The Fragile Flower

by Kerry J Charles

  Officer Thomas Banks hurried across the room and handed Adam Johnson a report. “First report in on some guy who dropped this morning. Looks like turpentine poisoning. O.D. of some kind. They want you to look into foul play,” he said breathlessly.

  “Thank you Officer Banks,” said Johnson decisively.

  “If there’s anything I can do to help out, to investigate something, I’d be happy to,” he blurted out.

  “Yep, we’ll keep you in mind Tommy. Thanks much!” Johnson gave him a mock salute, trying to dismiss him.

  Tommy looked dejected but left them with the report.

  “That kid’s eager. Too bad he doesn’t have the brains to match,” Johnson said.

  “Yeah, I know. But he’s good on a stake out. Never falls asleep at all, even without coffee. He’s my first pick every time,” Nick said.

  Johnson was already reading through the notes. “Found unresponsive on couch at rented home… retired nurse nearby tried CPR… paramedics attempted to revive… DOA at hospital… Possible turpentine ingestion… heavy drinker.”

  “What’d he drink?” asked Nick.

  “Whaddya mean?”

  “Well, heavy drinkers usually have a go-to drink. Wonder what his was,” Nick replied.

  Johnson handed him the paper. Nick scanned it quickly. “Ah, here it is, I think. The sister was with him. She reported no regular meds that he took, but he had been drinking gin and tonics the night before.” He continued reading. “Now this is interesting. Married, but only the sister was with him when paramedics arrived. The wife wasn’t around, so no comment from her.” Nick looked up. “I wonder if she knows yet?”

  Johnson took the paper and looked at the address. “Cape Elizabeth. Nice place, right on the water, I’d think. Guess we better go check it out. You drivin’?” It was a rhetorical question. Nick always drove. Adam Johnson’s car was perpetually full of junk. It took him a full five minutes just to clear off the passenger seat.

  As they drove across the city Nick said, “I wonder why they said it was turpentine? G&T’s are pretty common. They used to flavor gin with turpentine – that’s what gin smells like to a lot of people. Wonder why they didn’t think of that first?”

  “Don’t know. Does seem odd.” They were silent until Nick pulled into the driveway of the house. It seemed very still as they walked around to the front and knocked. No answer. Nick reached down and turned the knob. The door opened easily.

  From the first moment that they stepped inside, Nick knew why the report had listed turpentine. He could smell it. He walked through the house and found the studio. The canvas on the easel was still wet.

  “Explains turpentine, doesn’t it,” said Johnson.

  Nick nodded. He went into a small room behind the kitchen, what would normally be a pantry, and found a twin bed wedged in along with some clothes on a shelf. Johnson stood behind him. The room was so small that he could not fit in with Nick standing there too. “Man, this is ridiculous! Who would want to sleep in here? It’s like a tomb!”

  “Yeah, it does seem tight. I wonder if it was the sister? Maybe she didn’t want to be in the way?”

  They continued to look around. In the bedroom Nick found both men’s and women’s items. He noted there were more men’s clothes. ‘That’s strange,’ he thought, ‘usually it’s the reverse.’ In the bathroom he saw only one toothbrush. He looked for the usual bathroom items that a woman would have — make-up, hair brush, face cream — they weren’t there. “Hey Johnson, does this place have another bathroom?” Nick leaned over and stuck his head out of the doorway.

  “Yeah, but just a half-bath. Over there,” he pointed. Nick went in but didn’t find any personal items. He went back to the bedroom and looked through the drawers. Nothing there either.

  Nick yelled out to Johnson, “I think the wife’s done a runner!”

  Johnson was beside him faster than Nick would have expected. “You serious?”

  “Yeah. Fewer women’s clothes, no personal bathroom items.”

  “Points in that direction,” said Johnson.

  “Do we know what she looks like? Where’s the sister right now?”

  Johnson called in to the station. The sister was still at the hospital. “Get her to stay there. We need to talk to her,” he said sternly.

  Both men heard a car pull into the driveway. They looked out the window. “Well, I’ll be,” muttered Johnson.

