Chapter 11
Back at the sawmill, things were slowly returning to normal. Once her boss had been wheeled away to the hospital, Brenda had stopped crying and got back to work. First she sent word to the von Beaverpelt estate telling Edith that Reginald had collapsed and had been taken to the hospital. Then Brenda sent a message to the Shady Hollow police station, telling the officer on duty her boss had fallen ill under suspicious circumstances and they should send someone to investigate. The rest of the day was spent reassuring workers that nothing was really wrong and of course business would continue as usual. At closing time for the office (if not for the mill itself, which ran almost around the clock), Brenda picked up her purse and went home. She had had enough excitement for one day.
Shortly after Brenda left the office, Orville showed up to investigate the scene. Howard Chitters, still scribbling away at his little desk, squeaked in alarm but then let the police bear into the executive office.
After a quick look around, Orville took samples of the coffee and the sugar that remained on von Beaverpelt’s desk. From what he’d seen earlier with Sun Li, this was another case of deliberate poisoning. What was going on in this town?
“Who makes von Beaverpelt’s coffee?” he demanded.
“Brenda, his secretary, made it today,” Chitters gasped.
“Where are the supplies kept?” the deputy asked.
“In the little kitchenette near the hall.”
“And I suppose,” Orville growled, “any beast can waltz in there.”
“Well, yes, sir. Who would guard a kitchen?”
“Grand. Just grand,” Orville muttered. He planned to make his way to the hospital to check on von Beaverpelt’s condition. Orville sincerely hoped the beaver would pull through so the police force wouldn’t have another murder on its paws. The two crimes must’ve been connected, Orville thought, but he didn’t quite know how yet. He was really going to have to spend some time studying poisons. Perhaps Dr. Broadhead could give him some help.
Meanwhile, Vera paused at the office long enough to throw her next article together and get it to the copy editor in time for the evening deadline. The editor, a white rabbit of uncertain age—though he’d been working at the Herald since long before Vera started—took her handwritten pages and gave them a once-over, peering at the words over his half-moon glasses.
“Further developments…dragging the pond…possible halt to the sawmill…hmmmmm. What will the headline be?”
“I don’t write the headlines. Whatever BW says, I guess.”
The rabbit sighed. “Three guesses it will be doom and gloom so all the residents will wonder if they’ll have jobs come winter.”
“Well, BW knows his business.” Vera shrugged. “I’ve got to catch Heidegger before he goes out this evening. Excuse me.”
At the mention of Heidegger, the rabbit shivered involuntarily, though of course the owl had sworn off rodents long ago.
Vera made her way out of town to Heidegger’s home, a truly vast and magnificent elm tree. He lived in an apartment about forty feet off the ground; ivory-tower jokes abounded whenever his name was mentioned.
Since ground dwellers could not knock on Heidegger’s door, he’d devised a bell system. Vera saw a long vine snaking down the tree. Just above the ground, a small sign said please pull for bell. She did so. If a bell rang in Heidegger’s quarters, it was out of her hearing. She waited as twilight gathered around her, casting the earth into shadow. The very tops of the trees still had a glimmer of sunlight on them, but darkness would come swiftly.
“Goooood evening,” said a low voice quite near her.
Vera jumped. Heidegger had drifted down in soundless flight and now stood beside her.
“Good evening, Professor. I wondered if I might have a word with you.”
“About the night of the murder,” the owl deduced.
“Yes, in fact. I thought, because you are out and about at night, you might have seen something.”
“I was out that evening, yes,” he said, his huge yellow eyes unblinking. Vera understood why he made the smaller residents nervous. “I flew almost to Green Mountain and back, which should answer your unspoken question. My colleague Professor van Hoote will confirm I was miles away at the time Sumpf was killed.”
“Oh.” Vera was vaguely disappointed, though it was of course important to know Heidegger was not a suspect. “I hoped you might’ve been a witness to something important.”
“Well, perhaps I can be of some assistance. You created quite a kerfuffle in town after beating the police at their own game.”
“Finding the bottle of plum wine, you mean?”
The owl nodded. “I saw that same bottle in that very spot during the last light of day. At the time, it was only a flash of green. But after reading your article, I realized what I had seen.”
“So some beast did put it there the day of the murder!”
“Perhaps just before I saw it, because a moment later I saw a creature hurrying away from the pond. Based on a simple calculation of trajectory and average speed, I am confident that the creature was walking from the location in question.”
“Did you see who it was?” Vera asked.
“Alas, it was partially concealed by leaves. I could not get a clear glimpse from my heightened perspective. But it was a midsize creature. And it was moving quite furtively. You know, furtive comes from the Latin furtivus, or ‘thief’; thus, furtively means ‘in the manner of a thief.’ ”
Heidegger could never resist showing off his vast knowledge. He was without a doubt the most educated creature in Shady Hollow, having attained numerous degrees from prestigious institutions the world over—as he never hesitated to point out.
