Hannah shook her head as she recalled a conversation years before with Papa Jay. He was teaching her to flip burgers and giving her one of his usual life lessons at the same time. “Promises are like burgers,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Easy to make, but hard to keep once made.” He flipped a burger onto a bun and handed it off to Gran, who then served it. Looking into his granddaughter’s eyes, he assumed a stern disposition. “Don’t promise unless you mean it. Don’t stop until you’ve done it. No matter what the cost, it’s a deal, and deals mean fulfillment. They’re not meant for breaking.” With that, he scuffed his young granddaughter’s head.
The sleuth ran her hand across the top of her head, half in remembrance. “No,” she insisted, “I made a promise to get answers and I will. We’re missing something. Maybe someone, but I’ll find it. You can bet good money on that.”
Hymn half laughed. “Only a fool would take that bet. I know you’ll figure it out. Just tell me how I can help.”
Hannah gave him a loving smile. “Just having you by me helps. It keeps me straight. Now, to home, Watson. The game’s afoot.”
The following day, the majority of the guests arrived. Hannah, with the help of Cate and Hymn, attempted to greet all. They went between Finchely’s and the resort. By the time the rehearsal neared, she was exhausted. She lay back into the couch at Hymn and her apartment. Hazelnut took the opportunity to curl up in her lap for some love.
“Cancel the wedding. I’m spent,” Hannah declared.
“No can do, girl, time to hit the shower. Get relaxed and get into some jeans. We’re meeting at the ballroom. The boys are meeting us there. Where are they, anyway?”
“They’re all at Clancy’s Pool Hall. They’re not having a bachelor’s party, just a guy’s final beer thing.”
“Boys. Anyway, when they’re done, Al said he’d pick us up. He’s supposed to be here in…” She paused to look at her cell. “An hour.” Cate smirked. “So, we get to pick up your parents at the station first. Where’s Hymn going to be?”
“He’s meeting up with the Reverend and company at the resort.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t fly them in.”
“I would have, but Calvin didn’t want to subject him to atmospheric changes.”
Cate frowned. “He’s getting worse.”
Hannah rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. “He is, by the second, and we’re not any closer to giving him some relief than before.”
The librarian sighed. “Honey, you may not be able to. At least not before…” Her words trailed off. She looked to Hannah, who held a concerned face. Rather than put further pressure on her best friend, she tried to divert the conversation back to the present. “Anyway, your parents. Hymn’s not met them yet, has he?”
“Nope. He spoke with them once. Mom asked him several inappropriate questions for research purposes.”
“Not surprising. And your father?”
“He wanted to make sure there was going to be cake. He also wants to meet the dog. But he was satisfied when I told him there would be wedding cupcakes instead of the traditional cake.”
“He does love cake.”
“And dogs. And cats. Animals in general.”
“Does he still have that ritual thing he does?”
Hannah affirmed. “It changes a bit now and again, but he’ll always be OCD. The medications work some, but not to the greatest extent.” Obsessive-Compulsive, Hannah thought. Ritual. A pattern. What’s the pattern? Look for the pattern. She shot straight up from her relaxed position.
“Patterns,” she said aloud.
Cate rolled her eyes. “Just one minute. You can’t go one minute, can you?”
Hannah sat up at the edge of the couch, hands forward and splayed with enthusiasm. Hazelnut jumped down at the excitement, turned, and sat looking at the gesturing sleuth.
“Woof.”
“I’ve not been thinking things through. We’re looking for a pattern.”
“Well, duh, and there is one. Killer finds a dying victim and kills them.”
“No, I mean we’ve not gone deep enough. My head has been so scattered with the wedding, I’m letting the obvious slip past me,” she said, rolling her hands for added emphasis. “Dad has a ritual for everything, from eating his cake to changing his clothes. It’s his tic. His quirk.”
“Runs in the family.”
“Whoever is doing this, I’m betting they have a ritual. I wasn’t wrong about the chocolates. That’s just part of the ritual. They give them candy as part of the comforting ritual, and then poison them.”
