“I found them in Amy JoBeth’s tornado shelter.”
“Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about, Immy?” Those bushy eyebrows raised up a discreet notch.
“The drugs that were used on Rusty and Poppy. I found them.”
“Do you mean you found some of the same type? The ones used on them have been, well, used.”
“Where did they come from, though? Dr. Fox, right?”
The chief maintained his silence.
“I was in Amy JoBeth’s tornado shelter because I thought it might be a good place to be depressed.”
“I imagine you’re right about that. It seems to work well at making Amy JoBeth depressed.”
“No, I mean…well, anyway, I was depressed. And I went there. And I found some drugs. And I think they were stolen from Dr. Fox. One box had his name and his clinic address on it.”
“I admit that’s interesting. But what do you propose I do with this information?”
“Well, I guess, go get the drugs and arrest Vern Linder.”
The chief shook his head and his face reddened slightly. “I’m not sure I’m following you. You say the drugs are on Ms. Anderson’s property, in Ms. Anderson’s shelter. She is being held on suspicion of murder. So far, so good. We could search for and retrieve the drugs, if we find them there. But what does Vernon Linder have to do with anything?”
Immy frowned.
“I wonder,” Chief said, studying the ceiling, “when they were put there. We searched her place Saturday, right after we arrested her, and didn’t find any animal drugs other than what she uses on her pigs.”
“Well, they’re tucked behind the mattress. Maybe you missed them.”
His beefy face purpled. “We saw everything, Immy. We did not miss them. They were not there.” His voice had that steely edge that Ralph’s sometimes got. “Again, what does Vern Linder have to do with this?”
“Well, Betsy Wiggins told me Vern stole them from Dr. Fox.”
“She told us that, too, but Dr. Fox says he can’t seem to tell if he has any drugs missing.”
“That’s sort of a problem.”
“Yes, but not our problem. Not right now.”
“Well, why did Dr. Fox fire Vern then?” Immy asked.
“We asked him that, but he doesn’t have to tell us, and he didn’t.”
Chief agreed to have another look in the shelter and Immy drove home. She was too discouraged by his attitude toward Vern to mention that he tried to run her off the road. She’d also let him figure out for himself that Vern had been at the hotel with Poppy.
She walked around the van when she got home. The van’s rear bumper had a new dent, but it didn’t show up all that much because of the other ones from Immy backing into things.
Inside, she glanced at the clock on the stove. 11:45. Her mother and daughter would be home for lunch soon. Meanwhile, Immy had a new case to work on. Since she didn’t know who was involved, she’d call it The Case of the Purloined Drugs.
Of the folders she’d taken—borrowed—from Mike’s office, she had two left. When she got a new job and got paid, she’d replace them. She printed “The Case of the Purloined Drugs” on the tab.
But was that right? According to Dr. Fox they weren’t missing. Did Dr. Fox drug Rusty and Poppy? Did he tell Betsy that Vern took the drugs—when he didn’t? Because he himself, Dr. Fox, used the drugs for his evil deeds? Or did Dr. Fox not keep very good track of his drugs?
Immy bowed her head to think. After rummaging through the drawers where she usually found paper, she found a grocery list with no writing on the other side of it and put “Dr. Fox” and “Betsy” at the tops of two columns. Then she started the rows, recalling the chapter on MMO, Motive, Means, Opportunity, in her
Compleat Guidebook
.
Motive: the same one Amy JoBeth or Vern would have—Rusty killed Gretchen. It occurred to Immy that a lot of people had liked that pig.
Means: the drugs, which Dr. Fox had, and a rope, which everyone had.
Opportunity: maybe not. Dr. Fox had been in his clinic when Rusty was killed, sometime Saturday morning. The clinic was usually packed then with people who couldn’t make it in during the work week.
Immy moved on to Betsy, who’d told Immy and the police that Vern stole the drugs. Did she make that up? Betsy and Vern didn’t like each other, that had been obvious to Immy during her visit to get Marshmallow’s shots. Betsy might like working there without Vern much better than with him. She might even have stolen the drugs herself to get him fired.
Motive: a better working environment. That seemed weak. They hated each other? But why murder Rusty now and not awhile ago?
