Watkins - 05 - Poison Heart

by Mary Logue

  Claire asked, “Is this like the reading of the banns?”

  Ruth held up her coffee mug and proposed a toast. “To the nicest couple around. May you both live long and celebrate many anniversaries.”

  “For the time being, we’ll each keep our own place,” Ella said with a nudge to Edwin. “Just in case it doesn’t work out.”

  Ruth offered her barn as a place they could hold the ceremony, since Ella wasn’t particularly churchgoing.

  Ella turned to Claire and asked her if she would be her best woman. “I don’t have any nieces, and I like the idea of a strong law-enforcing woman to be there by my side.”

  Her request thrilled Claire. “I’d love to.” She immediately wondered what she would wear. As Ella was having only one matron of honor, at least she wouldn’t have to match someone else’s dress.

  “When’s the wedding?” Stewart asked.

  “Can’t wait too much longer,” Edwin quipped. “We’ve got our health, better act fast. We’re thinking early November.”

  Ella turned to Rich. “How’s your mom doing in the nursing home?”

  “She hates it. She came to our house for dinner and didn’t want to go back.”

  “I don’t blame her,” Ella said. “If she’s up to it, ask her to come to the wedding. Who knows, maybe she’ll meet some nice guy.”

  How wonderful to have something to celebrate, Claire thought. She was having a hard time pulling her mind away from the news from Debby. What was the most frustrating was that she still had no proof Patty Jo had done anything wrong in her whole life.

  As if he had read her mind, Edwin nudged her shoulder to get her attention. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I heard through the grapevine that Reiner has canned the idea of buying the Tilde farm.”

  “Really? I wonder why?”

  “Well, what I hear is that he didn’t want to get embroiled in a title problem because of probate, and he wasn’t too happy about the barn burning down. He had planned to use it to store his plane.” Edwin leaned back in his chair and laughed. “I bet that’s got Patty Jo pretty rankled.”

  Claire thought about a rankled Patty Jo—not a good situation. She went back over what Debby had told her of Patty Jo’s first husband’s death. Dell Splinter was his name. They had been married thirty years. Then he had had a bad accident on the farm: a bale of hay had fallen on his head, causing brain damage. A week after he left the hospital for home, he had died, and there had been no autopsy; Patty Jo had him cremated. Debby said she was sure that Patty Jo had had something to do with it. When Claire pressed her to say why she was so sure, Debby said that Patty Jo had let something slip, just a casual comment.

  “What?” Claire asked.

  “She said that she couldn’t stand to see Dell unable to do anything. That she had taken things into her own hands.”

  Claire had asked her if she had told anyone her suspicions.

  “What could I do? Who would I have told?” Debby said. “I knew they couldn’t prove anything. There was no body anymore. If she had killed him, I didn’t know how she had done it. So I didn’t say anything.”

  “Then why tell me?” Claire asked.

  “Because you’re the first person who’s ever come sniffing around about Patty Jo. Not everyone sees who she really is. She can be charming when she wants. If she’s killed her second husband, maybe you can prove it and put her away. I’d feel good about that. Stop her before she gets a third one.”

  Meg pumped her bike up the small hill that rose from Highway 35. She was on her way to Ted’s house. Her mom had agreed that she could ride over and see Harvey. Ted lived right on the way. Meg had told him at school that she might go see the elk at Reiner’s.

  He seemed very impressed. “If you do, can I go with you?”

  “I guess.”

  “Cool.”

  Her mom had made her call the caretaker and ask if it was all right to visit Harvey. The guy sounded surprised by the request but said sure, it was fine with him. He said Harvey’s wound had healed up, and he didn’t think Reiner would mind. That’s what he called the owner, Reiner. She liked the sound of saying just the man’s last name, like in a detective story.

  Then she gathered all her courage and called Ted’s house. Wouldn’t you know, his mom answered the phone.

  Meg had been very polite. “Hello, may I speak to Ted?”

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Yes, this is Meg Watkins.”

