Claire waited until they’d been gone a full three minutes before wriggling out from under the bed. She saw Joy had taken all the tea with her, except for the box Claire had. Claire put that tea in her purse, tiptoed out into the corridor, and then mingled in with a cluster of guests headed down for breakfast. At the bottom of the stairs she was relieved to see no one at the front desk. She left the key in the slot for Joy’s room and then hurried through the kitchen and out back, just in time to see Joy tossing the boxes of Willow Bark tea in the dumpster. Claire backed up into the kitchen and snagged a mug of hot water from the urn set up in the breakfast nook. She took this and her purloined tea to the basement.
By the time Scott returned, the entire basement smelled like Mamie’s parlor on the day she died. The metallic odor was so strong that Claire had to open the door to the back yard to air out the room. When Scott came down the stairs, his eyes widened.
“That’s the smell,” he said.
“This is the tea,” Claire said, and showed him the box before pouring what was in her mug down the drain in the laundry room. She pulled out her electronic tablet and took the list of Mamie’s medications from Scott.
It took her less than a minute to find the first medication interaction warning that applied to salicylic acid, the primary active ingredient in Willow Bark.
“It shouldn’t be taken with heart medication,” Claire said. “It says ‘toxic when combined with a Beta Blocker.’”
A minute later she had the next dangerous match.
“Her glaucoma drops would also be toxic when combined with this,” Claire said. “Get this, ‘The following additional adverse effects have been reported in clinical experience with timolol maleate or other beta-blocking agents and may be considered potential effects of ophthalmic timolol maleate: Worsening of arterial insufficiency, vasodilatation.’ I barely understand that, but it sounds like a deadly combination.”
“Gail said she had stopped taking all her medications, and she didn’t know how long it had been since she stopped. She made Mamie start on them all again last Saturday.”
“It’s dangerous to stop and start like that,” Claire said. “Some of my Dad’s medications would kill him if he didn’t slowly wean off of them or start back on them at lower doses.”
“Gail thought she was doing a good deed,” Scott said.
“And if Mamie was already teetering on a toxic dose of her own medications, and then drank this stuff …” Claire said.
“But did someone give it to her, not knowing it was toxic, or did they give it to her in order to kill her?”
“And who gave it to her?” Claire asked. “Who was with her last?”
“I have to drive up to Glencora,” Scott said. “I’ll check in with you later.”
“Take this,” Claire said, handing him the tea. “I don’t want it on me. Joy threw the rest of it in the dumpster out there.”
“The garbage isn’t picked up until Tuesday,” Scott said. “So we’ll leave it in there for now. I’ll take this.”
“Be careful,” Claire said.
“You too,” Scott said. “I wouldn’t eat or drink anything they offer you.”
“Don’t worry,” Claire said.
On the drive up to Glencora, Scott enjoyed the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves of the trees that lined curvy, two-lane Pine Mountain Road. In many places the limbs met overhead, forming a deep green canopy. He passed the entrance to Pine Mountain State Park, busy with tourists who came to enjoy the cool nights and sunny days while they camped, hiked, biked, and climbed steep hillsides.
At the junction of Rabbit Run Road, Scott waved to “Mean” Mann, who was sitting in his truck at the intersection, waiting to turn left, back toward the state park. Lieutenant Colonel Harlan Mann worked for District One of the State Division of Natural Resources Law Enforcement. He was particularly fond of apprehending those who fished without a license or hunted out of season.
As Scott wound around the ridge top of Pine Mountain, he caught glimpses of Gerrymaine Valley, and Bear Lake in its center. Glencora itself was a tiny town of maybe 500 permanent residents, but more than a million people passed through there during the year, due to its proximity to two ski resorts and the state park.
Scott was just about to pass a gas station on the outskirts of town when he saw Pip Deacon there, standing next to his old truck. Scott swung around the block and came back to park next to him. You couldn’t miss Pip. His long golden curls were streaked blond from the sun, and his skin was burnished like leather. He was tall and muscular, but still well padded. Like the dedicated pothead he was, Pip obviously enjoyed his snacks.
