Henry parked close to the door, grabbed the rifle from its rack behind our heads and we joined Edgar, waiting in the doorway.
The compact cedar home’s high curved windows faced Spirit Lake. Even though Edgar couldn’t see details, they let in a dazzling light on sunny days. Today wasn’t one of them, though; a thick blanket of moist air hung over the lake.
For most of his life, Edgar lived in a shack near where they’d built the new cedar home two years ago. He’d hated to leave the shack but his age and diabetes required central heating, and the Jacuzzi helped his circulation. His nose twitched.
“I brought hotdish, Edgar.”
We followed him to the kitchen. Edgar sniffed the still steaming dish. “This isn’t Little’s.”
“It’s his recipe, but Chum made it for you this time. Little’s not at the restaurant these days.”
Edgar nodded. “Thank you. Let’s sit and talk for a while.” The old guy led us to his family room and took his usual seat on the sofa. I perched on the edge of an overstuffed chair next to the fireplace, jiggling my feet. “That’s a new basket, isn’t it? It’s beautiful.”
He took the basket from his coffee table and ran his gnarled fingers over it. “My great-niece Cecelia made it for me.”
Henry brought us iced tea in tall glasses, and I told Edgar the good news about Lars, with the sheriff’s warning not to share it just yet.
Edgar said he was relieved to hear it. He cocked his head toward me as if listening, and said, “You’re not yourself. I see that fear has you in its grip.”
I hadn’t confessed my terror to Henry—it embarrassed me—but Edgar nailed it. I whined like a petulant child. “I can’t even begin to guess what’s going on here. Usually, I figure something out pretty quickly. It’s not always right, but it leads me in the right direction. This time I went after an offshoot of the World Church of the Creator group in Iona that targets gays. They might not have anything to do with us but now I’ve stirred them up and they could retaliate.”
Edgar sipped his tea. Henry stood at the window still as a slab of concrete, rifle in the crook of his arm, his almost black eyes tracking every movement outside.
My voice rose, an undertone of panic in it. “Wilcox is doing all he can but why hasn’t he found the killer?” Tears gathered in my eyes and found their way to my voice. “Edgar, this guy drowned Rock and Charley’s dog, Knute.”
Edgar set his tea on the table. “Rock’s a good companion. He’s been here many times with Gert and you.”
I sniffed, the tears still trickling. “You mean was a good companion.”
“The ancestors haven’t seen him.”
I rolled my eyes—he couldn’t see me so it wasn’t really disrespectful. “You mean on the other side.”
“It’s all one side, but most people only see their own reflections.”
“Please don’t go there today, Edgar. You know it gives me the creeps when you talk like that.” He grinned and a zillion more wrinkles surfaced. A geologist could map his face like a tree trunk.
He nodded. “Someone’s stalking you like a cat after a bird.”
I used the bottom of my tank top to wipe my eyes. “Not helping, Edgar. With all due respect, what am I supposed to do, fly away and leave my brother and Lars unprotected?”
He tried to suppress a chuckle. “You don’t have to fly away, just hop out of his reach.”
The more frustrated I became, the more it tickled Edgar, but this wasn’t funny. I jumped up from the sofa. Legs planted wide, hands on my hips, I stood over him. “I’m no sparrow who needs to keep away from the pouncing cat, Edgar. I’m a bird of prey, and the killer had better watch out. I’m about to swoop down and make him my lunch.”
Edgar clapped his hands together once. “Good. That fear you were wearing decided to go somewhere else.”
I did feel more like myself when Henry and I left shortly after. Did that old fart manipulate me?
Henry dropped me off at the hospital, and I thanked him for being my bodyguard. He laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You need anything, let me know.”
I headed inside. Grim reality returned as I walked down the too-familiar hospital corridors. Edgar hinted that Rock and Knute might still be alive, but the murderer had no problem killing a ninety-year-old man, attempting to kill a strong guy in his mid-thirties with arms bigger than my thighs, burning a man to char to keep anyone from finding out details about Charley and decapitating helpless animals just to scare us. Why wouldn’t he kill the dogs? I shivered. Why didn’t he kill me?
