked, “So, what
was the argument about?”  After clear hesitation, Emily finally began to
speak.

“There was, well,
something between us, Reevan.  It wasn’t for long, and it wasn’t for
keeps, but it was there once.”

“And?”

“And he wanted
more,” she hissed.  “He wanted more of the same and I wasn’t giving it
up.  It was nothing, it was a one-time thing.  I had just started
volunteering at the museum.  I was smitten by the man’s charm and
intelligence and humor.  It was nothing after that.  I sure as hell
didn‘t kill him for that, Reevan.”

“I don‘t think
anyone said you did-”

“If you want reasons
for murder, look at the others.  Who knows what the others might have done
if they found out about me and Arnold?  Sure, we all know about
Carol.  Maybe she was sleeping her way to the top while Dennis tried to
brown-nose his way there.  Who knows how upset they might have gotten if
they heard that I was going to get the Curator job?  Who knows what any of
them would have done?”

“You mean he was
going to recommend you?”  I asked.

“I don’t know for
sure,” she said.  She started to speak faster.  “He offered it to me
once.  He said he would give anything to have me again.  That’s
exactly what he said, and that’s exactly why I said no.  The man tried to
buy me, like he bought that stupid fountain or that stupid chandelier. 
The man tried to buy his way in here when the charm dried up.”  She clutched
at her chest.

“You’re right, of
course,” I said, suddenly flashing to my confrontation with Leon that
morning.  “It could have been anyone of them.”

She turned to me
then, and placed her hand on my cheek.  I closed my eyes.  “I was
never in love with him, Reevan.  I think…” she paused.  I opened my
eyes and hers were there.  “I think he reminded me of someone else.” 
Her eyes closed, and she leaned closer to me.  My eyes closed again. 
I could smell her breath and her skin and it was magnificent, and it was
No! 
No!  No!
the
little voice roared and
echoed.  My eyes shot open and I bound to my feet.

“I have to go,”
  I
said, hustling towards the door.  She followed
me, reached for me.  She grabbed my left arm and spun me around.  My
right arm became airborne and hovered over the chair at the head of the dining
room table.  My sleeve caught the decorative knob on its top and sent the
chair spilling to the floor.  Emily’s dress and purse fell, her purse’s
contents spreading across the dining area floor.  We both dropped to our
knees.  I panicked and scrambled for a tube of lipstick that was rolling
away.  A compact mirror slid under the table and I reached for that
too.  I started shoving things back into her purse as fast as I could, the
whole time Emily was speaking but I couldn’t hear anything but a dull murmur
and the little voice screaming
Get out!  Get out!  No! No! No!

“Reevan,
please!”
  She screamed,
reaching for my arms again.  I broke free, and sat still.  She did
too, staring at me as I stared to the floor. 
“Reevan?
 
What is it? 
What?
”  I slowly reached forward, between her
knees.  Her eyes went down my arm to my hand,
then
followed it as I raised it up between us.  The orchid was in my clutched
hand.

“Five petals,” I
said aloud, not even realizing it until my voice traveled up to my own ears.

“What?”  She
said again, softly.  Her eyes bounced from the flower to my eyes and then
back to the flower.  Mine finally met hers.

“Only five petals,”
I said softly.  “There were six when I plucked it.  Six when I gave
it to you.”

“Reevan, calm down,”
she said, her voice shaking and getting louder.

“Only five now,” I
mumbled again.  I dropped everything in my hands.  The purse fell to
the floor and spilled out its guts for a second time.  I got to my feet
too fast for a man my age and swiveled on my own legs.  She called to me
as I hastened to the door, but her voice began to grow dull to my ears as my
overtaxed brain shut her out.

I escaped and shut
her door behind me.  The wind chimes sang on as I hustled to my car. 
Emily came to the door in tears.  “Reevan, wait!  Let me
explain!”  But I didn’t wait.  I shifted my car into drive and headed
for the road.  I reached it and picked up speed, but couldn’t resist
looking in my rearview mirror.  My own eyes began to well up as a woman in
a pink T-shirt and gray sweatpants ran into the middle of the street and stood
there until she was nothing more than a spec on the road.

I was home by
one.  I couldn’t park in my own driveway.   The news vans were
back and reporters poured out of them as soon as I pulled up.  I raced for
the front door, fumbling with my keys.  “Is it true you’re helping with
the investigation, Mr. Hunt?”  One of them asked. 

“Any leads on the
Medley case?” 
Shouted another.
 

“Is this all just a
ploy for another fifteen minutes of fame, Mr. Hunt?” 
Yelled
another.

I felt my key ram
home as I slid it into the lock.  I locked the deadbolt behind me once a
made it inside and turned to stare through the peephole, breathing
heavily.  A whimper came from behind me.  I turned to see Niki
standing at my side, wagging her tail, and waiting for me to explain my
sweat-drenched clothes and bloodshot eyes.  “Don’t ask,” I mumbled. 
“For God’s sake, don’t ask.”

I rushed past Niki
through the foyer and up the stairs to my seldom used master bedroom.  I
kicked off my shoes and flung my shirt on the bed, all other thoughts pushed
aside by my one driving mission of reaching the shower.  I noticed the
small light on the home phone beside my bed was flashing.  A voicemail,
but I had no desire to check it.  I turned the water on, finished
undressing and then shut the door.  The room filled with steam and
darkness. Only a hint of sunlight shone from under the bathroom door.  As
I stood in the shower, the hot water soothing my tense and aching body, I
started to cry. 
“Why me?”
  I asked to the
empty room, but no one but my own echo replied.

