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Adam drove around the corner next to Wally Ryall’s duplex. The place was every bit as dark and deserted-looking as when he and Jinks were inside yesterday. The forensics team had come and gone, with not much interesting to add to the former occupant’s murder case. No weapons, no blood, no secret threatening notes, and the only fingerprints were Ryall’s and the ex-girlfriend’s, Fern Gery.
But this time, Adam and Jinks were more interested in the house behind the duplex where Professor Vernon Atkinson lived, as neat and homey-looking as Wally’s was unwelcoming. Despite the last traces of snow on top of dormant brown grass, the fastidiously trimmed bushes, plant stakes, and wire frames in back were signs of a gardener’s obsessive touch.
The man who welcomed them inside was the quintessential college professor, complete with sweater and patches on the elbows and a pipe. Adam would have suspected the man was playing up the image for their benefit if Adam hadn’t gone on the college’s website and found photos of Atkinson with that same getup.
Their host introduced them to an olive-skinned woman he identified as his wife, Nyssa, who joined him on a Victorian-era loveseat. Adam asked the man, “You’re a professor of Sustainable Design and Technology at Hardin Tech, is that correct?”
“You’re going to ask what that is, so I’ll beat you to the punch.”
Adam had a pretty good idea of what it was from the website, but he’d play along.
“We take tree-hugging to the next level. But instead of hugging the trees, we find ways to keep from cutting them down. Or to do so in a way that eliminates negative environmental impacts. Sustainable design is about creating projects that don’t require any non-renewable resources.”
Adam thought he heard Jinks stifle a disgusted grunt trying to keep up with the man’s words as she wrote it all down. Adam asked, “You must hold some patents, then.”
“I do. Most are the college’s patents.”
“Was Wallace Ryall a student of yours?”
“I doubt that young man was college material. Although I could see him becoming an attorney. The ambulance-chasing kind.”
“I understand you were one of the objects of his litigious pastime.”
“Pastime makes it sound like knitting or playing basketball. This was more a pathology.”
Adam looked around the room. Very. . .scholarly-looking. “What prompted his lawsuit against you?”
“I was a tad overzealous with my wildflower garden. I tried a new chemical touted as all-natural and only toxic to certain weeds. Some of it seeped onto the neighboring property. Not long afterward, an elm tree fell on top of his car. Smashed it in two.”
“And he claimed the weed killer you used weakened the elm tree, causing it to fall?”
“Naturally, I protested my innocence since that tree was old and fell after a bad storm. But the jury didn’t agree.”
“They found in favor of Ryall?”
Atkinson rolled his eyes. “And that should have been the end of it, even though I disagreed with the outcome.”
“What happened next?”
“The win in court emboldened Mr. Ryall. And the harassment started soon afterward.”
“What type of harassment?”
“Several of my plants started dying for no apparent reason. I would have suspected the weed killer if my dog hadn’t fallen sick about the same time.”
Adam hadn’t seen any pets. Maybe that explained it. “Poison?”
“That’s what the vet said. She’s a good vet, and Muttley survived, but we had some huge vet bills resulting from that. Not to mention chronic kidney problems.”
“Did the veterinarian determine the type of poison?”
“She said it might be borax. But she couldn’t tell from a blood test whether it was intentional or accidental.”
“Anything else happen?”
Atkinson uttered a snort of disgust. “One morning when I left the house for work, I noticed someone keyed my car. That resulted in a big bill for a new paint job. Then, there were the windows that were egged. And red paint was splashed on the sidewalk in front of our home.”
“Did you ever see Wallace Ryall doing any of these things?”
“He was very clever about timing. It all happened at night or when we were out of town. And we weren’t about to let Muttley outside to act as guard dog after the poisoning incident.”
Atkinson patted his wife on the hand. “It got so bad, my wife was afraid to go outside for fear she’d run into the man.”