Leaning on his truck, talking to the owner of the gas station, Pip looked surprised to see Scott, but not dismayed, like most people were. Pip, Scott reflected, was just not bright enough to be afraid. He always seemed to assume everyone was his friend and no one meant him any harm.
Scott shook hands with Pip, who was dressed in painter’s overalls, work boots, and Scott strongly suspected, nothing else. He smelled strongly of pot and body odor, which was a pretty potent combination.
“Hey dude,” Pip said. “What’s up? Long time no see.”
“What seems to be the problem?” Scott asked as he shook his calloused hand.
Scott noticed the bed of Pip’s truck was loaded down with building materials.
“Lloyd thinks it may be the universal, but he can’t put it up on the rack with all my stuff in it,” Pip said. “Not that I could afford the repair anyway. He’s calling a guy he knows who has a truck he might be able to lend me until I can figure out what to do.”
Pip always seemed to be in dire financial straits, and without fail, everyone he knew bent over backwards to help him. He was just such a friendly, helpless doofus that people seemed to want to help him out. You couldn’t help but like him. It was as if Pip just accepted everything that happened as a benign event, and was grateful for the assistance.
“While you’re waiting,” Scott said, “do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
“No, man, not at all,” Pip said. “Are you, like, investigating something?”
“I’m trying to find out what happened on the day Mamie died,” Scott said. “I was hoping you knew where Courtenay is so I could talk to her.”
“You just missed her. She’s meeting somebody at the lodge,” Pip said. “She’s looking for a job and this guy says he might be able to help her.”
“I just passed by there,” Scott said. “I’ll have to try to catch her on the way back. Do you know who the guy is?”
“Somebody she met down in Rose Hill this week,” Pip said with a shrug. “She’s going to be his personal assistant or something. To tell you the truth, I really wasn’t listening all that good. Courtenay’s a big talker, and I can only take so much before my brain turns off. Sorry.”
“Did she tell you anything about the day Mamie died?”
“Courtenay?” Pip said. “Why?”
“She was the last person to see Mamie Rodefeffer alive,” Scott said.
“Oh that,” Pip said. “She said Mamie fell asleep while she was there so she left. Poor old girl must have died later that day. I guess that’s not a bad way to go. Courtenay was real torn up about it; said she was glad to have done something nice for the old gal before she went.”
“What did she do?”
“Fixed her some tea,” Pip said. “I guess Mamie didn’t have anybody left taking care of her, so Courtenay fixed her up with her favorite tea. Said it put her right to sleep.”
“Why did Courtenay go over there?”
“I guess Knox asked her to.”
“She and Knox are still friendly?”
“Not really,” Pip said. “Knox owes her some money, and he’s been real slow about paying. She’s just trying to keep the lines of communication open, you know?”
“Why did Knox want her to go to Mamie’s?”
“To check on Mamie,” he said. “Pay attention to
her; make her some tea. He paid her to do it.”
“So Knox sent the tea?”
“I guess,” Pip said. “Courtenay said it tasted like lead and smelled like copper pennies.”
“I’d really like to talk to Courtenay,” Scott said. “Would you give me her cell phone number?”
“Hey, man,” Pip said. “I would if I could. I don’t have a cell phone, myself; I keep losing them, so, you know, what’s the point? Plus they cost so much. It’s like, outrageous, the prices, and if you miss, like, even one payment, they turn off your service. Naw, I don’t have her number with me. She wrote it down, though, and put it on the fridge back at the house. I can get it for you. She’ll probably be back by the time we get there, anyway.”
A friend of Lloyd’s arrived with a beat-up truck, and Scott helped them transfer all of Pip’s supplies into the rusted bed, and tie them down with bungee cords. Scott then followed Pip back to Sloan Merryweather’s ski chalet.
