Honey and Leonard

ONE-2

“How did he get to your house?”

“He walked. He’s in good shape, I’m telling you, mentally and physically. The nursing home is right down the street from my house, about a quarter mile.”

“I know he’s got a valid driver’s license,” Perkins said. “He got a ticket last month for running a red light.”

“That was that stupid light out on South Mill Road. I was with him. We were in his old car. There was nobody on the road. He always runs red lights when there’s nobody coming. He’s got a mind of his own.”

“There was somebody on the road.”

“If you want to say that policeman was on the road. He was hiding behind the gas station, just waiting for someone to run that light.”

Perkins laughed. “Let’s get back to the point. How do you suppose Gretchen would poison Leonard?”

“I have no idea.”

The detective waited patiently for her to continue. Honey knew what he was doing. He was waiting to see how she would attempt to incriminate Gretchen and unwittingly shine light on her own activities and motives. She wasn’t going down that road.

“What makes you think Leonard was even poisoned?” she asked. “He didn’t look that bad on the stretcher. He was fine last night and this morning when Dorothy Anderson picked me up for our Wednesday bridge luncheon.”

“We have blood test results that show he’s been poisoned.”

“Poisoned with what?”

Perkins shook his head and said, “I’m not supposed to tell you that.”

“Why, Davey Perkins. Don’t you Sherlock Holmes me. You can’t come in and tear my house apart and call me a murderer and then not tell me what kind of poison we’re talking about. Besides, if I did it, which I most definitely did not, and wouldn’t even think about even if I hated him, which I don’t—I love the man dearly . . . Now wait, where was I going with that?”

“You were saying, ‘If I did it.’”

“Oh, right. If I did poison Leonard, I would already know what the poison was, now wouldn’t I?”

The detective smiled slightly as he said, “I guess that’s right. And, anyway, I know you wouldn’t poison anybody. So I’ll tell you. It was arsenic.”

“Arsenic!” Honey was visibly shocked. “That sounds so positively evil. Where would I get arsenic?”

One of the hazmat suits interrupted to ask, “How much of the medicine cabinet do you want us to analyze?”

The detective got up to supervise the search and said, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Waldrop. It won’t take much longer. I’ll make sure we don’t take anything you need on a daily basis. By the way, are Leonard’s meds in the same cabinet as yours?”

“Mine are on the right, his are on the left. You can read the names on the bottles. And, Davey, please, stop calling me ‘Mrs. Waldrop.’ You make me feel as old as I am. You’re a full-grown man now. You may call me ‘Honey.’”

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Waldrop . . . I mean, Honey.”

Perkins chuckled in embarrassment and went off with his people, leaving Honey alone with her thoughts. She was more than worried. She was being accused of trying to murder the man she loved. She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, except maybe let too many people know she and Leonard were happily in love and living together.

What makes people so nosey? And why do they love a scandal? Oh, that’s right. It’s good old-fashioned entertainment.

How could she prove her innocence? And what about Leonard? She was more worried about Leonard than anything else. She kept seeing the confused look on his face as they took him out on the stretcher. The more she thought about it, the more she realized there was only one thing she needed to do. Go find Leonard.

She got up to make some Earl Grey Tea for herself. She needed to think. Going to see Leonard might be problematic. For one thing, she hated driving. For another, there must be rules against attempted-murder suspects going to see their alleged victims in the hospital.

She could get in to see him. They would have taken him to Wabash County Hospital, fifteen miles away. She knew everybody there except the new folks. She had been president of the Women’s Auxiliary when her late husband had practically run the place. She got on the phone to call Dorothy, her bridge club friend.

Dorothy answered after the first ring and said, “My goodness, Honey, what’s going on over there? I had to drop you off a block away. I should have stayed with you. Now, I hear Leonard’s been murdered and you’re the number one suspect. How could anyone even suggest such a thing? Don’t worry. I’m your alibi. So are all the girls at bridge club.”

“Dorothy,” Honey said. “Leonard is not dead. The police say he’s been poisoned but they know it’s not me. They’re still here, searching the entire house.”

“Oh, thank God! Is he going to be okay?”

“I’m pretty sure he will,” Honey said. “Now, listen. I need a ride to the hospital right now. I’ve got to be with Leonard. He needs me.”

There was a long pause on the line.

“Honey, I’m not sure I can do that. I’m not sure you should do that. Are you under arrest or anything like that?”

As Honey was contemplating her status, Detective Perkins walked back into the room. “I’ll call you right back,” Honey said as she hung up the phone.

“Who was that?” Perkins asked.

“That was Dorothy.”

