Chapter Thirteen: Accusations, Pt.2

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The interior of the Bowe's Flats jail house was typical of many small towns that Vash and the girls had passed through – spare, plain, and totally lacking in amenities. The trio found themselves standing around Sheriff Stockton's weatherworn desk, the man himself reclining in the lone chair, taking it in turn to observe each one of them impassively while Vash tried fruitlessly to appeal to his sympathy. The better part of an hour had passed in this manner before Stockton finally stirred himself to answer.

"Mighty persistent, aren't you? But answer me this, boy, before we go another hour. You her lawyer? Her priest? Some long lost next-of-kin?"

"Er, no…."

"Then I still can't see how this is any of your business, stranger."

Vash sagged. Groaning in frustration, Meryl pushed herself forward and leaned over the desk.

"Sheriff Stockton, please let me introduce myself. I'm Meryl Stryfe, and I represent the Bernardelli Insurance Society. It's my understanding that there was a incident involving property destruction at your local bottling factory, and as your prisoner seems to have some alleged connection to it, I need to know everything I can about her to complete my investigation."

The Sheriff continued to calmly chew on his toothpick, as he gave Meryl another dispassionate once-over, then Milly, then Vash again. Seconds ticked by in the silent office, Meryl silently struggling not to lose her patience with the obstinate man. Just as she was ready to give up hope, he gave the slightest of shrugs.

"All right, seeing as you're all determined not to take a hint. Dolores Hawthorne was once a rather well-respected member of this community many years back, if a little unconventional and opinionated. She got into a few tiffs and stepped on some toes, but in truth she was no worse than many others. But Mrs. Hawthorne had a lot of influence, because she and her husband were some of the few people around these parts with any medical training and she was very good at her work."

"Thomas Wilde became their apprentice when he was just a young boy. He eventually fell in love with the daughter, Melinda Hawthorne, and they got married. They practiced medicine together for a little while, but Wilde wanted to travel to December to attend the medical university, and Dolores was against it – she didn't want to be so far away from her daughter. I don't know, maybe there was more to it, but Thomas and she started having problems from that time."

"Eventually Wilde broke away from the Hawthornes and established his own medical practice, with Melinda as his partner. I don't know if Melly was too happy about the state of affairs in her family. Things were a little tense in town, with some people sticking to Doc and Dolores and others switching to Thomas and Mel. It was like that for a year, and then the sickness struck. Afterwards, Thomas left for December. We thought he had left for good, but then he reappeared a few years later and reestablished his practice. Except that he made a point to go after Dolores's patients and never missed a chance to publicly denounce her."

"Things got really ugly when he started marketing his Tea Tonic. Dolores got downright uncivil.

What finished her in the esteem of the town, however, was when the story of what happened to Mel began to leak out."

"Er… what exactly happened?" Meryl asked tentatively.

"Melinda was pregnant when she contracted the illness. She was being treated by both her mother and her husband, neither of whom could agree on the best course of action. In any case, according to Thomas, Dolores slipped Mel an abortive agent in a misguided attempt to save her life. According to Dolores, it was the exact same medicinal tea she gave to all her patients."

Unconsciously hugging herself, Meryl stepped away from the desk and accidentally backed into Vash. He placed a steadying arm around her and leaned forwards.

"She killed her own daughter?"

For a moment, Stockton looked lost in thought. Then he sighed deeply.

"As it was, we found insufficient evidence to charge her with anything – not that it made any difference in the eyes of the town by that point. Who wants to be at the mercy of a medic who killed her own daughter?"

"Sheriff," said Milly plaintively, "You don't really believe that Mrs. Hawthorne would deliberately try to harm the townsfolk?"

"What I know, Miss, is that the reclusive Mrs. Hawthorne was caught in the immediate vicinity of the incident and has a long standing grudge against Mr. Wilde. Frankly, I'm plum out of patience with her eco-terrorist tactics. And should anyone die from this latest bout of illness, I'll hold her criminally liable for her sabotage of our medical supply."

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"Good grief, what a mess," sighed Meryl as she carefully picked her way around the remains of a hundred thousand shattered bottles and packing crates that littered the floor of A&J Bottling. After the scene inside Sheriff Stockton's office, she had insisted on coming to the crime scene, hoping that work would calm her roiling thoughts. Unfortunately, it wasn't working.

"It certainly was a thorough job, Ma'am," agreed Milly, who was cautiously poking through a large sticky pile of debris. "And this level of damage must have taken several hours to make – probably even all of last night."

"Meaning whoever did this was really determined to make sure there was nothing whatsoever left of Tea Tonic, either in storage or in production."

"Pity that," groaned Vash as he mournfully examined one of the damaged mixing vats.

Meryl eyed Vash warily, wondering if it would occur to him to try licking the floor, and if she could muster sufficient force to pry him off should he try. Shaking her head, she again surveyed the wreckage and calculated the damage estimate, and it suddenly occurred to her that she couldn't remember the last time she filed a report where Vash hadn't been directly or indirectly involved.

An unsettling feeling of rustiness filled Meryl. How twisted was it that she found some reassurance in handling Vash the Stampede incidents? As horrible as they were, in the end she had discovered that there was a reason behind them all. Now again faced with an unknown, she felt oddly wrong-footed and found herself pondering the same question that invariably plagued her ever since she first became an investigator.

How angry, how desperate, how crazy does a person have to be to go through all this effort to utterly destroy someone else's property? Why? What do they really gain by it?

Did Mrs. Hawthorne… Dolores… really do all this? If she did, then why did she help us?

Did she help us?

As if on cue, Meryl's stomach suddenly clenched painfully, causing her to lean heavily against a wall until the spasm passed.

"Are you all right?" asked Vash, abandoning his inspection of the vats to come up behind her.

"My stomach hurts," grumbled Meryl.

"Gas?" inquired Milly politely, who likewise had given up on the crates.

Irritated, Meryl smacked her arm against her partner and turned back to face Vash. He quickly threw up his hands.

"I didn't say anything!"

Meryl felt her temper flaring. "It's not THAT! Look…," She pushed away from the wall, forcing herself to think calmly about everything. "Vash, Milly… I really think we need to get to the bottom of this ourselves."

Milly gave her partner a thoughtful look. "It's not exactly our area of investigation though. Isn't this a matter for the sheriff to handle?"

"Yes, but…," Meryl hesitated, wondering if she was behaving irrationally, and suddenly decided that she didn't care. "I just can't believe that Miss Dolores could have done this out of malice! Even if she's a little strange, even if there is some truth to the accusations against her – she was still kind to us. It just doesn't make any sense. And you saw what happened this morning. If we don't do something, they'll kill her," she exclaimed passionately. "We have to try and save her!"

What in the world has gotten into me lately?

Feeling abashed by her outburst, Meryl quickly clammed up. She wondered how foolish she had just sounded when she felt Milly's hand clap down on her shoulder and give an encouraging squeeze. Looking up she saw Vash watching her. He had a gentle smile on his face.

"Vash, what…?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Vash said amiably, reaching into his jacket as he headed towards the door. "Well let's get going, then."

"Where are we going?"

"Back to Dolores's house, of course," answered Vash as he slipped his sunglasses on.

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