by Liz Turner
“Wait—Hallie—” Gladys tried to run after her, but by the time she got to the door, Hallie had cycled off, tearing through the street like a hurricane.
She was gasping a little as she reached the police station. To her surprise, Dr. Livingstone was there, along with Bert, Sheila, and Edith.
“What are you all doing here?” she asked.
“Sergeant Johnson said that he’d like to get all our fingerprints on file,” Sheila said. “Dr. Livingstone’s idea, apparently.”
Dr. Livingstone blushed. “Well, I just thought, before incriminating Henry, we should get everyone’s prints and see if there’s any hope of matching them.”
“Matching them to what?” Bert asked. “This is a waste of time.”
Sergeant Johnson appeared, with Henry trailing behind him, handcuffed and morose.
“I’m glad you’re all here,” Hallie said. She was about to say more, when the door opened again, and Mayor Jackson walked in, accompanied by a beautiful young brunette. He looked surprised at the crowd and then turned his glance sheepishly at Henry. Henry’s mouth had fallen open, and his eyes brightened, fixing on the girl. “Eva?” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I overheard my father talking to Dr. Malone the other day,” Eva said. “I told him—”
“Eva.” Hallie’s voice was stern. Eva turned to her, surprised. Hallie pulled her aside and whispered something into the girl’s ear, taking care not to let anyone else hear.
“What?” Eva’s eyes widened with horror.
“You understand?” Hallie asked.
“Yes,” Eva nodded.
“What’s going on?” Sergeant Johnson asked, his question clearly directed at Hallie. He put his hands on his hips. “There’s a crowd here, and I’m not sure I like it. Perhaps some of you should come back another time.”
“No, Sergeant Johnson,” Hallie said. “This is perfect. The killer is here, and perhaps, just perhaps, they want a chance at redemption. Perhaps they want to confess before poor Henry’s life is ruined over a crime he didn’t commit.” She looked around the room, meeting each person’s eyes. One by one, all of them shook their heads and looked away.
“No?” Hallie said. “Very well. You leave me no choice.” She put on her surgical gloves, took the leather embossed book out of her purse, and brandished it. “Recognize this?”
Sheila frowned. “That’s the book of quotes John was reading at the dinner table. Isn’t it? What on earth are you doing with it? Where did you find it?”
Hallie gave a grim smile. “There’s one person here desperate to know. So desperate, that they broke into the Blackstone mansion twice to look for it. Shall I tell who?”
“Do,” Dr. Livingstone said drily. “This is most mysterious.”
“Before I do that, I’d like to tell you how,” Hallie said. “Dr. Scranton and I were both mystified when we did our postmortem. The stew had not contained enough hemlock to kill John. In fact, there simply wasn’t enough hemlock in his stomach contents to justify the theory that it killed him. Yet he was dead, alright. No arguing that. So, we racked our brains, trying to figure out how the hemlock had been introduced into his bloodstream.”
Dr. Livingstone gasped, suddenly seeing the light. He eyed the book Hallie held.
Hallie flipped it open. “The powder was coated on the pages of the book, as a chemical analysis will no doubt soon tell us. John had a peculiar habit of licking his finger when he changed the pages—and that’s how he was killed!”
“But why?” Sheila asked. “Why go to all that trouble? Why not just pop a pill into his drink?”
“The murderer was terrified of being caught,” Hallie said. “They wanted this to be considered an accident—a case of food poisoning, with one unfortunate death. That’s why there was enough hemlock in the stew for the entire party to get sick. That’s why the murderer ingeniously used two different methods of introducing Hemlock to John’s body.”
“Who? Who did this?” Henry asked, his voice filling with rage. “It was Sheila, wasn’t it?”
“No,” Hallie said. “I initially wanted her to be the villain, just as the entire town did. More convenient to believe an outsider did this than to expose the truth. Henry, you misjudged Sheila. We all did. She loved your father in a different way than you love Eva, but it was a true love all the same. She’s a hard person to get along with, but she only has your best interests at heart. Don’t push her away without getting to know her.”
