The Plague Doctor. E. Joan Sims
Читать онлайн книгу.
for kitchen duty.
“Have you been stacking the deck, Mother?”
“Paisley! How could you even suggest such a thing? One miscreant in the family is enough, don’t you think? I’m simply having a streak of good luck, that’s all.”
“Six hearts?”
“Fortune’s smile.”
The warm cereal made me sleepy despite the caffeine in the gallons of coffee I had consumed. Somewhere in the middle of another of Mother’s outrageous bids I fell asleep.
“Mom! Gran! It’s seven o’clock. Time to call Chief Joiner!”
Cassie had to shake me awake this time. I was practically comatose.
“Stop shaking your mother, Cassandra. Her eyes look like they’re getting a little loose. I’ll call Andy Joiner.”
I fell limply back on the sofa cushions. Paralysis had set in from my hairline down; I could hear what was going on, but I couldn’t move. I never have been able to function very well without a good night’s rest.
Mother went to the kitchen to make the call. That big sunny room was her personal domain, and she always felt as though she had more control over any situation from that vantage point. Cassie followed behind her like a lost puppy.
Speaking of which, Aggie had been abandoned by her mistress of late and had adopted me as her significant other. The puppy had spent the night curled up at my feet. She was licking my stockinged toes in an effort to arouse me enough to let her out for her morning walk.
There is nothing quite as uncomfortable as warm doggie spit going cold on your feet. After about ten minutes of her efforts, I pushed myself off the sofa with a mighty effort and staggered up to open the French doors.
The morning breeze refreshed me somewhat as it whisked away the mental cobwebs. I slipped loafers on over my wet socks and went out in the yard with the dog.
A late-night rain had soaked the ground, and the sidewalk was awash with earthworms in various states of decomposition. The few birds that had not yet gone south for the winter were out, chomping away with a vengeance on this unexpected slimy buffet.
Aggie hated getting her feet wet, which is probably the reason she knew to lick mine. She hurried through her morning ablutions and raced back to my side looking vastly relieved and more than ready to return to the warm, dry comfort of the house.
Mother and Cassie were filing back into the library. They both looked like they had lost their last friend.
“Looks like de news ain’t so hot.”
“Mom, please don’t make fun. You always try to make light of the most serious things. Please don’t this time.”
I went over and gave her a hug. She tried to resist, but I persisted, and soon she was sobbing against my shoulder.
“That bad, huh?”
“It looks quite dreadful, dear. I couldn’t get many details out of Andy, but from the little he said, Ethan seems to be in a lot of trouble. I left a message on Bruce Hawkins’ answering machine. The good doctor will be needing a good lawyer.”
“I still think we should call his office at the CDC. Surely there’s something they can do.”
Cassie rose up quickly and wiped her face on her sleeve.
“No!” she entreated, “I promised Ethan. No calls to Atlanta. I can’t do anything but send the message he asked me to until I talk to him again.”
She looked at me through a wash of tears.
“Mom, will you help me log on to his computer and send the e-mail? I know how, but I don’t want to make any mistakes, and I’m still a little upset.”
“Of course, Cassie. I’ll go with you.” I yawned hugely, “I’m in tip-top shape myself.”
“Take a shower, Paisley. You’ll feel better. I’ll have some nice hot tea ready when you get dressed,” offered Mother. “And you all had better go before Chief Joiner decides to visit Ethan’s room and confiscate his belongings as evidence.”
“Wow! I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right, Gran. Hurry up, Mom”
The shower helped and so did the Earl Grey with four teaspoons of sugar. If we were lucky, we’d be back home before I crashed from my sugar high.
I let Cassie drive Watson, my mean green Jeep Wagon. I’d bought it the year before, when we’d first gotten involved in what Mother called “capers.” It had all the necessary equipment for what I had imagined I would be needing for sleuthing. So far, all we had used was the oversized cooler under the jump seat in the back.
Dr. Ethan McHenry had been in Rowan Springs for about six weeks. He and Cassie had met in the beginning of August at our annual “Bright Leaf Festival.” Our town is in the middle of the most fertile tobacco growing country in the southern United States. We’ve celebrated our prosperity and good fortune every year since 1935 with a street festival, square dance, beauty pageant, and arts and crafts show.
This year an antismoking wag wrote a letter to the editor of the local paper suggesting that we add a phlegm spitting contest and a chest x-ray exhibition to the festivities. Even though I was amused, I had to agree. I’d given up cigarettes the minute I knew I was pregnant with Cassie. Nevertheless, we all dutifully attended each event and unashamedly enjoyed the ice-cold sparkling apple cider, tender delicious funnel cakes, and gloriously fat-filled, indigestible deep-fried corn dogs.
Cassie had met Ethan at the quilt exhibition. They struck up a conversation in front of a particularly beautiful, intricately quilted Log Cabin design. Ethan asked her to accompany him to the square dance at the high school, and she had invited him out to lunch the next day to meet her family. We had all liked him immediately—even Aggie. They had been seeing each other for at least some portion of every day since that first night.
I never dared to ask Cassie how intimate their relationship was because it was none of my business. I yearned to know, but I had always tried to respect her boundaries. She had never been so serious about a young man before. Cassie wasn’t exactly fickle, but she did have very high standards and was usually bored with her gentlemen callers in a matter of days. She would probably have tired of Ethan had he not come to need her so desperately.
When he’d arrived in Rowan Springs, Ethan rented a garage apartment behind the home of two of my late grandmother’s friends, the Parsons sisters. Miss Lolly and Miss Hannah were in their seventies. Their father had made a fortune in the 1920s selling lumber, and the sisters still lived in the big home Papa Parsons had built for the family in his heyday. Neither of them had ever married, although there were rumors that one of them had nurtured a secret obsession for a married man for decades.
The Parsons’ house was covered with gingerbread millwork. Curlicues and arabesques dripped from every eave and soffit. The difficulty in later years was finding someone willing to paint all the doodads and what-nots. Gradually, the house deteriorated, and the sisters grew into suspicious old ladies who peered from behind frayed lace curtains as the rest of the world passed by.
I was really surprised that Ethan had been able to persuade them to rent him the apartment. They seldom went out anymore and rarely opened their doors to strangers. I finally decided that Doc Baxter had arranged it. He was one of the few people they saw. Doc still made house calls for some of his older patients, and he was especially fond of the old ladies. Their mother had been a good friend of his mother’s. Ties of family and friends were strong in our little town, and people had long memories. That alone was reason to behave yourself and not do something “unforgettable.”
Ethan’s apartment was above the garage and consisted of two rooms originally intended as servant’s quarters. The stairway to the entrance was discretely turned away from the main house so that neither master nor maid could observe the after-hours activities of the other. For this I was very grateful because I did not wish to be seen or questioned by anyone. Cassie