Bad Medicine (Healing Spirits)

by Jude Pittman

  “What should we do?”

  “We’re getting the hell out of here. If she was murdered the killer could still be around.”

  “Oh my God. What if he’s watching us?”

  “Be quiet. I’m calling 911 right now.”

  The boy spoke into the phone giving their location and describing the body.

  “Come on.” He pulled the girl to her feet. “There’s a driveway a couple hundred yards up the beach. The cops are going to meet us there. Let’s go.” He grabbed the girl’s hand and they ran as fast as their legs would carry them down the beach, completely forgetting their own nakedness and the fact that they’d soon be being interrogated by a team of fully dressed investigators.

  * * *

  “You were right,” Jesse said, hanging up the phone and turning to Martine. “That was Hanson. The girl they found on Wreak Beach last night was Amy.”

  “Poor kid. She didn’t deserve that.”

  “They found another Medicine Card. The crow

  [3] this time.”

  “Do you know what it means?”

  “I think it’s Law or Justice, something like that. Maybe the killer’s trying to tell us he’s above the law.”

  “Arrogant bastard. Is Lyle still in custody?”

  “He’s being released this morning. The cops found a witness that remembered seeing Lyle in the theatre Tuesday night. The witness swears that he sat two seats over from Lyle, who was alone, and neither of them left their seats during the film. The man remembered Lyle particularly because he was wearing a bear claw necklace. He asked about the necklace and Lyle told him it was a polar bear. The movie started at 8:30 and ended at 10:40. According to the medical examiner. Shannon died around nine so Lyle is no longer a suspect.”

  Martine shuddered. “I’m glad it wasn’t Lyle, and I sure hope you’re right about it being a white man. If the killer is Native our people are going to be the ones to suffer.”

  “The fact that Amy is a white girl will turn this into a witch hunt. Hanson’s going to be under so much pressure to make an arrest that everyone who knew Shannon or Amy is going to be under scrutiny.”

  Chapter Ten

  Martine accepted Jesse’s invitation to share a pizza while they brainstormed their next moves in the investigation. Things went great and Jesse was beginning to hope they might even move their relationship up a notch, when Martine told him that she intended on going to the Clayoquot sound meeting the next night. Without thinking, Jesse blurted out that it wasn’t safe and he should go in her place. That, of course, had been stupid. Martine told him in no uncertain terms that just because he’d gotten into her pants, didn’t give him the right to go all macho protective on her, and in the future there would be no more shared pizza or anything else between them. She had stormed out the door and Jesse had spent the night trying to figure out how he could get back in her good graces.

  He finally came up with a plan that called for working from home the next day. He spent the morning working, getting some phone calls out of the way and updating his reports. For lunch, he threw a burrito into the microwave and ate while he finished his notes.

  Finished with the paperwork, he put it away and headed down Commercial Drive, stopping at every flower vendor he passed and gathering paper cones filled with flowers. Next, he went to the Pottery Barn and selected a dozen vases. His last stop was the Gift Emporium, where he chose a dozen “I’m Sorry” cards. Back at his condo, he filled the vases with flowers and taped a card to each one. Getting out his master key, Jesse carried them all over to Martine’s and arranged the vases on every shelf and table in sight.

  Finished, Jesse went home to wait.

  He’d almost given up on getting a response in time to carry out the rest of his plan, when a sharp knock sounded on his door.

  Wish me luck, he addressed the Ojibway medicine man hanging on his wall, then he opened the door and had to smother his laughter.

  Martine stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes.

  “I suppose there’s an explanation for someone entering my place when I wasn’t home.”

  “I thought I smelled smoke.” Jesse kept his expression poker straight. “As your landlord it was my duty to make sure you were safe.”

  “And the flowers? I suppose you put them there to cover the smell.” Martine couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice or the twinkle out of her eyes.

  “Guilty.” Jesse wrapped her in his arms and pulled her into a crushing embrace. “I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me for being an idiot?”

  “Well…”

  “Please. I can’t stand having you mad at me. Besides, I’ve got a bribe.”

  “What?” Her eyes turned dark with suspicion.”

  Jesse smiled and opened the door wide, so she could see the table beautifully set for two with a chafing dish set in the middle. “Jambalaya.”

  “You’re kidding. You made this.” Martine approached the table and sniffed the air.

  “A Creole friend taught me. Wait till you taste it with the bannock.”

  “Bannock too. Okay, she pulled out a chair. “You’re forgiven.”

  They’d eaten their fill and then discussed various aspects of the case.

  Chapter Eleven

  Martine applied her makeup and donned her previous costume, taking care to look the same as she had when she stopped into the Java Hut. No use drawing attention to herself by leaving off the makeup.

  Martine smoothed the purple miniskirt and checked the tops of the purple suede thigh highs that completed her costume. Satisfied, she grabbed her black suede bag and hustled out the door and down the steps to Commercial Drive.

  The house behind Britannia opened into a large workroom and Diana greeted Martine as soon as she stepped through the door. Les wasn’t there and Diana explained that he was on some kind of special assignment.

