The Prophet (21 page)

“I still can’t believe it. From everything I’ve heard, Dr. Shaw was completely devoted to his wife right up until the very end.”

“Maybe he thought death would be a kindness to her. To both of them.”

“You’re talking about euthanasia. Mercy killing,” I said.

“Yes. But in the eyes of the law, it would have been murder.”

His blunt words sent a chill through me and I stood there shivering as dusk crept upon us. In my mind, I kept seeing Dr. Shaw’s face when he returned to his office after his confrontation with Gerrity. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost and he’d called out a woman’s name. Sylvia.

Was his guilt conjuring strange visions of his dead wife?

At least no one can accuse me of murder,
Gerrity had said to him.

My pulse quickened as the damning puzzle pieces fell into place. I didn’t want to believe it, of course. I was very fond of Rupert Shaw. I admired and respected his work. But I couldn’t ignore what seemed to be staring me in the face.

Was it really going to be that easy to uncover Fremont’s killer? Somehow, I doubted it.

“If Gerrity knew that Shaw had obtained the extract, he certainly had ammunition for blackmail,” Fremont said.

“Yes, but how do
you
figure into all this? That’s the question. Even if Dr. Shaw poisoned his wife, what motive would he have for killing you? You’ve obviously done some research into this plant. Did you confront him with your suspicions?”

“I don’t remember any such confrontation.”

“Think hard. You have all these memories of Dr. Shaw and Gerrity and even Regina Sparks. The rest is still there. You just have to somehow tap into it. Is it possible Dr. Shaw followed you to the cemetery that night?”

“Anything is possible. I’m standing here talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Yes, that’s a good point.” I glanced down at my phone, idly checking the time. “I can’t even imagine Dr. Shaw poisoning his sick wife out of mercy, let alone shooting a cop in the back.”

“Maybe you just don’t want to imagine it. He is a friend of yours, after all.”

“That could be part of it,” I conceded.

“You’d be surprised what a man is capable of when he’s cornered.”

“So, how do we find out the truth? From what I saw yesterday, Dr. Shaw is in precarious health, both mentally and physically. I don’t want to be the one to push him over the edge. Especially when I’m not convinced he’s guilty of anything more than eccentricity.”

“Talk to Gerrity. If you catch him by surprise, he may give something away.”

“The last time I caught Tom Gerrity by surprise, he pulled a gun on me,” I said with a shiver. “I’m willing to help you move on, but I’d rather not go with you.”

“You need to talk to Gerrity,” he insisted. “I feel very strongly about it.”

“Will you be there?”

“If I’m needed.”

That wasn’t much comfort.

“There’s something else I want to talk to you about,” I said. “This is even more of a long shot than the autopsy report, but it’s been bothering me. I can’t seem to let it go. You told me one of the last things you remember was meeting a woman. Her perfume was still on you when you died. Even now you can smell it on your clothing.”

Maybe it was my imagination, but I sensed a sudden tension in him. “What about it?”

“Can you describe the scent? Is it flowery? Musky? Woodsy?”

“It smells like darkness,” he said.

That wasn’t much help. “Does the name Isabel Perilloux ring a bell?”

I had expected him to dismiss the name immediately. After all, there was nothing but my jealousy connecting Devlin’s brunette to Fremont’s murder. But to my surprise, he grew very pensive, and I could have sworn I felt a cold breath down my neck.

“Do you know her?” I pressed.

“I can’t recall her face, but I see her hands.”

His words unnerved me and I caught my breath. “You
see
as in a premonition? Are you having a vision? Or maybe it’s a memory. She’s a palmist. Maybe you went to her for a reading.”

He was silent for another long moment. “She has blood on her hands.”

My heart was pounding very hard as I gazed at his silent form. “Literally or figuratively?”

“Keep your distance from this woman,” warned the ghost Prophet.

He lifted his head, pinning me with his shuttered eyes. “She has killed or will kill in the very near future.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

K
eep your distance from this woman. She has killed or will kill in the very near future.