  “Oh,” was all his mother had said, then Meg could hear her shouting, “Ted, phone.”

  When he said hello, Meg was surprised by how old he sounded on the phone. Like he was a teenager or something. “I’m going to see the elk,” she told him.

  “Count me in.”

  “I’ll come and get you. My mom’s letting me ride my bike.”

  “I’ll be waiting by the driveway. When are you leaving?”

  She told him it’d be immediately, then ran out the door, hopped on her bike, and headed toward his house. Meg wondered if she would have ever dared call him if it hadn’t been for the elk. Funny how things worked out.

  When she pedaled up to his house, she could see him leaning on the handlebars of his bike, watching her.

  “You ride a bike like a girl.”

  Meg was fascinated by the way kids her age decided how a girl behaved and how a boy behaved. There was a whole list of such actions: how you looked at your nails, how you looked at the bottom of your shoes, how you combed your hair.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “You wobble.”

  Meg could feel herself getting mad. “Let’s go. I told the guy I’d be there.”

  She started biking, pumping her legs as hard as she could. Wobble? She’d show him. She could hear Ted riding behind her, trying to keep up.

  “Hey, wait up.”

  She slowed slightly, and he went tearing past her. She let him pedal down the next hill. Then he slowed and waited for her.

  After that they biked next to each other, talking about school and their friends, until they got to the Reiner place.

  “Man, this guy must be stinking rich.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Two houses and everything. My dad says he could buy the whole county if he wanted to.” They both jumped off their bikes and started walking to the barn.

  Meg nodded. “My mom says he thinks he’s like the emperor around here.”

  Ted slowed down as they walked up to the fence. “I knew they had elk here, but I’ve never been up here.”

  Meg put down the kickstand, parked her bike, and reached into her fanny pack. She had cut up an apple before she had left home and put it into a Ziploc bag.

  Harvey was standing in the fenced area, over by a big pine tree. She called his name.

  “That’s him?” Ted asked. “The Indians called them wapiti.”

  “You want to feed him some apple?”

  Ted looked at the apple, then over at the elk, which had started lumbering in their direction.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head and stepping back. “I’ll just watch you do it.”

  Meg’s heart opened up as she watched the elk approach. She was so glad to see Harvey. She was glad she had come to see him in his real home. It was good that he was back here, she realized, among the other elk, where he belonged. The fact that she could come over and see him whenever she wanted to made it easier for her to accept that this was where he would stay.

  “Harvey,” she called. He stopped and sniffed the air. She knew he recognized her smell.

  He lowered his head as if he were fixing his eyes on her and then started to walk toward her again. She held a piece of the apple over the fence, and he walked right up to her and took it gently out of her hand. After he ate it, he presented his face to her, and she scratched his fuzzy chin. She had almost forgotten about Ted. He didn’t seem as important as the big animal she was petting.

  When she had one piece of apple left, she turned and looke
d at Ted. “Are you sure you don’t want to try feeding him?”

  Ted looked down at the ground. “It’s good from here. I can see him really good.”

  Meg knew what it felt like to be afraid. She could see the fear in Ted’s eyes and hear it in his voice. She wouldn’t push him. “You don’t have to be scared of this elk. He was bottle-fed, and that makes him really tame.”

  They didn’t stay long. Ted wanted to get going. On the ride back to his house, he was playing the show-off again. Riding circles around her, trying to ride on his back tire. She pedaled her steady rhythm. She still had a long ride home.

  At the end of his driveway, she stopped and straddled her bike. She thought he might invite her in, but he didn’t. He just kept going and yelled back over his shoulder, “See you at school.”

  Riding back down his road, Meg was disappointed. She had hoped seeing the elk might be a good thing to do together. Somehow it hadn’t worked, and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t get boys.

  As she was getting close to the turn on Highway 35, she saw a woman stopped in her car in the middle of the road. Meg noticed because there was no stop sign or driveway. She couldn’t understand why the woman had stopped.

