“The world is full of skeptics. I’m one as well. Too many liars and not enough truth tellers, I suppose.”
“I guess you be right on that,” she affirmed. “You gonna tell them about that syringe breaking off?”
“Not yet. Need to know basis.”
Sarah was sitting up in her bed when Joy and I entered the room.
“What’s all the commotion out there?” Sarah asked.
“J.R. Blair is dead,” Joy said before I could find a way to ease into the truth. Not sure how you soften the fact that the fellow next door has just died a violent death and he was likely another victim of murder.
“Oh, my Lord Jesus. Say it isn’t so, please. What happened?”
“Don’t know yet. The nurse is waiting on the doctor to come check him out.”
“But we were all right here, right here in this room, not twenty feet from him. Did you hear anything?” she asked me.
“Nothing. But it must have just occurred,” I said as much to myself as anyone else. I was pondering the situation, trying to rewind the several minutes before I discovered J.R. convulsing.
“Merciful God,” Sarah said, “it could have been me. I could be next. They could come after me, child. They will come after me, child,” Sarah said, suddenly realizing the danger she was in.
“It’s okay, Sarah. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”
“Clancy, dear Clancy, what are we gonna do?”
46
I spent the next hour or so trying to console Sarah. It was easy to understand her anxiety. My count had reduced the number of jurors down to only two. All but one had died at Peace Haven. It was Sarah and Skeeter Shelton now. Skeeter was not a resident of Peace Haven, but Sarah definitely still was. She could easily be the next intended victim, although that fact was not certain since I had uncovered the unusual details around Ernie Rowland’s natural death. Still, I had to focus on Sarah. I could never forgive myself if something happened to her while I was on watch. That would not be acceptable. I simply would not allow anyone to harm my dear, dear friend.
I called Rosey to update him on this turn of events.
“And you have the piece of syringe needle?” he asked.
“I do.”
“And where are you to get it tested?”
“Good question. Dan River or Lynchburg would be the closest places available. Too far to go to Norfolk.”
“You’re thinking prints, right?” he asked.
“I am.”
“What about having it tested for trace residue – whatever was in the syringe that was injected into J.R. Blair? You might have better luck with that than with prints,” Rosey said.
“The what could lead us to the who.”
“Be my tack. Either one could ultimately lead us to the other, I hope. But in this case, that inch of metal is not going to reveal much of a print, if any at all. And when you removed it with the gloves, you likely smudged whatever portion of a print might have been on it to begin with.”
“The insightful investigator strikes again.”
“Ever vigilant.”
I closed the cell phone and sat down next to Sarah. We talked for another half hour. When I was satisfied that she was adjusting to the desperate situation occurring, I looked up the number of Dr. Jones-McCann and called her.
“Clancy here, doctor.”
“Another autopsy?”
“Not this time, but I do need your assistance.”
“I’m listening.”
I told her about the broken syringe needle and what I was hoping to find.
“Bring it over to my office. I’ll have it sent off today. I can do a preliminary check, but the lab in Lynchburg will do a much more thorough job for you.”
“Thank you very much,” I said and closed the phone.
“You lookin’ for some type of poison?” Sarah asked.
“I believe so.”
“No ideas?”
“Too many options. It’s a killer’s veritable cornucopia. Need to narrow the field. Maybe the broken needle will help.”
“I don’t think I want to stay here any longer, Clancy,” Sarah said. “You think they’ll let me leave?”
“Moot question,” I said. “You and I will work something out.”
I heard voices in the hallway and suspected that the doctor had finally arrived. I opened Sarah’s room door and found myself staring into the face of Nurse Ratched, the charming one who questioned my integrity earlier in the morning. I recognized her as the one who had entered J.R. Blair’s room just after he had stopped convulsing. Her name tag read Evelyn Guinn.
“I thought you had gone,” she said.
“You asked me to stay.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
“Here I am, Evelyn.”
“The doctor is examining the body next door. When he is finished and makes his determination, I’ll come get you and you can tell him what you did.”
“The anticipation is getting the best of me,” I said and shut the door.
I heard Sarah laughing from behind me. It was good to hear that sound once more.
“You always did have a mouth on you, child,” she said.
“You think I was rude?”
“Borderline. You always had a way of getting next to people and ruffling feathers.”
“My Evans’ charm.”
“More ‘n likely it’s that Clancy charm. You got your brains from the Evans’ side, but your mouth comes from the same place Rachel Clancy got hers. I been around a long time, Clancy girl, you think I don’t know both of them families? My, oh my, the stories I could tell.”
“We’ll have to do that some day. I’d like to hear some of your stories.”
“Not my stories, girl. They be your stories. You just don’t know ‘em yet.”
