Chapter Five

A few hours later, the young women headed to the sunset concert. The potluck and the parade would highlight Sunday. Each event represented a pleasant memory from childhood for Doro. The spring dance, scheduled for the following weekend, was strictly for grown-ups. Again, bittersweet emotions filled Doro. As usual, she would go alone, or tag along with Aggie and Wade. She pushed her disappointment aside as she and Aggie entered the park, where a crowd had already assembled.

“Ev and Wade are over there.” Aggie gestured to some trees about fifty feet from the white clapboard bandstand, which now held boys and girls between six and ten.

When her friend headed in that direction, Doro followed. Concern hit her when she saw Ev’s pallor. As she got closer, Doro felt more and more worried. Not only was he snow white, sweat beaded his brow, and he was hunched against a tree, as if in pain. What had happened since they parted? She hurried to his side. “What’s wrong?”

His silver gaze, dark with discomfort, met hers. “Not sure. I started feeling nauseous a half-hour or so ago. It’s gotten worse. Now, I’m hot and cold and…” He put one hand against his abdomen.

“Maybe it’s something you ate,” she murmured. Surely not her food. Guilt joined apprehension. “I hope it wasn’t something from my basket.”

He shook his head. “Maybe I ate too much, since I had several more cookies with jam after walking Tee. The shortbread is delicious.” Somehow, he managed a weak smile. “Besides, Wade says he feels off-kilter, too, so we might’ve consumed too many treats. You don’t feel sick, do you?” Anxiety filled his gaze.

“No,” she replied. “I feel fine.”

“You ate a ham sandwich, so it wasn’t that. We all had some shortbread, so it wasn’t that, either.” One hand went to his mouth as his eyelids shut and opened again. “It’s got to be my overeating.”

The reassurance didn’t ease her mind. Ev looked ghastly. Doro turned to Wade and Aggie, who stood a few feet away. While the constable looked pale, he wasn’t as overtly ailing as Ev.

“Do you feel sick, too?” Doro asked.

Wade nodded. “A little, but Ev is worse. A lot worse. I want to hear my kids sing, but Ev ought to get home. He could’ve caught something.”

“Good idea,” Doro murmured before turning to Ev. “Can you walk to your place?”

After a long breath, he opened his mouth but, before a single word came out, he crumpled to the ground. His eyes shuttered before briefly opening to rivet on Doro. “Take care of Tee.” Then, his dark lashes drooped, and he went still.

Shock and horror hit Doro, who dropped to her knees next to him and clasped his hand. “Ev. Ev.” He had no reaction to her voice or her touch. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she looked at Aggie and Wade for help.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Dr. and Mrs. Silven, who were seated nearby, hurried over. After a brief examination of Ev, the physician turned to his wife. “You stay and listen to the children. I’m not sure what’s wrong, but I’ll get him into our automobile and to our place.” He looked at Wade. “What about you? Should I take you along?”

“I’d like to hear my kids, but I’ll probably come after the concert,” Wade said in an unusually weak and wavering voice.

“We can bring Wade,” Doro replied, her own voice barely audible, even to herself. She glanced at the constable. “You may both have the same issue, so don’t delay. We don’t want our other local lawman down for the count.” She tried to inject a humorous note, but fear plagued her as her gaze went back to Ev. If she did not know better, Doro would have sworn he was dead.

Doro watched Doc and a couple of other men cart Ev to the Silven vehicle. Since they were not in direct view of the audience or singers, no ruckus was created. No outward ruckus, at least. Inside Doro, a tempest of fear raged. Whatever ailed Ev was serious. Very serious.

After taking a seat at the back of the audience near Wade’s mother and aunt, Doro tried to enjoy the concert. Usually, she found the children’s performances charming. Usually, she was swept back in time to when she had been on the bandstand, and her proud parents were in the crowd. Now, Ev tumbling to the ground replayed over and over in her mind and, when the singing ended, she jumped to her feet. At the same time, Mrs. Lammers also stood up.

“Son, you don’t look well,” his mother said to Wade.

“Don’t worry, Ma.” His reassurance lacked strength.

Aggie clasped Wade’s arm. “We need to get you to Doc’s place before you end up like Ev.” She glanced at Mrs. Lammers. “Ev fell ill before the concert, so he’s already there.”