Cate crossed her arms. “So we’re back to Mrs. Lindsay? Is that what you are saying?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so, though she may be playing an unofficial part in it all. She’s just the only local candy shop. Her shop makes for easy access, but the poison delivery system may not be the candy.”
Cate leaned back and twisted a curl of her dark, coarse hair. “Alright, say you’re right. How does this info lead us to your killer?”
“We find out who she sold the candy to.”
“Woof.”
“I’d imagine the woman sells a lot since this is a small community. Old folks like sweets. There’s no guarantee she’d remember or keep records for that matter.”
“Woof.”
After a moment, Hannah settled back again into the couch.
“Either way, we’ve got to find out. I’ve placed candy boxes at two death scenes. I’ll look through those records and ask the nursing staff if they remember seeing any at the other victim’s rooms. Then maybe one will remember who dropped it off.”
“Woof.”
“And just when do you plan on doing this, miss? I’m fixing to get married?” Cate then pointed to Hazelnut. “And not another comment from you, little miss.”
“Woof.”
Hannah frowned and began to roll her tongue. Cate intervened.
“Uh uh. No. Period. Your wedding. Your honeymoon. You focus on that.”
The sleuth cocked her head and stared at Cate. To the librarian, it seemed almost as if the words did not make sense to her friend. Before Hannah could respond, Cate threw her hands into the air.
“Don’t even try to justify what you’re about to say.”
Hannah produced a weak smile. “Before the wedding or after the honeymoon?”
“Good luck with that one,” Cate said, shaking her head all the while. She rose and pointed at Hannah. “That man, he’s a saint to put up with you. Where’s he taking you, by the way? Did he ever say?”
“Nope.”
“Not even a clue?”
Hannah glanced down to Hazelnut. “Just that we could leave her with someone or take her with us.”
“There’s your answer. He’s taking you to a doggy spa.”
Both women laughed.
“Well, I just hope Hymn got a refundable ticket. Cause heaven knows you aren’t going until you get this out of your system.”
Hannah crossed her arms in protest. “We’re going. I just have to get to the bottom of it that’s all.”
“If he has any sense, he’ll take you and little miss here to Happiness.”
“That’s not my idea of a honeymoon.”
Cate gave a slow nod. “Neither is taking the dog along, but that’s my point. I doubt it’s his either. I think he’ll have his mind on other things, if you know what I mean. I might be wrong, but I’m pretty sure he’d like you to as well.”
Hannah sighed. “Yeah, it’s just hard. You know me. It’ll bug me.”
“Uh huh, I know, and that’s why I got you something.” Cate stepped to the door and picked up a bag she had brought along. She pulled a wrapped package and handed it to Hannah. Taking it, Hannah glanced it over with excitement before tearing into it like a giddy child. Reaching the box beneath, she opened it. Her eyes widened.
“Are you serious?”
Cate smiled and shrugged. “I figure this will keep him occupied with you, which will
keep you occupied with him. Then maybe you will focus on what’s important. I think it fits, don’t you?”
“Woof,” Hazelnut commented.
Chapter Twelve
The rehearsal went as expected. Everyone arrived without incident. Ed, Hymn’s son, arrived with his new girlfriend, Edwina, from college. Hannah’s grandparents took an instant liking to their new step great grandson. Papa Jay took a particular shine to Edwina, who was a Navy ROTC candidate. Speaking with Hannah about Ed, Gran said, “He’s a sweetheart. If only I could hold him, feed him, and burp him.” Hannah responded by rolling her eyes.
Vera showed up with her father, food critic Louie Woolridge in tow. Her boyfriend, Malcolm Bernard, came with Louie. They brought with them Louie’s Bull Mastiff named Critic. The hound’s particular love for Hannah came with an endless supply of licks and love.
Hannah’s parents, Mikael and Skylar Starvling arrived on time at the train depot earlier. They had taken several flights and various other forms of transportation from the jungles of the Amazon. The archaeologists brought along their particular form of social interactions to the run through. This was much to the chagrin of their put upon daughter. Skylar, a specialist in fertility rights of ancient cultures, dragged out several items for her daughter.
