Heaven Preserve Us (10 page)

"I'll be happy to. And I'm Sophie Mae. Reynolds," I added,
since Tootie hadn't mentioned my last name. Which, come to
think of it, was a little odd, since Tootie was a stickler for good
manners.

Tootie's eyebrow raised just a fraction. "Betsy," she said, "is
Andy Maher's mother."

It was the first time I'd ever heard Cadyville's Police Chief, Andrew Maher, called "Andy." I grinned, delighted at Tootie's resourcefulness. "Really. You must get to hear some fine tales from
your son.

Betsy Maher's brown eyes twinkled. "He does manage to provide me with a certain amount of entertainment. Sometimes it's
hard to get him to tell me the really juicy stuff, though. If he had
his way, I'd only get to hear about kittens being rescued from trees
and commendations for bravery." She winked. "Luckily, he doesn't
usually get his way, and I also get to hear about the woman who
whacked her husband over the head with his own bowling ball."

This time I was the one raising my eyebrows. Betsy Maher was
a pistol all right.

Tootie settled back in her chair and took a sip from the steaming cup of tea that had been sitting at her elbow. "In fact, Andy is
going to be coming to visit this morning. He should be here any
minute now."

"Is that so?" I asked. And we exchanged another look.

"Maybe you should tell me what it is you'd like to find out,
before he gets here," Betsy said.

I blinked. "Um ..."

"Oh, now, come on, dear. I know that's why you're here. And
I'm willing to play my part, as long as I get to find out the good
stuff, too."

Tootie laughed, and after a couple of seconds, so did I.

"Well," I said. "There was a death yesterday. Philip Heaven. Did
you know him?"

Betsy rolled her eyes. "I never had the pleasure personally, but I
certainly did know of him-chock full of promises and not a leg to
stand on when it came to following up on any of them. Put a few
people around here in pretty bad straits as a result"

That reiterated what I'd heard from other quarters, but I felt
kind of bad dissing poor Philip now that he was dead. Couldn't
quite come to his defense, either. I satisfied myself by saying, "Yes,
well, he had a good heart; it's just that some of his ideas were too
big to implement as he imagined."

Tootie snorted. Betsy shook her head. I wondered if the taboo
against talking ill of the dead became easier to break as more and
more of the people you knew died. I got the feeling just being dead
wasn't enough to get you off the hook with these two.

I continued. "Well, he got sick all of a sudden, and it's possible
he was exposed to botulism. Someone else I know, and, um, care
about is also ill, and it's because of botulism, although whatever
amount he happened into was obviously a smaller dose than what
I suspect killed Philip Heaven. Mrs. Maher-Betsy-I want to
know what the heck is going on. Do the authorities know what
happened to Philip? Was it botulism? If so, how was it introduced
into his system? Did they find canned food that had gone bad in
his apartment? And most importantly, I suppose, at least at this
point: is there danger of someone else getting sick-or worse?"

Betsy pushed her palm against her chest, just above her abundant bosom. "My goodness! That's horrible. I knew the poor man
had died, but had no idea someone else had fallen ill. Is it anyone
I know?"

Her tone and posture reflected sympathy, but the glint in her
eye betrayed her. Betsy Maher was a bit of a ghoul. I glanced up at
Tootie, and her look conveyed wry agreement. It became instantly
obvious that Betsy expected a bit of tit for tat in the information
game.

"His name is Barr Ambrose," I said. "He works for your sonhe's the detective for the Cadyville Police Department, and at this
point not only is he in the hospital recovering from a comparatively mild case of botulism poisoning, but now the department is
functioning without an investigator."

Betsy shook her head, another expression of sympathy, but the
glint was still there. "Don't you worry, honey. We'll get to the bottom of it just as soon as Andy gets here."

"That would be great," I said, with a tentative smile.

While we waited for Betsy's son to show up for his weekly visit,
unaware of the maternal snare that had been laid for him, she and
Tootie chatted about the new activities director at Caladia Acres.
She was introducing some unusual and interesting elements: art
therapy, a series of games like indoor croquet that promoted a
certain amount of physical activity and an atmosphere of mild
competition.

Pretty soon Betsy steered the discussion to the personal lives of
some of the people they lived with, and I tuned her out. I stood up
and began perusing the titles arranged along the shelves. I had just
moved to the opposite wall when I heard a male voice.

"Mother! How are you this fine morning!"

I turned to see Chief Maher. Before he'd taken over the Cadyville Police Department last year there had been rumors of dissatisfaction among the troops, but now everything seemed to be running smoothly. Or smoothly enough with only one detective in the
budget. Whenever I'd been at the cop shop to see Barr, the Chief
had been hunkered down behind an enormous steel desk in one of
the few private offices in the tiny building. Now I could see what a
large man he was-at least six foot six inches tall and what you
might call, uh, girthy. Despite his bulk, there seemed to be little fat
on the man, and he moved with an easy grace that gave the impression of controlled power.

I liked what I saw, but his enthusiasm at seeing his mother
seemed a tad exaggerated. His expression betrayed a certain amount
of strain as he smiled at Betsy. He nodded at Tootie, who smiled and
greeted him with a murmur, and then he turned to me.

"Hello ... wait a minute. Aren't you Ambrose's ... ?"

I nodded. "You've probably seen me at the police station a few
times. I'm Sophie Mae Reynolds."

He blinked. For some reason the strain on his face became a
little more pronounced. With what seemed like great care, he
turned back to his mother, who so far hadn't uttered a word.

"How are you?" he asked again, with somewhat less enthusiasm.

"I'm fine, thank you, Andy. Peachy. Full of vinegar. And how
have you been this week?"