Henry looked a little ashamed, but still angry. “But if it wasn’t her—”
“It wasn’t,” Hallie said firmly. “If you look around the room, I think it should be obvious who it was.”
Looks were exchanged, and then, all eyes fell on one person. One person who had gone pale and was sweating profusely.
“Edith didn’t know what fingerprints were until I told her that day at the library,” Hallie said, her face forming a cruel smile. “She panicked when she realized that she’d left such a major clue behind, not once but twice. She attacked me at the library and pretended that she had no idea who did. Soon after, she broke into the Blackstone mansion again, desperately searching for the book.”
“She’d borrowed it from John!” Sheila exclaimed, her face growing white. “—and she returned it the night of the party. In fact, she’s the one who quoted from the book so that John would open it! I remember now!”
Sergeant Johnson put a hand on Edith’s shoulder, and she shook it off wildly. “You’re a devil!” she screamed at Hallie. “A devil!”
“You stole funds from the Historical Club, thinking John wouldn’t notice, but he did,” Hallie said. “He was preparing to expose you, and you killed him for it, didn’t you? You tried to dispose of the note he’d written accusing you the first time you broke in. But we managed to hold on to a scrap.”
“Yes! Fine! I did it!” Edith screamed. “I’m glad I did it! He deserved to die! He was nothing but a shyster, getting rich off the war while others suffered. All my life, I spent serving people. For what? I wanted to be free! I wanted to see the world!”
“Well, now you’ll be seeing only through the bars of a jail cell,” Sergeant Johnson said, handcuffing her. “You’ve confessed to a most sordid crime, Edith. Pray that you are met with more mercy by the judge than you showed to John.”
“But I don’t understand,” Mayor Jackson said. “I had the book too, so wouldn’t my fingerprints have been there as well? How would it have been used as evi—”
“Daddy—.” Eva put a finger to her lips.
Hallie sighed. Her bluff had been called. Jackson reddened as he realized what he’d done. Edith, on the other hand, grew furious. She lunged at Hallie, screaming and frothing.
Epilogue
“A
nd that was when Sheila, rather heroically, tripped her up,” Hallie said, pouring herself another glass of wine.
Dr. Livingstone’s party had initially been meant only for the hospital staff. After the events of that week, however, culminating with Edith’s being thrown in jail, every single man and woman in town had wanted to meet Dr. Malone themselves. Mayor Jackson had finally collaborated with Dr. Livingstone, and a much larger party had been thrown.
Hallie found herself repeating the story over and over as eager guests crowded her. She felt embarrassed, and rather flushed, to be the center of attention. Sheila, however, lapped up the many apologies directed her way.
Henry, especially, had been regretful when he learned how Sheila had persuaded John to mend bridges with Eva’s father. He apologized for throwing her out and invited her to stay in the Blackstone mansion indefinitely.
“As a matter of fact, you’ll be doing me a favor,” Henry said. “Seeing as Eva and I are planning a long cruise together for our honeymoon.” He blushed red as he said the last word.
“So, you are getting married, congratulations!” Hallie exclaimed.
Eva flashed the diamond on her finger and smiled adoringly up at Henry. She hugged bot
h Sheila and Hallie. “I’ll have two new aunts, too. I’m as happy about that as I am about the diamond.”
“And your father?” Hallie looked across the room, where Mayor Jackson was animatedly talking with Bert and Dr. Livingstone.
“He’s… coming around.” Eva smiled. “Still grumbles about it, but I think he’s understood that it won’t do any good.”
“Sure won’t. We’re going to be together forever.” Henry caught her around the waist, dipped her, and planted a large kiss on her lips.
Hallie and Sheila snuck away, leaving them alone. Bert caught up with them.
“Er—Hallie,” Bert gulped. “I just wanted to thank you for not telling anyone, I mean, when you saw me come back to the hotel late at night, I thought you’d spread it across town.”
“Where were you coming from?” Sheila asked.
Bert winked. “A romantic getaway that I’d rather not talk about.”
Gladys, Debby, and Dr. Livingstone joined them.
“An exhausting evening,” Debby said. “I’m ready to sleep it off.”
