“Not because of guilt, but because it’s a natural reaction. We all… react in some way when we’re accused, even if we didn’t do it. In this case, it’s that fear that there might be something going on. I’d imagine he’s thinking, ‘what if I’m wrong and there is something to all this? When they exhume the body, they’ll find poison and they’ll blame me’.” Hymn raised fingers as he counted and peered straight at Hannah. “One, he’s been denying there was something going down, which makes him look like he’s trying to throw off the scent of the hound.” He pointed to his wife before he continued with his action. “Two, it has to be clear to him that, whatever is going on, centers on him and/or Mudbug. Three, this is all out of his control. Remember what I told you about him? He’s always in control. This is enough to send anyone over the edge, but a guy like Calvin…” Hymn paused, lifted his hand and placed it on Hannah’s shoulder. “Someone attacked the woman he loves. Adores, even. If it were me, I’d be more than upset. I would be downright pissed, in particular at myself for not protecting you.” He leaned over and kissed Hannah’s forehead. Pulling back, he added, “That’s what I make of it.”
Hannah considered Hymn’s argument. “Scent of the hound. Did you just call me…”?
“No!” Hymn threw his hands up in a defensive measure. “Hound, as in bloodhound. If I called that, it would make me…”
“Right, we’ll leave it at that, mister.” Hannah pulled him forward for a quick make up smooch. “Okay, I can see that. I told Dr. Holmes and Sheriff Borden I didn’t think he was guilty, but I couldn’t wrap my head around Calvin’s reaction. Everything up until that point was anger, frustration, and passive-aggressive denial. Then, he just hesitated and swallowed hard at the mention of exhumation. But what you said makes some sense.” Set it aside for now, she added in a thought. She glanced down at her phone. “It’s some time before I have to meet up with Rhoades.” The sleuth looked over to Whipson, who yet again prayed as he sat in the waiting area. “You think we could talk him into some food? He needs to keep his strength up.”
“Until he sees Mudbug, he won’t move.”
“And you’re not going to move until he does, I suppose.”
Hymn gave a meek smile and threw his hands half up as if caught.
“Well, I’ll go back to the cafeteria and bring both of you something. What does he like?”
A large, appreciative smile came to Hymn as he drew Hannah up to his chest. “Love you, Sherlock. Thanks for understanding.”
“Love you too, Sweet Face. That’s what we do now. We’re a team. They mean a lot to you, so they mean a lot to me. I’ll be back in just a bit. You want something?”
“Not that hungry at the moment.”
“The Reverend’s not the only one who needs to keep his strength up. All this will end soon and then there’s that honeymoon to attend to. I have plans for you.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“I do.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“And I meant it.”
Hannah gave her husband a kiss and yet again headed back toward the elevators. Per usual, her mind drifted to the case. Doing so, a wave of frustration fell over her. Her instincts told her she had all the pieces to the puzzle, all the players in the game, but she had yet to sort it or them out. As she waited for the elevator with a young couple, she tried to focus but found it hard to do so. Too much was happening around her at a time, when she wanted nothing more than to wrap the case up and get on with her life. Her honeymoon with Hymn hung over her. Dreams of their life together. A future unwritten, to date, unrealized. But her promise to Whipson drove her forward and at the same time, grounded her in the present. You made a promise. Keep it. Solve it. Pick through it.
After a moment of sorting through the various details, Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose. Still missing something, she determined. Then, the words of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle speaking as Sherlock Holmes came to mind. “The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.”
Hannah turned her focus in that direction after stepping onto the elevator. If it’s all here, I’m missing something obvious, but what? She gave herself a quick rundown of her suspects, both believable and unbelievable. First on her list was Ms. Lindsay, the candy shop owner. Hannah rolled her eyes, chastising herself for even considering the possibility. No connection other than her husband, and his death doesn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary. No dice. Next was Whipson. Again, she reprimanded herself for even looking at him. Too ill. Still sane. Too upset. No killer. Susan was out unless her health incident turned up unrelated or a plea of help, as was Wessel, unless she misread the situation. That left only three possibilities. Calvin, Janus, and Rhoades, the sleuth listed. Calvin remained suspect, but only in the slightest manner to her. He seemed to care for his wife as well as the Reverend. Hannah further noted that although reluctant at first, he did agree in the end to their request to look further into his life, despite his reaction to the threat of exhumation of bodies.
