Capacity for Murder (Professor Bradshaw Mysteries) (9 page)

“Ben—”

“Not now, Henry.”

“You see what’s happening, don’t you? You’d better be sure that’s what you want.”

“What I want is for you to wire Squirrel.”

“All right, I give. You don’t want to talk about it. As per usual. Wire Squirrel.”

Squirrel was the nickname of Pete Carter, a professional fact-finder, coveted by Seattle attorneys for his skill at digging up deeply buried facts in government records, newspaper archives, trade journals, every bit of printed matter. Squirrel was so popular, he had the luxury of choice and would refuse a job if he didn’t like the particulars. A year ago, an attorney turned down by Squirrel exacted his revenge by framing him for the murder his client had committed. Fortunately for Squirrel, the death had been by electrocution—a rigged light bulb in the victim’s house—so Bradshaw had been called to investigate. Bradshaw had been Squirrel’s favorite client ever since.

“I want everything he can find on everyone here, the Hornsbys, Hollister, Moss, Loomis, and the Thompsons. I especially need to know if any of them have ever had anything to do with electrical matters.” He pressed his pocket notebook and pencil at Henry. “Tell him time is of the essence, I’ll pay for his speed. Send a wire to Tom—Professor Hill. Tell him to send everything he can find on Arnold Loomis and the Loomis Long Life Luminator, and have him go to the house and find my file on my electrotherapy outfit. Tell him he’ll find it in my files in the basement.”

Henry nodded, scribbling away.

“And I want information on the coming railroad, news on speculators. Who’s buying land? Bringing in businesses? And what about those gas rigs we saw offshore near Copalis? What resources are there here to exploit, and where has the name Arnold Loomis cropped up in connection?”

Henry looked up. “More than one con?”

“He’s not here for his health. It’ll be a few hours before the tide’s low again. Head out soon as it’s safe. Be sure to tell Deputy Mitchell you’re leaving, but he doesn’t need any details. Have Colin drive you in the steamer. I’ll repay his rental costs. And you’ll have to hire a boat to Hoquiam, the regular steamer only runs three times a week.”

Henry shook his head. “Killing two birds, eh?”

“Fastest way to get what I need.”

“Like I said, killing two birds. It’s not fair to her, Ben. Can’t set her free and lock her up, both.”

Bradshaw had no answer to that. He carried his plate into the kitchen, feeling guilty for dumping his uneaten bread and berries into the compost bucket and wondering if he should ask Dr. Hornsby for some sort of digestive.

Chapter Nine

Mrs. Hornsby was best described as bosomy. The sort of woman small children loved to be embraced by and that made men miss their mothers. As requested, she was waiting for him in the library. The day had grown warm, and all the windows were open for cross-ventilation. The white sheers danced in the confines of their tiebacks. Bradshaw unbuttoned his jacket as he sat, and found Mrs. Hornsby shaking her head at his dark suit.

“You don’t need to be so formal with us, Professor.”

“It’s my uniform while I’m working.” Like Sheriff Graham, he knew a man’s attire inspired respect.

“Well, as long as you know we wouldn’t think less of you if you dressed more comfortably. Most of our male guests wear linen this time of year. Did you bring beach clothes?”

“I did, thank you.” He’d not brought swimming attire, but he did have a lighter weight suit with him. “You’ve created a unique place, Mrs. Hornsby.”

“We hear that all the time. My husband is a very wise man. He just doesn’t live life. He analyzes it. He thinks deeply about what makes people happy and healthy. Most people believe that they’d be happy if only they had enough money to be idle all the time, or they’d be healthy if only they could find a miracle cure. When really, health and happiness are lost when we fight our natures and gained when we honor them.”

It was obviously a speech she made often, but she spoke with sincerity.

“I’m sorry for the loss of your son-in-law.”

“Oh, Professor. We miss him so. It’s been awful. Simply awful. I wish to God that Mr. Loomis had never come here, bringing that awful machine. Oh—I didn’t mean—you had us all so shocked when you said you’d built it. Did you really build it?”