Color fled from the older woman’s face. “My automobile is close by.” She gestured toward the edge of the park. “Can you make it that far, son?”

“Sure,” he replied, although his tone held no conviction. “But I don’t want the kids to be alarmed.”

“I’ll meet them when they come off the stage,” his aunt, Nola Islington, assured him. “Luckily, they’re used to you being called away. We’ll go to my place for cookies and cocoa. If necessary, they can spend the night.” Mrs. Islington, who was a few years younger than Wade’s mother, offered a smile with her assurances.

Wade mumbled his gratitude, while his mother had a brief exchange with her sister before turning to the two young women. “Maybe you could help him along.”

“Of course,” Aggie replied.

Doro and Aggie exchanged anxious glances as they each took one of Wade’s arms and led him to his mother’s Winton Touring car. After a couple of false starts, he tumbled into the passenger seat. As soon as all three women were in the vehicle, Mrs. Lammers drove out of the parking area.

When they got to the Silven home, Wade nearly fell on his face getting out. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Let’s get you into the house.” Aggie, alarm lining her fine features, turned to Mrs. Lammers. “Maybe you should let Doc know we’re here.”

“I will,” Wade’s mother said before hurrying up the front walk and to the door.

The two friends and Wade followed more methodically. He stumbled several times but, after the first two, he quit apologizing, probably because he was getting out of breath. Doro released a sigh when Doc Silven descended the porch stairs to help.

He put an arm around Wade’s waist. “Lean on me, and we’ll get you inside.”

Even with Doc’s assistance, Wade struggled to mount the steps. Eventually, he was seated in the doctor’s office, which was just off the home’s foyer.

As Doro glanced around the room, she could not help but worry. “How is Ev?” Her heart thundered in her ears. And where was Ev?

Doc’s expression remained grim. “He regained consciousness, but he’s quite ill. Chills, sweats, vomiting. I’ve got him in a patient room down here. I don’t want to leave him alone for long. It’ll be easier when Magenta gets back from the concert.”

“I could sit with him,” Doro said without forethought.

A slight smile played across Doc’s lips. “He didn’t want me in the room, so I doubt if he’ll want you witnessing his current state.” His mouth flattened as concern darkened his gaze. “Besides, I don’t know what’s wrong yet. If it’s contagious, I’d rather not have others get sick.”

Disappointment and dismay warred within Doro. “I understand.”

“When he’s better, you can visit,” the physician assured her before glancing at Aggie and Mrs. Lammers. “You three stay here, while I examine Wade. I’ll return with a report.”

With little choice, the women sat down and waited. Off-and-on, they engaged in casual conversation, but long spells of silence fell. When Doc reentered the office, his face was set in solemn lines. Doro clasped her hands in her lap and braced for the news.

“Wade is nauseous, too, but he hasn’t vomited. Yet,” Doc Silven said.

“What’s wrong with them?” Aggie asked. “Do you have any ideas?”

“It doesn’t sound like Spanish flu,” Mrs. Lammers put in. “I had that myself, and the symptoms were different.”

“I also had it, and you’re right,” Aggie agreed.

“As I said, I can’t be sure at this point,” Silven replied. “I’m sorry. I wish I knew more.”

Uneasiness mushroomed inside Doro as she once again worried that her food had made the men sick. All four of them had eaten the ham and the shortbread, but neither she nor Aggie was ill. Even so, she put forth a plausible scenario. “When I was little, some folks got sick after the Fourth of July picnic. Doc Frotis said a big bowl of potato salad must’ve gone bad.”

“Food poisoning has similar symptoms, but the baskets were all kept cool,” Aggie observed. “Except the hot meals brought right from home.”

“Keeping the auction food in the icehouse started after the potato salad problem,” Doro said.

“A wise practice,” Doc replied. “Allowing food to sit outside for hours during warm weather can cause problems.”

The comments might, or might not, connect to Ev and Wade falling ill. While Doro understood the physician’s caution, she wanted an answer. Waiting, especially for a diagnosis, was one of life’s worst frustrations.

“We don’t know how ladies handled their concoctions prior to taking them to the event,” Mrs. Lammers said.

“True,” Doro agreed, “but Ev and Wade only ate food from our baskets.”