Means: the drugs and a rope. Easy for Betsy to find and use.
Opportunity: Think back, Immy, think back. She’d seen Betsy at the clinic Friday, and then the next day leaving the smokehouse. Immy had gone to the clinic Saturday morning and someone else was working that day. Dr. Fox had said Betsy was taking the day off. To murder people?
Immy looked at her paper. Who else would be a suspect besides Amy JoBeth, Vern, Dr. Fox, and Betsy?
The phone rang.
“Hi, it’s Louise,” Immy heard from the high decibel shriek. “Is your mother there?”
“She will be in a few minutes. She’s at the park with Drew.”
“I just wondered if she’s given any more thought to that charity booth for poor Amy JoBeth. Even if we don’t raise enough for a lawyer, it would help to pay that PI.”
Immy would let Hortense tell Louise herself whether or not she was going to spend hours baking for a few dollars’ profit for poor Amy JoBeth. “I’ll have her call you when she gets back.”
“Oh.”
Louise sounded so disappointed, Immy added, “How about seeing if Tinnie’s family will donate some jerky to your booth? There’s always jerky for sale at the rodeo.”
“Tinnie
Squire
? Definitely not.”
After she clicked the phone off, Immy picked up her pencil, drummed it on the table, then put “Louise” at the top of a third column. Same motive as Vern. Doing it for Amy JoBeth. But how could Louise get vet drugs? From Vern?
Whether the drugs were missing or not, two other cases did center around them, Rusty’s and Poppy’s murder cases. Someone had to get to the drugs from somewhere, to use on both of them.
Immy heard her mother and daughter returning and stuck the paper inside the folder. The more she thought about these deaths, the more confused she became.
* * *
After Drew’s nap, Ralph showed up. Immy was surprised, since it wasn’t near a mealtime. He refused to come in, so they spoke on the front porch.
“I wanted to let you know both Chief and I searched Ms. Anderson’s storm cellar and there’s no drugs there.”
“They’re stuck behind the mattress. If you pull it out—”
“Immy, we moved everything, looked under and behind everything. The only stuff there is the mattress, a wastebasket, and a small potty. I’m glad it was emptied recently because the chief had me dump it and look inside.”
Either Vern had snatched them before he took off to run her off the road, or he’d gone back and taken them. “Vern has them.”
“If you say so.”
“You’ll have to search him quick, before he gets rid of them.”
Ralph avoided her eyes. “We can’t do that.”
“Why? Do you think I’m lying?”
“No, but Chief is ticked at you right now. He says we were on a wild goose chase at the shelter. Says we wasted half a day.”
“Ralph, he tried to run me off the road.”
“Vern did? What happened?”
“He was tailgating me something awful.”
“And?”
“And he bumped me.”
“Let me see.” Ralph got up and strolled to the back of the van.
Neither of them could detect any new scratches or dents. The van was kind of dirty, but nothing stood out.
She puffed out her cheeks in frustration and stalked back to plop on the steps. Ralph joined here.
“I’m not saying he didn’t hit you, just that you don’t have any proof.”
Immy listened to the prosaic afternoon sounds of the neighborhood. The barking dogs two streets over, the drone of the katydids, which would get deafening after dark. She could even faintly hear the clank of the oil pump jack on the edge of town.
She might think the drugs were the most important part of the cases, but the police did not. What other avenues were there for helping Amy JoBeth? There was no way that little gal could have killed and hung up two people. Immy would never believe that.
“Why on earth does Chief think Amy JoBeth is guilty of murder?”
“The only evidence we have points to her, Immy. That’s all we can go on. When we turn our findings in to the DA, it’s his job to decide who to prosecute. We follow the evidence and see where it leads. We have her motive and we have physical evidence, that pink pig confetti.”
“There’s got to be something that points to someone else. Besides the drugs.”
Immy tried to think what else could be evidence in this baffling case.
Well, there was one thing that baffled her besides the case, something she couldn’t connect to the murders. It connected to Amy JoBeth, though: that envelope of clippings. Couple that with Louise’s hateful comments about the Squires, and something simmered under the surface that Immy couldn’t see.
She had to get those clippings back.
“I keep thinking about that packet I left at Mallett’s office.”
“What packet?”
