The Plague Doctor by E. Joan Sims Page B

dinner. I usually made a pet of it before we got home and cried all night after she swung it by the neck until the body popped off and went flapping across the backyard. Somehow the violent demise of my new feathered friend never stopped me from devouring the juicy meat off the crispy fried pulley bone after church the next day.
    The hitching racks were long gone and so were the grocery stores. They had moved out to the mini-mall on the road to the lakes where there was more parking space.
    Once abandoned, the high-ceilinged old stores had been turned into offices for lawyers and accountants. Bruce Hawkins, Mother’s lawyer, had been the only one in town to rebel against having an office on “Lawyer’s Row.” Instead he had turned the old Capitol Theater into a wonderful art deco homage to the movies he used to love and made his offices there.
    I walked around the square lost in reflection and memories. My mind was a hundred years in the past as I admired the wonderful old carvings on the fronts of the buildings.
    I did not see the crowd gathering outside of the jail until I rounded the corner of the courthouse. Andy Joiner was standing on the steps in front of his office trying to disperse what appeared to be the beginnings of an unruly demonstration.
    I crossed the street and stood behind an obese, middle-aged woman with stringy grey hair. She was waving a homemade placard with the word “feend” misspelled in bright orange letters. I watched in morbid fascination as the flabby fat under her arms swayed grotesquely with her every movement. She noticed me watching her and turned around.
    â€œYou got daughters?”
    She thrust the placard under my nose and waved it dangerously close to my brand new Ralph Lauren sunglasses.
    â€œThat crazy doctor inside the jail is killing our babies. You’d better join us and make your voice heard. We don’t want his kind ‘round here—even in jail. He’s a monster!”
    â€œHow can he hurt you or your daughters if he’s in jail?”
    â€œHe’s a monster, I told you. Has them supernatural powers. Puts spells on people. Makes them do things they don’t want to do. That’s how he got poor little Brittany Hayes pregnant. Now she’s carrying that devil’s child.” She ran over to another newcomer to the scene where I heard her repeating the same vicious spiel.
    I hurried back to Watson and took the back road out of town.
    Mother and Cassie were out in the backyard raking leaves where Aggie was busy rolling around madly in the biggest pile. I shucked my linen jacket, grabbed a rake, and went to join them.
    â€œHow’s Ethan, dear? Holding up well, I hope?”
    â€œYes, Mother, and he said to tell you ‘hello.’”
    â€œHow nice. I must send him some blackberry cobbler with the next one of you who goes back to town.”
    Cassie dragged her pile of leaves behind her to add to Mother’s cache.
    â€œWhat did Ethan want to see you about?”
    Cassie looked like a beautiful wood nymph. Her hair was loose and blowing in the wind, with one bright orange leaf caught in the long, dark strands.
    I bucked up my flagging spirits and forced a smile.
    â€œHe wants me and Leonard—and you two, of course—to find out who killed Hayes and raped his daughter—and get him out of jail.”
    â€œOh, is that all.” She discovered the leaf and tugged at the stem to free it. “Didn’t he send me a message?”
    I left the three of them raking, or in the case of Aggie, unraking leaves and headed back to my desk in the library. I could hear Cassie laughing at the antics of the puppy and considered for a moment going back to join them, but no matter how beautiful the afternoon, the truth was, I hated raking leaves. And relaxing on the patio watching them work would earn me no kudos. Besides, Cassie needed the distraction, and I needed her to quit crying herself to sleep. I hoped