“I did, years ago. I was shocked to find it here. How did it come to be?”

“I think it started with a letter from Mr. Loomis to my husband. They corresponded a bit, and my husband became interested in the machine. He invited Loomis here a few weeks ago, and the sale was made. Mr. Loomis has been here ever since. Not a paying guest either, mind you.” She shook her head. “I’m not quite sure how that happened. He wasn’t expected to pay while he was training my husband on the machine, of course, but that took no more than a day. When he stayed on, we kept trying to bring up the subject of payment, but he would say how thankful he was for our generous hospitality and that he’d be sure to spread the word about Healing Sands when he left. But he never left. I used to think out here we’d never be bothered with men like him. But those types find you, don’t they? And with the railroad coming, people will be able to get here much more easily.”

“You’re not happy about the train coming?”

“No, I’m not. We moved here because it was isolated. We came for the peace and seclusion and nature’s beauty. It won’t be the same, once the railroad comes.”

“How close will the nearest station be?”

“Just up the beach, at Joe’s Creek. They’ve renamed the area Pacific Beach and have already begun to plat a town. And I hear Moclips is getting a great big grand hotel, with hundreds of rooms! It’ll be another year or two yet until the road is done. They’ve reached Copalis Crossing, that’s a few miles inland, but it’s slow going because of the terrain, and the lumbermen have so much timber to clear.”

“You might be far enough away from a depot to stay isolated.”

“Not the way Mr. Loomis tells it. He says we must expand or risk losing business to someone else.”

“And has he proposed a way of helping you expand?”

“Every chance he gets. I wanted him to leave, but my husband—well, my husband can be too kind. It sounds mean to say so, I know, but there are those who would try to take advantage, and Mr. Loomis is certainly one. If you’ll forgive me, Professor, I don’t completely understand what was said this morning. Did Mr. Loomis steal the Luminator from you?”

“I’m not sure, at least not in the legal sense. I was not fully informed of how and where the machine I built was to be used.”

She frowned at him. “You made it sound as if he stole from you, Professor.”

“I won’t know if a law has been broken until I speak to my patent attorney, Mrs. Hornsby. There are legal crimes, and moral crimes. They don’t always coincide.”

She worried the hem of her apron, picking at a loose thread, then gave a little huff. “He’s a confidence man, isn’t he?” She looked at him for confirmation.

“Possibly so. I am still gathering information. I can state only my experience with Mr. Arnold Loomis. He certainly gained my confidence, then took advantage of my faith in him.”

“If you’ll forgive my asking, what did happen? How did he take your machine from you? And why did it kill our David?”

He was prepared for these questions and had decided in advance how much to reveal when asked them. “Mr. Loomis approached me as a medical salesman with an idea for an electric outfit. I had the knowledge to build it, he the knowledge to market it. Since nothing on it would be newly patentable, it wasn’t something I would have undertaken on my own. I don’t enjoy marketing. It’s much easier to simply collect royalties on patent contracts. When I’d done my work and the outfit was completed, Loomis claimed another similar cabinet had beat us to the market. It’s a common enough outcome these days, so I didn’t question it. Loomis told me he sold the prototype to a Seattle doctor and paid me for my time and materials. That was in ‘99.”

“What? Mr. Loomis told us the machine was the latest and greatest. We’re used to being behind the times out here on the coast, but four years is old even to us.”

“Where the machine has been since the time it left my basement and appeared here at Healing Sands is a question I can’t yet answer. And how it caused David’s death, I don’t yet know.”

“Was the machine damaged on the way here? Did some internal part break? Mr. Loomis swore to us it was perfectly safe.”

“It is perfectly safe, and your husband used it properly. That’s all I know for certain.”

Her mouth opened and she stared at him. “Are you saying my husband is not responsible?”

“I’m saying your husband followed proper procedures and could not have predicted David’s death.”