  Nick froze, speechless, as he watched Dulcie Chambers get out of her car.

  Dulcie had seen Nick’s car as she drove up to the house. She wasn’t really surprised. It was an unusual death, so it would be fairly routine to have the police investigate. She had just hoped it would be different police, and not Nick. She slowly walked up to the house and knocked on the door.

  Johnson opened it. “To what do we owe the honor of seeing you in these less than auspicious circumstances?” he asked. Dulcie rolled her eyes.

  “Good to see you too, Adam. I wish we didn’t have to meet like this. Again.”

  “Not the best way, that’s for sure.” He stepped back and let her into the room.

  “Hi, Dulcie,” Nick said. He was hoping that she couldn’t hear his heart pounding from the adrenaline surge he had suffered after seeing her car pull up.

  “Hi, Nick. Here we are again.”

  Silence.

  Johnson cleared his throat. “All righty then! So Ms. Chambers, what brings you here?”

  Dulcie put down her purse on the kitchen counter. “I’m responsible for Logan Dumbarton being here. He was a visiting artist at the museum. We had him teaching a master class, which met here,” she gestured out toward the front yard, “just this morning. Unfortunately, Mr. Dumbarton couldn’t make it.”

  Humor. It covered uneasiness, confusion, and fear. Nick had seen it many times. “Dulcie, I don’t mean to be rude but we have to cut to the chase at the moment. Did you ever meet Logan Dumbarton’s wife? We think she’s run off and we need a description of her, vehicle information… anything that you can think of.”

  Dulcie looked surprised. “Of course. Yes, I’ve met her. She’s petite, beautiful, golden skin, long black hair that she often wears pulled back, large brown eyes. She’s British but I think she’s originally from India. Oh, and she has a nasty black eye right now. I’m not sure what she might be driving. They rented cars and I didn’t pay attention. I know she was in a green sedan last I saw her going somewhere. Rental car agencies would have the information. Probably his sister Linda made the arrangements so they could be in her name.”

  “Wait a second. Back up a little. A black eye? How do you know?” asked Johnson.

  “I saw her yesterday when it looked very fresh, and again first thing this morning. She told me yesterday that she had fallen, but she looked very upset. I’m pretty sure she was lying.”

  “So she was here this morning. That’s good. She probably hasn’t gotten far. Thanks,” Nick said quickly. He stepped into the other room and Dulcie could hear him talking on the phone. His voice sounded like a quick staccato.

  Johnson seized the opportunity. He looked pointedly at Dulcie. “Go easy on him? He’s been going through hell, and for some time I think.”

  Dulcie found herself annoyed. “I have nothing to ‘go easy’ about, Adam. I assume you’re implying that there was something between Nick and me, which there wasn’t…” She stopped abruptly as Nick came back into the room.

  Adam Johnson gave Dulcie a ‘you know what I mean’ look. She sighed and nodded ever so slightly.

  “They’ve got an alert out now,” Nick said to his partner. “With some luck we’ll track her down soon.” He turned to Dulcie.

  “What can you tell us about them?”

  Dulcie took a deep breath. “Where should I start?” she said. They looked at her quizzically. She shook her head in dismay. “Okay, I’ll start at the beginning of course, but this may take a while so get comfortable.” She told them about the master class. She described Logan’s dual personalit
y behavior. She talked about his relationship with his downtrodden and unappreciated sister, as well as his very new marriage to a beautiful but evidently self-centered young woman. Finally she related Logan’s condescending manner toward the students in the master class, and told them that Kimberly had been keeping her informed.

  At last she stopped. “That’s all I can think of for now,” she added.

  “Yeah, I’d say that’s plenty,” said Johnson.

  Nick looked down at his notes. He had been scribbling madly while she talked. Dulcie knew that he had also recorded what she said on his cell phone, so she wondered why he wrote everything down also.

  “You mentioned earlier that the wife had a black eye. Any thoughts on that?” Nick asked.

  “No, none at all! It was very surprising! I just assumed that Logan had done it while he was in one of his moods. Or drunk. Or both.”

  “Don’t think it really could have been an accident, like she said?” Johnson asked.