“So you can have an enjoyable experience during the nuptial aftermath.”
“Nuptial aftermath?” Hymn inquired of Hannah in a whisper.
“Honeymoon,” Hannah explained. “Just take what they hand you. Smile, say thank you, then you hide it quickly.”
When Skylar handed Hymn a small wooden figure wearing a mask and sporting definite male attributes, he stood wide-eyed. Everyone was silent as he struggled to find words. After a moment, an appreciative, if not forced, smile came to him. “Thank you,” He managed. “I don’t know what…”
“You put it at the foot of the bed during intercourse. He’s said to keep men aroused and women fertile.”
“Oh,” Gran interjected, “do you have a few more?”
“Gran!” Hannah issued in exasperation.
The elder Starvling threw her hands up in a ‘what’ gesture.
Skylar reached in her bag and produced a small box. “That reminds me. I also have Sao Goncal Pastries for you, dear.”
The anthropologist started to open the box. Much to everyone’s disappointment, Hannah stopped her mother.
“We’ll… open them on our honeymoon,” Hannah said, turning blush red.
After a few more embarrassing moments, the sleuth ushered everyone into the ballroom. Hymn pulled her aside. “What’s in the box?”
“Cakes.”
“Cakes?”
“Of a particular shape. Legend has it they induce fertility.”
“Cake?” Mikael interjected. “Is there cake? If so, I’d like some.”
Hymn started to speak but thought better of it.
Once under way, everyone performed his or her roles as expected. Father Janus stood to the rear of Reverend Whipson, passing along to him the various items needed for the ceremony. Though she had not planned it as such, Hannah thought this arrangement well suited the ceremony. It allowed Whipson to fulfill a remaining wish while giving his successor something to do.
Susan sat ready with a cup full of water to pass to her grandfather should he begin coughing. Between each run through, Calvin asserted the Reverend sit and rest. Hannah, Hymn, and Magdalen all took time to check on the man. Though he appeared tired, he insisted on continuing along. At one point, he sat alone talking with the sleuth.
“I haven’t found anything definitive,” Hannah admitted, “even though I’ve considered many possibilities. I know you wanted me to find something that dismissed Susan and Calvin, but I haven’t. Not just yet, anyway. I’ll keep digging. I wish there were more.”
Whipson smiled. “Just knowing you’re working on it, that’s enough. I know they didn’t do it. You’ll figure out who, whether I’m still here or not. I know that. So it’s okay.” He reached over and patted Hannah’s hand. “These other possibilities. Can I ask who?”
“I’m still checking into a few things, but for starters, one I was, and still am considering is Brother Wessel.”
The elder clergyman drew his face in. It was clear to Hannah that he was contemplating the idea. “Hmm, I wouldn’t have thought even to consider him. But, again, that’s why I’m relying on you. I’m tainted to those I know. I just see the good in them, no matter whether it’s there or not.”
“Well, he was a biochemist and a nurse, and given we think someone poisoned the victims, and they all had terminal illnesses, he had means and method.”
“But why?”
Hannah lifted her shoulders once and dropped them. “That’s where we run into a problem. It could be a particular psychosis. He could have thought he was doing them a favor. Sparing them suffering. Or he could have enjoyed the chaos of a sudden death. Maybe something else.”
The elder man cupped his chin and rubbed his jaw.
“Can I offer a consideration?”
“Of course, I welcome it.”
Whipson shifted himself in the chair in which he sat. He coughed once before he expounded. “Let me say first, it’s just an opinion, of course. Time may prove me wrong, but I doubt Richard had anything to do with this. You see, that just doesn’t make sense. He was a member of an offshoot order built around Carmelites. Their basic tenant is that of contemplation, but Richard’s particular order felt contemplation by way of suffering was necessary to unify with God. Killing someone to end their misery would have gone against the grain of everything he believed in.”