Adam looked at Nyssa Atkinson, quiet up to this point. She didn’t appear frightened, more subdued and tense. Tense at the presence of police? They got that all the time, so it wouldn’t be surprising. But he sensed that wasn’t it. If her body language was any indication, she was ready to bolt from the room and out of the house. Adam caught Jinks’s eye and used a little surreptitious sign language for “you, now.”
Jinks took the hint and turned to Nyssa to ask, “I know this is all very upsetting to the both of you, Mrs. Atkinson. We have to ask the same questions to everyone, you understand. So forgive me when I ask you where you were Sunday afternoon?”
Her voice was soft, so soft it was hard to hear. “Visiting my sister. For the birth of my new niece, Joy Anne. Joy Anne Li. My sister is Melinda Li.”
“At Dartmouth-Hitchcock hospital?”
Nyssa nodded. “A C-section.”
Jinks waited for her to add more information, but the woman cleared her throat and looked down at her hands. Her husband jumped in and said, “And I was here all day, grading papers. Didn’t even go out to get meals, thanks to Nyssa here, who prepared everything for me in advance. All I had to do was pop it in the oven.”
Jinks smiled. “Then you’re one lucky man, Mr. Atkinson. My kids are lucky if they get a can of Spaghetti-Os when I’m not home.”
Atkinson chuckled. But Jinks’s trademark humor didn’t make one dent in Nyssa’s gloominess as she continued staring at her fingers.
Adam posed his next question to Atkinson. “Did you ever report these acts of vandalism or the poisoning to the police?”
“We did. But without proof, what could they do? They asked Ryall a few questions, he denied everything.”
Adam thought back to his survey of the small shed behind Ryall’s duplex. He did recall seeing a can of red paint and some borax, a highly toxic weed killer in high doses. “Did you complain to the landlord who owns the duplex?”
“We did. But the family lives in Connecticut. The patriarch owned old Rory’s Five and Dime, did you know that? The business hadn’t done so well in later years. Guess that’s why the family didn’t want to make any waves about Ryall. He paid the rent on time, and that was all that mattered.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t sue them for the fallen elm tree instead of you.”
“Guess he figured they had more money than a college professor to hire good lawyers. Even with their fortunes in decline, he was probably right.”
“Mr. Atkinson, did either you or your wife see any unusual visitors at Ryall’s place recently? Or witness any arguments?”
“That man had no visitors, far as I could tell. There was that nice young lady who he dated for a time. I remember her name because of the botanical connections. Fern, Fern Gery. But I never heard them argue. If anything, she was a saint for putting up with his eccentricities. I guess even saints get tired of wearing a halo.”
Adam thanked the professor and his wife for their time, and he and Jinks retreated to the car. Jinks summed it up pretty well, saying, “One petty lawsuit, one poisoned dog, a few dead plants, a keyed car, eggs on the window, red paint on the sidewalk. Hardly seems enough motive to impale a man into a tree.”
“I’m equally interested in Nyssa Atkinson’s reactions. She was too quiet even for a woman who’s had a brush with murder. Seemed afraid. Of her husband? Worried he’s really a killer? Or even knows he’s a killer?”
“Her story about the sister should be easy to check out. I’ll add her to the list of characters I gotta research.” Jinks shook her head. “Maybe it’s that ugly baby-shit yellow paint on their living room walls that’s giving her a bad mood.”
Adam started the engine and put the heat on full blast. “Spaghetti-Os, Jinks?”
“Remember that casserole I made for the department picnic?”
“Oof. That one almost sent me to the emergency room. I’ll have to remember that the next time we need to incapacitate a suspect. Better than pepper spray.”
“Speaking of Spaghetti-Os and kids, I promised Jacob I’d check on him after lunch.”
“No problem. You can do some of that character research you mentioned from home, right?”
“Chief Quinn didn’t seem to mind when I brought it up the other day.”
“All right then. Go forth and research.”
“What about you, Dutton?”
He squinted up at the sky. “I was thinking of getting a drink. An Irish coffee.”
Jinks gave him a knowing smile. “Say ‘hi’ to Cray for me, will ya?”
