Episode
#301-Season Premiere
Part Two of Four
Act Two
Captain Grisham, Montoya decided, needed to work on his timing. Just as Montoya was lifting his wineglass to his lips, Grisham stormed up the steps to his patio. "There's been another death at the mine," he announced, much too loudly, of course. "Looks like another poisoning."
Montoya sighed and set down his glass. So much for his quiet brunch. And he had been so looking forward to it. He had risen early to catch up on the paperwork he must send to Monterey by the end of the month, and had scarcely eaten all morning. Harvest time meant tax collection of yearly rents from the dons and whatever villages who paid for themselves. The dons usually paid in gold and silver, but the villagers paid in kind, which could be awkward. Monterey wanted an accounting from all of the population, yet enumerating pigs and chickens as land rent was so...medieval. While some foodstuffs could be usefully traded, any animals but cattle really did not travel well, even to Monterey, let alone down to Mexico. Alta California was becoming a much smaller place. This might eventually mean an improvement in administration, but right now, it only meant more paperwork and less control over their charges for officers like himself, as far as Montoya was concerned. Currently, the area had all of the disadvantages, and none of the advantages, of a frontier.
And then there was the matter of what day it was. Montoya was not a superstitious man, but he had no desire to be reunited with his dear, departed father--or Doña Sabina Ortiz de Montoya, his late, lamented wife.
"You're eating a little late today, Colonel." Grisham reached over to grab a small beef pastry. Montoya froze him with a look. Grisham retreated into military rest.
"Sir," he said uneasily. "No offense meant, Sir. I just haven't eaten all morning."
"Nor have I, if you must know, Capitan," Montoya retorted. "However, how you nourish yourself is not my business, and you will not do so from my own plate."
"Understood," Grisham said through his teeth.
"Good. Now perhaps you would like to explain to me why you interrupted my meal with news of this unfortunate incident. Did you expect me to somehow resurrect the man?"
Grisham looked confused, an all-too-common state with him, though Montoya never underestimated his low cunning. "Uh, no. I just thought you'd want to know right away. The boys at the mine are talking about heading for the hills. Garcia had to call out the Doc, to find out what was going on."
"Doctor Helm has gone out to the mine, today?" Grisham nodded. Montoya gritted his teeth to keep back his temper. "And has he reported any cause for this new man's death?" Helm, for all his righteous anger, was a skilled investigator, though he tried to hide that fact, along with the rest of his past. If the deed was already done, Montoya saw no reason to refrain from using the good doctor's skills. He could deal with Helm's outrage later. Montoya rubbed the bridge of his nose, as a headache developed at the thought of Helm's inevitably public future outburst.
"He said the guy had been poisoned," Grisham said. "He didn't get much more detailed than that, though apparently, he did give the body a thorough examination. He said it was probably something the guy drank."
"Hmm. And what did he believe was the cause of the deaths of the other men?"
"What do you mean?" Oh, dear. Grisham was looking confused again, and this time, it seemed much more genuine.
"You did not show him either of the bodies?" Montoya asked with false gentleness.
Grisham shifted his stance from one foot to the other. "Well, we buried them. We weren't gonna dig them up for him. That first guy's been dead almost a week. He won't be a pretty sight."
"Capitan, I have no doubt that Helm has seen dead men farther gone than a week, in his profession. He strikes me as a man of very strong constitution." Which would explain how the good doctor had managed to survive his close association with the Queen of Swords. Although, his near-drowning last spring had nearly carried him off, or so Señorita Alvarado had claimed after she took him into her hacienda for a month. Any man that she-devil took for a lover would need to have nine lives.
Montoya bit down on that thought. Now was not the time to distract himself. Tessa Alvarado's association with Dr. Helm--or her connection with the Queen of Swords, for that matter--was not the point. There was no room for jealousy, here; Dr. Helm was the best man for this job. Preventing him from doing it to the best of his abilities was counterproductive.
"Grisham," Montoya sighed, "Did you even tell him about the other two men?"
Grisham stared straight ahead, at a point on the wall behind Montoya. "No, sir. I thought it best to limit that knowledge to our men at the mine."
"And how is the man supposed to find any connection in these deaths if you do not give him the information necessary to do his job?" Montoya tossed his napkin onto the table. "Really, Grisham, I wonder about you, sometimes. Now, find Dr. Helm, tell him about the first two men, and everything that we have found out about their deaths, and then dig up the body so that he can examine it. Do you think that you can handle that task?"
