Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined (10 page)

Chapter Twelve

“O, then, what graces in my love do
dwell, that he hath turn’d a heaven unto hell!”

—Shakespeare

“Wiggling weasels!” she exclaimed.

Essie froze as she stared at the thin layer of powder on the
knees of her trousers.  She didn’t move.  She couldn’t move.  What in the world
was it?  It certainly didn’t appear to be normal stuffing material.  She
recalled how once one of her stuffed bears that kept watch over her living room
from the armchair across from her recliner had developed a hole on his bottom. 
His stuffing had started to ooze out and she had to get out her needle and
thread and sew up his wound.  Her bear’s insides were nothing like this.  He
seemed to be full of bits of foam rubber, as she recalled.  Of course, this
little heart was a different situation and she reasoned that there were many
possible materials that people could use to stuff things.  But as she stared at
the powder now forming little rivulets in the creases of her pants, she
couldn’t imagine what the substance might be and why her secret admirer would
use it to fill the tiny heart.

Without moving, she attempted to peer into the heart.  She
wished she could reach over to her desk and get her flashlight out of her desk
drawer but she didn’t want to move and disturb the powder on her lap.  Although
she couldn’t see inside, it appeared to be full of the substance.  She held the
heart gingerly, not wishing to disperse any more of the material than she
already had. 

This powder was simply not what she’d expected to find
inside of the heart.  She’d anticipated sawdust or sand.  She stared at the
powder on her lap and the few grains she could see within the heart.  It
certainly wasn’t flour.  It might be sand but she thought it was much too white
and too fine for that. 

Suddenly her mind brought up images of news reports from
years before.  She remembered those horrible days when some maniac had mailed
anthrax powder to various government officials and the entire country had come
to a virtual standstill as law enforcement attempted to track down a mass
murderer who remained elusive.  Could this be like that?  Could this fine white
powder in her little heart be some deadly poison sent to her by a terrorist? 
Her entire body froze as the possibility engulfed her.  She considered the
possibilities.  It had been sent in the mail.  The sender was unknown.  She and
her friends had already attempted to track down her ‘secret admirer’ with no
results.  If this was an attempt at terrorism, surely the terrorist had covered
his tracks.

Essie, you elephant!
she scolded herself. 
Why in
the world would some international terrorist target you?  You’re just a little
old lady in an assisted living facility.  You’re not an important political or
government official or military leader.   You are probably the least likely of
targets of a terrorist.
 
And besides
, she reasoned,
if this was
terrorism, the terrorist surely was making it hard for you to even be affected
by the poison.  I mean
,
he has it so thoroughly wrapped up in this heart
that it would be unlikely that anyone would ever tumble to the fact that this
substance was inside unless they were actively looking for it.  It’s probably
nothing.  It’s probably just some simple household ingredient that this person
had on hand. 

Okay, then what is it?  Why can’t I come up with any
probable answer?  What should I do? 

Essie sat rigid in her recliner, not moving any part of her
body as she focused intently on the powder on her lap.  She thought if she
concentrated hard enough, the answer would come to her and she would be able to
put an end to the frightening possibility that the white powder was dangerous. 
As she pondered, she realized that if the powder truly was poisonous, she was
making matters worse by continuing to sit there as the fine white grains were
no doubt drifting into the atmosphere and ultimately into her lungs.  She
attempted to breathe more shallowly. 

This is ridiculous! I have to do something about this.  I
can’t continue to sit here immobile with this stuff all over me.  Should I call
Phyllis at the front desk?
she wondered. 
No
. 
What could she
do?  If this truly is poison, then I will have just exposed an additional
person to danger.
   She also realized that she couldn’t just stand up and
brush herself off and then go somewhere looking for help.  If she did and if
the powder was poison, she would be leaving a trail of death throughout Happy
Haven.  No, she would have to remain exactly where she was and have help come
to her.  At least, until she knew for certain that the material on her lap was
not dangerous. 
Better to be safe than sorry
, her own mother’s words
echoed in her mind.

