The Perennial Killer: A Gardening Mystery (37 page)

“Ann,” she said, “friction saved me. I pressed the tiny nodules of rock into the soles of my boots.” And then she sank to the ground in a faint.

Louise woke Sunday morning feeling euphoric and light-hearted. She put on simple, loose clothing—a big rough shirt to cover her bandaged arm, comfortable Japanese farmer pants, and sandals, and she wandered from room to room in the empty house, appreciating the way the sun painted patterns on the furniture and floor, savoring the look and even the dry, clean smell of her borrowed western home. It was delightful to be alive.

Before she had a chance to eat, her neighbors, Dr. Rostov and Herb, called on her, the farmer bearing a plate of his wife’s cookies. He had been concerned when cars and trucks kept driving up to her place in the early morning hours, “especially since I knew you’d had a spotta trouble.” She explained that two of the cars had been Pete and Ann in separate vehicles, for her two friends had gone to the hospital with her and then accompanied her home. Sheriff Tatum had also been at the hospital, but he would recover from his head injury, and leave under a much different escort. Louise had also confessed her vandalism and theft to Sergeant Rafferty, who’d pardoned her after retrieving Reingold’s gun from Harriet’s yard.

After discovering that she was all right, Herb left, still urging Louise to borrow one of his shotguns for her last days in Boulder County. Gary Rostov stayed to talk, and willingly accepted her offer of tea.

Listening to Louise recap last night’s events, he nodded vigorously. In a careful, professorial way, as if everything were now clear to him, he said, “It seems quite likely that Harriet Bingham was experiencing survivor guilt. And survivor guilt can lead to madness of sorts—an unconscious madness. The woman undoubtedly functioned day to day, and thought of herself as quite sane, and so did others. Yet, when your existence causes the death of someone else, you
feel tremendous guilt. Harriet may have believed that she killed her own mother—and didn’t her father’s dislike of her affirm that? Kill or be killed became her road to survival.”

Louise remembered Harriet’s terrible, nightmarish story of the killer baby being born, and shuddered. She said, “Harriet couldn’t have understood what was happening to her.”

“I’m certain neither parent nor child understood,” he said. “That generation didn’t understand birth trauma. There was no help for that father or that little girl.”

“And that’s why it made sense to Harriet to kill Bonnie Porter. Bonnie stood in the way of Harriet’s plan to get Jimmy Porter to marry her and be a father to her child.”

He nodded again. “Quite likely.” This man never gave a simple “yes” to any question. Now, in a classic, absent-minded professor gesture, he scratched his head. “Now, refresh my memory, Louise—did you say that she also killed her own baby?”

“Oh, yes. She told me straight out that she smothered the child with a pillow.”

“Ah,” said the professor, and his eyes Ht up over his half-glasses, as if he’d discovered a new wrinkle in the case. “Harriet viewed this as a
choice
to be made. In her troubled mind, if both she and the baby were in trouble, only one could survive. That, then, was a reverse position. Not mother dying and baby living, but just the opposite. Then, recently, she was threatened again. And doesn’t it make sense that when Jimmy Porter told her he was abandoning her, that she would act?”

“Yes. Then Sally Porter…”

“Ah, Sally. Another cherished neighbor was leaving her.”

“She was a very dangerous woman, Dr. Rostov.”

“Indeed she was. It is important to understand that
survivor guilt is one of the most lethal products of our society. And it has been with us since the dawn of time. It’s rampant in war zones.”

Although wilting by the minute, Louise was fascinated with the unraveling of Harriet’s soul.

“Now, Louise,” he said, “what of that other case you mentioned—the man who is violent with women, and who actually may have killed his ex-wife? I wonder if this man, too, isn’t suffering from the unresolved issues that surround trauma. From the story you told me of last night’s events, I understand he turned out
not
to be involved in these murders?”

“I don’t know for sure,” she said. “Sheriff Tatum could still implicate him. Mark was close to his great-aunt Harriet, because he wanted her land. But these murders may have been a dirty secret just between her and the sheriff.”

Rostov looked at his watch and said, “I must go, Louise. I hope someone is coming soon to take care of you—and that you can relieve yourself of the trauma of this experience.”

She smiled faintly, thinking of other wounds she had suffered, and how she had worked through the trauma by spilling it all out to Bill, sometimes not in a day, but over weeks. As she bid the professor good-bye, she wondered when her husband would finally show up. She hoped the criminals he had been chasing were not still loose upon the world.

Laboriously, Louise pushed down the trash and tied the white plastic bag tightly. She had taken it as far as the carport when the phone rang. She left the bag where it was and hurried inside to answer it. It was Ann Evans, calling to find out how she was.

