“What’s the damage?” asked Nell as she came into my room the next evening.
I waved my hand toward the plate on the night table. “See any of Nancy’s treats?”
“No.”
“That’s my punishment. For a month.”
“Ouch, your dad plays hardball.”
“You’re not kidding. I had to beg for him not to take Nancy off cooking duties and install himself.”
“Whoa.” She flopped down beside me on the bed. “He must have been really ticked.”
“He’s not the only one.” I told her about Kent, the hidden box of files, the clothes.
“Don’t wig out just yet. He may have shopped consignment or online for the clothes.”
“Okay but what about the hidden stash of papers?”
“Have you seen what they are?”
“No.”
“So it could be porn.”
“A cut-out hole in a wall is pretty far to go for dirty pictures.”
She shrugged. “With his mom, maybe it was the only step to take.” Nell sat up. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Serge went looking for him. He thought he should talk to Kent first. Thinks it’s better than me going in and asking about Kent’s underwear.”
“I could always ask about them.”
“Your questions would be inappropriate.” I dug in my pocket and pulled out the green and black capsule. “Abriule.” I told her about the old bottle and the strep throat. “That bottle said the doctor was Dr. Auger. Does the name ring any bells?”
“Just because my dad’s a doctor with doctorly connections doesn’t mean I can Rain Man the information—”
“What’s a rain man?”
She sighed and snatched the pill from my hand. “We really got to up your knowledge of 80s movies.”
“You know all the doctors.”
“Yeah, I do, but I don’t like you taking my knowledge for granted.”
“Nell…I’d never do that. I firmly believe you not only rain man information, you can thunderstorm girl it, too.”
She rolled her eyes but grinned. “Dr. Auger retired a couple years ago.”
“Scratch him as a lead. What about the pill? Doesn’t your dad have that giant textbook with every medication listed? Pictures and descriptions?”
“What you, living in the stone age? We have technology, now.” Nell took out her phone and plugged the drug’s name into the search engine. “It’s used to treat anxiety. And alcohol withdrawal, but my money’s on anxiety with Mrs. Meagher.” Nell pressed the capsule back into my hand. “Sometimes doctors give it to patients before surgery, but that wouldn’t be the case with her.”
The door opened. Serge and Kent came in.
I shoved the pill back into my jeans.
“I’m sorry I missed you when you came over,” Kent said. “And I’m sorry you think I was keeping stuff and not being more helpful. I was—part of me is so used to going things alone—and everything’s so confusing right now…” He took a breath and then took another one. “Serge asked me about the clothes. When I volunteered at the hospital, I got friendly with a nurse…”
“Or five,” said Serge.
Kent’s face went red. “It was flattering to get the attention of older women. And some of them bought me stuff—”
“Good enough for me,” I said. Nancy had been right in her belief he hadn’t been covering up anything illegal, just something embarrassing. “Were any of them married?”
“God no!”
Okay, so no death at the hands of a jealous spouse. “What about the papers?”
“In the wall hole? That’s just me being overprotective about my research and intellectual property. You can go ahead and look—it’s just a project I was working on for ADHD. Refining the drug so it’s more effective, with fewer side effects for patients.”
Nell followed all of this on her cell. “I thought you were into healthcare reform.”
“I wanted to do more than one thing.”
“Are you talking about the research or the nurses?” she asked.
His cheeks flared red. “I’m ready to help now,” he mumbled. “No more hiding stuff from you.”
“Speaking of which, your scholarship. Your folks have to contact them. Where’s all the information?”
He frowned. “It’s not in the desk?”
“No.”
“What about the emails on the computer?”
“Didn’t check.”
“The information should be there. I’m not sure why the paper files are gone, but I’d scanned and made back-ups on the laptop. It was the Le Lorche Scholarship, through the university.” He paused. “That’s really nice of you to help my parents.”
Not really. As long as I was “helping,” I was in a position to poke around the house and their lives. But since I couldn’t trust that Kent could or would remember vital information, no way was I going to tell him any of this. “It’s a hard time for them,” I said. “And any-thing I can do to help with the paperwork gives them a chance to grieve.”
“On it!” Nell looked up from his text, then returned her focus to the phone. “I’m texting my dad to call her in for an appointment.” She told Kent about the medication his mom was taking.
“I get her taking something for anxiety,” he said, “but that stuff’s hard core.”
“I’m going to get my dad to bring in your mom, talk to her and make sure she’s not on any medications that might have a bad interaction—”
“She takes Aspirin sometimes.”
“Geez,” said Nell. “No wonder she was listing like a drunken sailor. The web page said those two meds would definitely interact—” She paused as her phone binged and read the text. “Dad says he’ll get on it right away.”
“What does that mean?” asked Kent.
“Let’s find out.” Nell typed, then waited. Another bing. She read then rolled her eyes. “It’s amazing how he conveys sarcasm over the phone. He’s going to stop by and visit with Mrs. Meagher.”
Kent stood, rubbed his palms against his jeans. “I should go and...I don’t know but I should be with my mom. You guys mind?”
