the rule. And I was vastly curious about the ‘retarded’ daughters of Sarie. I was thinking a little testing might be in order.
‘Mrs Whitman?’ I said, once Milt and I had the two combatants settled down. ‘Would it be possible for me to test your daughters? See if there is a problem? It would be pro bono.’ At her puzzled look, I said, ‘Free. Because I find it such an interesting case.’
‘What kind of testing?’ Sarie asked.
Hedging, I said, ‘Just some general IQ testing and such.’
‘We don’t believe in that,’ said Jane Marie.
‘In what?’ I inquired.
‘Testing intelligence! That’s something you people do. We don’t.’
‘Sarie?’ I said, turning to the mother.
She nodded her head. Turning to Jane Marie, she said, with venom, ‘You tell Thomas and I’ll smother you while you sleep!’
Surprisingly, there was sudden fear on Jane Marie’s face, and I couldn’t help thinking, Sarie, you go, girl.
I headed for the door. ‘I’ll see you at my office at the hospital this afternoon, Sarie. Say around three?’ She nodded. To my husband, I said, ‘Milt, I think it’s time we left.’
‘Huh?’ he said from the couch. ‘Oh, OK.’
Milt stood and joined me. ‘Thank you, ladies, for your time.’
And we left. We’d barely gotten in the car before Milt turned on me. ‘What was that all about? I barely got a chance to ask ’em anything about Mary Hudson!’
‘You wouldn’t get any answers with both women in the same room, Milt,’ I told him as we pulled back down the long driveway. ‘I think when Sarie and her daughters come to my office this afternoon, it might be wise if you sat with her in the waiting room while I talk to the girls.’
Heading to the hospital, I spied Milt’s notebook with the addresses of the church members he wanted to interview. I noted that the last one, David Bollinger, lived within blocks of the hospital.
‘You want to drop by? We’ve got an hour before my next patient,’ I said.
‘Lead on, pretty lady,’ my husband said. So I did.
Milt Kovak – Thursday
Bollinger had a neat little ranch in an older subdivision half a mile from the hospital complex. There was a minivan in the driveway, and crowding around it were three women, one man, and a bunch of kids. It was a crowd.
I got out of the car and me and Jean headed into the fray. ‘Mr Bollinger?’ I called out.
The man turned and headed toward me. He was all smiles. ‘Hey, you must be Sheriff Kovak. I hear you’re talking to everybody who knew the Hudsons. Hey, girls, come on over,’ he said and the three women obliged.
This family appeared to be a little different. For instance, one lady was wearing jeans, another a knee-length skirt, and the third a pair of khakis. One had a short bob kinda haircut, one had shoulder-length hair, and the other had her hair up in a ponytail, but I doubted it would reach anywhere near her waist if it were down. The kids, even the girls, were wearing pants, the boys in jerseys and tees, the girls in varying kinds of tops. In other words, this family looked like the typical family next door. Except for the number of wives, of course.
‘Just trying to get any information I can about Mary Hudson – if anyone has any idea who could have done this, or why. If anyone saw anything hinky concerning Mrs Hudson. That sorta thing,’ I said.
‘Hey, I like Jerry Hudson a lot,’ David Bollinger said, shaking my hand. He was a seriously middle-class-looking guy. Medium-brown hair in a businessman’s haircut, wearing madras shorts and a blue Izod shirt. He was a little less than six foot, maybe 150–160 pounds, had a cleft chin, as did several of the kids, and a firm handshake. ‘He seems like a stand-up guy. Some of our boys play on the same soccer team. And I can tell you this, man, Jerry is dedicated to his family. Seriously. He and Mary are – were – like, solid, you know?’ he said, looking at the older of the three women standing by him.
‘Mary
‘Mrs Whitman?’ I said, once Milt and I had the two combatants settled down. ‘Would it be possible for me to test your daughters? See if there is a problem? It would be pro bono.’ At her puzzled look, I said, ‘Free. Because I find it such an interesting case.’
‘What kind of testing?’ Sarie asked.
Hedging, I said, ‘Just some general IQ testing and such.’
‘We don’t believe in that,’ said Jane Marie.
‘In what?’ I inquired.
‘Testing intelligence! That’s something you people do. We don’t.’
‘Sarie?’ I said, turning to the mother.
She nodded her head. Turning to Jane Marie, she said, with venom, ‘You tell Thomas and I’ll smother you while you sleep!’
Surprisingly, there was sudden fear on Jane Marie’s face, and I couldn’t help thinking, Sarie, you go, girl.
I headed for the door. ‘I’ll see you at my office at the hospital this afternoon, Sarie. Say around three?’ She nodded. To my husband, I said, ‘Milt, I think it’s time we left.’
‘Huh?’ he said from the couch. ‘Oh, OK.’
Milt stood and joined me. ‘Thank you, ladies, for your time.’
And we left. We’d barely gotten in the car before Milt turned on me. ‘What was that all about? I barely got a chance to ask ’em anything about Mary Hudson!’
‘You wouldn’t get any answers with both women in the same room, Milt,’ I told him as we pulled back down the long driveway. ‘I think when Sarie and her daughters come to my office this afternoon, it might be wise if you sat with her in the waiting room while I talk to the girls.’
Heading to the hospital, I spied Milt’s notebook with the addresses of the church members he wanted to interview. I noted that the last one, David Bollinger, lived within blocks of the hospital.
‘You want to drop by? We’ve got an hour before my next patient,’ I said.
‘Lead on, pretty lady,’ my husband said. So I did.
Milt Kovak – Thursday
Bollinger had a neat little ranch in an older subdivision half a mile from the hospital complex. There was a minivan in the driveway, and crowding around it were three women, one man, and a bunch of kids. It was a crowd.
I got out of the car and me and Jean headed into the fray. ‘Mr Bollinger?’ I called out.
The man turned and headed toward me. He was all smiles. ‘Hey, you must be Sheriff Kovak. I hear you’re talking to everybody who knew the Hudsons. Hey, girls, come on over,’ he said and the three women obliged.
This family appeared to be a little different. For instance, one lady was wearing jeans, another a knee-length skirt, and the third a pair of khakis. One had a short bob kinda haircut, one had shoulder-length hair, and the other had her hair up in a ponytail, but I doubted it would reach anywhere near her waist if it were down. The kids, even the girls, were wearing pants, the boys in jerseys and tees, the girls in varying kinds of tops. In other words, this family looked like the typical family next door. Except for the number of wives, of course.
‘Just trying to get any information I can about Mary Hudson – if anyone has any idea who could have done this, or why. If anyone saw anything hinky concerning Mrs Hudson. That sorta thing,’ I said.
‘Hey, I like Jerry Hudson a lot,’ David Bollinger said, shaking my hand. He was a seriously middle-class-looking guy. Medium-brown hair in a businessman’s haircut, wearing madras shorts and a blue Izod shirt. He was a little less than six foot, maybe 150–160 pounds, had a cleft chin, as did several of the kids, and a firm handshake. ‘He seems like a stand-up guy. Some of our boys play on the same soccer team. And I can tell you this, man, Jerry is dedicated to his family. Seriously. He and Mary are – were – like, solid, you know?’ he said, looking at the older of the three women standing by him.
‘Mary
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