“Ev and Wade also consumed cake at the contest, which the other judges did.” Aggie’s brow furrowed, as if she was deep in thought. “All four of us had my potato salad and baked beans. Doro and I both had a couple of bites of cake.”

“And my shortbread and ham sandwiches,” Doro added. “Only Ev ate an apple.”

“Spoiled fruit can cause problems, but you would’ve seen it was bad,” the physician said.

“It looked fine,” Doro replied, but what about her other offerings? Shaking her anxiety was impossible.

Doc looked from one young woman to the other. “Both of you appear fine. Do you feel all right?” After they answered in the affirmative, Doc continued. “Then, we can rule out those foods. What about quantities? I’m guessing the men consumed more than either of you did.”

“Definitely,” Aggie responded. “Ev mentioned being especially hungry, so he ate more than usual.”

Doro clapped on to her friend’s lead. “He thought it might be indigestion from eating too much food, in general, or too many sweets, in particular.”

Doc drummed his fingers on the desk. “He’s too sick for the cause to be overeating, which could create some abdominal discomfort, but not severe pain, vomiting, nausea, and diarrhea.”

The list of symptoms made Doro swallow hard over the sudden queasiness rising inside her. A glance at Aggie revealed her friend was experiencing similar feelings. “How terrible.”

“It’s not nice,” the physician replied in a somber tone. “Ev is in much worse shape than Wade, so did he consume a lot more of any item?”

“Ev had a few of the shortbread cookies, but Wade only had a couple,” Doro replied, but worry still stalked her. “I had one, and so did Aggie.”

Several seconds passed before Aggie made an observation. “Ev suggested putting jam on the shortbread, so Wade tried it,” Aggie added. She wrapped her arms around her waist. “They ate a lot of jam.”

“They did, especially Ev,” Doro agreed. “Ev told us about always putting lots on shortbread when he was a boy, and he had shortbread with jam after he walked Tee.”

A pensive expression blanketed the physician’s face. “And this jam was yours, Aggie?”

She nodded. “I had an open jar on the judges’ table, so they could add some to the cake, if they liked. My dad and brother always did that.” Her lips trembled as she spoke.

“You mentioned Ev and Wade using extra jam at the picnic,” Doc observed.

Because her friend seemed shaken, Doro responded. “Three judges, including Ev and Wade, put an extra scoop on the jam roll during the contest. Since the jar was almost full, Aggie put it in her auction basket, and Ev took it home with him after consuming a fair amount.”

“You put the jar in your basket right after the competition?” the physician asked.

Aggie shook her head. “No. The prizewinners were photographed at the bandstand on the other side of the park. When we all walked over there, I left the jam jar on the table in the judging tent.” She folded her trembling hands in her lap. “The jar is from a big batch I made last fall when blackberries were ripe. Doro and I’ve eaten it over the last few months. A few others have, too.”

Doc Silven gave her a thoughtful expression. “And you’re sure the jar you took to the contest and put in your basket is from that batch.”

“Absolutely sure,” Aggie said.

“She’s right about the jar being one of many,” Doro agreed. “We’ve eaten a lot of that jam, and so have some of our fellow Wheaton Hall residents.”

“Was the seal on the jar secure when you put it on the table this morning?” Doc inquired.

The questions were obviously putting Aggie on edge, but Doro also felt increasingly wary. Was Doc suggesting the jam might have gone bad due to not being properly stored? Could that lead to dire illness?

“I think it was,” Aggie murmured. “I opened it myself, and the paraffin was in place.”

Several seconds of silence ensued while Doc leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his waist as he stared into space. “You’ve given me plenty to consider.”

“In what way?” Mrs. Lammers posed the question in Doro’s mind.

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but Ev and Wade may have been poisoned. I’ve seen similar symptoms in patients who were. Several cases happened when I was in medical school. Unfortunately, a lot of toxins are easily accessible and folks end up getting accidentally affected by them.” The doctor’s solemn expression, along with his words, telegraphed genuine concern. “I had one patient succumb after long-term exposure to poison.”

Doro swallowed hard over the lump rising in her throat. “Is that worse than sudden poisoning?” She hoped so.