Sloan’s house was a large stone and timber mansion high on the hillside overlooking Gerrymaine Valley. From atop the steep, switchback driveway, he could see the ski slopes nearby. The homes in this part of Glencora were luxurious and spread far enough apart, secluded by trees, so that each home site was private, yet convenient to the slopes.
Pip’s house tour ended in the kitchen, where he offered Scott a juice box. It was the kind that kids drink, with a cartoon character on the label, and the fridge seemed to be full of them.
“Getting healthy, I see,” Scott said, motioning to all the fresh fruits and vegetables heaped up on the kitchen counters.
“You’ve got a great farmers market down in Rose Hill,” Pip said. “The guy who runs it is an old buddy of mine. We have a barter deal.”
Pip didn’t say what his part of the barter was, but Scott suspected, based on the number of bongs and rolling papers lying around the kitchen, that it was probably pot. He wasn’t there to hassle Pip about that, or look for reasons to arrest him, so Scott didn’t look too closely at the water pipes to see if they were loaded.
On the way out through the mud room/ laundry room, while following Pip out to the back deck, Scott spotted Mamie’s tote bags, empty now, hanging up on a row of coat hooks. There was also a pile of books stacked up in the recycling container, and they were all romances. Scott rifled through a couple, but there was no longer any money in them. He was anxious to speak with Courtenay, and planned to confront her with this evidence when he did.
They took their juice boxes out onto the back deck, which commanded a panoramic view of Gerrymaine Valley. It was breathtaking.
They sat in Adirondack chairs and Scott allowed himself to relax.
“Sweet deal,” he said to Pip.
“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Pip said. “I figure I’m on this job through ski season. I’m really looking forward to it. I’m more of a snowboarder, but I’m definitely going to look into cross-country skiing. The vibe is really mellow in Glencora, and they’ve got an excellent reggae bar. You should check it out. We’re going over there tonight to see Enter the Ska; they’re a new band, supposed to be really good.”
“Sounds like you and Courtenay are getting along well.”
“Court’s helping me study for my contractor’s license,” Pip said. “We’re going to set up shop in town, renovating houses and maybe building some. I’m going to run the worksites and she’s going to manage the office part. As soon as Knox pays her what he owes her, she’s going to bankroll the whole thing.”
“So why is she interviewing for a job?”
“Just to tide us over, she said,” Pip said. “We still gotta eat.”
The phone in the kitchen rang. Pip left the deck and Scott could hear him answer. Then he heard a thud as the receiver hit the floor. Then he heard Pip wail.
Glencora wasn’t in Pine County, so Sarah had no jurisdiction there, but a small portion of the Pine Mountain State Park was, and since it was not immediately clear in which county Courtenay had died, Sarah came anyway. She was charming to the State Police, who said they appreciated her sharing what she knew. Scott waited with Pip until his mother could get there. The man was so shaken up that Scott was afraid to leave him alone.
After the morgue van left with the body, Sarah walked with Scott to his car, and patted the hood.
“You’re not even on duty today,” she said. “What brought you up here?”
Scott filled her in on everything he had learned since he saw her last, and she took copious notes. Before they parted, she called the lab and told the coroner what they were looking for in Mamie’s autopsy. She took the box of tea from him.
“What are they saying about Courtenay?” he asked her.
“Harlan Mann found the body at the bottom of the ravine below the lookout point to the falls,” Sarah said. “It looks as though she fell or was pushed from the overlook platform above the ravine.”
“Her boyfriend was with people from the time she left to come here until he got the call,” Scott said. “I checked with the men at the service station; they saw Courtenay alive before she left for her appointment, and Pip was with them until he was with me.”
“No one they’ve spoken to here at the park saw her with anybody,” Sarah said. “Around the time they think she died, someone did report an SUV traveling at a high rate of speed on the main road out of the park, but the windows were tinted too dark to see the driver and they didn’t think to get a license plate number. Her car is parked in the main lot, and her keys were in her purse, which was still on the viewing platform.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait to hear if her body showed signs of a struggle.”