Ultimately, Essie realized what she would have to do.  No
one at Happy Haven could or should be exposed to this problem.  It was her
dilemma and she would have to solve it.  Cautiously, she reached out for her
telephone on the end table to her left.  Her movement sent particles of powder
aloft and swirling around her knees.  She turned her head, attempting to avoid
contact with the unknown substance.  She tapped in 911 on her receiver and soon
an operator answered.

“911.  What is your emergency?” said the operator.

“I have received an envelope in the mail from an unknown
person and there is a fine white powder inside.  It’s on my lap.  I don’t know
what to do,” she said, providing the operator with what she thought was a
succinct description of the most pertinent pieces of information that police
officials would need to know to determine what to do—if anything.

The operator didn’t waste any time.  She immediately asked
for Essie’s name and location and assured her that an officer would be there
shortly.  She also attempted to acquire information as to Essie’s response to
the powder.  Essie assured the operator that she was experiencing no physical
symptoms other than fear.  The operator continued to ask questions and provide
information that Essie realized was designed to calm Essie while giving the
police time to arrive.

“Ma’am,” asked the operator, “you say you’re a resident at
Happy Haven Assisted Living Facility?”

“Yes,” repeated Essie and once again she gave the operator
the address and her room number.

“Is the door to your room open?”

“No,” replied Essie, understanding what the operator was
attempting to determine.  “It’s closed but it’s not locked.  Please just tell
whoever comes to come right in.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the operator, “please remain where you
are.  Try not to move around.  We have someone on the way.”

Essie was gratified that apparently they were taking her
problem seriously.  She had worried that when the operator discovered that she
was an elderly woman in an assisted living facility they would dismiss her
concern as frivolous.  She carefully lifted her arm in an attempt to check her
wrist watch. 
How long has it been?
she wondered.  Obviously, the police
couldn’t arrive instantaneously, but it did seem as if quite some time had
passed. 
Of course
, she reasoned,
when you’re sitting in a rigid
position with a layer of what might potentially be a deadly poison in your lap,
time probably did seem to go by more slowly.

This would probably all turn out to be nothing.  The police
would arrive, take one look at the powder, immediately recognize it as some
obvious household substance that they dealt with every day, and laugh at her
under their breath.  That would be fine with her.  She’d rather feel foolish
than allow any of her friends or any of the staff at Happy Haven to be put in
jeopardy.

It had to be a coincidence.  Just some simple ingredient
that her secret admirer had used to fill the heart.  Nothing sinister.  She
simply didn’t know anyone who bore her any ill will and would want to hurt
her.  Or did she?  She thought and thought.  Even if there was such a person,
why go to all this trouble?  Or if it was a terrorist.  Someone who was out to
hurt anyone.  Many people.  If so, why go about it in such a convoluted manner? 
If anyone wanted to terrorize people by sending poison through the mail, surely
they would send it to someone who was more in the public eye.  And surely they
would make the poison more accessible to the victim when they opened the
letter.  Indeed, if she hadn’t been so curious about the creation of this
valentine, she might never have discovered the powder inside the little heart. 
The powder might never have been released.  That was surely not what a
terrorist would want to do. 

The operator was talking to her again.  Probably just to
make sure she was still there and hadn’t succumbed to the effects of the
poison.  If the stuff on her lap was poison, it obviously wasn’t a quick-acting
type.  Essie didn’t feel the least bit ill.  It was probably truly some sort of
salt.  She lifted her knee slightly because her rigid position was becoming
very uncomfortable.  The powder again puffed up into the air.  She could see
little clouds of it drift off towards her window.  
Great,
she thought. 
Oh well, better than towards my nose.

“Miss Cobb,” she heard the operator say from the receiver
that she had put down.  “Are you still there, Miss Cobb?”

She picked up the phone and spoke into it. 

“I’m here,” she replied.  “It’s just hard to sit so still. 
I’m trying not to move around.  Every time I do, this stuff flies up in the
air.”

