I moved to the next box and saw it was full of books and medical journals, so I put the lid back on and moved to the next one.It was packed carefully, the contents wrapped with Bubble Wrap.
“I need scissors,” I said.
Dash pulled one of those utility knives from his pocket that did everything from opening cans to taking out hair extensions and handed it to me.
“You were carrying that in church?”I asked.
“I carry everything in church,” he said, pulling up his pant leg so I could see his ankle holster.“Always be prepared.”
“You were a Boy Scout?”
“Something like that.”
I pressed my lips together at the nonanswer and took my frustration out on the wrappings inside the box.
The first item I uncovered was a heavy brass desk lamp with a green glass shade.
“It’s the one sitting on his desk in the pictures,” I said, passing it to Dash and moving on to the next wrapped items.
I uncovered a brass blotter and a Tiffany clock before coming to the next item in the box.My skin tingled and I had a feeling as I lifted it and felt the weight in my hands.I slid the knife under the tape and removed the Bubble Wrap.
“Dash,” I said.
“Careful.Don’t touch it with your hands.Just hold it by the wrapping.You have any gloves?”
“Under the kitchen sink.”
He came back quickly wearing a pair of rubber gloves I used to wash the dishes, and he carefully took the leaded-crystal decanter out of my hands and set it carefully on the table.The stopper was still intact, though it had been emptied of the whiskey that had been in the picture so long ago.
“Surely after all this time you wouldn’t be able to find anything from this,” I said.
“You’d be surprised.If this had been a normal investigation the contents of the liquor would have been tested and the glasses dusted for fingerprints.The killer might have wiped prints, but if they drugged Henry to get him compliant enough to hold a gun in his right hand and have a little help pulling the trigger, then the residue could still be on the inside of the glass or the decanter.It’s a long shot, but it’s worth sending to the lab for testing.Are the glasses in there too?”
“Yeah,” I said, slicing open the wrapping of the two small items and letting Dash take them with his gloved hands.
He took the glasses, turned them once each in the light, and set them beside the decanter without comment.
“Let me get some paper sacks in the pantry,” I said.“Otherwise you’ll have to wrap them back up with the Bubble Wrap to transport them.”
I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the paper sacks I kept folded just inside the door and brought them back to Dash.
He tucked all three pieces into the paper sacks and then labeled them in neat block lettering.
“I’ll drive these to the lab on the mainland first thing tomorrow,” he said.
I reached for the day planner.The leather had gone soft with carrying, the corners worn pale, and when I opened it the pages opened automatically to the bookmarked page.The last week of his life.
“It’s sad,” I said.“No one thinks when they’re filling up their calendar that this could mark the end of their life.That no other dates or events would come after.”
“Life is a fragile thing,” he said, sitting down on the couch next to me.
“The day Patrick died we’d just talked that morning about taking a trip to the French Riviera.After he left for the golf course I started doing research, and I was trying to find a couple of weeks we could squeeze into our calendars.I had a notebook filled with sites and hotels and excursions when I got the call that he’d been rushed to the hospital.They didn’t tell me he was dead over the phone.But I think I knew as I was driving to the hospital that he was already gone.Sometimes I think I should take the trip anyway, so it’s not a stumbling block.”
“Sounds like a very rational idea to me,” he said.
Henry’s handwriting was every bit as bad as Jackie had promised, cramped and tipping hard to the left, half of it more guess than word.
“Monday and Tuesday, nothing but the clinic,” I said, running my finger down the page.“Eight in the morning straight through.He didn’t break for lunch by the look of it.”I moved my finger down further.“Tuesday night, deacons at seven.That’s the meeting in the fellowship hall at St.James.Deacons’ meetings are second Tuesday of the month.”