"Yes, sir!" Grisham saluted and hurried off. Montoya shook his head and went back to his wine. He disliked this time of year intensely, despite its potential for the amassing of wealth. His only consolation was that the Queen of Swords had been remarkably quiet, recently. Perhaps her alter ego, Señorita Alvarado, was having more difficulty than usual squeezing her campesinos for the money to pay her taxes. Ah, well. She would resume her activities soon enough, and then, he would catch her. He did not yet know what he would do with her, exactly, once he did catch her, but he would do it.
"I'd better go into town, Marta, and find Dr. Helm," Tessa said, as she saddled Chico. The horse was more nervous than usual, as if he knew he had just killed a man. "Chico, be still!"
"Be careful, Tessa," Marta cautioned her. "I sense great evil about this. Tonight is All Hallow's Eve. The spirits will be abroad. Do not forget how you and Dr. Helm spent this day last year--or the likes of Señora Caplatas."
Tessa sighed. "I understand. Don't worry, Marta. I am only going to see Dr. Helm, to tell him what happened and find out if he saw anything like it. I promise to be careful." She chuckled. "And I promise not to lead him into any abandoned haciendas, either." She had no doubt that the moment Marta had a chance to breathe, she would sit down and read the Tarot cards, and undoubtedly see something bad. So much for that garlic paella.
Marta scowled. "You never pay attention, just like an unruly child. Never mind. You must talk to the doctor. Just be careful. It may be that someone in town will not want him to help you."
"I am always careful in town. You know that. And I'm dressed right for the day." Tessa flounced her riding skirts, then led Chico outside and mounted him. Marta followed her, looking unhappy.
"Just be careful, mi hija," she said. "I don't like how I feel about this."
Jésus crouched in the cave. Dr. Helm sat on a boulder across from him. Nearby, the doctor's horse grazed on a small patch of grass that had grown up in the protected mouth of the cave. Jésus took a dark green bottle carefully out of the pack that he had hidden under a rockfall in the cave, pulled the rag out of the neck and held it out to Helm.
Helm took it and examined it, looking curious. "What is this?"
"Sometimes, I make my own liquor." Jésus grinned. "I like it spicy, you know? It is good. Try it." He watched Helm carefully as the doctor grinned back and knocked back a swig. He coughed and Jésus laughed.
"What is the matter, Doctor? You do not strike me as being a man who cannot hold his liquor, not like the dons. Their women are better men than they are. Just look at the Queen of Swords."
Helm snorted. "I think I won't comment on that. What did you put in this?"
Jésus waved a finger at Helm. "Now, Doctor. I must keep some secrets. How do you like it?"
Helm coughed again, patting his chest, then took another swig, savouring it with considering look. "It's certainly spicy. But I don't think you called me down here just to share a drink with me." Jésus almost smiled at that. Suspicious men could be too suspicious for their own good. "What did you want to talk to me about, down here in your hiding place?"
Jésus leaned forward and made his voice low, so that Helm had to lean forward, as well. "What do you know about the death of Don Rafael Alvarado?"
Helm's mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed. "Señorita Maria Theresa Alvarado's father, you mean?" he asked, using the girl's full title, as if he could hide from the gossip that had linked the two of them for months. "That is before my time. What about him? I heard he died in a riding accident, months before she came here."
"And who told you that, I wonder? Coronel Montoya, Capitan Grisham?" Jésus chuckled. "Just because a young girl like Señorita Alvarado accepted that story, doesn't mean that you should."
Helm cocked his head to one side. "Oh? And why is that? Do you have another story? One that you can confirm?"
Oh, this was so easy, and so satisfying! Chaos for the sake of chaos. "What if I told you that I knew how Don Alvarado died? What if I told you that the father of Señorita Maria Theresa Alvarado was murdered?"
Act Three
"I can't find him."
"What?" Montoya rubbed his forehead, wishing that it would stop aching. Grisham was not helping in that goal. "Find whom?"
Grisham shifted in his parade rest in front of Montoya's desk. "Helm. He's not at the mine. He's not in his office, and he ain't on the road in between."
"Have you considered the possibility that he is out visiting patients?" Grisham wasn't normally this stupid, but finding Dr. Helm would never be a priority for him. If Helm were lost in the desert, Grisham's only regret would be not hearing the death rattle in the doctor's throat. Normally, Montoya left them to it. Today, however, he needed the services of Dr. Helm, and the only reason that he truly needed Grisham's services were to find the doctor, which Grisham, of course, did not want to do.