All the way home, those two sentences kept running through my brain, but could I trust Fremont’s premonition? After all, if he could see blood on Isabel Perilloux’s hands, why couldn’t he see his own killer?

Then again, maybe he had.

Maybe Isabel
was
the killer. Maybe it was her cloying perfume that still clung to his clothing.

I’d been gone all day, so Angus was eager to go out. But rather than wait for him in the backyard as I normally did, I left him to wander about on his own while I went to my office and opened my laptop. Ten minutes later, I’d learned little more about white baneberry than Fremont had already told me. The plant was common throughout the eastern part of the country, the berries resembled old porcelain doll’s eyes (hence the nickname doll’s eye plant) and the roots were sometimes ground up to make a tea. It was also used in mojo bags and banishing spells.

More food for thought. Maybe Dr. Shaw’s interest in the extract was strictly from a necromantic perspective. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to poison his wife but to drive off evil spirits.

Strange how I grasped at the flimsiest straw to clear Dr. Shaw even as the evidence against him mounted, but I was more than willing to indict Isabel on a ghost’s premonition. And even worse, on the scent of her perfume.

Checking the time, I reluctantly shut down my computer and went to lure Angus inside with the rattle of his food bowl. While he ate, I showered, dried my hair and then dressed in jeans and a new sweater for my dinner with Ethan and Temple.

A little while later, I parked near the wharf and drew on my jacket as I walked up East Bay to Queen Street. Ethan was already at the restaurant when I arrived. He’d snagged a window table and sat gazing out at the evening traffic, seemingly lost in thought.

“Hello there.”

He looked up with a start. “Amelia! I’m glad you could make it.” He motioned for the waitress as he rose to greet me warmly. I placed an order for a glass of white wine, and we settled in to wait for Temple.

“So, how was your first day back at Oak Grove?” he asked.

“You know about that?”

“Father told me he planned to ask you back, and Temple mentioned earlier that the two of you spent the day there.”

“Well, to answer your question, everything went fine. We had to chase away a gawker first thing, but other than that, the day passed without incident.” Unless one counted my discussion with a ghost about the possibility of Ethan’s mother having been poisoned by his father, but that conversation was best left between Fremont and me.

“I can’t say that I’m sorry to have seen the last of that place,” Ethan said as he picked up his drink.

“Regina Sparks said the same thing.”

“She and I spent a lot of time in that cemetery over the summer. But now that the last of the remains have been identified, we can put that chapter behind us.” His sympathetic gaze fell upon me. “All of us except you, that is. How long do you think the restoration will take?”

“A few months, at least. There’s a lot of work to be done and I’d barely gotten started last spring when the police closed it off.”

“Will you hire help?”

“When I need it, but I like to do most of the work myself. I’m picky about my restorations.”

“Yes, I remember that about you. That’s why Father has always been so impressed with your work. The devil is in the details, as they say. I take it you were able to see him yesterday?”

“We had a nice, long chat. I also met his new assistant.”

“Layla.”

“She seems…” I trailed off, searching for the right description.

He grinned. “Intense?”

“That’s a good word for her. How long has she been at the Institute?”

“A couple of months. I tend to lose track of Father’s assistants. They come and go so quickly.”

I took a sip of my wine, wondering how I could broach the subject of his father’s health. I decided the direct approach was probably the best way. “Ethan…there’s something I’d like to talk to you about. I hope you won’t think I’m overstepping my bounds.”

He set down his drink. “This sounds serious.”

“I hope not. Actually, I’m hoping you can put my mind at ease. While I was at the Institute yesterday, your father had some sort of episode. He spaced out right in the middle of our conversation. And then when he stood to get a book, he had a dizzy spell. He asked me not to say anything, but I’m worried about him. He seemed very fragile. I just thought you should know.”

Ethan frowned. “He was fine when I saw him yesterday. As I said, we had a nice visit. But I’ll give him a call when I get home, make sure he’s okay. I’ll even try to get him in for a checkup, but that won’t be easy. He never likes to admit he has a weakness.”