“Not necessarily,” he replied. “In this long-term case, the man refused to see me. He was sure he’d be fine. A lingering case of influenza, some food allergy, stress from work. Evidently, those were the excuses he used with his wife. When he finally agreed, it was too late…” His voice trailed off. “I shouldn’t say more, because it’s a private matter, and the family doesn’t need to be buffeted by gossip. They’ve had a hard enough time.”

The sentiment was admirable, because tittle-tattle spread rapidly. Most folks meant no harm by repeating talk, but it often hurt those involved. Even so, Doro could not help but wonder who had died. Someone in Michaw? Evidently, or Doc would not be concerned about the family. Someone she knew? Most likely, because she was acquainted with everyone in the small town. A glance at Wade’s mother revealed the older woman had similar questions. Since it made no difference to the current circumstances, Doro dismissed the past and focused on the present. “You’re sure Ev and Wade didn’t get lethal doses?” Doro asked.

A hesitation preceded his reply. “Fairly sure, but I can’t be positive. As I said, they’re otherwise healthy, and that’s important. So was getting them here. That’s where long-term exposure can be worse. When I don’t know someone might’ve been exposed to poison, I can’t provide proper care.”

All three women were momentarily mute. Mrs. Lammers found her voice first. “Did you ask what they ate earlier, before the contest and the auction? Wade keeps rat poison in the storage area of the constable’s station, along with some foodstuffs. He knows to be careful with toxins, but anyone can make a mistake.”

Doro silently blessed the constable’s mother for suggesting something other than Aggie’s jam might be the culprit, although she doubted Wade would make such an error.

“I asked about what they ate earlier and where,” Doc replied. “Wade was able to say neither had breakfast because of judging the cakes. The rest of what they ate, you all know.”

“Able to say,” Aggie echoed as all remaining color drained from her face. “How sick is he?”

The indicators already listed by the physician were alarming, but symptoms could range from mild to severe. Aggie clearly figured the men’s ailments were in the former category, while Doro feared the latter better described them.

The doctor’s grim expression foreshadowed his words. “Very ill. Both of them are, although Ev is worse, as I said already. I won’t leave them alone for long, not in their current conditions.”

With her pulse pounding in her ears, Doro felt dizziness hit hard. While she had been prepared for a tough siege of sickness, Doc’s admonition about an uncertain outcome added to her apprehension. “You think they’ll recover, but what chance do you give it?” Her voice came out thin and thready.

Doc’s countenance did not lighten as he faced her. “Better than fifty-fifty.”

“Those aren’t good odds,” Aggie murmured.

Mrs. Lammers patted Aggie’s arm. “As Doc said, Ev and Wade are generally healthy. That’s in their favor.” Despite her optimistic statements, the older woman looked and sounded tense.

As she fought for control. Doro folded her hands in her lap and clasped them together. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess.

“I’ve only spoken with Ev in passing before now. Does he have relatives?” The physician addressed Doro.

As the question registered, her fear escalated. “Ev has a younger sister, but I don’t know her last name or address. She’s married with small children.”

“If she’s his next-of-kin, the college should have the information,” Doc pointed out.

“Of course,” Doro murmured. “I can ask Mrs. Jones.”

The physician shook his head. “We don’t need to alarm his sister, and she can’t do anything to help, so let’s wait a while.”

Ev had left the Prohibition Bureau to ease his sister’s mind, so he would not want her contacted prematurely. And, if the worst happened…Doro did not allow the thought to form. “All right,” Doro replied. “We can wait.”

Doc turned to Aggie. “If Ev continues to do worse, I’ll be inclined to think it’s because he ate more jam than Wade.”

The two young women looked at one another, and Doro noted Aggie’s hazel gaze filling with guilt. She wanted to offer reassurance, but she was grappling with the situation herself.

“As we told you, Ev put lots of my jam on Doro’s shortbread.” Aggie made the confirmation. “Like I said, Doro and I have consumed more than one jar from that batch, so I can’t figure out how poison would’ve gotten into that jar.”

“Maybe not accidentally,” Doro made the statement and waited for Silven to respond. Would he accuse her of letting her love of whodunits guide her comment? Everyone knew she was a mystery enthusiast.

“I agree that’s a possibility,” the physician said, “especially if the jar in question was part of a larger batch.”

