Unbury Carol(87)

Opal extended a palm to the open chair on the other side of his desk.

Outside the sky was already close to black. If Opal opened the window at this hour he would most likely hear some harmless variety of ne’er-do-well on the square, but tonight the doctor from Charles had his entire attention.

“Mister Evers sent me. His telegram was full of much concern. Seems he thinks you don’t believe I exist.”

“I’m still not sure I do.”

Wolfe smiled. “With all due respect, Sheriff, and I do mean respect…where I come from that sounds like you may have it in for an innocent man.”

“That’s how they’d see it in Charles?”

“That’s how they’d see it just about anywhere, I’d gather.”

When Wolfe smiled, his eyes flashed white. His skin tightened to his face.

“And why’s that?”

“Why? Because I’m sitting before you is why.”

“Any proof you’re who you say you are? Any proof you’re a doctor?”

“You may have to take my word for it. Though we could talk medicine all night if you need to.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Very well. Tell me, how can I help my friend clear his good name with you?”

“You can tell me about Carol Evers.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How’d she die?”

“It’s not that easy, I’m afraid.” He tented his long clean fingers above the crossed legs of his suit pants. “I think hers was a weak heart. Dwight told me she was known to complain of light-headedness. I understand she experienced a bout of it the evening she passed.”

“I heard the same thing. Where’d you hear yours?”

“Dwight told me, of course. Who else?”

Opal did not respond. He stared hard into Wolfe’s bright eyes. Wolfe said, “The man is grieving.”

“Yes. That’s what he told me.”

“And you don’t believe that, either?”

Opal dropped his elbows to the desk and leaned forward.

“You’re just a walking question machine, ain’t you? You dispense questions like they’re sugar treats. How about we reverse that lever and you start answering instead.”

Wolfe’s expression did not change. “Yes, of course.”

“What do you think she died of, Doctor, and why do you think what you think?”

Wolfe breathed deep.

“In my opinion, Carol Evers passed from a weak heart. I came to that conclusion based on the fact that she had poor circulation, a symptom of which could have been the dizzy spells. I suppose she could have had a stroke.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, Sheriff. If I had been her physician through life—”

“Why weren’t you?”

Wolfe appeared to be only mildly affected by the question. “I’m not sure. Too far away I suppose.”

“But close enough to call the evening she died.”

“Death is a much more serious thing than the common cold, Sheriff Opal.”

“Who’s talking about the common cold?”

Wolfe smiled. “I think what matters here is that she’s passed. Your asking for me insinuates you are suspicious of Dwight.”

“I’m suspicious of you.”

“I understand that. We’ve never met before. Still, I’m not sure what else a man can do but tell you who he is. It’s up to you to believe him or not.”

“Why aren’t you in the registry?”

A sudden question. Opal watched close for the reaction.

“Excuse me?”

“The ledger of registered doctors.”

“Because I’m not.”

“Not registered?”

“That’s right.”

“How’s that?”

“You understand more than most that a man has the right to see whatever variety of doctor he chooses. Just like he votes as he wishes and eats as he likes. My methods aren’t considered suitable by an archaic volume and you, like those who compiled the book, think I don’t exist for it.”

“Are you a witch doctor?”

Wolfe smiled. “No. But I believe the spirit can heal most wounds.”

Opal leaned back in his chair. This was the best answer he’d had to this question.

“So you’re a quack,” Opal said.

“Not a quack. A modernist, if you will.”

Opal tapped his fingertips on the desk. “A modernist.”

“I think this is a classic case of a woman simply being taken too soon.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Some deaths are ill timed. All, I dare say.”

“How do you feel about Evers keeping the body in the cellar?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Just what I said.”

Wolfe considered. “I’ve known men and women to keep the deceased many places. It depends on what you plan on doing with the body.”

“Well, most people deliver the body to the funeral director here in Harrows. Most people would rather it wasn’t in their own hands for very long.”

“Isn’t the funeral tomorrow morning?”