Part 21 (1/2)

”Okay,” Frank said, not entirely convinced. He was afraid this was coming down to the little man who wasn't there.

Barbara was taking photographs from a folder, spreading them on the coffee table. ”I got the rest of the kitchen pictures today,” she said. ”I knew there had to be more, and lo and behold, they found a few more. They said these are immaterial and got shunted aside.”

She separated the photographs. She put back the shot of Marchand's body sprawled on the floor, along with one of the stove, taken from across the kitchen. Then she pointed. ”Okay, a closer look at the stove. I want the controls enlarged, enhanced, whatever your guy does to make them more recognizable. Is the oven still on? I don't think so, but it's hard to tell for sure. Next, this one of the table.” It was a sharp picture of the end of the table with a place mat, a place setting for one with a napkin neatly folded, a gla.s.s of milk, salt and pepper. ”The question is,” she said, shuffling through the other photographs, ”what's on the rest of the table? Here.” In the one she singled out, the whole tabletop was visible, and there was an a.s.sortment of things not in the other picture: a bowl of fruit, a newspaper, several pieces of mail, what appeared to be a prescription container, and a small package. She tapped it. ”I think it's condoms,” she said. ”Strange thing to leave on the kitchen table, don't you think?”

”Maybe that's what Daniel was in a tearing hurry to pick up,” Bailey said. ”But Daddy found them first.”

”If so, why didn't he take them? Anyway, I want this enhanced, enlarged, whatever. The whole table, not just dinner for one.”

She handed the two photographs to Bailey and started to put the rest back in the folder, but Frank said, ”Hold on a second.”

He was looking at another shot of the kitchen, one that showed the sink. ”What was in that ca.s.serole? Do you know?”

”Vegetables,” Barbara said. ”Something like a ratatouille from the sound of it. Eggplant, zucchini, green beans, peppers... I can find it, if you want to see.”

”That's okay. But Leona didn't go home at five-thirty and make anything like that. She must have done the cooking in the morning, put the dishes in the refrigerator, and then simply reheated them.” He handed her the picture he had been looking at. ”Not a sc.r.a.p of peel, nothing to show anyone had been cooking or was.h.i.+ng up. There wasn't time to prepare that kind of food and clean up, too. What was in the skillet?”

”Two pork chops in gravy.”

He nodded. ”Again, not enough time.”

”So she had more time in the house than we thought,” Barbara said after a moment.

”Well, some more, not a lot,” Frank said. ”Even reheating, setting the table, all that takes time. And she had a bath and dressed. She didn't have a lot of extra time, just a little.”

”From all I've heard about her,” Sh.e.l.ley said then, ”she was almost saintly. Everyone seems to agree about that.”

Even saints could break, Barbara thought, but a second thought followed swiftly: And ruin her daughter's big day, her graduation? It didn't seem likely. She shook her head.

”Next, I want an aerial shot of the property. And a photographer to take pictures of the entire back where the blackberries are, from the route Daniel might have taken that day. He should use the aerial map to locate where each picture was taken. Rachel has gone down to Medford with her aunt; she'll live with her aunt and uncle and go to school there, but Daniel is still at home and won't leave until cla.s.ses start at OSU next week. I want the pictures taken before leaves start to fall and with the sun as close as possible to the same angle it would have been that day at six-thirty. After Daniel leaves, they will put the property in the hands of a real-estate agent, and it could get awkward.”

Bailey scowled. ”I never did figure out how to hide a low-flying plane. Maybe it will come to me.”

”Work on it,” Barbara said.

They did not finish until after six, when Sh.e.l.ley and Bailey both got up to leave.

”I'll be on my way, too,” Frank said. ”You want to come by when you're done here, have a bite to eat?”

Barbara saw Sh.e.l.ley stiffen, and she said, ”I'd love to but, Dad, I have to tell you this. There are some things about this case that I promised not to reveal, and until I'm released from that promise, we might hit brick walls now and then.”

Sh.e.l.ley relaxed and Frank, who had not missed her reaction, nodded. ”Fair enough,” he said. So he wasn't yet to find out what the blue computer business was all about, he thought, accepting it for now.

28.

”It's just two weeks before the trial, and there are still big blank spots,” Barbara said on Friday after their conference. ''I'm going to buy a cast-iron skillet and take it to Minick's house, see how long it takes to smoke up the place.”

”Not a new skillet,” Frank said. ”It has to be used, crusted on the outside from years of grease getting burned on. It will make a difference. Goodwill, or St. Vinny's. I'll pick one up, if you'd like. You said pork chops and gravy? They should be in it, too. Mind if I tag along? Maybe it's time for me to meet your client.”

”Can I come, too?” Sh.e.l.ley asked.

”Sure,” Barbara said. Sh.e.l.ley was no longer avoiding Alex, and to all appearances was trying to act like a little sister or a best pal. She put on a good act, but the hurt was in her eyes, and she was not going anywhere with Bill Spa.s.sero. Alex had been right when he said if you're hurt, a year or two slips in between real time. She had been hurt, and she no longer looked like a little girl playing grown-up. The past few months had matured her; the past few weeks had solidified the changes.