As the doors opened, Hannah’s quirk presented itself. After stepping out, she moved to the side and contemplated. Father Janus stayed in Twilight after the wedding. Susan got ill this morning. Her eyes widened as she twisted her lips and pulled her cheeks in. “Rhoades is at work,” she let out half aloud.
Stepping out into the hallway, she turned toward the cafeteria. Along the way, she saw the center’s gift shop, which she had missed before. Glancing through the glass pane of the storefront as she passed by, she saw a woman looking over a large stack of candy gift boxes. Hannah stopped to observe. Spur of the Moment, she noted as she read the display sign and recognized the containers. Ms. Lindsay’s. In that moment, she realized she had made the erroneous assumption that all the candy came from the store in Happiness. Now, she understood it could have come from at least two locations. Maybe more, she speculated. With that, Hannah entered the shop and approached the woman at the counter whom she recognized from reception. Wormwood. The woman smiled as she approached.
“How is Dr. York?” Wormwood inquired.
“Stable for the moment. You sure get around. I thought you worked reception?”
“Oh, I’m all over the place. Reception some.” She gave a pleasing smile. “I’m an old candy striper all over the hospital as well. A volunteer. Wherever I’m needed. It keeps me busy since my husband passed.”
Hannah winced a little. “I’m so sorry.”
Wormwood waved the comment off. “Well, thank you dear. That’s sweet, but these things happen as we age. It’s to be expected. Sometimes when we’re not that old. That’s when it hurts the most. To those we love. It happens and we never know why. Other times, we just have to suffer through them and think there’s an opportunity to amend things thereafter.”
There was a brief time of awkward silence between the older woman and the younger sleuth. Wormwood’s awkward, lingering smile unnerved Hannah, reminding her that at some point she might have to face the same with Hymn. Although in all probability it would be far in the future, something about the comment struck a chord with her. The idea that she might somehow be separated from her new husband sent chills down her spine. She stiffened and took a step back before responding in a manner meant to redirect the conversation.
“You know this place in and out then, I take it.”
Wormwood gave a quizzical smile. “I do.”
Hannah pointed to the stack of candies. “Is this and the store they come from the only place to get these?”
The woman gestured no. “They’re pretty much exclusive to Happiness, but you can find them all over the place around the community: the store, Spur of the Moment, of course, here, the restaurant downtown called Rod’s, and the pharmacy. I think even Colonel Hawthorne sells them at the Vets museum.” Wormwood gave a gingered laugh. “But between you and me, I think he buys and eats most of them himself.” She straightened her work apron with the word Happiness embroidered across it. The large letters were
emblazoned in a rainbow of colors.
“Pristine,” Hannah noted and added to her file on the woman. Taking the small shop in, she noticed no other forms of candy. “Is this the only kind you sell?”
“Pretty much. We used to have the usual kinds. Candy bars, chews, and such, but after a while, everyone seemed to prefer these. It just made sense to sell them and let everyone get the others from the vending machines.”
Another broad smile mounted Wormwood’s face. “Would you like to take some to Dr. York? She loves them. They might make her feel better.”
Hannah stiffened at the woman’s words. She knew the older lady meant nothing by the sentiment, but the thought sent another chill down her spine. “You say she likes them?”
“Oh, yes, she comes in here every few weeks it seems and buys a small box.”
Hannah turned back to examine the stacked boxes. She found that some held specific types of candies: petit fours, fudge, and other small treats. Others were of a mixed variety. One kind in particular caught her attention. Lemon cake petit fours. Small box. For the Reverend, Hannah thought as a smile ran across her face. She picked up a box of that variety. “These?” she inquired, holding up a box.
Wormwood pointed to the stacks of boxes on the display table and wiggled her finger. “No. Just a mixed assortment like those on the left.”