A pompous old bird, Vera thought. But she could trust his eyesight.
“Have you told Officer Orville or Chief Meade about this?” she asked.
“They haven’t deigned to interview me.” Heidegger sniffed and twitched his wings. “Or perhaps they stopped by while I was asleep or out. Maybe Chief Meade found my tree to be too far from his favorite fishing spot on the river. It’s where I’ve seen him spending most of his time.”
The owl ruffled his feathers again. “That’s all I can tell you, Miss Vixen. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He started an awkward run into the light breeze and was soon aloft, now graceful and deadly, soaring away into the darkening sky.
Vera looked after him, wondering how much the other residents of Shady Hollow had noticed without knowing the value of what they had seen. She decided that if the Hollow’s chief could not be bothered to show up at his office, then she had no choice but to track him down at his home. There was no time to waste.
Chief Theodore “Teddy” Meade lived at the other end of town, near the river dock, in a den under a rocky hill that caused the river to bend in a long curve at the base of the rise. Vera saw a light on in a little window by the door. She knocked politely.
After a moment of studied silence, she knocked again, more aggressively. “Chief! Sir! Please open up!”
She heard a shuffling sound from inside. Then some steps.
Furtive steps, Vera thought.
The door opened slowly. “Oh, Miss Vixen,” Meade said, trying to muster a smile and failing miserably. “How nice of you to stop by. Won’t you come in?” Vera stepped inside the large home. A fish lay on the kitchen table, no doubt fresh from the river. The chief was in the middle of his dinner preparations. “How can I help you?”
“I’m following the story of Otto’s murder for the paper. I was hoping you could tell me about any developments today.”
“Oh, well. That is…yes. Of course there are developments. Certainly.”
“What is the matter, Chief?” Vera asked, getting exasperated.
“Perhaps you should talk to Orville. Very capable junior officer.”
“But surely you know what’s going on. You are directing the investigation.”
“I…” Meade looked panicked. “I don’t know how! I’ve never had to investigate a murder before! Someone in this town is a killer! A maddened killer who stabs and poisons! Do you realize what this means?
“You didn’t grow up here, fox,” he went on. “No one in Shady Hollow locks their doors because we don’t have locks on the doors. Except now the general store has ordered locks, which are coming in on the next barge. Ten families have already reserved theirs. What will we do?”
He sounds like Gladys, Vera thought. But she sympathized with the bear to a degree. He had been lulled into complacency by the years of quiet in Shady Hollow. Now that a crisis had arrived, he was utterly unprepared.
“What is Orville doing, then? He’s never dealt with a murder, either,” Vera pointed out.
“He’s working from the Big Book of Policing. It has all the guidelines for what to do in any situation. We keep it on a shelf in the station. Actually, it was too big to fit on the shelf, so we ripped out the chapter ‘Prisoner Beatings and Torture How-tos.’ Who wants to know that stuff, anyway?” Meade looked miserably at the fish on the table. “Fishing is the only thing I’m really good at these days.”
“So Orville is following a manual without the aid of his chief. Do you want the murderer to get away?”
“Of course not. We arrested Lefty!”
“On no evidence at all. Except that he’s Lefty.”
“Well, he might know something.”
“You won’t know what he knows until you know what to ask, Chief!” Vera shouted. “Heidegger told me he thinks he saw some beast leave the bottle of poisoned wine at the pond. Now you just have to track down and figure out who it was, and you’ll find the murderer.”
“We just ask everyone?” said Meade. “The guilty party will lie.”
“That’s why you get alibis,” Vera said patiently. “Find out where everyone was that night. Get witnesses to confirm it. If someone is lying, their story won’t add up. Then you have your murderer.”
“You think it’s that easy?” Meade looked hopeful for the first time.
“Not easy, but possible. Orville has started the work already. Now, will you go into the office tomorrow morning and help him?”
“Yes, of course.” Meade drew himself up to his full height. “Shady Hollow won’t be the same until this madness is over. First Otto is killed and then someone tries to poison von Beaverpelt. What will we do?”
“What do you mean, someone tried to poison von Beaverpelt?” Vera asked. “I just saw him today.”
“Didn’t you hear? Von Beaverpelt was found unconscious on the floor of his office. He was taken to the hospital, but the doctor wasn’t there. You know who saved him? Sun Li! Who knew he had medical training? Lucky for von Beaverpelt, or else we’d be burying him along with Otto.”
Vera was so stunned by this revelation that she couldn’t speak. Was it possible that Shady Hollow was hosting a serial poisoner? She’d been researching the story, assuming Otto was the victim of someone who had a specific reason to kill him. But what if he was only the first of many? The idea was too horrible to think about. And Sun Li! She needed to find out more about the panda.