I peeked in Lars’ room, pleased to see that his skin looked brighter. He was on the phone with Sarah, telling her it wasn’t necessary for her to come back right away. I took Little aside and told him what Edgar said about Rock.
He said, “I’ve told you before, Edgar’s so old he doesn’t really see the difference in the two worlds.”
I nodded. “By the way, what was Chum’s problem with the stove earlier?”
“Not a big deal. I had to order another part and they’ll have to make do until it arrives.” His eyes rested on Lars. “I wanted to be there when he opened his eyes.”
“He didn’t come completely awake until you were there, Little.”
Midafternoon, Wilcox arrived to ask Lars a few questions. Little hovered, watchful and protective. I was across the room with instructions from Wilcox not to say anything. The sheriff pulled a chair close and began gentle questioning. “Do you remember where you were found?”
Lars looked down. “Little said Britt found me on the island but I don’t remember it.”
“Were you fishing over there?”
“Maybe. I have a lucky spot on the south side, an inlet. I usually check it to see if the walleye are biting.”
Wilcox set his cowboy hat on his lap. “How about telling us as much as you can remember that day.”
Lars closed his eyes. “I remember being mad at that guy, Neil. Then feeling bad for sneaking off to fish.” He looked at Little. “But it was great to do something normal for a change.”
Little patted his shoulder and Lars continued. “I put my gear in the boat and headed south to shallow water. I didn’t want to get caught in high waves if the wind picked up. Fishing’s no good and not fun in that stuff. But it can be decent over in those inlets. That’s all I remember.” Lars lifted bleak eyes to the sheriff.
Wilcox smiled. “That’s fine. We made a good start.”
I stepped forward. “Did you see any other fishermen? Maybe Neil?” Wilcox shot me a warning look and I retreated to my corner.
Lars scrunched his brows together trying to remember. “I’m sure there were a few.” He let out an anguished cry. “I don’t know.”
I paced until Little and Wilcox spoke in unison. “Stop it.”
An idea started to form. “Sheriff,” I said, “What would you think about making a statement to the paper that Lars came out of his coma and is expected to identify his assailant?”
Wilcox rubbed his chin. “To get the guy to make a move.”
Little grabbed my arm. “Are you insane?”
Wilcox pushed his hat back from his forehead. “Little, no one’s doing anything without you and Lars on board.”
I said, “We have to do something.”
Lars focused on the sheriff. “How would that work?”
The sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose. “We had a situation like this in Denver. We moved the victim to a different room, but kept the guard outside the empty one as a decoy. The killer was dressed like medical staff and came for him, and we nailed him.”
Little’s eyes shot daggers at us. “I won’t let you do this. Lars has been through too much already.”
Lars said, “I think we should try it, Little. We need to get this guy.”
Little’s mouth turned down. “It’s not foolproof.”
Wilcox said, “I don’t like it either, but it’s a controlled environment, something we won’t have once Lars is back in Spirit Lake.”
That statement settled around us. Little swallowed and nodded. “I know.”
Nurse Cranky came in and said Lars needed rest. We shuffled out to the waiting area. The sheriff said he’d let us know when he’d arranged all the details. I walked toward the exit with him.
“Anything on the stuff in that box, Sheriff?”
He kept walking. “The ring inscription read, To My Darling Gunnar. The only fingerprints Thor found on the metal box and the items inside were yours and Little’s.”
I sat with my fingers in my mouth, chomping my nails like they were corn on the cob. Now that it was going to happen, I had second thoughts about the sheriff attempting a bait and switch. I’d seen too many botched operations like this on television cop shows.
Chapter 20
The sheriff’s office had called for an afternoon press conference outside the hospital. We needed local coverage for this plan to work and I’d contacted the Branson Daily, the Cooper Weekly and a TV news affiliate. The StarTrib wouldn’t run a story on the press conference, but might use a photo from today’s event when they caught the guy.