He pressed his lips together. "I'm well."

"And how has Sophie Mae's dear detective been doing?"

Chief Maher sighed. "Not so well."

"That's what I heard. So? What the heck is going on? Is Cadyville suffering from a botulism epidemic these days? Do we need
to alert the media?"

"Good Lord, no, Mother. Don't even joke about such a thing."

She narrowed her eyes.

He managed to withstand her glare for almost twenty seconds.
Then he sighed again and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his
palms. Sparing me a bleary glance, he pulled the small needlepoint-covered ottoman away from Betsy's chair and sat down. His
knees ended up by his ears, and if he hadn't looked so patently
miserable, I might have laughed out loud.

"Are you the one who told the hospital staff Philip Heaven
might have died from botulism?"

I nodded.

He looked unhappy. "Well, it turns out you were right, though
how you knew I can't imagine. And I'm sure the doctors would
have put it together on their own."

I made a noncommittal noise. "And? Where did he come into
contact with it?"

He shifted and looked uncomfortable. "Ms. Reynolds, I know
you're concerned about Detective Ambrose, and that's the only
reason I'm saying any of this in front of you. Please don't spread it
around."

"I'll try to control myself," I said, not pointing out that he
didn't appear to have many qualms about talking in front of his
mother and her friend about things that weren't any of their business. After all, his indiscretion benefited me. If I'd been a betting
woman, I'd have taken odds that he underestimated both his
mother and her friends simply because they were old and female.

If only he knew.

The Chief continued to look unhappy. "I understand there was
an event at Heaven House where the volunteers exchanged home
canned food? Someone's preserves must have gone bad, and
Heaven and Ambrose ate the spoiled food."

I shook my head. "I don't think so. For one thing, the exchange
didn't happen until after Philip had collapsed. In fact, we were at
the exchange when we learned that he'd died." I remembered the
surprise on the volunteers' faces when Barr announced Philip's
death the evening before.

The creases in his considerable forehead deepened as he listened. "That's odd timing," he admitted. "Perhaps Heaven got his
hands on some of the goodies ahead of time."

Maybe. Especially if Maryjake's corn was the culprit. She obviously had had a bit of thing for her boss, and no doubt would have
given him a little extra on the side, so to speak.

"In any case, the M.E. said it didn't help that Heaven was a
heavy smoker," the Chief continued. "Botulism depresses the respiratory system, and his lungs were already compromised by his nicotine habit."

I thought of Philip's frequent forays into the alley, red and
white pack in hand. Everyone who smokes is aware of the dangers,
but I doubted anyone considered that it could make them more
susceptible to botulism poisoning.

"Oh, my soul. What a terrible way to go," Betsy said.

Tootie smiled and examined the floor, and the Chief looked wry.
Until that statement his mother had faded into the background as
my own questions became more insistent. Now her face brightened again-at least until he said, "I only have time for a brief visit this
time, Mother. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Andy. You just got here."

"I'll try to stay longer next time."

"All right. I understand."

I could tell she was hurt, that she wanted him to spend more
time with her. Betsy Maher might have been a gossip and a tad
morbid, but she was also smart and fun, and I hated to see her
discounted by her own son.

He said goodbye to Tootie and me, kissed his mother on the
cheek, and turned to leave.

"Chief?" I began.

He sighed and turned be to me, a look of tired warning on his
face. "Yes?" Meaning, what now, and make it quick.

"With Barr, er, out of commission, who's investigating this
whole thing? Are you handling it?"

"Of course not. I can't drop my duties as Chief of Police to investigate a case of botulism."

I cocked my head and frowned.

He continued. "The Health Department has jurisdiction, and I
brought in someone from the state patrol to take over Barr's other
cases while he's recovering. Anything the Health Department
needs they can liaison with her. Don't worry, Ms. Reynolds. It's all
being handled." He nodded toward the two older women. "Goodbye, Mother. Mrs. Hanover." Then he turned around and left without another word.

I grimaced at Betsy. "I'm sorry. He would have stayed longer if I
hadn't quizzed him so much. I'm sure he fled to get away from me."

She shook her head. "No. He never stays long. He always promises to next time, but there's always something he needs to go do."
She set her jaw and looked me full in the eye. "My boy has grown
into an important man. I'm very proud of him. And I'm glad for
any time that I get to spend with him."

I opened my mouth, but she continued, effectively cutting me
off. "At least you had a chance to find out what happened to Philip
and your boyfriend."

I knew more than I had before, but it only served to raise more
questions. "It was very helpful, Betsy."

She smiled. "Knowledge is power. Or at least it is to me-power
over my own mind. If I don't have enough facts, I tend to fill in the
details myself, and sometimes my imagination can be a frightening thing."

I looked at her in surprise. "I know exactly what you mean."

On the way home, driving the sedate twenty-five miles an hour
required within the city limits of Cadyville, I thought about what
the Chief had said. Even if Philip had sampled some of the preserves before the actual exchange, I still didn't understand how
Barr had happened into the botulism.

As for the state patrol investigator, I wondered what she was
like, whether she was as smart as Barr, as able to deal with what
sounded like a pretty complicated caseload. I couldn't imagine
anyone doing Barr's job better than he did.

And I guessed he wouldn't like the idea of someone else doing
his job at all.

THE ELEVATOR DOORS OPENED, and I stepped out feeling guilty. I
should have come to see Barr before going over to Caladia Acres.
How would he feel about being bumped aside in my schedule by
Chief Maher? Should I even tell him? It might be a bad idea to pile
more stress on him right now. That man seemed to worry an inordinate amount about me.