Again, Hannah stiffened. She set the box down and picked up the small box. It was the same as the one she found in Victoria West’s room earlier that day. Thoughts rushed her mind. So much so, she had to close her eyes to slow the speed at which they came. After a second, she steadied herself enough to produce a pleasant face. She laid the box on the counter and paid for it.
Wormwood cocked her head a slight bit to the right as she rang up the sale. “Are you alright, dear? You’ve gone a bit pale.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, just worried about my friend. Hope she gets the chance to enjoy these.”
“I’m sure she will. Her husband’s looking after her now. He’s a fine doctor. Both are. Quite generous with their patients. If you’re suffering, they’re the ones to see. Everyone here just loves them, and of course, I’m sure the good Reverend is doing all he can for his granddaughter as well. It’s just part of his nature now to help, isn’t it? I’m sure you’re aware, he’s quite fond of her. All this must be a terrible burden. He must be suffering so.”
“He is.”
“Would you like this gift wrapped? I may be getting older but I can still wrap things up with the best of them. It gives it that personal touch.”
“That won’t be necessary, but thanks anyway. You have a good day. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will, dear,” the woman said.
Moments later, Hannah was in the cafeteria with bag in hand. As she stood in line at the deli counter section waiting for her order, she could not help staring at the box. A great deal of what Wormwood said played repeatedly in her mind. Comes in every few weeks and buys a box. Mixed variety. If you’re suffering, they’re the ones to see. Her hand came to cover her mouth. Obvious things again played through her thoughts. In an instant, doubts came to her. She wondered if she had been overlooking the obvious. Though she had considered Susan as an accomplice to Calvin, she now wondered if it were the reverse. If, perhaps, he were submissive to her. If he was aiding her somehow. Susan bought the candy. The same sweets that Hannah had found in Wessel’s office. She was in the victim’s rooms in every case, albeit along with her husband. The same type box she found in West’s room where Susan collapsed. Could she have, by accident, eaten a poisoned petite four or piece of fudge left for West? Perhaps she knew that with Holmes at her side, she had a good chance at survival and ate one on purpose. Thereby, any suspicion would be offset. It would be a bold move. A risky one, but anyone unstable enough to poison might be willing, she considered. The question Hannah had to answer was would it be one Susan would take. A question for Hymn. The idea made her wince. Given his resistance to her considerations of Calvin, she knew full on any such consideration of Mudbug would be more so. She sighed and paid little attention as the man behind the counter handed her two sacks.
“Well, this is going to suck,” she mumbled half aloud thinking the situation over.
The older man behind the counter produced an incredulous face. “It’s not so bad. I mean, its hospital deli but it’s still deli fresh. I guarantee.”
The man’s comment brought Hannah to the moment. She sized him up. Late 60s. 5’10” to 5’11”, Heavy set. Grey hair with remaining hints of black. Dark eyes. Hannah blushed. “Oh, no, sorry. I wasn’t… I mean, I’m sure it is. I was thinking about something else.”
The man smirked. “Eh, forget about it. It happens about two or three times a week anyways. No big deal.”
New York Bronx Italian accent, she added to her profile.
She glanced behind the man at his mounted menu. In the lower corner, spelled out in small letters, were ‘we cater.’
A thought crossed Hannah’s mind. “You cater. Can I ask you a question about that business?”
“Insult my food, then you want to ask me a question. You got to love the south.” The man gave a gregarious laugh. “Sure, sweetheart, why not? Ask away.”
“I assume you serve your food on platters.”
“Sure. How else would we?”
“If someone wanted to prank someone or surprise them, say put a ring in a piece or something nasty like jelly in a pastrami roll up, how would you make sure the person they wanted to get it, got it?”
The man shrugged. “Like a wedding proposal or something like that?” He scratched the back of his head. “Don’t know. You’d have to either dose them all, which would be pretty expensive if it were a proposal given all them rings. Or hand them that one in particular, maybe on a separate plate or something.” He studied the sleuth. “You thinking of joking on someone, cause that’s a strange question?”
