Free Heaven Preserve Us by Cricket McRae Page B

with only one detective in the
budget. Whenever I'd been at the cop shop to see Barr, the Chief
had been hunkered down behind an enormous steel desk in one of
the few private offices in the tiny building. Now I could see what a
large man he was-at least six foot six inches tall and what you
might call, uh, girthy. Despite his bulk, there seemed to be little fat
on the man, and he moved with an easy grace that gave the impression of controlled power.
    I liked what I saw, but his enthusiasm at seeing his mother
seemed a tad exaggerated. His expression betrayed a certain amount
of strain as he smiled at Betsy. He nodded at Tootie, who smiled and
greeted him with a murmur, and then he turned to me.
    "Hello ... wait a minute. Aren't you Ambrose's ... ?"
    I nodded. "You've probably seen me at the police station a few
times. I'm Sophie Mae Reynolds."
    He blinked. For some reason the strain on his face became a
little more pronounced. With what seemed like great care, he
turned back to his mother, who so far hadn't uttered a word.
    "How are you?" he asked again, with somewhat less enthusiasm.
    "I'm fine, thank you, Andy. Peachy. Full of vinegar. And how
have you been this week?"
    He pressed his lips together. "I'm well."
    "And how has Sophie Mae's dear detective been doing?"
    Chief Maher sighed. "Not so well."
     
    "That's what I heard. So? What the heck is going on? Is Cadyville suffering from a botulism epidemic these days? Do we need
to alert the media?"
    "Good Lord, no, Mother. Don't even joke about such a thing."
    She narrowed her eyes.
    He managed to withstand her glare for almost twenty seconds.
Then he sighed again and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his
palms. Sparing me a bleary glance, he pulled the small needlepoint-covered ottoman away from Betsy's chair and sat down. His
knees ended up by his ears, and if he hadn't looked so patently
miserable, I might have laughed out loud.
    "Are you the one who told the hospital staff Philip Heaven
might have died from botulism?"
    I nodded.
    He looked unhappy. "Well, it turns out you were right, though
how you knew I can't imagine. And I'm sure the doctors would
have put it together on their own."
    I made a noncommittal noise. "And? Where did he come into
contact with it?"
    He shifted and looked uncomfortable. "Ms. Reynolds, I know
you're concerned about Detective Ambrose, and that's the only
reason I'm saying any of this in front of you. Please don't spread it
around."
    "I'll try to control myself," I said, not pointing out that he
didn't appear to have many qualms about talking in front of his
mother and her friend about things that weren't any of their business. After all, his indiscretion benefited me. If I'd been a betting
woman, I'd have taken odds that he underestimated both his
mother and her friends simply because they were old and female.
     
    If only he knew.
    The Chief continued to look unhappy. "I understand there was
an event at Heaven House where the volunteers exchanged home
canned food? Someone's preserves must have gone bad, and
Heaven and Ambrose ate the spoiled food."
    I shook my head. "I don't think so. For one thing, the exchange
didn't happen until after Philip had collapsed. In fact, we were at
the exchange when we learned that he'd died." I remembered the
surprise on the volunteers' faces when Barr announced Philip's
death the evening before.
    The creases in his considerable forehead deepened as he listened. "That's odd timing," he admitted. "Perhaps Heaven got his
hands on some of the goodies ahead of time."
    Maybe. Especially if Maryjake's corn was the culprit. She obviously had had a bit of thing for her boss, and no doubt would have
given him a little extra on the side, so to speak.
    "In any case, the M.E. said it didn't help that Heaven was a
heavy smoker," the Chief continued. "Botulism depresses the respiratory system, and his lungs were already compromised by his nicotine habit."
    I thought of Philip's