“I’m doing all right,” Louise said, so her friend wouldn’t worry. Actually, she was ready to take one of the pain pills in her pants pocket and crawl into bed. Then Ann inadvertently gave her a clue as to Bill’s whereabouts. It set Louise’s heart pounding faster. She told her about big doings south of Boulder late last night. “There were so many police cars and army trucks, you could hardly believe it.
Something
was up. I told Luke it must have involved Stony Flats, but of course there was nothing on the news or in the paper this morning.”

Louise’s heartbeat quickened. Bill and his team. She wondered if they had caught the hijackers in the act, according to plan. It sounded as if they had, and she wondered if Tom Spangler was part of the scheme. From being relaxed, she now felt all her nerves tingle. Too bad she couldn’t share this with Ann. So she changed the subject, finding out that Frank Porter was doing well at Boulder Community and was expected to get out today. And the police had taken in all of Harriet’s canisters, as well as the buns, for testing. One canister held a substance they suspected was arsenic.

“Great,” said Louise. “There’s one detail, Ann. Thanks for all you and Pete did last night. And, uh, I wondered what happened to that bag in the trunk of my car…”

“The manure, you mean.” Ann laughed. “You were out of it last night when you got home. But you mumbled about something smelling terrible in your car. It didn’t take long to discover that bag—I can’t believe I didn’t smell it when we drove to the wake. Anyway, I just dumped it in your garden. It’s good compost. It was in a bag from the lumberyard, so it was obvious—well let’s just say I took the liberty of giving Eddie your number. He wants to call you. He feels bad about his little trick. And he has some news—I’ll let
him
tell you.”

“Okay. Now, to more important things. How is Luke?”

“He’s wonderful,” said Ann, in a voice guaranteed to patch up any divisions between the couple. Maybe Louise could take a cue from the younger woman. Though tough as nails on principle, Ann had great faith in the survivability of her marriage. The two women promised they would stay in touch with each other. When she hung up, Louise felt a strange sense of loss and wondered if she would ever see Ann again.

Then she propped herself up in the chair and waited for Eddie’s call. It was worth waiting for.

“Uh, about the horsesh—, uh, manure…” mumbled Eddie, “I’m awful sorry. It was a kid’s trick, but I tell ya, I’ve grown up since last night, Louise. Hell, I’ve lived a whole lifetime, seein’ Frank on the floor there, maybe dyin’ and leavin’ me with absolutely no family.”

“But it’s terrific that he’s going to be all right.”

“Yeah—Ann called ya, right? Well, last night I told her I was gonna swing this decision about the ranch right back ta where it was before my dad passed on.”

Louise smiled to herself. “So you’ll go along with Frank on the decision to have the ranch become open space.”

“I sure will. The two of us have the controllin’ votes, so t’ speak, and we’ll get Grace won over. I screw up everythin’ that has anything ta do with money, but I realize money wouldn’t’a mattered if Frank had died. So, that’s all I had t’say, Louise. Now, d’ya think you’ll show up at Ruthie’s café before you leave for the East?”

“My husband’s due back, Eddie, and I bet we’ll be at Ruthie’s Monday night, for dinner.”

“Then I’ll make it a point ta be there, and—we’ll hit it off better this time, right?”

“Sure, Eddie.”

Louise was completely out when Bill phoned. Fighting dizziness, she said, “I’m so glad to hear from you, darling. Is everything all right?”

His voice was tired and strained, and he spoke in his usual shorthand, not bothering to impress her by using the good-natured Texas lingo he’d picked up this past week. “The project was successful. We still have to make contact with one man, though.” His way of saying one of the principals escaped their net.

“Bill, I met someone here who could be involved—”

She could hear someone at his end calling him. “Honey,” he interrupted, “as long as you’re safe, let’s talk about that later. We’ve got a briefing right now. I’ll call again, and I’ll be there soon I can’t wait to see you.”

She had been too punchy—too slow on the draw—to protest. And then he had rung off. Well, she was probably just being paranoid anyway.

She struggled to a sitting position and looked around the sunny living room, feeling dizzy. She got to her feet and slowly went out through the wide-open porch doors to get some air. Her wounded arm now felt as if it were a gigantic log. As she stood, admiring the weeding job she had done in the yard, she heard excited chattering. A family of chipmunks was threshing in crunchy leaves from an early leaf fall off a cottonwood tree. She saw that the door to the old greenhouse was ajar; the little creatures were debating whether or not to go in. She went to close it, then wondered why it was open in the first place. Pulling it all the way open, she peeked in and gasped.