The Plague Doctor by E. Joan Sims Page A

out.
    â€œMy mother will never understand.” He turned back, his face grim again.
    â€œShe’s like your mother, but without the kindness and sense of humor. To her, appearances and professional demeanor are everything. This will be the last straw in my checkered career. She’ll wash her hands of me even if I do get off scot-free. And it’s a given that she’ll fire me.”
    â€œFire you, what do you mean, fire you? Mothers can’t stop loving their sons.”
    â€œYou don’t understand. My mother is my boss at CDC.”
    â€œDr. Eloise Haywood is your mother?”
    He seemed genuinely surprised that I knew her name.
    â€œEh, I went with Cassie to send the e-mail to your office.”
    I thought quickly for a moment and decided to tell him everything.
    â€œWe also brought your computer back to the farm for safekeeping,” I whispered.
    He sat down hard on his bunk. The springs made a loud and musical protest against his weight. I held my breath for his reaction.
    â€œWow! Thank you, Mrs. DeLeon! At least she can’t accuse me of being careless with confidential information. Thanks to you and Cassie.”
    He got that goofy lovelorn look on his face.
    â€œI bet it was her idea, huh?”
    â€œYes, Ethan,” I lied.
    The deputy yelled a terse warning for us to stop whispering.
    â€œLook, Ethan, Chief Joiner won’t let me stay in here much longer. We’d better get on with it. Why did you ask to see me?”
    He cleared his throat, and the Romeo look vanished.
    â€œCassie told me when we first met about your work, I mean your detective work—writing the books and all. I was hoping you would help me out. Maybe you can find out what really happened.”
    He had turned a peculiar shade of red.
    â€œI want to ask you and Leonard Paisley to get me out of this mess.”

Chapter Nine
    The afternoon was beautiful—sunny and warm—with a soft breeze from the south which lifted my hair and kissed my cheeks. High above, little fluffy white clouds scooted across an intense cerulean sky like naughty chicks scurrying home to mama. It was perfect weather, and there were no bars between me and the great outdoors. One hour in a jail cell was more than enough for me. I had left feeling infinitely sorry for Ethan.
    Too unsettled to go home just yet, I decided to walk around and sort out my feelings. Ethan’s request that I help him was not unexpected. I was already trying to help to some extent. But now that he was really counting on me to solve his problems, I wasn’t sure I was up to it.
    I tried to explain to him that I was not really a detective—just a writer who seemed to get in the middle of murderous muddles and had to figure her way out. I could not guarantee any results at all. But like others before him, he simply ignored what he called my modesty. He’d brightened like a hundred-watt bulb when I said I would do the best I could.
    Damn! Another muddle. Leonard had better put on his thinking cap for this one. It was a dilly.
    Rowan Springs had two main streets—one went north and the other south. When they met at the courthouse square, they divided and went east and west as well. It had been a very nifty plan when the town was founded over a hundred years ago. Amazingly enough, it still worked today—with the addition of one or two traffic lights and a four-way stop sign here and there.
    The jail, firehouse, and City Hall were on the north side of the square. The pharmacies and clothing stores were on the south side. A barber shop, a beauty shop, and one Tai Chi studio were on the west.
    When I was a little girl, I used to shop for groceries with my grandmother at the A&P on the east side of the square. Rowan Springs was still a little country town back then. Farmers brought their wagons to town filled with fresh produce and live chickens and sold them off the tailgate. My grandmother always bought a nice fat hen for Sunday