Hannah twisted her face in contemplation. “But even that doesn’t make sense. If he believed in suffering, then why become a nurse? Their purpose is to ease pain.”
Whipson bobbed in agreement. “It is, but while performing his duties, Richard proselytized to the patients. He urged them to fight pain by using holistic’s and contemplate on their sins through suffering. It was his consideration that it was their way to redemption.”
Hannah grimaced. “There’s no logic in that. How does someone go from being a biochemist headed for a PhD, to a man who requires suffering for forgiveness? Biochemists seek cures through reason. What drove him to this?”
“When he was seventeen, Richard decided to find his real father and mother. He found her only to discover that she died in childbirth, but his father…”
Whipson shook his head.
“Now that man is what people refer to as a real piece of work.”
The clergyman cleared his throat as he assumed a stern look.
“His name was Simon Pobot. He was a physician and scientist, and also an atheist. He was verbally abusive to anyone whom he felt was beneath him, which was everyone. He was a man with enough mental acuity to make most people wince at his acid tongue, and he spared no one. He took an immediate dislike to the fact that his son had sought him out. As Richard recalled it, his father had gone to great lengths to forget about him. Now, he stood before him.”
Hannah studied the clergyman as he spoke of Wessel. There was a sadness about the man as he recalled not just an acquaintance, but also a friend. Fondness, she thought. Mentor to student. Maybe as brothers of a sort.
Whipson shifted his position to face the sleuth. Through a strained smile, he continued.
“Well, Richard’s hoped for reunion with his father didn’t go well. Father and son parted ways just as quickly as they had come together. Richard went to school and made something of himself. One day, his father calls and says that he is ill. He has Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. It is a genetic disorder, rare. He needs help and has no one else to turn to, so Richard drops out of school and moves to D.C. where he found him. He planned to return to school once everything was over with.”
“You’re right. He does sound like a piece of work.”
Whipson agreed before continuing. “One of the symptoms of the illness is a change in neurology. Dementia came but something happened along
the way for Simon. He got sweeter. Nothing to do but wait it out to the end. But during those months, Richard saw his father change from hateful to kind. Somewhere during that time, the physician began to pray. It gave him a sense of relief though nothing could be done for the physical aspect of pain. When he died, Richard came to believe that his father’s suffering had saved him from the true pain of a life without God. He found his order, joined, and as they say, the rest is history.”
For a moment, the clergyman studied the sleuth as she considered all that he had espoused. Hannah pondered every aspect of the story and compared it to what little she knew at the moment. To her mind, if what the Reverend said was true, then the likelihood of it being Wessel was slim to none.
“Well, that does suggest he didn’t do it.” Hannah pulled her eyes up to meet Whipson’s, “It does nothing to clear Susan and Calvin.”
The Reverend glanced over to where Susan and Calvin sat talking with Buster, Magdalen, and Will. He assumed a harsh visage. “I know.”
Taking in where he was watching, Hannah took hold of his hand. “Hey now, don’t lose faith. It’s just a matter of finding the right piece of the puzzle, and then it will all come together.”
Whipson agreed with a half-hearted smile. “Look at you, young miss. I’m the one whose job is to provide faith. You bucking for my job?”
Bucking for my job, rolled through Hannah’s mind. Her eyes moved across the room to Father Janus. The man sat talking with her parents and grandparents. The wide-eyed expression on his face and the wild gesturing of her mother led her to conclude one thing. Skylar was discussing something inappropriate in her usual, socially awkward manner. Gran too had a disturbed, uncomfortable look. Papa Jay stared half amused through the narrowed slits of his aged eyes. Her father paid no attention to anything as he shoveled petit fours into his mouth. Cate, who was chatting with Al and Hymn, glanced up to catch her eye. The librarian thumbed at Hannah’s mother and gave a sardonic smile.
“Oh no,” Hannah exclaimed as she rose from her seat.
The Reverend turned to see the action. “Something wrong?”
The Priest Who Ate A Poison Petit Fore Page 10
