Unbury Carol(74)

“I see. For a moment it sounded as though you were wondering whether or not he exists.”

Opal watched Dwight closely.

“When did he check her, Mister Evers?”

“When?”

“That’s right.”

“The evening she collapsed.”

“Charles is a bit of a ride. You do all that in the dark?”

“It wasn’t quite nightfall. I carried lanterns, if you must have these details to complete your picture.”

“There are plenty of doctors here in Harrows. Doctor Walker is excellent. And he knows the Illness inside out.”

“I do think you’re overstepping here. A man can go to any doctor he chooses.”

“Of course. But seeing the urgency of your wife’s state…”

“There was no urgency.”

“No?”

“No. She was beyond assistance.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“How’s that?”

“I can’t help but get the feeling you’re not believing me.”

Opal smiled. “Like I said, I’m not a big fan of the unknown.”

“Remember that I am a grieving man.”

And nothing more, Dwight thought.

“I do.”

The men were quiet again. Leaves blew over their boots on the trail.

“Look, I can tell you’re upset by my questions here, but if you’d just stomach through a couple more, I can walk away feeling as peaceful as an old pig.”

“That would be fine.”

“Your family will be dressing the body.”

“Indeed. My sister and her husband.”

“And where is she now?”

“Carol?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry to ask.”

Suddenly, horrifically, Dwight thought maybe Opal had already been to his house. He weighed what to say next with delicacy.

“She’s with them now. I’m returning from there myself.”

Opal nodded. It was the answer he was hoping for. If Dwight had said she was at home, he would be lying. And a man lying about the whereabouts of his deceased wife was nothing but a bad thing.

“Your sister a mortician?”

“Her husband is, yes. She knows something of it, too.”

“Whereabouts?”

Dwight pointed beyond the Trail.

“An hour in that direction, Sheriff.”

“An hour? By coach, I bet.”

“Yes, by coach.”

Opal put his hat back on his head.

“Let me ask you one more thing, Mister Evers. You hear your house girl shriek and go and find your wife on the floor, not breathing…terrible thing to discover. You drive your coach to a good friend of yours, hoping he could tell you what went wrong. Then what?”

“I drove back to Harrows. I went to see Manders.”

It was not lost on Dwight that Opal knew of Farrah’s having been present when Carol collapsed. Had he spoken with her? Dwight suddenly felt empowered for not having smothered Carol or pinching her nostrils shut. Not all of Lafayette’s suggestions were wise. Dwight knew right from wrong, too. Farrah could be pointing a finger at him already, and the line it made would go directly to any marks upon Carol’s body, any sign of a struggle at all.

“And where was Carol throughout?”

“While I saw Manders?”

“That’s right. Usually a man delivers the body to someone like Manders right away.”

“I put Carol upstairs,” Dwight said. He felt sure he was revealing something. Treading close to getting caught in a small lie. And small lies had a tendency to grow big. “But I couldn’t bear to look upon her there in our bed. So, I am somewhat bothered to say, I carried her to the cellar. We have a storm room down there and I suppose I thought the table in there as good a spot as any to keep her before my brother-in-law had a chance to dress her.”

Opal nodded. The story lined up with what Farrah told him. Opal just didn’t like the story.

“Well, I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t mind a chance at talking to that Alexander Wolfe. If you can make that happen, I’d be much obliged. Again, it’s my duty to keep Harrows safe. Who knows what he doesn’t even know he discovered. Something even a registered doctor might not.”

Dwight nodded.

“I’ll get him for you. I trust that after you’ve met him you will feel the same as I do; that is, it doesn’t matter whether or not he’s in one of your books.”

Opal thought of Manders knocking on his door at midnight. He thought of Farrah in the cellar.

“Here’s what I’d like, Mister Evers. I’d like to meet this Alexander Wolfe as soon as you can get him, which, according to your story, you being so close, shouldn’t be difficult.”

“My story?”

“Let me put it to you this way. If you don’t produce the doctor, there’ll be some trouble. I’ll have questions and more questions until you do. And who knows what sort of thoughts I’ll start thinking regarding who determined your wife’s death and whether she was seen at all.”

Dwight looked crazed into Opal’s eyes. “That’s a terrible thing to say…”

“Do you understand me, Dwight?”