  Dulcie shook her head. “I don’t think so. It was the way she said it. ‘I fell.’ It came out so quickly, and she repeated it. I really felt like she was covering something up.”

  “What about the sister?” asked Nick. “Could she have done it?”

  “I don’t see why. Plus, she doesn’t really seem that strong physically.” Dulcie thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think she could have done it. I just don’t see any reason.”

  Nick was still looking at his notes. He was trying not to look at Dulcie. Being in the same room with her was making him uncomfortable. He knew he had to talk with her, to explain everything about himself, his marriage, the impending divorce… but this investigation was the priority, unfortunately. “Anything else at all that you can think of right now?” he asked.

  “No, that’s it. I’ll try to go back through everything when I get home this evening. Maybe something will pop back into my head. I’m sure I’ve missed some details.”

  “Completely understandable,” Johnson replied. He said it in a fatherly, kind way that instantly put Dulcie more at ease. “We appreciate everything you’ve been able to give us so far.”

  “Should I call you if I think of something else?” The question was pointedly directed at Johnson. He looked over at his partner. “You can get in touch with either…” he began to say, but one look at Nick changed his answer. “Actually, I’m working on something until tomorrow afternoon, so better contact Nick first. You have his number?”

  Did she have his number? Oh yes, in so many ways, she thought. Dulcie sighed. “Yes. Yes I do.”

  #

  Nick paced up and down his apartment floor. He stopped after several minutes and stared at his phone, willing it to ring. It did not. He began pacing again.

  ‘Just talk to her,’ he thought. ‘She’s a rational person. Just call her up.’ The thought terrified him. But he knew that he had to clear the air, and the sooner the better. Not only was the situation driving him insane, but he also had an investigation to continue.

  He picked up his cell phone, found her in the contacts list, and punched the CALL button. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath.

  The ringing sound stopped. She had answered, but he heard only silence. Then, after what seemed like an endless pause, she said, “Hi, Nick.”

  Now he exhaled. He didn’t know what to say. Somehow his mind hadn’t gone past the calling part. He had not actually thought through the conversation. “Uh, hi Dulcie,” he muttered. ‘Oh, very good. Very suave,’ he thought. ‘Get your act together!’ He inhaled again, audibly. “Could we get together and talk?” he asked. ‘Okay, that was fine. Just open the door…’ he thought.

  “About Logan Dumbarton, I assume?” Dulcie said pointedly. Annoyance had crept in to her voice.

  Nick closed his eyes and scrunched up his face. She had every reason to be annoyed. “Yes, of course,” he replied.

  Dulcie was silent for a moment. At the very least, she had expected him to allude to their situation. ‘But then again,’ she thought, ‘I’ve already said to Adam Johnson, to Dan, to anyone who cared to listen, that there is no situation. There was nothing between us.’ She decided to give Nick the benefit of the doubt, for the moment. “I have some time right now. Have you had supper yet?”

  Nick wasn’t expecting that question. His stomach growled. He hadn’t even had lunch. “No,” he answered simply, and again berated himself for being completely unable to put together a coherent sentence.

  “Good. If you bring over chicken fried rice and an egg roll in the next twenty minutes, I can talk.”

  “I can do that. Thanks, Dulcie.” He hung up before he said anything stupid.

  Dulcie paced around her living room for some time, trying to convince herself that she really did not need to know anything about his personal life. Her association with him was strictly business. It had to be. She went in the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. ‘Damn it!’ she thought, looking at the label. ‘Why does this have to be one that I know is his favorite?’ She thought about opening another bottle, or better yet just gulping down the glass before he arrived. But then she heard a knock at the door. ‘Too late,’ she thought.

  She peeked through the curtain and saw him standing on the porch with a large take-out bag. She swung the door open far too quickly and it banged against her foot. “Ouch!” she winced. ‘Good move, Dulcie. Very smooth,’ she admonished herself.

  Nick let out a sigh of relief. At least she had done something clumsy first and not him. ‘Good. That means she’s nervous, too. At least it helps me a little,’ he thought. “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded and gestured for him to come in. She limped behind him to the kitchen. Without thinking, Nick reached into the cupboard and took out plates. He had been to her townhouse several times, and knew where she kept things in her kitchen. He hesitated, putting them on the counter.