“It was,” Aggie confirmed.

“And neither of you consumed any today?” the man asked.

“Both of us had a bite of jam roll, and we’re fine,” Doro replied.

“No extra jam on the cookies like Ev and Wade?” Doc asked.

The young women shook their heads. “Doro and I had thin pieces of cake. Since we taste-tested the recipe many times over the past couple of weeks, neither of us wanted more. We didn’t put extra jam on the cake or the cookies, either,” Aggie said, in a troubled tone. “I sealed the jars right after making the jam, which was in September. I used a few of them over the winter and gave some away. Like Doro said, others in Wheaton Hall ate it.”

“Are you experienced in canning?” Doc’s tone was benign, not accusatory.

Aggie nodded. “I canned various foods at home, and I’ve made jam many times. The jars got sterilized, and I bought paraffin from the general store right before I got the blackberries. Like always, I stored the jars in a cool, dark place.”

“You’re sure the jars weren’t tampered with?” Doc asked.

His repeated concern bothered Doro. What exactly was he suggesting?

“They looked fine when I opened one yesterday to use jam in the rolls,” Aggie replied. “I made a second cake for my auction basket with the same jam.”

Doro struggled to picture the jam jar from early that morning, but she had not been concerned about the seal, either. Since she had never canned herself, Doro was not familiar with the process, but she had watched her friend. “I was with Aggie when she made the jam, and no poison was near the workspace. She’s too good a cook to make that kind of mistake.”

A long moment of silence preceded Doc’s response. “Where is the jar now?”

“There was also a full, fresh jar in my picnic basket, so Wade gave the opened one to Ev to put on the leftover shortbread,” Aggie replied. “It was nearly full before lunch, and about half-full after.”

“I’d like to examine it. I can’t test it here, but I’ll contact the county sheriff. He’ll have someone who can do it for us. Wade wants me to call him anyhow,” Silven said.

“Do he and Ev suspect poisoning?” Doro inquired.

Silven shook his head. “Right now, they’re too sick to think much about what happened and how it did, but neither of them will be at work for a few days, maybe longer. Wade wants the sheriff to know.”

“That’s my boy,” Mrs. Lammers said. “He takes his responsibilities to heart.”

“He does,” Aggie seconded the observation. “Maybe Doro and I can fetch the jam jar and get it to you, Doc.”

“Of course,” Doro agreed. “With Ev so sick, I’ll pick up Tee and keep her with me. We can get the jam at the same time.”

“Good,” he said, “but I feel fairly confident about poison being in it. That’s the only idea making sense of the entire situation. If I’m wrong, tests will reveal it.”

“But how would poison get in the jam?” Aggie asked again.

Silven’s mouth flattened. “You said everyone went to the bandstand for the announcement of winners.”

“That’s right,” Doro said. “Almost everyone in the tent went.” Lila Billings and her uncle hadn’t, and neither had Betty Stanley. And they had seen Parker and Harland in the area, not to mention the Fultons.

“The baking contest was the last one, but there were two others beforehand. First was fried chicken, since contestants brought hot food straight from home,” Aggie added. “The second was bread.”

“Neither Wade nor Ev judged any of those foods?” Doc asked.

“No, only the jam roll contest,” Mrs. Lammers told him. “Wade has judged the baking competition for years, because he’s got a sweet tooth.”

Finally, the tension left Aggie, and she smiled. “He does.”

Under other circumstances, Doro would have teased her friend about entering the baking contest to please Wade, but she could not shake her uneasiness long enough to engage in kidding. The image of Ev crumpling to the ground remained in the back of her mind, while finding out who was responsible was in the front. “We all left the judging table for the awards ceremony, so anyone could’ve tampered with the jam jar.”

“But why?” Aggie asked.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Doro said.

“If it is a toxin, all of us would like to know why and who.” Dr. Silven shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

Mrs. Lammers nodded. “What kind of poison could it be?”

Silven braced his elbows on the edge of his desk and steepled his fingers. “One possibility is arsenic. Folks have easy access,” the doctor replied, “and it’s colorless and tasteless. I saw several cases when I was in medical school. All but one was accidental. As you noted, Mrs. Lammers, rat poison is in many offices and homes.”