“If not, they could rule it a suicide.”
“This has Knox Rodefeffer’s dirty fingerprints all over it.”
“You know the court can’t use what Mr. Deacon said about Knox hiring Courtenay to go over to Mamie’s and give her that tea,” Sarah said. “It’s hearsay, and Knox is unlikely to corroborate it.”
“But you know this was Knox’s hired help cleaning up behind him,” Scott said.
Sarah nodded.
“You find a way to prove it and you’re going to make me look really good with the feds,” she said. “You need to seriously consider leaving Bugfart, U.S.A., to come work for me. We would make an awesome team.”
“No, thanks,” Scott said. “I’m happy where I am.”
Scott waved as she left, and then waited until she was safely down the long driveway out of the park before he followed. She drove like a bat out of hell, and he didn’t want her on his tail all the way back to Rose Hill.
When something upsetting happened, Scott instinctively sought out Maggie, just to make sure she was still alive, still loved him, and was safe from harm. He found her at work, helping to hang a mobile display promoting the newest Tolkien film. She smiled down at him as he replaced the staff member holding the ladder.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“You okay?” she asked.
He shook his head and then nodded toward the upstairs.
“Go on up,” she said. “I’ll be right there.”
Scott went upstairs to the apartment and washed his face and hands. He hadn’t touched the body, but just seeing it was enough. Someone as young and vibrant as Courtenay shouldn’t be found that way, with her head turned at an unnatural angle, and her legs and arms splayed in the brush.
Scott would never forget Pip’s emotional breakdown after the phone call.
“Who would do this?” Pip had cried. “It wasn’t an accident, I know it. Courtenay hates nature; she hates bugs and grass and sticky things. She doesn’t even like to hike.”
“Think hard,” Scott said. “Can you think of anything else she said about the man who was going to meet her?”
“I was talking to Lloyd at the gas station,” he said. “She didn’t even get out of her car. She stopped to tell me where she was going, and she said it was about a job. She said it was
somebody she met in Rose Hill this week. She said it would pay really well. She was excited about it. That’s all I remember.”
“Be careful what you say to the State Police,” Scott said. “They’re going to wonder if you did this. After Courtenay left, were you with Lloyd until I got there?”
“Yeah,” Pip said. “I should have gone with her.”
“I’ll call Lloyd just to make sure he knows how important it is to tell the State Police you were with him after you both saw Courtenay alive, clear up until I arrived.”
“Why would I kill her?” Pip sobbed. “I loved her.”
“Pip,” Scott said. “We’re going to meet the State Police at the park, but they may be sending someone out here to search this place. It will take about fifteen minutes for them to get here. Is there any pot you’d like to flush before they arrive?”
“Oh shit, yeah,” Pip said, sniffing and wiping his face. “You don’t mind?”
“I’m going to go sit outside,” Scott said. “You come out when you’re ready to go.”
Scott watched as Pip took a canister marked “flour” off the counter, took it to the bathroom, and then heard him repeatedly flush the commode.
“You might want to put the bongs somewhere,” Scott called out to him. “And those rolling papers.”
“Hey, yeah, good idea,” Pip called back.
Outside, sitting in the warm sunshine, Scott reflected that what he had just done could get him fired, arrested, and jailed, but it hadn’t felt wrong to him. This kind of thing was what Ian had always referred to as the “art” of police work rather than the “science.” Once outside, however, he had called Lloyd to corroborate Pip’s story.
When Maggie arrived upstairs, Scott was still in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub. As he told her what had happened, she leaned against the doorway and listened. After he was through, she walked over, he leaned his head into her torso, and he cried. She didn’t say anything, just held him until he was finished. Then she ran him a hot bath, undressed him, and helped him into it. She went to the kitchen and made him a hot, sweet cup of tea. When she handed it to him he looked at it and smiled in a wry way.
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