"He usually has his office hours in the morning and visits the haciendas in the afternoon," Grisham said. "That's what he told the mine foreman. He said he had to get back into town. He should be here."
"But he is not." If anything, Montoya's headache was growing. Grisham and the other objects in the room seemed to be surrounded by a rainbow halo. "Grisham, find him. It is All Hallow's Eve. If word of this gets out, the simple folk may become fearful and then our job will become more difficult."
"Yes, sir." Grisham had not met Montoya's eyes, as was only proper. Now, he looked straight at Montoya. "Sir, are you well?"
"You are giving me a headache, Grisham. Find Dr. Helm and I will not give you one of your own." Grisham swallowed and retreated out the door. Oh, if only the headache were so easily dispelled.
Was it something about the town, or was she nervous about Ramon's death? One did not take such things lightly, either the first or the hundredth time. Either way, it seemed rather quiet, especially for a festival day, as tomorrow, All Saints' Day, would be, or All Souls' Day, the day after. The evil spirits might be out and about tonight, but tomorrow, one must go to Mass and give thanks to the saints and all the other good souls, who would chase all the bad spirits away. Was this why she thought of her father? Did she hope to see him once more? But what was she thinking? Her father was in Heaven with her mother, and would not come to earth anymore, neither to give her his blessing, nor to tell her who had murdered him.
But perhaps this was just as well. Two years on, she still had no more than the barest suspicions of who had killed her father, and even less proof. She could suspect Colonel Montoya of arranging Papa's death, but suspicion was nothing without proof. Perhaps her father had never visited her, she told herself grimly as she rode Chico up to the doctor's office, and dismounted, because he was disappointed that she had not yet avenged his death.
Dr. Helm's office was locked up, his horse gone. He had gone out on rounds earlier than she expected. She couldn't believe that she had missed him. But where could he have gone?
"Tessa! There you are!" Vera called out to her from the square and ran over to her. "You are looking for Dr. Helm?"
"Yes. Have you seen him?" Tessa was not sure how much Vera knew about her relationship with Roberto. Hopefully, as little as possible, though Vera, being a town gossip, was likely to know more than that.
"No." Vera pulled out her fan and fluttered it under her chin, pouting. "Marcus is out looking for him. There was a death up at the mine and Coronel Montoya wants the doctor to look into it." Ah, that would explain the pout, since Grisham must be missing his weekly "appointment" with Vera. What Vera saw in that snake was beyond Tessa. But Vera was her friend and she was not going to betray a friend, even for cheating on her husband.
And after all, we are all sinners, in the end, Tessa thought. Was adultery truly worse than murder? She did not think so.
"It's not like Dr. Helm to go out on his rounds so early. And it doesn't look like rain." If anything, the sun was quite hot for late October. "Did you speak to him before he went out?"
Vera shook her head. "No. Only Marcus, and he was in a terrible hurry." She giggled, putting a hand to her bosom. "I think that he must be very angry with Dr. Helm right now."
"When is he ever not angry with Dr. Helm? Or R--the Doctor with him?" Vera smirked at the slip. Oh, well. "They hate each other, I'm afraid."
Vera looked solemn. "Oh, yes. Very much." She sighed in exasperation and fluttered her fan. "Men!"
"Hmm." Tessa saw no reason to disagree with this judgement. "Still, I'm a little concerned about Dr. Helm. This is unusual behaviour for him and--DR. HELM."
Startled, Vera turned as Tessa rushed past her to the horse and rider trudging up the alley. It was Equus, and slumped across his back was Dr. Helm.
Garcia smelled a rat. His men had been disappearing, in ones and twos, all day since Jaime had died, and he wanted to know why. He was surprised, though, to see a man skulking into the mine, instead of out.
"Hola!" he shouted at the figure. "Al ladrón! Come back here, you thief!" The figure looked back briefly, then darted into the shadow of the mine entrance. Garcia followed, his anger rising. Wasn't it bad enough that the men were deserting, but that some campesino thought he could loot the place, as well? That was insulting!
"When he reached the mine's entrance, however, he could see no one inside. He stepped into the cool gloom, blinded by the afternoon sun outside. "Thief! Where are you?" he panted, feeling his way along.
"Right here, Inigo." The voice echoed, seeming to come from everywhere. Garcia turned around and around, searching for the owner of that voice. It sounded familiar.
"Who's that? Who's there?" he cried, suddenly afraid.