I moved through the crowd shooting and looking for anyone suspicious. Anke stood across the street, always easy to spot because of her height. The woman showed up everywhere. Wilcox hadn’t shared what he learned from questioning her about hanging around my cabin.
Reporters shoved their mics close to the sheriff’s face. Wilcox was brief. “Jacob Lars Weinstein, co-owner of Little’s Café in Spirit Lake, who was brutally beaten on July ninth, has awakened from his coma and is able to talk. We’re meeting with him this evening and hope to obtain information leading to the identity of his assailant.”
A reporter asked, “Sheriff, did the same person who beheaded Charles Patterson and kill the lawyer here in Cooper do this thing to Lars Weinstein? We’ve also learned there’s been an increase in vandalism in Spirit Lake. Is that true?”
Wilcox glared at the him. “We’re looking into all possibilities.”
Anke pushed forward until she stood a few feet from Wilcox and leaned in, listening hard. I took her photo.
Several reporters swarmed closer and hit him with questions, but the sheriff was an old pro. He kept his cool and wrapped it up in ten minutes.
He had a harder time keeping cool with me. He jabbed a finger at me. “It’s a bad idea for you to be here. You’re one of the killer’s targets.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m hoping my camera caught someone in the crowd who didn’t belong.” I looked around to point out Anke but she’d melted away. “Want me to send my photos to you?”
A reporter bore down on him and he made a quick escape into the building, barking over his shoulder. “Send them.”
Back at the bureau, I loaded my photos onto the computer. Cynthia’s voice rose loud enough to penetrate her closed door. I cocked an ear. “Britt’s freelancing for me and I need her, Sheriff.”
Hearing her stand up to the sheriff brought a smile to my lips. Good going, Cynthia. She’d had a rough time last year with her husband so ill. She’d needed to keep her job so she’d have insurance to pay for his medical treatment, and was afraid to speak up to the corporate office or sheriff. I caused her a lot of trouble over that before learning about her husband. Sadly, he died from the illness. Marta had told me Cynthia was a tough old bird and I didn’t see it at the time. Now, the old Cynthia was back.
Their next exchange wiped off my smile. “No, Sheriff, I can’t keep her safe. Can you?”
I hurried to the hospital to join Little and begin our vigil. Little was allowed to be with Lars, but we had to be careful not to give away his location. I sat in my usual place in the waiting room watching the constant commotion of nursing staff, doctors, orderlies and volunteers performing their jobs. Wilcox said he had an undercover deputy stationed inside the area. I couldn’t tell for sure but it could be the woman sitting across from me with a magazine on her lap. Her head was down as if reading, but she looked up a lot, scanning the waiting area, corridors and desk activity.
The usual visitors came and went but I didn’t notice anyone skulking around. A kid delivered flowers and candy to the nurses’ station to be taken by the nurses or orderlies to patients, or the hospital staff as a thank-you for their good care of a loved one. I should have sent something to Connie.
Moments later, she walked over to me, holding out a box. “These chocolates were just delivered for Lars. I’m afraid he’s not allowed to have them yet.”
“Thanks, Connie.” The tag, “To Lars from the Little’s Café staff,” came from a familiar gift and candy shop in Cooper.
It was a nice gesture and I’d tell Lars about the gift, but I needed dinner and Little wouldn’t want to eat it in front of Lars. I handed it back to her. “Why don’t you have it, Connie? You’ve been so helpful.”
“Thank you. I’ll share it with the others.” She took it back to the desk, lifted the lid and offered it to the staff. She pointed to me as a nurse picked out a piece. Even if it was a re-gift, she smiled.
Nothing happened in the next hour. My screaming stomach led me to the cafeteria, where I wolfed down a bland dinner, then headed back for another session of waiting. Maybe this guy wasn’t as stupid as we’d hoped.
An hour later, my attention again flagging, I went to a vending machine for a cup of coffee. On my way back, the intercom called for doctors and nurses to come immediately to the nurses’ station outside our waiting room. Sloshing coffee, I ran through the corridor and into the middle of a commotion. Connie and a group of medical personnel swarmed around a nurse lying on the floor retching.