They had few secrets from Frank now, if she didn't count the big ones, Barbara thought, and she nodded to him and to Sh.e.l.ley. They would all go.

Frank had filled her in with many details about the trial judge, Lou MacDaniels, whom Frank had known for thirty years. He was a stickler for details, Frank had warned, and if she had ten books to refer to, they had better pan out. If she estimated that it took twenty minutes for the skillet to create that much smoke, she had better be prepared with evidence to back it up. So they would smoke up Minick's house. Frank's house wouldn't do. He had a gas stove, and the Marchand house had an electric stove, as did Dr. Minick's.

”Okay,” she said, ”tomorrow morning, ten, back out to Opal Creek.”

”Not me,” Bailey said hurriedly. ”Sat.u.r.day. I'm off.” He stood up, put his empty gla.s.s down on the table, and slouched to the door.

”Good work, Bailey. Thanks,” Barbara said as he left.

He had not only put Hilde and Wrigley in the same hotels, he had put them in the same bed-and-breakfast inn on the coast in Astoria, where there had not been a teachers' conference or a meeting of scientists.

After the others left, Barbara got out the photographs Bailey had brought her. The aerial was exactly what she thought it would be. Then the kitchen pictures. She had been right; the little package was condoms. Unopened. And the prescription container... She turned the photograph around to read the print, then caught in her breath. Dr. Minick had prescribed for Leona Marchand? Ovulen? Birth-control pills. She leaned back in her chair. Why hadn't he even mentioned that he was Leona's doctor?

Unbidden, Frank's arguments about Dr. Minick came to mind: he would do anything to protect Alex, just as Frank would do anything to protect Barbara. He had had plenty of time after Hilde left to walk over and kill Marchand and be back before the smoke alarm sounded. Maybe Hilde had told him something about Marchand that made it imperative to do it then. Maybe that was what Hilde had remembered the night she called Frank and hung up.

Barbara had had no good reb.u.t.tal to his speculative case, and she had none now. Disbelief was not a good argument; it had not been then, and it was worse now. But Minick should have told her he was Leona's doctor. He must know that it could be important.

She walked out, down the hall through the empty reception room, and tapped on Sh.e.l.ley's door. She was still there, working at her computer.

”When you finish that, drop in, will you?” Sh.e.l.ley nodded and Barbara returned to her own office.

While Barbara waited, she studied the other enlargement; the oven had been turned off. The skillet lid was on the counter next to the stove, and an oven mitt nearby. A dish towel hung over the counter. She put that photograph down, and went back to the one of the table, examined the other items on it: a window envelope from the electric company; a flyer for an appliance store... nothing of significance. The fruit bowl. Then she squinted. A belt or something coiled. The gla.s.s of milk... Sh.e.l.ley tapped, then entered.

Wordlessly, Barbara handed her the enlargement of the table, and watched her study the prescription container just as Barbara had done, turning the photograph to see the printed label. She gasped.

”He never mentioned that he treated her,” she said.

”I know. Tomorrow when we go out there, I have to ask him about it. I don't want to bring it up in front of Alex, though. Could you ask Alex to go for a hike up the hill behind the house, keep him away for an hour or so?”

Sh.e.l.ley looked back at the photograph and nodded. ”G.o.d, why didn't he mention it?”

The heat wave had continued. September had been exceptionally warm and sunny, and although the heat had lessened now in October, no rain was in the forecast. Forest fires raged out of control throughout the state, and more were expected if the hot, dry weather persisted much longer. The air smelled of woods on fire, the sunsets were murky, and the sky was hazed to a pale gray-blue. Campgrounds had been closed; no open fires were allowed anywhere; all forest activities had been curtailed. It was said that real Oregonians never tanned; they rusted. And they got grumpy when the heat continued into autumn.

Barbara was grumpy. She should have told Frank about the prescription, but there had been no opportunity; he had been out shopping for a skillet and she had worked until it became too late to call him. He had made it clear that his cell phone was for emergencies only, and she did not want to talk about it while driving.

Here in orchard country, the filberts had been harvested, and there was a FOR SALE sign on the Marchand property. The clover under the trees looked withered, and the lawn was unkempt. Daniel had kept the property up over the summer, but he was off at school now. The place looked very sad.

And the Minick woods would be tinder-dry, Barbara thought as she turned into his driveway. She hoped he had a good well; Opal Creek was little more than a trickle. She wondered if he had considered summer droughts when he bought a house in a forest. He came out to the porch to greet them. She had told him and Alex that her father was helping with the case now, and that he knew nothing of X or Xander. Today Dr. Minick greeted them all as old friends.

She introduced her father, and the two tall men shook hands cordially. ''I'm happy to meet you at last, Mr. Holloway,” Dr. Minick said.

”Call me Frank,” he said. ”It's curiously upsetting when someone my own age calls me 'mister.'” Then he grinned. ”Sh.e.l.ley can't bring herself to say Frank. She doesn't call me anything to my face, and I suspect that when my back is turned she refers to me as 'the old man.'”