  As she got closer, she could see the woman was looking around. Then Meg recognized her. It was Patty Jo Tilde, the woman whose barn had burned down. She had to be in her seventies. Her blond-gray hair looked like a helmet, like if you pushed your fingers into it, it might leave a dent.

  “Hey, you, girl. Do you know the way to the elk farm?”

  When Meg didn’t say anything right away, Mrs. Tilde spoke again. “What’s the matter with you? Aren’t you from around here? I suppose your parents told you not to talk to strangers. I’m a neighbor, not a stranger. Do you know where the elks are?”

  Meg didn’t feel like talking to her. She didn’t like this old woman, so she just pointed back down the road she had come from and watched the woman look back that way. Then the woman slammed her hand on the steering wheel and swore. Meg was surprised; old people didn’t tend to swear. At least, not in public.

  Mrs. Tilde drove right around in a circle in the middle of the road. When she got her car facing the right way, she stomped on the accelerator and roared away.

  Meg closed her eyes and tried not to breathe the dust stirred up in the car’s wake.

  Jim Bartlett was not sure what woke him. A flickering movement. He had fallen asleep after drinking a six-pack of beer and watching the football game. All he knew when he pulled himself up in the big Naugahyde-covered recliner was that something was not right. He turned the TV off. It was midnight. There was a strange light coming from outside. He rubbed his eyes and went and looked out the window.

  He couldn’t believe his eyes. A fire was eating away at the elk barn. He rubbed them again. Then he felt a jolt go through his whole body. He didn’t know what to do first. He had to get out there, but he had to let someone know. Help—he needed help fast.

  He grabbed his boots and started pulling one of them on. When he had stuffed his foot in one boot, he realized he needed to make the phone call before he did anything else. He hobbled to the phone and dialed the fire department.

  “Fire, Reiner place. The barn. Down Double E . . . That’s right. Right by the road.” He gave the woman his fire number.

  He had dragged the boot with him and was trying to put it on with the phone stuck under his chin. The woman at the other end of the line said she would send a fire crew out as soon as they assembled. Who knew how long that would take? When he hung up, he knew he had to do something.

  Then he remembered he had separated Harvey from the rest of the herd and put him in the barn. Jim swore and ran out the door.

  It was cold, but he he could feel waves of heat coming from the fire. The fire was up high on the roof, so maybe Harvey was still okay—if the smoke hadn’t filled the barn. If he could get to the door and open it, he hoped the animal would find its way out.

  Jim ran to the fenced-in area around the barn and tried to open the gate. His hands were shaking, and he didn’t seem to be able to work the latch. Goddamn it, he had planned to change that thing for the last month. Just hadn’t gotten around to it. He yanked it off and ran into the pen. The barn door was shut. He grabbed it and pulled it open along its track. Nothing came out of the barn. He stuck his head in and saw the elk.

  The big animal was at the back of the barn. The fire had broken through the roof, and a burning beam had fallen into the middle of the barn. The elk was afraid to run around it. Harvey was slashing his front feet at the blaze and kicking at the side of the barn, trying to get away. For a moment, it looked as if the elk would try to bolt by the blazing beam, but at the last second, he changed his mind and ran back to the false protection at the far end of the barn.

  Jim had to do something or the animal would die. If he could put out the fire on the beam before the roof came down, he could get the elk out.

  Jim knew there was a hose by the water trough. He ran and pulled it to the door. The smoke was starting to pour out of the barn, and he worried that the elk would be overcome by smoke.

  He turned the faucet on high and aimed the stream of water at the blaze. It fell short. He covered part of the nozzle with his hand and forced the pressure up. He aimed the water higher and it started hitting the beam.

  The elk was going crazy, charging and pawing at the back of the barn. Jim thought Harvey would hurt himself trying to tear a hole in the barn. Jim kept dousing the beam. The roar of the fire was getting louder. He was afraid more of the roof would cave in.