When the doctor finished his work with the body of J.R. Blair, he knocked on Sarah’s door and I joined him in the hallway along with Joy. His name tag read Dr. J. Miles Sinclair. He asked his questions, and we answered. I told him the whole episode, leaving out the broken-syringe-in-the-foot part. A girl has to have her secrets. He was much nicer than Nurse Ratched, so I rather enjoyed talking with him. I tried to keep his feathers smooth. For some reason my character flaws were not as evident with him, and I actually believe he thought I was telling the truth. Now and then I would eye the good nurse Evelyn standing a few feet away from our conversation. Her expressions suggested to me that she was still not convinced of my story. He basically asked Joy the same questions and her answers more or less matched mine. At any rate, our conversation with the doctor finally ended and the medical entourage left with him.
My cell phone rang. It was Rosey.
“Your mother’s car is gone,” he said.
“Where’d she go?”
“Nowhere. She’s right here with me.”
“Who took the car?”
“Don’t know.”
“You mean the car’s been stolen?”
“Good detectives never rest.”
“She didn’t leave it somewhere and forget where she left it, did she?”
“You want to ask her that?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. I think someone absconded with her car.”
“Begs the question of why?”
“They needed some wheels.”
“Unlikely. My mother’s car is not a hot item for car thieves. They’d do better stealing and stripping down bicycles.”
“You’re cruel.”
“I’ve driven it for most of my life. I should know.”
“But it runs. Gets her from A to B and back again.”
“Running interference for her?”
“Defending her choice of cars.”
“This coming from a Jag owner. Speaking of which, wonder why they stole a Studebaker and not the Jag.”
“Locked, and state-of-the-art alarm system. Somebody try to steal the Jag, the alarm wakes the neighborhood and notifies the D.C. police,” Rosey
bragged.
“Doubt if the thieves knew that. Did you call Sheriff Robby?”
“Just got off of the phone. Gave them the plates’ info and the description.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard to find. How many Studebaker Hawks could there be in greater Clancyville? It’s not like the car will blend in with all the other rattletraps roaming the streets of our village.”
“Point. Anyway, the local authorities are checking into it.”
“No doubt. Well, isn’t that a fine turn of events. With everything else we have going, we now dealing with petty thievery.”
“I think that’s grand larceny,” Rosey said.
“I think you are over-rating the car’s worth.”
“Not to your mother,” Rosey said.
47
“There’s a chill in the air, Marie. Close the windows. Ah… leave a gap in the curtains behind me, so I can see out a little.”
“Yes sir.” Marie closed the drapes except for a small section directly behind the massive wooden desk. “You want me to bring you the dogs?”
“No. Just leave us alone.”
The tall thin woman stood several feet away from the front of the desk. Although rigid and quiet, her eyes followed every move Marie made. She relaxed ever so slightly as soon as Marie closed the door and was gone.
“Is it done?”
“Yes.”
“I would rather not know your method, you understand.”
“Yes.”
“Down to one.”
“Yes.”
“It will all be accomplished soon, correct?”
“Hopefully.”
“That’s not the answer I desire.”
“The last juror is guarded closely.”
“Always?”
“24/7.”
“Talk with our assistant. Maybe she can do something under the radar.”
“I will.”
“I don’t want any miscues at this point. Justice must prevail. I have waited a long, long time for this to happen. This is divinely appointed, you know.”
“I have heard you say that.”
“You sound skeptical,” the old preacher said.
“I am not a religious person. I have questions.”
“About the justice for those ungodly jurors?”
“No. The jurors were wrong. My questions have only to do with any divine influence.”
“I am a man of God, a spokesman, like the prophets long ago. God gave me this mission, this divine mission to carry out. To do justice. To bring down the haughty, the proud, the arrogant, the infidels. These people had no moral ground on which to stand to judge my son for what he did. He was purging absolute sin from our community. No black and white should ever be mingled. This is the word of the Lord,” his voice reached a fever pitch.
“Yes, sir.”
“You don’t believe in God, Miss Saunders?”
She was hesitant, afraid that her ideas would cause him to explode in self-righteous anger. She was searching for the right words.
“I have lots of questions,” she confessed.
“Perhaps we should talk about this when the mission is finally accomplished.”
She could see a way out now. She relaxed and felt more at ease, but not completely. She never experienced total ease in his presence. That was quite impossible. She never quite understood the man despite the years she had worked for him.
“That would be good, sir. I would like that,” she lied.
“Good. Any word about Diamond?”
“Nothing.”.
“You believe she is still out there?”
“I do.”
“Why would she stay at it?”
“She’s a professional. Relentless. Never quits.”
“Sounds as if you know her well.”
“No sir. Only by reputation. My contact told me that there is none better.”
“Let’s hope so. And soon. For my money, she is taking entirely too much time to get this private investigator off the trail. One more death and it really will not matter anyway, I suppose.”
“I have no control over the timing of her success.”
“I know, I know. You’ve told me that. I don’t like it. It worries me when I do not have control over what is happening. She’s a loose end.”
“The detective or Diamond?” Saunders was having trouble following the conversation.