A shiver rippled through Aggie. “No one would carry rat poison around without a reason and, since my jam seems to be the only tainted item, the person would’ve planned to do harm.”

Her friend’s voice rang with apprehension. Doro wanted to offer reassurance. But how could she? Ev and Wade were ill, probably from poison, and that had not happened by accident. Again, Doro wondered about the people who had been near or in the judging tent. Lila, her uncle, Betty, and the two boys might want to make Aggie suffer. But surely not the Fultons.

“It certainly seems that way,” Silven agreed. “Mercury is also colorless and tasteless, but no one has it sitting on a pantry shelf. Although it’s in thermometers, handling it is trickier. I’m not sure it wouldn’t change the texture of jam. Did it look unusual?”

Doro and Aggie agreed it did not have an odd appearance.

The physician ran his fingers across his forehead. “Some plants cause gastric distress, but getting them into jam would take some doing.”

“Perhaps, it was a prank gone wrong,” Mrs. Lammers said. “Some years ago, a boy slipped opium into one of the desserts. One made by a girl who turned down his invitation to a party. He didn’t want to kill her or no one else. His aim was to embarrass the girl, and he succeeded for a while because the cause of the judges falling ill wasn’t immediately obvious. Eventually, his folks noticed a good deal of his grandmother’s medication was missing. They confronted him, and he admitted to the prank.”

“How awful,” Doro said. “I don’t recall it, though.”

Mrs. Lammers smiled. “You were a babe in arms back then. The family eventually moved away, and the girl did, too, after she married. Her folks are all gone, so there’s not been no talk about it in years. It was an ugly event, but opium used to be in many remedies years ago.”

“Before the Harrison Narcotics Act banned it,” Doc said. “I was just beginning medical school when that happened. It was a wise law, since both opium and cocaine can be dangerous and need regulation. As your story points out.”

“Do you think someone was merely making mischief by tainting my jam?” Aggie asked, her face pale and her eyes wide.

Doc’s shoulders rose and fell. “Mrs. Lammers’ example isn’t the only one I’ve heard about. Usually, kids are involved. Just like the boy using opium, they seldom realize the dangers of certain substances, especially when the toxins are in homes everywhere. Not as many medicines have opium in them nowadays, and it’s much more controlled, but rat poison is everywhere.” The physician braced his elbows on the desk before focusing on Aggie. “Do you have any disgruntled students? One who has argued over a grade or assignment?”

One hand flew to her mouth. “Yes. One young man is unhappy with his mark on the last essay. If his final paper isn’t much better, he’ll get a C, which will keep him off the Dean’s List.”

“And that’s important to him?” Silven asked.

“Very much so,” Aggie replied. “His family expects him to excel, and he has in other courses. Unfortunately, the young man isn’t interested in poetry, and his disinterest shows in my class and in his writing. He only took my class because it fulfills a requirement.”

“We saw him and a buddy when we left the tent. They were rude and nasty to Aggie,” Doro commented.”

“They were,” Aggie added.

Silven turned to Doro. “You’re familiar with the young man?”

Doro nodded. “He comes to the library for research, although he doesn’t do much work. Mostly, he watches the girls and chats with his friends. My boss, Floyd Quartine, has asked Parker to leave several times. It’s a tricky situation because his uncle is on the Board of Trustees.”

“Which Parker mentions often,” Aggie added.

Doc’s brow puckered. “Only a couple of trustees live in Michaw.”

“Garrett Matthing, Parker’s uncle, lives in Toledo,” Doro said. “He only comes to town for the board meetings, but he lets his ideas be known then.”

Wade’s mother posed a question. “What sort of ideas?”

“The college reverting to its original all-male status is his primary interest,” Doro replied.

A chuckle left Doc Silven. “He’s going against the modern tide with that idea. More women are working and going to college. I don’t see it changing.”

“He’s in the minority,” Doro said, “but he’s outspoken, and so is Parker.”

“Then, he may be the culprit,” Mrs. Lammers said.

“Sounds possible, but let’s not jump to conclusions,” Doc observed. “For now, I want to check the jam, see if it’s been poisoned, and, if so, with what.”

Should Doro mention Lila and Betty? Maybe not yet. And the Fultons? Revealing their behavior seemed wise. “Mr. and Mrs. Fulton were in the tent when we went back. They hurried off after we tried to chat.”