“The armchair back home does sound wonderful,” Hallie said wistfully.
“Just be careful Oswald doesn’t put thumbtacks on it this time.” Gladys grinned.
“Oh, he’s going to get a surprise when he goes to bed tonight.” Hallie grinned. “I put a toad under his pillow. Let’s see how the little fellow likes it!”
“Oswald’s babysitter will have a heart attack,” Debby said.
“I thought Sergeant Johnson was babysitting him?” Hallie asked.
“He is. My brother hates toads.” Debby grinned. “Almost as much as he hates parties.”
“Speaking of parties,” Dr. Livingstone cut in. “May I interest you in a dance, Dr. Malone?”
“Me?” Hallie blushed. She didn’t know what to say, but she didn’t have time to say anything anyways. Gladys nudged her forward, and she found herself walking hand in hand with Dr. Livingstone toward the dance floor.
As the music swelled around her, Hallie rested her head on his shoulder, and reflected that all in all, moving back to Warrenton had been the right decision, after all.
*** The End ***
HALF-BAKED BLACKMAIL & MURDER
A Dr. Hallie Malone Cozy Mystery
LIZ TURNER
Prologue
1929
H allie checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror. Straightening her white coat and pinning back a stray chestnut curl, she took a breath and went back into the hospital. She had been a resident now for three weeks, but each day felt as exhilarating as the last. She was certain that she had made the right decision to enter into the medical field, to become a doctor. Despite the difficulties of navigating through a world still largely considered to be a ‘man’s place, not a woman’s, she knew that medicine was where she should be. The challenge of seeing so many different patients a day, each with a unique ailment, a puzzle for her to piece together and devise the perfect solution, made her heart pump and her eyes glisten with excitement. She had been the only woman in her graduating class from Johns Hopkins, and now she was one of only two women in residency at this hospital. She wore that badge proudly.
Heading into the room where her next patient was, she pasted a confident smile on her face. A young woman and her son waited inside. The two were doodling on a pad of paper, passing it back and forth. As Hallie got closer, she saw that they were playing tic-tac-toe, and the boy had won. “Hello there, what seems to be the problem today, young man?” she asked, bending slightly to face him.
Her patient, a sunny six-year-old boy, shoved the pad of paper deep into one of his trouser pockets and looked at his mom expectantly. She nodded encouragingly. “I’m sick!” he exclaimed, holding his throat with both hands and making his eyes comically wide.
“I see,” Hallie said, suppressing a grin. “Can I take your temperature?”
The boy nodded vigorously. After Hallie had completed the examination, she explained to his mother that he probably just had a bad case of the common cold, since he had no fever and seemed to be in high spirits despite his sore throat. “But, I recommend that he stay overnight here with us to monitor him just to be sure. We’ve seen several cases of influenza this year.”
The young mother nodded, but looked at Hallie pleadingly. “It’s just, Doctor, the boy had plans to go to the beach with his father tonight for a few days—he’s been looking forward to it for weeks. Perhaps he could still go? His father would keep a close watch on him! You did say it was most likely just a cold, right?”
Hallie hesitated. Protocol dictated that the boy be kept for observation, even though he had few flu-like symptoms, because it was peak season. Hallie moved to put her palm up, to decline the mother’s request, when the mother added, “Do you have kids, Dr. Malone?” Hallie grinned thinly and shook her head. She barely had time to feed herself with her schedule, let alone a child! The woman continued, “Well, I know my son. I’m sure this is no case of influenza, I just wanted a doctor’s opinion to confirm, which you have. He’ll be just fine with some rest. A mother knows.”
Hallie glanced down at her small patient. He smiled up at her, his two front teeth missing. Pursing her lips, she sighed and said, “Alright. But make sure he rests. No playing in the ocean this trip. And—at any sign of a fever, bring him in immediately. The nurse at the front should discharge you.”
“Absolutely, Dr. Malone! Thank you, for understanding.” the woman said, taking her son by the hand and walking briskly toward the waiting room. Hallie made a note on the boy’s chart and headed toward her next patient that day. Mentally ticking off the assignments she had, she felt her heart constrict with happiness. Busy as she may be, she was thrilled to be there.
