“Hayden’s a good man.” Squish. Squish. “Ever hear that line about a new doctor means a bigger cemetery?”
“No, I can’t say that I have.”
“In Hayden’s case it isn’t true. He’s catching on to our ways. Not like he’s some Yankee. He was raised up in Maryland. Young man, bright future.”
“Yes. We must be getting old, Larry, when thirty-eight seems young. Remember when it seemed ancient?”
Larry nodded and vigorously sprayed.“Banzai, you damned winged irritants! Go meet the Emperor.” He had been a career Army physician in World War II and Korea before returning home to practice. His father, Lynton Johnson, practiced in Crozet before him.
“I’m going to ask you to break confidentiality. You don’t have to, of course, but you’re no longer practicing medicine, so perhaps it’s not so bad.”
“I’m listening.”
“Did you ever see signs of anything unusual? Prescribe medications that might alter personality?”
“One time, I prescribed diet pills, back in the 1960’s, to Miranda Hogendobber. My God, she talked nonstop for weeks. That was a mistake. Still only lost two pounds in two years. Mim suffers a nervous condition—”
“What kind of nervous condition?”
“This and that and who shot the cat. That woman had a list of complaints when she was still in the womb. Once through the vaginal portals, she was ready to proclaim them. What put her over the top was Stafford marrying that colored girl.”
“Black, Larry.”
“When I was a child that was a trash word. It’s awful hard to change eighty years of training, you know, but all right, I stand corrected. That pretty thing was the best, the best thing that coulda happened to Stafford. She made a man out of him. Mim teetered perilously close to a nervous breakdown. I gave her Valium, of course.”
“Could she be unstable enough to commit murder?” It occurred to Rick that Mim could have slashed her pontoon boat herself, so as to appear a target.
“Anyone could be if circumstances were right—or maybe I should say wrong—but no, I think not. Mim has settled down since then. Oh, she can be as mean as a snake shedding its skin but she’s no longer dependent on Valium. Now the rest of us need it.”
“Did you treat Kelly Craycroft?”
“I checked Kelly into the drug rehabilitation center.”
“Well?”
“Kelly Craycroft was a fascinating son of a bitch. He recognized no law but his own, yet the man made sense. He had an addictive personality. Runs in the family.”
“What about hereditary insanity? What family does that run in?”
“’Bout ninety percent of the First Families of Virginia, I should say.” A wicked grin crossed his face. The spraying slowed down.
“Gimme that. I’d like to knock off a couple.” Rick attacked the beetles, their iridescent wings becoming wet with poison. A buzz, then a sputter, and then the bugs fell onto the ground, hard-backed shells making a light clinking noise. “What about Harry? Ever sick? Unstable?”
“Pulled out her back playing lacrosse in college. When it flared up I used to give her Motrin. I think Hayden still does. Harry’s a bright girl who never found her profession. She seems happy enough. You don’t think she’s the killer, do you?”
“No.” Rick rubbed his nose. The spray smelled disagreeable. “What do you think, Larry?”
“I don’t think the person is insane.”
“Fair Haristeen doesn’t have an alibi for the nights of any of the killings … and he has a motive as regards Kelly. Since he lives alone now, he says there’s no one to vouch for him.”
Larry rubbed his brow.“I was afraid of that.”
“What about cyanide? How hard is it to produce?” Rick pressed.
“Extremely hard, but a man with a medical background would have no trouble at all.”
“Or a vet?”
“Or a vet. But any intelligent person who took a course in college chemistry can figure it out. Cyanide is a simple compound, cyanogen with a metal radical or an organic radical. Potassium cyanide shuts off your lights before you have time to blink. Painters, furniture strippers, even garage mechanics have access to chemicals that, properly distilled, could yield deadly results. You can do it in your kitchen sink.” Larry watched the rain of dying beetles with satisfaction. “You know what this is all about, don’t you?”
“No.” Rick’s voice rose high with curiosity.
“It’s something right under our noses. Something we’re used to seeing or passing every day, as well as someone we’re used to seeing or passing. It’s so much a part of our lives we no longer notice it. We’ve got to look at our community with new eyes. Not just the people, Rick, but the physical setup. Bob Berryman did. That’s why he’s dead.”
42
Rick arrested Pharamond Haristeen III. He had no alibi. He was physically strong, highly intelligent, and possessed of expert medical knowledge. He bore a grudge against Kelly and vice versa. What he had against Maude Bly Modena, Rick wasn’t sure, but if he did arrest him it would be an action soothing to the press and the public. It could also ruin Fair’s life if he wasn’t the killer. He weighed that fact but arrested him anyway. He had to play safe. He also said yes to Harry’s plan. What did he have to lose, unless it was Harry? He issued her a revolver and no one except Cynthia Cooper knew Harry was now armed.
Mrs. Murphy sprawled on the butcher block in Harry’s kitchen. Rhythmically, her tail flicked up and down. Tucker sat by Harry at the kitchen table. Harry, Susan, and Officer Cooper hunched over their postcards, writing again and again, “Wish you were here.”
The phone rang. It was Danny for his mother. Susan grabbed the phone.“What is it this time?” She listened as he groaned that Dad had clicked off the TV in order to make him clean his room. Susan knew as she soaked up the litany of woes that having a teenaged child was aging her rapidly. Having a middle-aged husband sped up the process too. “Do as your father says.” This was followed by a renewed outburst. “Danny, if I have to come home and negotiate between you and your father you are going to be grounded until Christmas!” Another howl. “I’ll ground him, too, then. Go clean your room and don’t bother me. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. Goodbye.” Bang, she slammed the receiver down.
“Happy families,” Harry said.
“Having a teenaged son isn’t difficult. It’s the combination of father and son that’s difficult. Sometimes I think that Ned resents Danny growing stronger. He’s already two inches taller than Ned.”
“An old story.” Cooper reached for another postcard. Dolley Madison’s tombstone graced the front. “How many more of these to go?”
“About one hundred twenty-five. There are four hundred and two post boxes and we’re on the home stretch.”
“Why so few?” Susan asked.
“You want more?” Cooper was incredulous.
“No, I don’t want more, but there are three thousand residents of Crozet, by my count.”
“Rest of them didn’t buy post boxes. Most of my people are right in town itself.” Harry’s index and middle fingers began to hurt.
As the three women continued to scribble Mrs. Murphy opened a cupboard and crawled in.
Tucker hated that she couldn’t climb around like the cat.“Don’t go in there. I can’t see you if you do.”
Mrs. Murphy stuck her head out.“I like to smell the spices. There’s an aromatic tea in here that reminds me of catnip.”
“Nothing up there that smells like a beef bone, I guess?”
“Bouillon cubes. They’re in a package. I’ll get them out.” She examined the package.“I’m sorry we couldn’t sniff Bob Berryman. Wonder if that smell was on him?”
“I doubt it. Bullet did him in. I’ve checked out everyone that comes into the post office just in case that smell would be on them—you know, like something in their work. Rob smells like gas and sweat. Market smells delicious. Mim drenches herself in that noxious perfume. Fair reeks of horsesand medicine. Little Marilyn’s hairspray makes my eyes water. Josiah smells like furniture wax plus his after-shave. Kelly smelled like concrete dust. Their smells are like their voices, individual.”