Hannah grinned. “I’m a strange girl.”
Taking in her top hat, the man nodded. “Yeah, I kind of got that. You have yourself a nice day now, lady.”
“You do the same.” With that, Hannah headed back.
Chapter Eighteen
When Hannah arrived back in the waiting area, she found Hymn sitting alone, head thrust back against the wall, and sleeping. She awoke him with a kiss on the forehead.
“Hey you,” she said, offering her husband one of the deli bags. “Where’s the Reverend?”
“Back with Mudbug. She hasn’t woken yet but they think she’ll recover.” Hymn looked at Hannah with a concerned expression. “They’re testing for long term damage.”
Hannah took in his pain and nodded. He’s hurting. “Is she awake?”
Hymn shook his head. “Not yet, but Calvin said that was normal.” He ran his hand over his head and through his hair. “As if any of this is normal.” He reached in the bag and removed a sandwich, a soda, and some chips. Studying the sandwich as he did so, he looked over it toward Hannah. “So, where are you now? I know you’ve been thinking it over. Still thinking Calvin?”
Hannah shrugged. She was not sure she wanted to breach her considerations of Susan with Hymn just yet. It would upset him further, even though both he and she had agreed to the terms of the investigation. Yet, another part of her felt that, by keeping secrets now as they were married, was wrong. She decided to approach the subject from a distance. “Among others. There’s a lot to consider, and I won’t know much for sure until after I talk with Rhoades. Which reminds me, I need to call Cate and keep her updated.” Taking one of Hymn’s chips, she examined it as she talked. “Are you going to call Magdalen? I’m sure she’d want to know.”
“Already have. She’s coming down.”
“How?”
“Rent a car I guess. She didn’t say. Just that she would get here.”
“What about Hazelnut?”
“Your grandparents will look after her. She’ll be fine.”
Hannah acknowledged w
ith a few bobs of her head. “Gigantor will love having her around. Casper, not so much,” she said, recalling Gran and Papa Jay’s dog and cat. She glanced over to Hymn. “Sorry for all this. This is not how I imagined our honeymoon.”
Hymn half laughed. “It’s pretty much dead on what I expected.”
The sleuth reached out to swat at her husband’s arm. “Oh, you, come here,” she said, reaching out to pull him by the shirt toward her. She shared a kiss with him. Leaning back, she added, “It’s coming, mister, and when we get there, boy, are you going to get it.”
“That’s the plan,” Hymn said with a grin.
Hannah’s mouth fell open with a mixture of amusement and shock. “You are a bad man,” she summed up with a grin. “A bad, bad man indeed.”
After chatting with Hymn and waiting for Whipson to return, Hannah fell asleep on her husband’s shoulder. When she awoke, it was just before four in the afternoon. The Reverend was just settling into a chair opposite the two, with the help of Calvin. Hannah rubbed her eyes and yawned before stretching. “How is she?”
Calvin gave a concerned but appreciative look. “Still not awake but she’s stable for now.” He paused and took a long, slow breath before letting it go. “She appears to have sustained some damage to her heart. That friend, the cardiologist I told you about is flying back in early from vacation. When he gives the all clear, we’re transporting her to University of Alabama in Birmingham Medical Center. He has a friend, a surgeon, who’ll oversee the implantation of an internal cardioverter defibrillator. It’s a device to regulate her heart and uh…” He leaned back with a worrisome expression as he ran his hand over his jaw. “Well, it’ll be there if this happens again.”
Hannah leaned forward in her seat, placing her elbows on her knees. She peered straight at Calvin. “Do you expect it to happen again?”
The physician gave a noncommittal shrug. “I didn’t expect it to happen now. I guess no one does, but she’s been fine otherwise. We had ourselves checked out just last month for insurance purposes.” He glanced between the Reverend, Hymn, and Hannah. “And we were trying for a baby.” He turned to look to Whipson. “We wanted to let you know before…” His words trailed off as tear welled in his eyes.
The Priest Who Ate A Poison Petit Fore Page 15