  For the most part, the workers consisted of young college students, intent on making a difference to the environment. They were a lively group, excited about their cause and dedicated to equal justice for man and animal alike.

  There were mailers to be stamped, posters to be fastened onto stakes for delivery to the neighborhood and leaflets to be folded. Martine worked steadily for a couple of hours when Guthrie, who had ignored her up to this point, appeared at her elbow.

  “I have a stack of lawn signs and since you’re new and not familiar with the postage machine would you mind packing the signs into boxes.”

  Martine turned from the table where she’d been stacking posters and followed Guthrie towards a door at the back of the room. “They’re at the back of the room,” he stepped through the door and pointed to where three large boxes had been placed in front of a stack of signs If you could staple each sign to one of the stakes laying on the floor, and then pack the signs into the boxes, that would be a great help.”

  “I guess I could.” Martine followed him into the room and crossed to the boxes.

  Guthrie left closing the door behind him.

  For the next hour Martine worked steadily, stapling signs and stacking them carefully alternating the ends into the three large boxes.

  Finally, finished with the last of the signs, Martine, picked up her bag and walked towards the door, turned the handle, and pulled. It stayed closed. She took her hand and banged on the door. Silence. She banged again. Still nothing. She walked to the other end of the room and opened the door. It was a bedroom. A monstrous brass bed dominated the room.

  Martine stepped through the door, and suddenly she was grabbed from behind and flung her down on the bed.

  “No you don’t my pretty.” He pulled her arms behind her back and tied her with what felt like a leather belt.

  “Help,” Martine screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “We can’t have that now, can we?” Guthrie crooned in a high-pitched singsong voice. He flipped her over and slapped a strip of masking tape across her mouth.

  “There. Now we won’t be dist
urbed.”

  Martine bucked against the mattress, using her legs to propel herself across the bed.

  Guthrie pounced on top of her, flattening her beneath him and knocking the wind out of her lungs.

  “Feisty little thing, aren’t we.” He grabbed her legs and spread them apart. We’ll have to fix that, but first, let’s get these things off you.” While Martine threshed and bucked, Guthrie yanked her pants and panties down her legs and tossed them aside.

  Martine surged forward on the bed, flinging her bound arms, trying to smash them against Guthrie’s skull.

  He laughed and forced her back down on the mattress. Then he took a leather thong out of his pocket, and tied one of her legs to the bottom bedpost.

  Martine continued to thresh and buck, but to no avail. The more she struggled the more Guthrie laughed. He tied her other leg, then grabbed her arms and yanked them over her head.

  Gripping both arms with one hand, he released the tie binding them together. Then, mindless of Martine’s struggles to free herself, he grabbed her shirt, pulled it over her head, pulled it off one arm, then switched hands and pulled the shirt off her other arm and tossed it aside. Next he unfastened her bra and threw it after the shirt. Straddling her and pinning her arms, he removed first one and then the other arm from under his legs and tied her hands to the bedposts.

  “There, now isn’t that nice.” He leaned back and clapped his hands.

  Martine kept her eyes on Guthrie as he rose from the bed, crossed the room and grabbed a chair.

  “I want to tell you a story.” He set the chair beside the bed and reached inside a drawer in the bedside table.

  “I imagine you recognize these, you being an Indian?” He held up a deck of Medicine cards. Guthrie removed one card and laid it beside her on the bed. “The Snake,” he said, then shook his head. “No. I’ve already used that one.” He leered at Martine. “But, you know that don’t you?”

  Martine watched his hands.

  “I think this one is for you.” He took out the fox and laid it beside the snake. “You didn’t think I fell for your teenager routine did you?”

  He pulled his lips back in a creepy smile and stroked her belly.

  “I know all about you and that pretend-a-cop boyfriend of yours.” He moved his hand up to her breast. A loud buzzer sounded in the room and he pulled back his hand.

  “Sounds like we have company. I’d better see who it is, but don’t you worry, this room is soundproofed.” He gave her his evil smile and stepped out of the room.

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  He closed the door and Martine heard his key turning in the lock.

  * * *

  As soon as Guthrie closed the door, Martine went to work on her bindings. Twisting and turning, she worked the buckskin until it stretched.

  It’s a good thing that idiot doesn’t know buckskin has to be braided before it’ll hold anything.

  Freeing her hands, she pulled the bindings off her legs and grabbed her clothes from the floor where Guthrie had tossed them.

  Got to get out of here fast.

  She supposed it could be Jesse, but they’d agreed she was going to check out the meeting. He had no reason to come here, and she couldn’t take the chance that Guthrie might come back before she made her escape.

  Raising the blind covering the window, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw an inside lock. She climbed onto the mattress to reach the latch and gave it a twist, then holding her breath she shoved on the window. The wood creaked, and she stopped to listen. No footsteps. Mentally praying that whoever pressed that buzzer would keep Guthrie occupied just a little bit longer, Martine opened the window wide enough to stick her head out, slide her body around and drop down holding on by her fingertips. From what she could see the drop looked to be about three feet and she could only hope the ground was free from sharp objects.