“None of us do.” I paused. “There is one other thing I feel I should mention. I forgot a book that he’d loaned me, so I went back for it. He was out in the garden with someone. I got the impression they were arguing. When Dr. Shaw came back into the office, he looked pale and shaken. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so distraught.”

“Who was he with? Layla?”

“No. It was the man in the blue Buick. The car was parked in front of the Institute when I first arrived. You saw it, too.”

Something unpleasant darted behind his eyes. “Yes, I saw it.”

“You said you didn’t know the driver.”

“I’m afraid I lied to you. That car belongs to Tom Gerrity. He’s a private detective Father once hired. He comes back now and then when he’s down on his luck.” Ethan leaned in, his expression tense. “Please don’t say anything about this to anyone else. You said yourself Father was very upset by Gerrity’s visit. I would appreciate it if you’d let me handle this.”

“Of course.”

We both fell silent, and I could tell the conversation had distressed him. I wondered if I should have said anything. Despite my worry over Dr. Shaw’s health, maybe it would have been best to observe his wishes.

I glanced around uncomfortably, wishing Temple would arrive. It was a weekday, so the restaurant was quiet, which made me even more aware of the awkwardness at our table. A candle flickered between us, and I could see the reflection dancing in Ethan’s brooding eyes. He was an attractive man, and I’d always enjoyed his company. But now all I could think about when I looked at him was Fremont’s assertion that he’d been in love with Mariama.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You were staring at me pretty intently just now.”

“Was I? Sorry. I was thinking about another conversation we had once. It was in Oak Grove at the beginning of the investigation. You told me about the circumstances surrounding Mariama and Shani’s accident. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember. I knew you and John were getting close and I didn’t want to see you hurt. I thought you had a right to know about his past. About the guilt that he still carries with him.”

“Didn’t you say you’d all been together on the day of the accident? And that John and Mariama had a terrible fight?”

“I’ll never forget the things they said to each other. I’m sure John has relived that argument a million times over.” Ethan stared down for the longest moment into his drink.

“He stormed out of the house,” I prompted. “And he was still angry when you met up with him later.”

“Angry, distraught and at the end of his rope. The marriage was in trouble. They both knew it, but there was Shani to be considered.”

“The marriage was in trouble, yet Mariama still called to say goodbye when she knew she was trapped in a sinking car. That is what you said, isn’t it?”

He looked very sad all of a sudden, and I berated myself for bringing up such a painful topic. But I wanted to hear his account of the events again now that I knew about his feelings for Mariama.

“She must have known help would never arrive in time so she called John to allow him the chance to say goodbye. But he didn’t answer.” Ethan polished off his drink and motioned for the waitress. “Yet another thing he has to live with. I’m sure he still wonders what might have happened if he’d taken that call.”

“Nothing would have changed. What could he have done? There was no way he could have reached them in time.”

“Rationally, I’m sure he knows that, but emotionally…put yourself in his place.”

“I know.” I watched his expression. “When did you find out about the accident?”

“Not until later when Father called in the middle of the night to say that John had left the Institute in a state and we needed to go look for him. I told you about that, too, right?”

“Yes, but you never mentioned whether or not you found him.”

“Eventually.”

“Where was he?”

He paused as the waitress brought over a fresh drink. After she left, he swirled around the ice cubes for a moment before glancing up. “I can’t help wondering why you’re asking me all these questions. Why are you dredging all this up now? Are you and John together again?”

“No. But I guess I’m still trying to understand what makes him tick.”

“John will never get over that night.” Ethan looked very pale in the candlelight. Glum and self-pitying. “Maybe it’s best just to accept it and move on. At any rate, I’ve told you all I know.”

“Not quite all,” I said. “I know about the alibi you gave to the police.”

His hand froze in midair. Then slowly he set the drink on the table and slid it aside. “He told you about that?”

I smoothly evaded his question. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“There isn’t much left to say. A cop was murdered that night. He and John had exchanged heated words a day or two before, and the police naturally wanted to question him. But he was in no condition to deal with an interrogation, so I covered for him.”