***
Nine hours later, Hallie’s mind was becoming foggy from lack of sleep, but she still had another hour left on her shift. She darted into the bathroom and splashed cool water on her face and stretched her limbs liberally. Feeling marginally refreshed, she emerged to find the hospital transformed. The emergency room, which had been quiet all night, had come alive, with nurses appearing from all corners of the hospital, and other staff bustling around quickly. Through the throng of hospital personnel, Hallie glimpsed a stretcher being rushed in to a room from the ER. Curious, she followed the stream of doctors and nurses, wondering what the emergency was, but couldn’t catch what was being said.
She decided to go ask the intake nurse what the situation was. Spinning around, her eyes landed on the young mother of her patient earlier that day in the waiting room, standing worriedly with a tall, dignified-looking man. The two were ghostly pale under the harsh fluorescent lights and the woman was clutching a wad of tissues in one hand. Hallie froze. Her heart seemed to slow its beating as it became clear just what the situation was. She felt her stomach clench, and air began to roar in her ears as the hospital walls spun faster and faster around her.
Chapter 1
The X-Ray
1950
D r. Hallie Malone slipped off her white lab coat and pulled her doctor’s kit from where it hung from her door. After straightening the stack of papers on her desk, she gave the room a satisfied once-over. Her mahogany bookshelves gleamed, her medical degree hung straight on the wall behind a shiny glass panel, and the light from the setting sun was stretching lazily in through the tall windows. Hallie breathed contentedly as she moved to close the drapes for the day. A glance outside the window told her the snow had stopped falling, but a fog was beginning to creep in from the horizon.
She was settling easily into her new position as a general practitioner at Warrenton Hospital. Hallie had spent most of her career as a war doctor, and had been overseas for years during the second world war, often living in three different camps every month. Following the end of the war, she had spent some time in forensic medicine. In fact, initially, she had been hired at Warrenton as a medical examiner, the doctor who investigates any unusual deaths in town. But after an eventful first week on
the job, she had quickly decided she preferred to interact with the townspeople and her fellow doctors, instead of being shut in to perform examinations on cold bodies. She hoped her work with the dead was over.
Hallie loved being able to get to know her patients well. She rather liked the homey feel of her hospital, compared to the fast-paced clinics she had worked in at the front during the war. Helping her own neighbors with their usually minor aches or injuries or illnesses was rewarding in a way she could not have predicted. Aside from one serious injury—the postman had fallen off his roof during an attempted repair and broken his back—things had been quiet at Warrenton Hospital these past months. Hallie was certainly not complaining.
The town of Warrenton itself had proved to be just the place she had been looking for after the war ended: a place that felt like home. Hallie had arrived in the small but bustling Massachusetts town less than a year ago after deciding she wanted to return to the place where her father had lived—and even founded this very hospital she now attended—and already she felt buoyed by the affection of her neighbors and friends. Including, of course, Dr. James Livingstone. A soft-spoken, incredibly intelligent man who was fast becoming someone very special to her. He had been one of the first doctors Hallie met when she was hired at Warrenton Hospital, and they had hit it off over their mutual fondness for difficult-to-solve medical cases. He had admired her for her reputation as a brilliant doctor during the war, sharp under pressure and never wavering. She had found his kind eyes and quick wit irresistible. Hallie found herself smiling widely at her empty office, a blush blooming over her neck and cheeks. Oh, don’t be silly, she thought. You are fifty-three years old, not some giggling young girl.
She and Dr. Livingstone had plans that evening to take the train to a nearby town to watch the latest picture by the famous director Alfred Hitchcock. Hallie looked at the clock in her office. 5:15 pm. She knew she had better be going if she wanted to change her clothes before Dr. Livingstone arrived at her home to escort her to the station. She heaved her heavy winter coat from its place on the rack and put it on, buttoning it up all the way to her throat. Pulling her wool gloves on, she quickly glanced into the mirror hanging on the back of the door. She tucked a strand of graying hair behind her ear before switching the light off.