And then he felt a withered arm go around his throat from behind and the dried-up voice whispered in his ear. "Don't you remember me, Inigo? It's only been six years. Have you forgotten the man you killed?"
"How do you feel?" Tessa stroked Helm's forehead, ignoring how Vera stared at her over the table. Helm was sweating, and his skin seemed to be much too hot. "Roberto, can you hear me?"
Helm muttered under his breath in English and rolled over, nearly falling off the table. Tessa caught him by his duster and hauled him back up. She and Vera had had a difficult enough time getting him off his horse and into his surgery. They didn't need to let him fall onto the floor.
"Perhaps we should put him to bed," Vera suggested. "I do not see how putting him here on the table will help him, since neither of us has any medical experience."
"I think you may be right, Vera." Tessa leaned over Helm. "Roberto! We are going to put you to bed. You will be more comfortable there. Roberto?"
Helm opened his eyes. After a moment, he focused on her. His face contorted with pain. "Tessa," he said faintly.
Tessa clasped his hand and put it on his chest. "I'm right here, Roberto. It's all right. What's happened to you?"
"The drink..." He was speaking in Spanish as if he barely knew the language. "He gave me the bottle. Never should have drunk it. Should have known better...." He closed his eyes, as if too exhausted to continue.
"What bottle, Roberto? What man?" Madre de Dios. What if Helm had drunk whatever had made Ramon go mad? Did that mean that he was going to die? She forced down that thought. Today was a bad day for such thoughts.
"At the mine. Green bottle." Helm ran a hand feebly through his hair, which was soaked with sweat. "Little bastard. He knew. Wanted me to drink it."
"Who?" She gripped his hand harder, as if she could bring him back to the present by sheer will. "Who gave you the bottle?"
He shook his head restlessly. "Don't know. Never saw him before. Little...and mean, under that grin. Like a rat." He grimaced. "He said his name was Jésus....Jésus Herrerez. Worked at the mine."
"And you met him there?"
He nodded. Opening his eyes, he looked up at her. "I'm so tired, Tessa."
"It's all right, Roberto. Let's just get you to bed." Vera raised an eyebrow at this, but Tessa ignored her. Now was not the time to simper and lie and pretend that she did not know the layout of Dr. Helm's small shop by heart. He had a small bed in the next room, which he had only got a few months ago to replace his cot. In truth, she had given it to him, because she hated to see him forced to sleep on something so rough and uncomfortable. She still remembered his laugh when she had given it to him, along with some decent bedding, and how difficult it had been to get the bedding across Equus' back. Helm had come up with some very creative curses in English (which he did not, she was sure, think that she understood), before he had got it properly tied on, and himself mounted on the horse. She had told Marta at the time, that surely there was no impropriety in donating an extra bed to the town doctor. And Marta, for once, had not disagreed with her, even though Tessa knew, deep down, that her father would definitely have disapproved. Marta's only comment had been that it would be good for the Doctor's health to have a good bed, after his bout with pneumonia last spring. Considering that Tessa still felt responsible for leaving him out in the storm that had nearly drowned him, she saw no reason to argue with that.
It was difficult getting Helm off the table without letting him drop to the floor and through the doorway into the other room. Vera, for her part, simply took an arm, slung it over her shoulder and helped Tessa half-carry Helm to bed. There was a time for gossip and a time to shut up, and Vera, bless her forever, knew the difference. They dropped him on the bed, wrestled off his boots and put him under the covers. Muttering, he pulled up the blanket and turned his face to the wall. Tessa watched him, her worry increasing.
"Vera, can you sit and watch him for a little while?" she asked her friend, as she stood up.
Vera blinked up at her. "Why, of course, Tessa. But where are you going?"
"I must find Coronel Montoya, and Capitan Grisham. If they have been examining the death of that man at the mine, they may know something about this sickness of Roberto's. They may even know about the man he encountered. I must go find out."
"Of course. Have no fear; I will take good care of him." There was nothing of the coquette in Vera's manner now. Tessa knew that she could count on Vera to nurse Helm as ably as she, herself, could.
"Thank you, Vera. I knew I could count on you." Vera coloured and smiled in gratitude. So few of her peers complimented her, and Tessa felt a stab of guilt at that. After this, she would have to invite Vera over for dinner more often. Her friend did tend to be isolated by the other Doñas. "I will be back as soon as I can."
Continue to Part Three
If you have missed any episodes, you will find them in the Archives
section .
|