  The fire on the beam subsided. Jim dropped the hose. He covered the bottom half of his face with his arm and ran into the barn. He got to the other side of the beam, and the elk came running up to him. He ducked behind the animal, and Harvey jumped away from him and bolted out of the barn.

  Jim followed, but he tripped on the beam and went sprawling. As he fell, he tried to roll, but his boot was stuck. His leg twisted under him. He screamed in pain. Flat on the straw, he knew he had to get out of the barn. It wasn’t going to hold together much longer. He started to crawl.

  The fire sounded like a tornado. The suck of the flames pulled the air out of his lungs and into the towering blaze above. The heat pushed him down. The pain from his leg made movement almost impossible. He was afraid he wouldn’t get out. He couldn’t breathe. He was almost to the door when he heard the barn coming down behind him.

  CHAPTER 15

  Rain fell in the very early morning. Claire heard it tapping at the window before she crawled out of bed, thinking it would make everything a little harder to do today. But they needed the rain. It had been a dry late summer, and some good rains before the ground froze would help all the plants survive the winter.

  Funny how she thought of those things now. When she’d been living in the city, it had never occurred to her to worry about the plants.

  The drive to work was long, with waves of rain slapping the car as she made her way up to Durand and the Pepin County sheriff’s department. Checking the level of the sloughs along the road, she figured a couple inches of rain had fallen. She planned on having an office day, catching up on her paperwork.

  As soon as she entered the department, however, the sheriff called her into his office and told her she would be working on something else that day.

  “I just got off the phone with Reiner. He’s fuming.”

  “What now?” she asked. She sat down. She could tell the conversation would not be quick.

  He said sarcastically, “Your lines of communication are down? Usually I assume you know all that’s gone on in the county before you walk in the door.”

  She ignored his tone. “What happened?”

  “Reiner’s barn burned down last night.”

  This announcement took Claire by surprise. She’d been uneasy about what Patty Jo Tilde might do next, but she hadn’t thought it would be so dramatic or so quick. “You’re kidding. Anyone hurt?”

  “H
is caretaker just about got asphyxiated. Ended up in the hospital with a concussion, a broken leg, and messed-up lungs. I want you to go talk to him. Then run out to take a look at that barn. What’s left of it.”

  “Do they know what happened?”

  “Arson suspected.”

  “Is Reiner there?”

  “He will be.” The sheriff looked down and shuffled some papers around. “He says he’s calling in help.”

  Claire didn’t mind help. Especially with an arson. But she knew it made the sheriff uneasy. “Fine by me.”

  “A Dr. Wegman.”

  “Barney? Great.”

  “You know this guy?”

  “He’s the arson expert. Has his own business. I worked with him quite a bit in the Cities. He’s a character. He travels around the country in a Citroën.”

  “A what?”

  “French car. Low-slung body, big headlights. Looks like a bug. One cool feature is that you can lower the car onto its wheels, making it virtually impossible to steal. The thing is forever breaking down, but he keeps it running.”

  “Never heard of such a car.”

  “Don’t think I’ve seen one in Pepin County since I moved here.”

  “You foreigners bring in the darnedest things.”

  Claire sat still for a moment, thinking. “That Tilde woman. The widow.”

  The sheriff nodded. “Two fires in one week is too much of a coincidence for me.”

  Jim Bartlett’s head was tilted back on a crisp white pillow and his hand rested on his forehead. His leg, looking like a white sausage, lay on the hospital bed. Gauze frosted his cheek. He was puffing air through his cheeks the way people do when they’re doped up on painkillers. Claire hated to wake him. He looked like he had had a rough time.

  She sat in the chair in his room and closed her eyes for a moment, tired of this rainy day and what lay ahead of her. When she opened them, he was staring at her.

  “What’re you doing here?” he asked, surprised.

  “Checking on you,” she said.

  He had raised his head to talk to her and now lowered it back to the pillow, wincing as he did. He closed his eyes, then popped them open as he said, “I hope you don’t think I was responsible for that fire.”