“Both. But I was referring to the shooter.”
“The last juror could be difficult to handle as long as the detective is around. Once she is gone, then our work is made much easier. It all goes together, it seems to me.”
“I suppose you are right,” he said as he turned away from her face to look out the narrow gap that Marie had left in the curtains behind him. “Sometimes I feel as if God is impatient with me and won’t let me see the promised land of satisfaction. You know anything about Moses, Miss Saunders?”
“A little. He led the Jews out of Egypt, I think. Wrote the Ten Commandments. That’s about it.”
“We have much to talk about, Miss Saunders. Your biblical education is sorely lacking. My fault, I fear. But all in good time. No, Moses was a stalwart leader of the Israelites. Great man. Perhaps the greatest of all in history, except Jesus, of course. Moses was a commander, a lawgiver, a judge, and a dispenser of justice. Moses was God’s right hand for many years. You understand that, Miss Saunders?”
“I understand your words, sir. It seems that you admire him greatly.”
“Oh, absolutely, Miss Saunders. Absolutely. I have tried to model my life after Moses. I feel in some ways as if I have been a modern day Moses. And that worries me a little.”
“Why’s that?”
“God only let him see the land of promise, Canaan, the land of glory, the land of fulfillment. Moses died and never got to cross over into the land of hope and anticipation. He only saw it from a distance.”
“We’re about to cross over, sir. We’re very close now. Another day or so, and I think you will be in your land of justice.”
He turned back from the curtain gap to face her. He stared into her eyes for a few seconds before speaking. She noticed a gleam in his eyes.
“Correct, Miss Saunders. We are close. I am about to cross over. Go finish the job. I shall pray for your success.”
She nodded slightly, almost a bow as she backed away to the door. As she walked down the long corridor towards the front door of the mansion, she decided that she wanted nothing more to do with this man after this was all over. Saunders believed the preacher to be mentally unstable. She had never noticed it before now, at least not to this degree. He was mad, she concluded. He was out of his mind and her level of fear was growing, especially when they were alone in that large room.
Marie was waiting by the front door. Saunders exited and Marie closed the door behind her. Saunders concluded that she did not want to have that conversation with the preacher about God when this whole episode was over. She would leave town and go far away. She would go away and he would never find her. No one would find her unless she wanted to be found. That would be her plan. It felt good to have a plan. Maybe going away was her promised land. She smiled to herself as if she finally understood something of what the old preacher was saying.
48
It was late afternoon when Rosey arrived to retrieve me from Peace Haven. He stood in the threshold of Sarah’s opened room door.
“You ready for some relief?” he asked.
“And how,” I said. “Only there is to be a slight change in our schedule.”
“Okay. Let me have it.”
“You and I are leaving together, and Sarah is going with us.”
“Oh, good. I love togetherness. They’re setting you free, are they?” he smiled at Sarah and she easily returned it to him.
“Not entirely. They don’t know I be leaving this place,” she said.
“Oh, this is a breakout.”
“Something like that,” I said. “I didn’t want to announce
our departure to the officials here.”
“Are we doing this now?”
“Yes, sir. We are packed and ready to roll,” I said.
“Front door?”
I smiled at him. “Even I am not that brazen. We’re escaping through the side entrance, where the ambulances park. Used for entering and exiting via those medical vehicles.”
“Oh. And the alarms?”
“Not on those doors.”
“But they don’t open from the inside, do they?”
“They do now.”
“You’ve been playin’ around with stuff again, huh?” he asked.
“I’ve been a busy little girl. Let’s get outta here.”
Rosey led the way with Sarah. She was still wobbly with walking, but he had an arm around her and I knew Sarah didn’t mind that at all. I followed, carrying her packed suitcase. It was just before supper time and everyone was preoccupied with either the first deliveries or preparation for the meal. There were enough distractions for us to make a clean getaway.
“Ooh, I like this car,” Sarah said as we drove out of the parking lot, heading towards Mother’s house.
“Me, too,” Rosey said.
“Let’s swing by Dr. Jones-McCann’s office. I have a clue which needs to be checked and re-checked,” I said.
“Yes, ma’am. Forthwith.”
Mother was pleased when our caravan of three arrived. She had been baby-sitting the dog for too many hours. But at least I think there had been some bonding between them. At least now she was talking to him.
“Sam, get back. Let them in,” she said as we marched up the back steps in single file. Rosey still had a steadying hand on Sarah’s backside to make sure she got up the steps and inside the house safely. Sarah stopped and hugged Rachel on the porch before entering the house.
“Sam, how are you?” Sarah said. Sam sat down and extended a paw to Sarah in his formal method of greeting old friends. She took it and they shook.
After we had all settled into our seats of choice, Mother quizzed us concerning Sarah’s presence. Sarah and Mother were on the couch together. Sam was lying on the floor in between their feet.
“They released you?” Mother asked Sarah.
The Peace Haven Murders Page 19