  Here goes nothing.

  She let go and dropped, landing in the soft mud of a flowerbed. She checked her arms and legs, no sprains and no broken bones. She’d been lucky. Standing and brushing off the mud as best she could, Martine ducked her head against the driving rain and ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

  * * *

  “I must be nuts letting you drag me away from my dinner table and out into this godforsaken rain in what is probably a wild goose chase.” Mark Hanson grumbled as he and Jesse sped across the city.

  “I sure as hell hope you’re right.” Jesse spoke through gritted teeth but she said she’d be home in time for dinner, and I’ve been trying to call her since right after five, she’s not picking up and the phone’s going right to voicemail.

  “I suppose you know that this Guthrie is regarded as something of a philanthropist -- not to mention the fact that he’s a lawyer. I’m going to look like a damn fool going over there at this time of night questioning him about one of his volunteers.”

  “It’s only eight o’clock, not exactly the middle of the night. I’ve just got a bad feeling about this. Thanks for humoring me, and I promises to take the heat, if it comes to that.” Jesse led the way up the steps of the small square house almost hidden behind the main Britannia buildings.

  “I didn’t even know there was a house back here.” Hanson puffed his way up the steps.

  “Guthrie’s Clayoquot Sound Project has the right of use for five years and then it reverts to Britannia.”

  “Nice. Free land, free use, tax deduction, and a hero to the community.”

  “Won’t be so nice if he knows what’s happened to those girls and hasn’t come forward.”

  “I’ll do the knocking.” Hanson stepped in front of Jesse and rapped sharply on the door. “The guard up front said he hadn’t come out, so he’s got to be in there.” Several minutes passed with no answer, and Hanson knocked louder.

  The sound of footsteps on hardwood broke the silence, then a lock turned and a hand removed the door chain.

  Guthrie poked his head around the door and looked first at Jesse and then at Hanson. Mark pulled his badge out of his breast pocket and held it out for Guthrie to study.

  “What can I do for you Detective?”

  “I understand you had a group of young people here this evening.” Mark scanned the large room. “Do you know where they’ve gone?”

  “Home I expect, or wherever young people go when they finish work. Everyone left a couple of hours ago. I was finishing some paperwork and then I’ll be leaving myself.”

  “We’re looking for one particular girl. She’d be new to your organization, about five feet five inches, slim build, long black hair.”

  “Hell, half the girls that come here fit that description. There was a new girl here tonight. Can’t say I paid much attention. Guess she went with the rest.”

  While Guthrie and Hanson talked, Jesse paced the room. There was something bugging him – the energy was all wrong. He approached an open doorway, stepped through and looked in the direction of a closed door. He tried the doorknob. It was locked.

  “What’s in this room?”

  Guthrie stomped across the floor with Mark on his heels.

  “Now really detective, what business does this man have insider my personal quarters? I’ve been cooperative and answered your questions willingly, but that is my personal space, and I refuse to permit him to enter my private quarters. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the law.”

  “Hey, I was just curious.” Jesse stepped back from the door just as his nose caught a whiff of Opium perfume.

  Whirling around and dropping into a crouch Jesse crunched his arms flat against his body like a cannonball then using his legs as a giant spring, he catapulted through the bedroom door.

  Guthrie screeched and raced after Jesse.

  “Whhhat the Hell?” Mark sputtered as he walked through the doorway and surveyed the scene in front of him. Jesse was on the floor where he’d fallen when he crashed through and Guthrie was standing by the bed with a stupid look on his face.

  “I
smelled Martine’s perfume.” Jesse stuck out his chin. “I’d know that smell anywhere. Where is she Guthrie? What have you done with her?”

  “I have no idea what this lunatic is talking about.” Guthrie addressed Mark. “This is my private room. I stay here occasionally when I have late nights, or as was the case earlier today, when I have feminine companionship. I’m a single adult, and who I spend my time with and what I do with them is none of your business.” He aimed the last remark at Jesse.

  “As long as she’s of legal age.” Mark intercepted. “I don’t suppose you’d like to give us the lady’s name so we can confirm what you’ve been telling us.”

  “No sir. I will not.” Guthrie pressed his lips into a firm line. “The lady in question is certainly over the age of consent, and she’s a reputable member of the community. She would not appreciate having her personal business bandied about because she happened to wear the same kind of perfume as some other woman, which is apparently what precipitated this nut case’s attack on my private quarters.”

  Mark shrugged and looked at Jesse. “Can’t argue with that,” he said. “Come on, let’s go back to your place and see if she’s made her way home.”

  Jesse stood and brushed off his jeans. He was just about to follow Mark out of the room when his eye caught a glimpse of a multi-colored strap hanging down at the foot of the bed. It was obviously the strap to a woman’s bag – exactly the color of the one Martine carried, and before either man realized what he was about, Jesse grabbed the strap and yanked the bag out from under the covers.

  “And just how do you explain Martine’s purse hidden at the foot of your bed?” Jesse waved the purse in Guthrie’s face and Mark stepped forward to claim the bag.