  “Yes, good idea,” Dulcie said, deciding to ignore his familiarity. She grabbed the bag and brought it in to the dining room table. “Want some wine?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  “I’d love some,” he answered quietly, bringing in the plates.

  Dulcie brought out another glass and poured, then topped hers off. She dished out a healthy portion of chicken fried rice and, when he had served himself, started eating. They sat in silence for several moments.

  Dulcie finished her rice, put down her chopsticks and took a sip of wine. She sat back in her chair. “So, you’re married!” she said.

  Nick closed his eyes. ‘Here it comes,’ he thought, waiting. But Dulcie said nothing more. He opened his eyes again. “Do you want the short version or the long version?”

  “What makes you think I want any version?”

  “Because you brought it up?”

  Well, he did have a point there, she thought. “Whichever version you’re up to telling, I guess.” Dulcie glanced at him. He looked horrible – very pale and twice his age. She hadn’t noticed that before. “You certainly kept it a secret,” she added softly.

  Nick exhaled a long, slow breath. “I think that was mostly denial. I hated myself for letting it happen. It was pretty much over before it started, although I didn’t know it. I did everything that my family wanted, including marry the right person according to them. I was the legacy of the family law firm, the family name. The problem was, I was completely miserable and hated every second of it. Not just the marriage, either. So I jumped ship and filed for a divorce. But it wasn’t that easy.”

  Dulcie cocked her head sideways. “Why not?”

  “Money. That’s what it always comes down to, doesn’t it? Money. I come into a trust fund when I turn thirty, which is only a few weeks away. Divorcing before that would give her very little alimony given my current wage. Divorcing after would mean that she would get half of a very large sum. So she’s been contesting and stringing it along.”

  Dulcie nodded. “Will she get away with it?” she asked, now curious.

  Nick chuckled in spite of hi
mself. “No, that she won’t. Not now. She slipped up with her indiscretions. I can close this entire situation very quickly, or so my lawyer tells me. I won’t believe it until I have the final papers.”

  “That’s smart. Nothing’s ever a done deal until it’s actually done.” Dulcie found herself sympathizing with him and tried not to. “But I can’t believe that you’re completely a victim in this entire situation.”

  “No, I’m not. That’s the worst part. I take full responsibility. I was stupid. Stupid and weak. I let everyone else decide what was right. Granted, as an only child my parents did have a lot of influence. And my soon-to-be-ex’s family and mine had been friends since before either of us was born. If I’d been a stronger person, and more clear-headed, I would have stood up to them all from the start. But I just plodded along the path that they chose.”

  “What made you stop plodding?” Dulcie asked, “What woke you up?”

  “I think it was facing the real world as opposed to school. I got married the day after I graduated from Harvard. Then I started law school a couple of months later. When I was done with that, I had to face being a lawyer, playing the game, and being a husband to someone that I didn’t love. Heck, I didn’t even like her at that point. I couldn’t imagine sitting in an office, laboring over paperwork, then going home to someone that I essentially loathed. So I applied for a job in Portland and walked away. The rest you know.”

  “Yes,” Dulcie said quietly. “The rest I know.”

  “Can I ask you, Dulcie,” he leaned forward in his chair. “What now?”

  She knew what he meant. Unfortunately, she did not have an answer to that particular question. “Now, we finish our supper and talk about Logan Dumbarton,” she said decisively.

  He sat back, looking as though he had been stung. Yes, he deserved that. He nodded, and they finished eating in silence.

  When the dishes were cleared, Dulcie told Nick everything that she knew about Logan Dumbarton, his strange sister, and his newly acquired wife. As she talked, she realized just how odd the entire situation had become. “It’s funny,” she concluded, “when you’re in the middle of it all, you roll with it and convince yourself that it’s just a difficult situation. But when you’re back on the outside looking in, you realize how strange it all is.” She looked pointedly at Nick. “You really do think that there was something odd about his death, don’t you.”