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to get a ride to the hospital.”

“How could you know that?” Honey was a little surprised the detective was such a master of the obvious.

Perkins was 6’3” tall and weighed 260 pounds. His last sixty pounds had landed in his belly. Now, Honey, at 5’4”, 115 pounds, was playfully poking her right fist into that belly. “How could you know that?” she repeated.

“Honey, please.” He backed up a step to avoid her poke and said, “You know I can’t let you go see Leonard. We’re in the middle of an investigation here.”

His denial stung like someone trying to slap some sense into her. Honey sat back down at the kitchen table, collapsing like a deflating blow-up doll. All the fight drained out of her. She put her arms on the table and put her head down and began to weep softly. “I need to go see him. I need to take care of him. He needs me. What will he do without me?” She raised her head. Tears had smeared her makeup. “Won’t you take me to him? Please. He’s all I’ve got.”

As Honey’s voice was approaching a wail, Karen Lindvall, the duly-elected and first female prosecutor in the history of Wabash County, walked in and informed Detective Perkins that she was taking over the crime scene investigation. The prosecutor was a blonde, tough-talking, 55-year-old woman of beautiful, Swedish descent. She paid no attention to Honey at first, electing to inform the detective of his many mistakes in gathering evidence. “You can’t have people running around from room to room like this,” she scolded. “We’ll have one team for each room. And, by the way, we’ll be focusing on the kitchen. This is a case of poisoning. All the food and liquid needs to be tested.”

The prosecutor virtually kicked Detective Perkins out of the room, then turned to Honey and softened considerably, “Come here, Honey, and give me a hug. I know how hard this must be. And don’t worry. I know you didn’t do it. We’ve known each other too long.”

“I helped you get elected,” Honey sobbed into her shoulder. “We had a big fund raiser right in this house.”

“That’s got nothing to do with it,” Lindvall said. “This is woman to woman. I know you and I know Leonard. It’s a small county. I know how much you love him. But you’ve got to admit, it does look bad, Leonard getting poisoned while he’s shacking up at your house.”

Honey backed away from the hug, dried her eyes and said with a sniffle, “I wouldn’t call it ‘shacking up.’”

“You can call it whatever you want,” Lindvall chuckled. “Now, listen, I know you want to go see him. And I’m going to authorize that, okay? I probably shouldn’t but I’m going to do it anyway. What are you going to do? Machine gun him to death in his hospital bed?”

Honey’s eyes turned hopeful. She couldn’t believe her ears.

Lindvall handed Honey a handkerchief. “In fact, I’m going to let Perkins escort you to the hospital. I need to get him out of here anyway. He’s like china in a bull shop.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Honey gushed as she threw her arms around the prosecutor.

“But you’ve got to promise me you’ll stay with the detective at all times. And don’t say anything to anyone about the case. I know you’ll cooperate with this investigation any way you can and I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need you. By the way, Leonard’s doing fine. They’re keeping him overnight for observation, but he’s showing no signs of trauma. So, go see him, and when you get back we’ll talk about what he’s been drinking and eating.”

“What about the arsenic?” Honey asked.

The prosecutor looked back with steel in her eyes, “Who said anything about arsenic?”

Honey looked like a little girl getting caught stealing candy.

Lindvall softened her stare. “Never mind. I know. Don’t you believe a word he says.”

With that, the prosecutor spun on her high heels and stormed out of the kitchen, shouting, “Perkins!”

Leonard was sitting up in bed, flirting with two young nurses, like everything was right with the world. The man looked many years younger than his age. He had a full head of silver hair and laughing blue eyes with bushy eyebrows Honey could never get him to trim. His jutting jaw and powerful forehead made him look tough and stubborn but he was mostly gentle and kind. He was an excellent dancer. Most of his best moves came from square dancing as a young man.

“Step aside, girls,” Honey said as she moved quickly to him. “This is my man.”

“Honey,” Leonard said as she buried herself in his embrace. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I can see how hard you’ve been looking for me,” Honey said, gesturing to the nurses. “Ladies,” she said as she disentangled herself from Leonard’s embrace, “could we have a little privacy?”

The nurses politely left the room. “Who’s this?” Leonard asked as he noticed Perkins for the first time.

“This is Detective Perkins. I’ve known him most of his life. We used to tip him the most of anybody on his paper route. Isn’t that right, Davey?”

Perkins nodded but said nothing. He was still smarting from Honey spilling the beans about the arsenic. He took out a note pad and pen and said to Leonard, “I’ve got a few questions for you, Mr. Atkins, if you don’t mind.”