“We understand, Miss Cobb,” replied the operator calmly. 
“It won’t be long.  We have officers on the way.”

At that moment, there was a knock on her door.

“Yes?” she called out.

“Miss Cobb!” came a voice from outside.  “It’s the police.”

“The door is open.  Please come in,” Essie replied with
tremendous relief.

The door opened slowly and a man’s head peeked inside.  He
glanced around the room, his eyes focusing on Essie seated on her recliner.  He
motioned to someone behind him and quickly and quietly, the man and a woman
officer entered Essie’s apartment.  The female officer gently closed the door
behind her.

The man came over to Essie and the woman remained behind,
apparently guarding the door.

“Miss Cobb,” he said.  “What’s this about a powdery
substance you received in the mail?”

Essie pointed down at her lap, her shoulders dropping in
relief.

Chapter Thirteen

“Love and marriage go together like
angel cake and anthrax.”

—Julie Burchill

“I’m Officer Magee and this is Officer Chavez,” he said. 
“Do you mind if I take a closer look at this stuff?”

Essie shook her head, her heart pounding as the man kneeled
down beside her and stared at the heart she was clutching in her hand and the
little rivulet of powder that had dribbled down onto her trousers. 

“Hmmm,” he said, staring at the powder while he balanced
precariously in his bended position.  He obviously was attempting to get as
close as possible without actually touching the powder or Essie.  He stood up
and walked over to the female officer at the door.  They whispered a bit. 
Essie couldn’t make out what they were saying, but soon the man returned and
pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of his pocket.  He also extracted a small,
blue, plastic face mask, the kind Essie had seen medical people wear sometimes
when she went to her doctor’s office.  He slipped the mask over his face.

“Just a precaution, Miss Cobb,” he said warmly.  He bent
down again and reached out and carefully took the tiny heart that Essie was
clutching with such force that even she did not realize how firmly she had it
in her hands.  “It’s okay, Miss Cobb.  I’ve got it.  You can let go.”  Essie
slowly released her fingers from around the heart.  Officer Magee reached into his
back pocket with his free hand and brought out a large, clear plastic envelope,
like the kind the dining hall sometimes put sandwiches in for Saturday night
picnic dinners.   He carefully slipped the heart into the baggie, being
cautious not to allow any more powder to fall onto Essie.  Then he rubbed the
top of the bag together and it made an audible snap, closing securely. 

“I’m not really certain what we should do about all this
powder on your lap.  I’m afraid if I try to scoop it up, it will just disperse
even more.  I’m thinking we’d better just have you stay seated like this and
not move until we get some idea of what we’re dealing with.”

“Okay,” replied Essie in a hoarse voice.  She felt a certain
amount of relief now that someone was there who seemed to know what they were
doing and who evidently had the resources to do something.  However, there was
still powder on her lap and that was causing her a great deal of anguish.

Magee placed the baggie with the powder-filled heart in a
manila envelope that Chavez pulled from a clipboard she was holding under her
arm. 

“Get this over to the lab, Chavez,” he said to the woman. 
“Asap.”  Chavez nodded and slipped the envelope under the clip on her board and
quietly exited Essie’s room.

“I’m going to stay here with you, Miss Cobb,” he replied. 
“Just in case.”

Essie knew his unstated message was “just in case this is
poison and you’ve been exposed.”   She tuned in to her bodily functions.  Her
breathing seemed unusually fast, but that could be from all the excitement. 
She didn’t seem to be experiencing any other physical symptoms.

As if he was reading her mind, Magee asked, “Are you feeling
okay, Miss Cobb?”

“I think so,” she said.

“Can you hold on just a bit?” he asked.  “I’m going to call
headquarters and see what they want to do about this.  Obviously, we can’t
leave you sitting here indefinitely with all this…stuff…all over you.”  He
smiled warmly at her, but then gave her a serious glare as if to say,
don’t
move
.