Probable Claws

35

February 9, 2017

Thursday

Sweeping out the center aisle in the morning, horses turned out to play in the snow, Harry heard the phone ring in her tack room.

Hurrying in, she picked it up. “Hello.”

“Harry, do you know what has happened?” Anne de Vault’s voice registered worry.

“No. About what?”

“I opened the store today like always and heard a bit of commotion down the hall. So I walked down there and, Harry, Nature First is blocked off with the horrible yellow crime scene tape.”

“What?”

“No one can go in.”

“Where are Felipe and Raynell?”

“I don’t know but I expect if they came to work today they are somewhere being questioned again. I mean this is now a crime, right?”

“Anne, the crime is murder. Why else would there be tape up?”

“This is awful. She was found slumped at her desk, no violence. Murder?” Anne couldn’t believe it, well, she didn’t want to believe it.

Who would?

“There are ways to kill without leaving a mark or at least an obvious mark. Was Cooper there?”

“No. The young lady who noticed me told me they were the forensic team. I told her I owned the bookstore down the hall.”

“Anne, I am terribly sorry. This is upsetting and you are right there. Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes. Can you think of a reason the rest of us might be in danger?”

“No. I’m not saying that to pacify you, but we’ve had two unexplained deaths of two people who knew each other, shared common interests, and worked together in so far as redoing the office is working together. They liked each other.”

“Yes,” Anne said that slowly. “Other than design, I mean what did Gary and Lisa have in common?”

“Little things. I mean they seem like little things to me. She was obsessed with dinosaurs. He kept little rubber dinosaurs on his shelves.”

“Lots of people have a keen interest in dinosaurs.”

“Yes, but they are usually eight or nine years old.”

A very long pause followed this. “You’ve got a point there.”

“The other thing—again, such a little thing—when I helped Tazio set up her office—well, I really sat on the floor to go through Gary’s file books but I did move a chair or two and I polished desks. Anyway, I found an article about frogs surviving dinosaurs. Lisa had the same article.”

“It’s possible they spoke to each other, suggested books and magazines. It’s not far-fetched.”

“No, but now they are both dead. Murdered.”

“Should I close the store?”

“No. You might want to gather the other shop owners there, discuss it, and go back to business. I always think the worst thing to do is react before you know enough. It’s important to keep calm.”

“Easy to say.”

“I know. You asked me a question and I answered it. Let’s take a worst-case scenario. The killer is close by. Don’t show panic. Make him wonder.”

“That’s not the worst-case scenario. The worst-case scenario is he comes after me.”

“You’re right. But, Anne, you don’t share the same interests the two of them did. I mean, you have aesthetic tastes, you like architecture, but that’s not front and center. And whatever took Gary, I don’t think it was architecture.”

“I hope not.” She took a deep breath. “What is the saying? Keep calm and carry on. I’ll try.”

“You’ll do it. Thank you for calling me. I’m going to track down Cooper. She’ll tell me to butt out. Always does, but I can read between the lines. If I get even a whiff of generalized danger, I’ll call you.”

“Thank you.”

After hanging up, Harry finished her job, returned to the house along with Tucker, who shadowed her. Tucker felt she was protecting Harry. If she could, she would.

Opening the door, Pirate woke up, bounded over. “I missed you. I fell asleep. You won’t leave me, will you?”

“What a handsome boy.” She knelt down to kiss the puppy, who was growing so fast she wouldn’t have to kneel much longer.

“I like you. I like Tucker.” The tail wagged.

Tucker whispered, “Say something good about the cats. Pewter has one eye open and she can be a royal pain in the ass if you get on her bad side.”

The Irish wolfhound whispered back, “She’s mean to me. The other kitty is nice.”

“Pewter is even mean to Harry. She turns her back on her, flattens her ears, and walks away or sits on the bookshelf and kicks off a row of books. She’s a terrible cat.”

“I heard that!” came a growl.

Now Mrs. Murphy awakened. “Heard what?”

“Tucker told Pirate I was a terrible cat.”

“Oh, don’t pay any attention. She’s being dramatic,” the tiger cat said to the Queen of Drama.

Oblivious to the swirl around her, Harry reached for the wall phone. She did notice that Pirate was sticking close.

“Coop! Anne de Vault called me to tell me Nature First has crime scene tape on the doors.”

“Ah, well, yes it does.”

“So this is what I think.” Harry ignored the groan on the other end of the line. “Murder. Obviously. No violence. No blood. No bruises or marks. At least no obvious marks. It’s possible the medical examiner’s office found something. But my money is on poison.”

“Yes.” Cooper tried to remain noncommittal.

“And it would have to be a fast-acting, colorless, and odorless poison. No arsenic. We’d know because it has a distinct odor. No belladonna. Her pupils would have been enlarged. It appeared she suffered a stroke or a heart attack.”