“No, go ahead—”
“For sure, totally understand.”
Kent walked into the door. He bounced off the wood and grabbed for his head. “What happened?”
“When you’re really emotional, it can affect your ability to manipulate objects,” said Serge.
“I’ll get the door.” Nell stood. “I should go, anyway. I want to make sure Rori’s okay.” She gave me a quick hug. “Kent, why don’t you come with me? I’ll drive by and you can do a drop and roll out the car.”
Serge’s face darkened as he watched them walk out the door. “Maybe I should go—”
I grabbed his arm and held him back while the other two left. “Rein it in. We need to work.”
“On what?”
“I got in the door with the Meaghers, but if I’m going to stay in and find out stuff, I need to do my part.”
“Which is...?”
“That scholarship. If we can get some basics, then I have a reason to visit Mr. and Mrs. Meagher and start asking questions.” I pulled out my laptop and opened a search page. I entered the Le Lorche scholarship. Nothing came up. “That’s weird.”
“What?”
“No results.”
“Is that even possible?” He came over. “Maybe you spelled it wrong.”
I tried a few variations. “Nothing.”
“Try searching out medical scholarships, University of Alberta.”
I did, then scrolled through the hits. “Still nothing.”
“What about the doctor? Maybe you can find it via his foundation.”
I tried that. “No.”
Serge put his head next to mine. “You’ve got to be spelling it wrong.”
I shrugged and went with a few variations of the spelling. Could I have heard wrong? I tried again, using different words that sort of sounded like Lorche. “Still nothing.”
“Keep trying.” He stepped away from me and headed back to the bed.
“You’re not going to help?”
“I’m moral support.” He un-muted the TV, tucked his arm behind his head and went back to watching the cop show.
“Thanks.” I went for using another search engine to see if that helped.
“Hold on a second.” Serge turned down the volume. “What did you say the name of the scholarship was?”
“Le Lorche.”
He stared at me for a minute.
“What? You’re creeping me out.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Could you blink or something? You’re looking like a shark and I feel like chum.”
“Hold the metaphor—”
“I think that’s more like a simile.” I waited.
“You realize if you rearrange those letters it spells Rori’s name.”
“It doesn’t spell—oh, man, it spells Rochelle. Crap. I’m such an idiot..”
“Maybe it’s a coincidence.”
“What kind of coincidence could possibly explain this?”
He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing. What does that mean?”
“It means it’s time to go and see Kent. Wait. Check that. I think it’s better to go and see Dr. Pierson. Then we’ll go talk to Kent.” I texted Dad to let him know what was going on, then we headed to the hospital.
I climbed out of the car, crinkled my nose against the smell of burned trees and brush, and surveyed the damage to the park. “I don’t understand what happened here.”
“When an incendiary device and dry wood mix,” said Serge, “a chemical reaction known as fire occurs when oxygen from the air—”
“Thanks smart guy. I meant how could a fire happen? The ground’s covered in snow.”
Serge sniffed the air. “Smells like chemicals on the wind.”
I pulled out my cell and phoned in the sheriff’s office. “Hey, Frank,” I said when the deputy picked up. “I’m out on Garden Road, south of Running Creek and I think there’s been a fire. I can smell smoke in the air and I there’s a chemical tinge to it.” I stopped, listened to him. “Yeah, I know it’s weird that there’s a fire when there’s snow on the ground but”—I swallowed my sigh, rolled my eyes at Serge—“yeah, could be that someone’s camping but…” I listened some more and practised not letting my breathing give away my impatience. “I was just taking a drive…” No need to tell him I was aimlessly loping the streets and trying to figure out how to confront Dr. Pierson “…because it helps me think and I’m pretty sure we can agree, I’ve got a lot to think about.” More listening. “I just thought, since you were dealing with the vandalism, you’d want the head’s up. Yeah…yeah, you too. Have a good night.”
“Frank the Intrepid strikes again?” asked Serge as I disconnected the call.
“I’m going to have to move out of this town sooner rather than later. Between you, Kent, and now the fire, Frank thinks I’m more suspect than victim.”
“Think he’ll look into this?”
I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Frank’s right and this is just some camper with too much fire-starter—”
“But it doesn’t smell like it and given the stuff’s that’s been going on in town with the vandalism…”
I filled Serge in on my theory of Kent’s involvement in the property destruction and finished with, “Nancy was able to take a bunch of buildings off the list, but that still leaves a bunch of unexplained property damage and graffiti. This area isn’t on Kent’s loop, and he’s a total creature of habit. I can’t see him going out of his way to burn a park. I bet the same guy who did this, did the other stuff.”
“Might be a girl,” he said.
“Maybe, but arsonists are usually male.”
Serge sighed and scrubbed his forehead. “None of it makes sense. Why would there suddenly be a fire in the middle of snow-packed ground and why someone would destroy a park?”
Good questions. I wish I had the answers. I headed back to the car. Time to confront Dr. Pierson and try to solve one mystery.