“They did,” Aggie said.

“The couple who worked for Veronica Parson?” Mrs. Lammers asked. “They was helpful to you girls back in December.”

What the constable’s mother said was true. The Fultons had assisted Doro and Aggie, along with another woman, after they escaped from a murderer. “They were,” Doro agreed, “but they rarely come into town. From what I hear, they go to Toledo for their supplies.” Lingering suspicions about the pair surfaced in the recesses of her mind. Veronica Parson’s husband had been suspected of dealing with bootleggers and, after his death, she had most likely carried on the trade. Since the Fultons had come to Michaw with her, they had to know about the rumrunning—and maybe be involved themselves.

“That’s true,” Doc said. “They even see a doctor in the city. Always did, though. I was surprised they didn’t go back to Toledo after Mrs. Frotis’ murder and everything that occurred afterward.” The widow of the previous town doctor, who had passed a number of years ago, had been killed just before Christmas. She and Mrs. Parson, her next-door neighbor, had been at odds repeatedly before the homicide.

“It’s been the topic of town talk off-and-on.” Mrs. Lammers folded her hands in her lap and bent her head. “I’ve asked Wade about them, but he’s real close-mouthed.”

The observation magnified Doro’s hunches. On several occasions, she had broached the topic of bootlegging with Ev, and he had brushed it off. Evidently, Wade did the same. But was it a far-fetched idea to believe the pair would taint the jam to disable the local lawmen? Doro needed to give it more thought before voicing the possibility.

“I’m more concerned about Aggie’s student,” Doc said, “although it seems strange for him to carry poison with him.”

“Maybe he was hoping for an opportunity,” Doro suggested, since Parker was a strong suspect. “It wasn’t a secret that this year’s bake-off was all jelly and jam loaves, so even students could guess extra jars would be available.”

Mrs. Lammers nodded. “Many bakers provide more with their cakes, so the boy coulda guessed. Or maybe he planned to find Aggie’s picnic basket and poison that food.”

“Maybe,” Doro said, “but we kept ours in Wheaton Hall, not at the church.”

“If the boys looked, they must’ve realized that,” Aggie observed.

A memory surfaced in Doro’s mind. “One day in the library, Parker was telling a buddy about playing a prank on a high school teacher who gave him low marks. Evidently, he flattened two of the man’s tires, which broke the axle. They were guffawing about the incident. I had to tell them to be quiet or leave. Parker had the gall to say it’d be too bad if my Essex got scratched or dented. I told him I’d know who to pursue, if it did. Not that I could prove it.”

“Doro, you never said anything about that.” Aggie turned toward her friend.

“I didn’t believe it was important. Now, I can see him plotting some prank,” Doro said. “If he thought Aggie was bringing the leftovers home, she would’ve gotten ill.”

Aggie wrapped her arms around her waist. “Parker is smart enough to know arsenic can be lethal. The same with mercury.” Her voice trembled, and a shiver went through her.

Doro laid a hand on her friend’s arm in a silent act of support and comfort. But she did not know what more to say.

“Is he smart enough to know not to use too much?” Silven inquired.

For several moments, silence echoed in the room. Finally, Aggie replied. “He is. More than once, he’s mentioned how much more interesting and useful the sciences are than literature and composition. He’s majoring in chemistry.”

“I’ve heard the same from him,” Doro added, “so, it’s possible he decided some arsenic or mercury in Aggie’s fare would either make her sick or affect others and make her look bad.”

Doc rolled a pencil between his hands. “If the boy has relatives who are doctors, and he’s studying chem, you’re probably right about him knowing enough to use a poison that could be easily hidden and feel cocky enough to think he’d be able to put a minimal amount in the jam. Targeting a teacher before now is not a good sign. Neither is threatening to damage your vehicle, Doro.”

She nodded. “He’s a troublemaker.”

A disturbed expression crossed Mrs. Lammers’ lined face. “A few folks in town gossip about Wade and Aggie, but would students know?”

“I’m afraid so,” Doro replied. “At least Parker and Harland did, because they mentioned it when we crossed paths this morning.”

“They did,” Aggie added.