“That’s quite a bit of information from someone who didn’t see the body.”

“Coop, someone would have noticed. This is a small community. I would have heard, so I know I’m right.”

“You are. The team is there going over everything, especially the little kitchen and the bathroom. There could be a trace in a cup. A small residue on a counter.”

“Tell me. You know I’ll dig it out sooner or later, plus what if I’m in danger? I’ve been in her office many times, and recently.”

“If you were exposed you’d be dead,” Cooper said with finality.

“What the hell is it?” An exasperated Harry swore.

Resigned, Cooper spilled the beans: “Nicotine.”

“Cigarettes?” Harry was incredulous.

“Pure nicotine. It is colorless, odorless, viscous. You can buy it on the Internet for twenty dollars for fifteen milliliters. Those transactions can be traced. We can’t find such a transaction. It’s possible the killer has had a supply for years or stole nicotine from a pharmacy in the past.”

“Nicotine?” Harry uttered in disbelief. “How can you kill someone with nicotine? Force it down their throat?”

“No. It’s easy because nicotine can be absorbed through the skin. Exposure to the air causes some discoloration. To date there is no discoloration on Lisa’s body.”

“Could the killer have wiped it on, say, her lips or her arm?”

“I think he did. Whoever killed her knows chemistry.” Cooper took a deep breath. “The stuff, the pure liquid stuff, five drops or less, can kill a person in minutes. If it’s a high dose there won’t even be the nausea and seizures that can accompany it. The victim can die almost instantly of respiratory failure. Five drops for a normal-sized woman of Lisa’s age.”

“Dear Lord.” Harry gasped.

“She probably suffered a few seconds, knowing she was dying, but it was so quick. We can’t find out how the poison was administered. That’s why the team is back. Is there a trace on her desk? Something like that?”

“Then wouldn’t Felipe or Raynell be dead?”

“Possibly. If there was a trace it would have made them sick. But neither one mentioned illness. And Lisa had to have had pure nicotine on her body.”

“Where are Felipe and Raynell?”

Cooper was exasperated. “They’re down at HQ. More questions.”

“I knew it!”

“That doesn’t take a rocket scientist,” Cooper fired back at her.

“Well, I imagine they’re scared.”

“Raynell more than Felipe. She kept saying what if she touched something. We told her if she had, she’d know. Tears. The usual. Felipe on the other hand is trying to figure this out. Replaying everything. Stuff like, did someone come in and out and somehow they missed it.”

“I don’t see how they could.”

“No.”

“Here’s another piece of unsolicited advice. She was killed because of something she has in common with Gary.”

“You don’t know that” came a too-swift reply that told Harry what she needed to know.

Fortified by that, Harry repeated to Cooper the thoughts she had told Anne.

“I agree the two shared those interests, but what could there be about them that would imperil someone else or someone else’s profits? It doesn’t add up.”

“If you find the connection, it will.”

“I’m not as convinced as you are but I do agree there might be a tie. But, Harry, if whatever they shared in common led to their murders, it’s a tie they were at great pains to hide.”

“Maybe not, Coop. We just don’t see it yet, or it’s outlandish to us. But I will tell you one thing, whoever used this poison is smart. Knows chemistry. And is bold. Think of how Gary was shot in front of us. This, of course, was stealth. Do you think this might be a professional killer?”

Cooper didn’t want to answer directly but she knew Harry would see through any evasion. “It very well may be, which means keep out, Harry. Those people are highly intelligent and ruthless.”

“Do they get paid a lot?”

“Yes. Most do, and they take pride in their work.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine being proud of killing people.”

“It’s not so out there. What if a killer is a rampant ideologue? Like the Bolsheviks in Russia. They had mass-starvation campaigns, killing millions who they believed would impede the revolution. These are people who kill because they believe that killing will solve the problem, make a better world. Or create more profit—not exactly a better world, but better for whoever’s paying them. Ideologues are worse than profiteers.”

“The Thirty Years’ War.” Harry remembered her history.

“Isis. That kind of thinking will never go away. It might be able to be contained but it will be with us because it’s so simple. Here’s the equation: I will kill all my enemies and then I’ll be safe.”

“Doublethink,” Harry murmured. “But do you think this is the work of such a person?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“We’d have hints by now. Earlier run-ins. An ideological killer often has to brag or shows signs of the quality through writing, Facebook, that stuff. Nothing like that here.”

“You’re right, but is it possible something triggered the response?”

“Something did, but I don’t think it’s ideology.”

“CYA? Someone needs to cover their ass or that of the person paying the bill?”

“Yes. This is too clean. Know what I mean?”

“But there has to be a trigger.” Harry was adamant.

There was, underfoot, part of their lives every day. They didn’t know it, never looked for it, had no special interest in it.