“Something Amy JoBeth left behind, from when she worked there. I need to see it again.”
“Just don’t send us to get it.”
After Ralph went inside and gave Hortense and Drew quick hugs, he left to return to work.
Immy called Mike Mallett’s office, but there was no answer.
“What’s a matter, Mommy?” asked Drew, who was stuffing rice cakes into Marshmallow’s eager mouth.
“I’m not sure, sugar. I’m overlooking something. I might have to do a B and E tonight. As soon as it’s dark.”
“What’s a B and E?”
“It’s an expression, honey.”
After supper, which was just the three of them for once, Immy got her purse and the keys to the clunker van. She could ask Mike, in the morning, to let her look at those papers in her desk, but he might not let her. And besides, she didn’t want to see his mean face anytime soon.
“Gotta drive into Wymee Falls, Mother,” she called, and ran out the door before she could be given an errand in town.
Mother said something about Ralph. Maybe he was coming for dessert? She would ignore that. Detective Duckworthy had a mission.
* * *
Immy decided to run surveillance for awhile, to get the lay of the land, before she rushed into anything. She regretted not equipping herself for a stakeout. She knew, from her
Compleat Guidebook
, that she should have provisioned herself with food and drink, and probably should have procured a disguise. It was bad enough she had to do surveillance in such a conspicuous vehicle as a huge green van. If only she had her own car, she wished for the millionteenth time.
Hortense had left a plastic rain hat, festooned with orange and yellow flowers, on the floor of the van and Immy tied it on. Hoping Mike Mallett wouldn’t recognize her in the rain hat and shorts and a t-shirt, she parked two blocks from her office and strolled down the street, trying for the casual shopper look.
She got some odd looks from a couple hurrying past. She heard the woman ask the man if it was supposed to rain soon.
“Maybe in three months,” he said.
Immy huffed her indignation. That was not true! It was very likely to rain in June. Just not July and August. Then she realized that today was the first of July. So the man was right, it probably wouldn’t rain any time soon. She left the rain hat on, though, as it was the only item of disguise she was wearing.
When she got to the travel agency next door to Mike’s office, she stopped and spent a few moments looking at the toy cruise ship and the airplane in the window display. She sighed. Wouldn’t that be nice? To take a ship or a plane, or maybe a bus, and escape? She couldn’t even afford a second-hand car, so a vacation trip wasn’t in her foreseeable future.
Finally she summoned the courage to gaze directly at Mike’s office. It was dark. She walked to the front. All the lights were out. If she were Mike, and if she were between receptionists, she would probably leave the lights on to deter thieves. He was just advertising that the place was empty. It was time for the office to be closed, but still….
Immy looked to the west. The sun was almost at the horizon. She got into the van and waited for full darkness. She rummaged through the accumulated layers of stuff in the van, looking for something she could use to break into the place. When she came upon the tire iron, she hefted it to feel its sturdy weight. That should do.
Finally, at about 8:30, when she couldn’t wait any longer, the sun set and she again made her way to Mike’s office.
She carried the tire iron pressed to the side of her leg. She couldn’t conceal it since she was wearing shorts, but held next to her leg she didn’t think it was too conspicuous. It took her some seconds before she could make herself attack the glass door panel that said ‘Mike Mallett, Private Investigations’. How many times had she pictured her name below his: Imogene Duckworthy, Assistant? Or maybe Partner?
Since her name was never going to be painted onto the door, with or without a title, she closed her eyes and swung the tire iron, one-handed, overhand. It bounced back and whacked her on the side of the face.
“Damn!”
She looked around. No one was in sight. Even the cars usually parked at the curb during the day were mostly gone. She touched her cheek. It was numb from the blow of the wrench, but no blood anyway.
This time she gripped the metal tool with both hands and chopped the window with all her might. It shattered with an explosive noise. Most of the glass fell away, but the first two letters, MI, remained on a hanging shard. Jagged pieces stuck up from the bottom of the frame, too. She wasn’t sure if she could reach in without cutting herself. Maybe she should take the time to knock the rest of the glass out.
Headlights appeared a few blocks away. She had to get out of sight. What if Vern was still tailing her? Laying low until he saw his chance to ambush her?