Mrs. Lammers patted Aggie’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Folks oughta keep quiet, especially young’uns.”

“I agree, but your observation brings up the fact that others who were around the tent might’ve been responsible,” Doro said.

“You’ve already mentioned the Fultons,” Doc replied, “but it’s hard to believe they’d resort to using poison, and what would their motive be?”

Since she was not sure how involvement in bootlegging would lead to poisoning the jam, Doro went on to another suspect. “Betty Stanley was a contestant, and she’s been spreading gossip about Aggie and Wade stepping out. She disapproves. What if she wanted to make Aggie look bad?”

Doc’s eyes widened. “Mrs. Stanley has had a difficult time since her husband died. Raising their son alone is a tough task. I can’t see her as a poisoner or understand why she cares about who Wade sees.”

Mrs. Lammers pursed her lips. “She’s been after my boy ever since his wife died. Margie was in her grave less than six months when Betty began bringing meals to his house. My sister, my niece, and I pitched in to see he and the children was well-fed and cared for. I told Betty as much, but she insisted he needed someone like her. Such vanity.” Disdain laced the woman’s voice.

Although Doro had not heard the details before, she was hardly surprised. Mrs. Stanley had set her cap for Wade. That much was clear. But would she poison Aggie? Or attempt to poison her?

Doc cleared his throat. “Mr. Stanley and young Mrs. Lammers died within a few weeks of each other. Sometimes, widows and widowers find solace in sharing their losses.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “I know very little about town talk, so I’m not aware of Mrs. Stanley pursuing Wade. My practice and my family keep me busy.”

“I’m sure they do,” Aggie observed. She gripped the chair arms. “Mrs. Stanley has been hostile to me and to Doro.” She briefly went over the woman’s complaints at the cakewalk.

“I see,” Doc murmured.

Doro was not sure he did, but she was about to mention Lila Billings when he spoke again.

“My primary concern is getting Ev and Wade back on their feet. Secondarily, I want the jam tested. As for figuring out who tainted it, if it was indeed tampered with, I’ll leave that to the lawmen,” Silven stated, as he got to his feet. “Please get the jar here as soon as you can.”

“Of course,” Doro replied.

A tap on the door interrupted the conversation before the doctor’s wife stepped into the office. “I wanted to let you know we’re back. The children are getting ready for bed. I’ll fix them a snack and get them settled, but I can help afterward.” Her gaze traveled around the group. “How are Ev and Wade doing?”

Her husband got to his feet. “Not well. While they’re apt to recover, they’re both in awful shape right now. The cause probably isn’t contagious, so we can spread the word and ease people’s minds. I’ll be happy to have your help, though, because I don’t want to leave them alone for long periods yet.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Magenta looked at the three women again. “We’ll take excellent care of those two, so try not to worry.” Then, she slipped out of the room.

The door had barely closed behind Mrs. Silven when Wade’s mother spoke. “I can spend the evening and help out. I’d like to call my sister and let her know. She’s got Wade’s children, and they’ll enjoy spending the night with her. I should take Aggie and Doro to get the jam first, though. Then, they won’t have to walk.”

Doc nodded. “All right. A few hours of your presence would ease the burden on Magenta.”

“Aggie and I could stay,” Doro pointed out.

“Yes, we could,” her friend agreed.

“I appreciate that, but Ev doesn’t want an audience. As for Wade, he wants you to go home and rest, Aggie.” Doc cleared his throat. “Besides, I’m not sure how townsfolk would take it if two unmarried ladies sat at the bedsides of two unmarried gentlemen.” Doc looked at Mrs. Lammers.

An inaudible sigh escaped the older woman. “I’m afraid you’re right.” Her gaze, full of sympathy, went to Aggie and Doro.

Doro noted her friend’s blush and, although she wanted to argue about old-fashioned rules, she resisted. Aggie and Wade were already the topic of town gossip, and they didn’t need more under the current conditions. As for Doro and Ev…well, there was no Doro and Ev, even if folks speculated about them.

“If you’ll show yourselves out…” Doc’s voice trailed off.

“Certainly,” Aggie agreed.

“I’ll be back within a half-hour,” Mrs. Lammers said.

The physician acknowledged her statement with a lift of his chin before the women murmured their goodbyes and left.