I darted a look at the woman who’d been sitting across from me in the waiting area. She spoke into a phone but didn’t leave her station. Hospital staff lifted the nurse onto a gurney and whisked her away. Connie took off down the hallway. I followed and squeezed through the throng. “Connie, what’s happening?”
“Two nurses and an orderly are down. Get out of the way.” I hurried toward Lars, trying not to draw attention to myself, and punched in the sheriff’s number on my cell. It went to voice mail. My heart beat in triple time as I banged on the locked door. “It’s me, Britt.” Seth, on his cell, let me in. Little jumped up from a chair. “Quiet. Lars is sleeping.”
It took a moment for my heartbeat to return to normal. “I thought the killer created a diversion so he could get to Lars. Has anyone tried to get in here?”
Seth ended his call. “No one’s been here but you. The deputy just told me what’s happening. Wilcox is on his way.” Seth kept his hand on his weapon and stood at attention by the door.
The sheriff arrived in minutes, ordered us to stay in the room with Lars and took off again. After half an hour of pacing, I left the room against Seth’s advice and found Wilcox and Thor at the nurses’ station. The sick ones had been taken to critical care. Thor bagged the partially eaten box of chocolates that had been sitting on the counter. “We think this was poisoned.”
I recognized the tag on the box and the blood drained from my face. “Sheriff, it was meant for Lars. I re-gifted it as a thank you to the staff. It came from Trudy’s Flowers and Gifts.”
He said, “Connie told us.”
I whirled around and intercepted Connie leaving a patient’s room. She tried to hurry past me but I put out my hand. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this.”
She stuttered. “Things like that are not supposed to happen on my watch.” Arms rigid at her sides, she hurried away.
I’d have preferred it if she’d blamed me. I called after her. “It was an accident.” I walked back to Wilcox and Thor, feeling responsible and wondering if the three people who were poisoned would have died if they weren’t in a hospital. In his weakened condition, Lars might have died anyway, and he would have shared the candy with Little and me.
Thor finished her work and left. I tried to follow Wilcox out the door but he commanded me to stay in the waiting room. The woman with a magazine checked me out and went back to he
r reading, or perhaps surveillance. The staff darted looks my way as they resumed taking care of patients.
Two more hours dragged by. I couldn’t stand it any longer and called the sheriff. He gave me a quick summary of what he’d learned. “We located the kid who delivered the candy. He also delivered several bouquets of flowers to the hospital. He delivers for several businesses. Deputies canvassed the flower and candy shops in town with the picture of Matthew but no one recognized the photo. And there were no reports of suspicious-looking customers.”
Not a surprise. The shops would be overflowing with tourists.
Wilcox said the chocolate was not made at Trudy’s, and many such boxes of dark chocolates had been bought that day. He told me most were cash transactions and trying to track the credit card purchases hadn’t panned out. A family bought one and ate it immediately and so on. No incidents of anyone else getting sick had been reported at the hospital.
I asked. “What kind of poison?”
“We don’t know yet. It looks like he bought the chocolates, injected poison into the bottom of each piece, rewrapped the box and waited for an opportunity to slip it into the delivery kid’s truck. We’ll know more after Thor’s finished.”
I leaned back in my hard waiting room chair, drained of ideas. “I guess our plan backfired, Sheriff.” Lars had gotten lots of flowers, plants and balloons from friends. They hadn’t sent candy until now because he’d been in a coma.
Barely containing his frustration, Wilcox said, “Frankly, a cube of chocolate was not on our list of possible threats. Seems a stretch the same guy who chain-sawed Charles Patterson’s head off could finesse this.”
A light dawned. “Sheriff, this means the guy must have revealed himself to Lars.”
“That’s right, now we know something we weren’t sure about before.”
Little sat on the sofa facing away from the nurses’ station. I dropped down next to him. He spoke barely above a whisper. “I just want our lives back again.” He looked up at me, his eyes dull. “This won’t be over until we’re all dead, will it?”
Close Up on Murder Page 18