After my shower, I
sat on the toilet lid in my bathrobe for what must have been twenty
minutes.  I could still faintly hear the noises from the news people
outside, and the occasional growl from Niki.  I joined her in the bedroom
eventually, opening the door and squinting as I stared into the sunlight let in
by the undrawn shades.  I drew them, then plopped on the bed hard next to
Niki, and scratched behind one of her ears. 
Still flashing
the
little voice reminded me, and I reached my hand over my head and fumbled around
the nightstand.  I knocked over a carafe and an alarm clock before my
fingers folded around the handset.  I stared at the phone for a few
moments, nauseated by the incessant red flash.  It seemed to take all of
my remaining strength to get to a dial tone and enter my password.  My
hand returned to Niki’s ear.

“You have one new
message,” a sultry robot voice proclaimed.

“I have one new
message,” I repeated.  Niki seemed unimpressed.

“Professor, it’s me,
Myron,” the recording began. 
“Didn’t hear from you
after you left yesterday.
  I’m just checking up on you.  I
finished with the museum folks yesterday afternoon.  Man, those two can
really go at it.  I made the mistake of letting them both go to the
bathroom…that Dennis fella is going to be plucking toilet paper out of his hair
for a week!”  I smiled.  “Anyway, I reviewed Medley’s
financials. 
Didn’t actually get a chance to look
at’em
until this morning.
  I don’t see anything
out of the ordinary here.  His paycheck was direct deposited, had some
annuity checks coming in, and another nice deposit every month for the past
seven years which I’m guessing is the life insurance on his dearly departed
wife.  We’ll follow up of course, but I’m not seeing anything helpful
here.  My leads are drying up fast.  There’s just no meat left on
these bones, buddy.”  I sighed again.

“How did a student
of mine grow up to sound like such a bumpkin?”  I asked Niki.  She
didn’t offer an explanation.

“Anyway, I’m
planning a trip over to
Boyhan
to check out this Ida
Scribbs
person. 
If you feel like
tagging
alo
-END OF MESSAGE.”
 
Forgot
about her
the little voice said sarcastically.

“Damn it!” I yelled,
hung up on my sexy robot receptionist, and dialed a fresh number.

“Myron, it’s me,” I
blurted when he answered the phone.

“Hey, Professor,
what’s new?”

“Have you gone to
see the
Scribbs
woman yet?”

“Actually, I was
just leaving.  Why?”

“Swing by my place first. 
I’m going with you.”

The
Boyhan
Science Center looked more like a shopping mall than
a building of artistic and educational significance.  Large colorful
statues cluttered a front courtyard, as did fountains that were big enough to
rival Arnold’s last philanthropic endeavor.  As Myron and I walked through
the main entrance, a perky woman in a blue uniform greeted us and held out
brochures in front of an authoritative velvet rope.  “Welcome to the
Boyhan
Science Center, gentlemen.  My name is Charlotte
and I-”

“Listen, ma’am,”
Myron said curtly, “we’re not paying customers.  I’m here on official
police business and I need to speak to the person in charge.”  I nodded
and looked at Charlotte, who seemed confused.

“The
Boyhan
Science Center was established seven years ago in an
attempt to make the extraordinary world of science available to science lovers
young and old.  Our facility-”

“Ma’am, please,”
Myron interrupted again.  “Are you hearing me?  This isn’t a pleasure
trip.  I need to see the person in charge.”  I nodded again, and
looked at Charlotte again, who looked confused…again.

“Our facility
operates solely on the donations received by our visitors and the revenue
generated by-”

“Charlotte?”  I
finally said.  She continued to yammer on about revenue this and donation
that. 
“Charlotte, honey?”

“-generated by local
sponsors and-”

“
Charlotte
!”
I snapped.  Charlotte stopped talking and took a step back, as did Myron
and everyone within earshot.  Myron might have been wearing a badge and a
holster, but all eyes were on the little man next to him.  “Cram the sales
pitch, sweetheart!”  Her eyes opened wide.  “I will give you
twenty-five big ones right now if you can shut up long enough for us to get by. 
You think you can handle that, Charlotte?”  Her eyes still wide, she
nodded, slowly.  “Super!  Thanks, Charlotte.”  I walked towards
her and she hastily stepped aside, unhooking the velvet rope that held so many
visitors captive for so long.  I was only a few feet past her and her
mighty velvet rope when I realized that Myron Tuttle was no longer next to
me.  He was still behind the velvet rope, just staring at me.  “Well,
come on!”  I barked.  His body finally jolted to life, and he
sidestepped Charlotte with an
embarrassed
smile to
join me.

Then there were
footsteps from behind me.  I turned to see a very cross looking woman in a
blue pantsuit and
blouse fold
her arms across her
chest.  “Who the hell do you think you are?”  Ida
Scribbs
howled at me.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing; assaulting my
staff and disturbing my customers?  This isn’t a barn dance, you
clod!”  Myron finally caught up with me and stood at my side.  Ida
craned her head upwards, acknowledged the giant next to me, and then said,
“Officer, arrest this man.”

“Excuse me,
ma’am?”  Myron said.

“You heard me,
arrest him.  Arrest him now!”

“For
what?”
  I asked boldly. 
“Refusing to let your air-headed minions separate me from my money?  Get
real, science hag!”  All around
us,
feet started
to shuffle.  Science Center patrons and staff had encircled us, no doubt
assuming this clean cut couple of old folks was about to have a knock-down
drag-out brawl.

There was no brawl,
no altercation, not even a single swear.  Ida
Scribbs
squinted
her eyes, leaned in, and smiled.  “Oh,
it’s you, Mr. Hunt.”  She said flatly.  “Terribly sorry, I didn’t
recognize you at first. These eyes aren’t what they used to be.  I’m sure
you can relate.”  She spoke as if nothing happened; as if she didn’t just
try to get me thrown into the big house.