Mrs. Hornsby released her breath. “Oh, Professor, you don’t know how grateful I am to hear you say that. Have you told my husband this, he is so distraught.”

“He knows this, yes.”

She attempted a brave smile and looked at him with motherly concern. “This can’t be easy for you, Professor. I do hope you’re at least finding our accommodations to your liking. I’ve noticed that you’ve barely touched our milk and cultured dishes.”

“Milk has never agreed with me,” he said, for the first time in his life glad that milk tended to make his belly rumble warnings.

“Oh, that’s true of most of our guests when they first arrive. Only young children can readily digest milk, and then it’s only the milk of our own species that makes us thrive. We are not cows, are we, Professor?”

“Ah, no.”

“In order to make the milk of other animals digestible, it must be cultured, fermented, or soured, and then all those nutrients can be taken up by our systems. Our cow and goat milk come from our own animals. The grazing soil is fertilized with salmon scraps and seaweed. That’s why it’s that lovely yellow color. Absolutely the most nourishing milk available. You see how my daughters’ skin glows.”

“I’ve always been fine with butter,” he amended. The butter served had been sweet and nearly white, and if he didn’t mention his ability to digest it now, he’d be committing himself to dry bread for the duration. “You’ve managed to get my son to enjoy washing dishes. I may try to use some of your methods at home. Do you get any resistance?”

“Very little, really. Some of our wealthiest clients have said they found great satisfaction in helping with their own meals and tidying their own rooms.”

“Do you ever make exceptions?”

“To the housekeeping rules? Only when someone is physically impaired and unable. We had a lame gentleman here last spring, but even he managed most of the chores from his chair. At the risk of sounding like a gossip, we do now have one guest who resents our rules. Mrs. Thompson. Ever since she arrived, she’s been finding ways out of the simple tasks we ask of all our guests.”

“She refused to do them?”

“Not exactly. The first day, she complied. She looked stunned when we told her what was expected.” A touch of amusement lightened Mrs. Hornsby’s expression. “But she must have been up half the night concocting excuses to avoid any work. She’d say she’d left something in her room so her husband would dish up her meal and have it on the table when she returned. She’d say she couldn’t manage the knot on her shoe to get her husband to kneel at her feet and put on her slippers. Now she doesn’t even make excuses. Although, he’s been feeling so poorly of late, she’s been forced to do a few things for herself.”

“Has she been troublesome in other ways?”

“Oh, no. And I really shouldn’t blame her. Her father was a wealthy businessman and she grew up with servants waiting on her all the time. Not a healthy way to raise a child.”

“What can you tell me about Mr. Thompson, and the other guests, Mr. Loomis and Mr. Moss?”

“I’ve had no trouble with them in regards to our household rules. Mr. Moss is in Hippocrates Hut, and he keeps it tidy. I’ve found bachelors of limited means make excellent guests since they’re used to caring for themselves. Oh, I know Mr. Moss is rich now, but he still has his old habits that serve him well.”

“What do the patients do while here, other than receive medical care?”

“Oh, they explore the beach, of course. Some venture up to the forest, but they never go far. The Thompsons went on a day excursion up toward Moclips. Up with the morning low tide, and back on the evening.”

“Do the guests socialize much?”

“A few times in the evenings they have gathered in the library or conservatory.”

“What do they discuss?”

“Mr. Loomis lectures on various topics. He’s a very knowledgeable man. Or, I thought he was. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Did you see any of them with your son-in-law?”

“Mr. Loomis spent a lot of time with David. He seemed impressed with all he’d done around here. That made Martha quite proud, that a successful businessman was impressed with her David.” Mrs. Hornsby began worrying her apron again, as if she were applying her newly formed doubts of Loomis to past experience with him, something Bradshaw hoped to minimize.

“Can you recall anything specific about what Mr. Loomis and David discussed?”

“Mr. Loomis said David had real potential.”

“Potential for what?”