1 The Witch Who Settled the Account

by Emma Belmont

  “It looks good,” he said, smiling. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” she said, distractedly.

  Maybe she ought to call Mac and cancel the whole thing. After all, who was she? She glanced up at the lighthouse. She was the Pixie Point Bay lightkeeper and B&B owner—not an officer of the law.

  “Why don’t you eat?” Bear asked.

  It was a simple enough question. But the real answer made her put her chin in her hand as she gazed out to the tranquil bay, and the immense ocean beyond it.

  “I think I’m doing the right thing,” she said, almost to herself, “but I’m not sure if I’m the one who should be doing it.”

  “Isn’t doing the right thing,” Bear said, “always the right thing to do?”

  It took her a moment to process what he’d said. Maris cocked her head a little, and turned to look at him. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  He swallowed, then used a napkin to wipe his mouth and beard. “Isn’t doing the right thing, always the right thing to do?”

  She stared at him, and managed to keep her mouth from dropping open. His gentle brown eyes looked into hers as if he was expecting an answer to his honest question.

  “Yes,” she finally said. “It is.”

  Satisfied, he went back to work on his sandwich, just as Cookie rejoined them. “What have we got for lunch?” she asked, taking a seat.

  Maris smiled at Bear. “Philosophy 101, it turns out.” She picked up her barbecue salmon, and took a nice, healthy bite.

  27

  In the Towne Plaza of Pixie Point Bay, the warm sun had begun its descent to the horizon. For what felt like the hundredth time in the last few days, Maris parked near the credit union. Before she’d left the B&B, Cookie had said to be careful of the ruts she’d created between there and here. But if Maris was right about what she suspected, this could be the last trip to the credit union she’d need to make for a while.

  As she got out and shut the car door, she could see a light on inside, and when she reached the sidewalk, Maris also caught sight of the sheriff. He was standing near Edwin’s desk. Bryan was inside already too, sitting on the couch in the small waiting area. Of course the two tellers were there as well. Although Jessica wasn’t wearing an orange jumpsuit, Maris knew that Mac must have brought her from a jail cell.

  “Maris Seaver,” said a voice from behind her. “You really do have a flair for the dramatic.”

  She turned to face Millicent Leclair, unable to keep from smiling at the sight of the old woman moving quickly in her direction. Her enormous crochet supply bag was tucked under one arm and her black eyes danced with excitement.

  “Millicent,” Maris said, “glad you could make it.”

  “Are you joking?” Millicent said, touching her lightly on the arm as she came to a stop on the sidewalk. “There’s no way I would miss something as thrilling as this.” She leaned in towards Maris, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. “You know who did it, don’t you?” she asked. “Wait until the ladies at the crochet club hear about this. They’re going to be so jealous that I was here to see this all unfold. It’s thrilling, I tell you, thrilling!”

  Though Maris could see precisely how Millicent would think that, and was glad she did, she also had a notion that not everyone was going to be ‘thrilled.’ For her part, the butterflies had returned and she’d be glad to see the whole thing over and done.

  “Well,” she said, “let’s hope it lives up to expectations.” But as Millicent nearly bounded up the porch steps, Maris decided it couldn’t disappoint her. She was already as giddy as a schoolgirl.

  Maris managed to get to the door before the older lady, and held it open for her. Millicent hurried into the credit union, giving Maris a wink as she passed and looking like a cat who’d already caught, cooked, and eaten the canary. Maris was just about to follow her inside, when she caught sight of Kristofer Klaas hurrying down the sidewalk. He looked a little agitated, his hair a bit messy, and his shirt stained with something that looked like dried glue.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he huffed through his mustache as he approached. “I had a last minute skylight repair to make,” he said, talking fast. “It had to be water tight. I hope I haven’t kept the sheriff waiting.” Worried, he looked past her. “I’ve got another customer to get to before this day is over. This won’t take long, will it? I’m guessing it’s something to do with Edwin Martin. The sheriff didn’t say much, just that he had a few things to go over with me.” The glazier was almost hyperventilating, and Maris could hardly blame him. Kristofer stared at her for a moment, a wary look in his eyes. “This isn’t about the glass business, is it?” he asked. “I know we talked about it the other day, and I know I probably didn’t paint myself in the best light, but–”

  Maris put up a hand to stop him. “The sooner we start,” she said. “The sooner we’ll finish. We’ll explain everything inside. And thank you for coming. This won’t take long.” Maris held open the door for him and followed him inside. As all eyes turned to her, she forced herself to stand up tall, pausing just inside to turn the “Open for Business” sign to “Closed.”

  Kristofer hurried to the opposite side of the room, where he stood by Mac, looking as if he wanted to say something though he kept quiet in the silent room. Bryan Martin had moved to lean against one of the tellers’ desks, his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor. Millicent had taken a seat behind Edwin Martin’s desk. For some reason that Maris couldn’t fathom, she looked as if she belonged there. Her latest crochet project was spread out in her lap, this one a marvelous-looking beanie in the colors of a sunset.

  Jessica and Ashley were in the back of the room near the hallway that led to the kitchen. Jessica was pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and was biting her nail. Ashley had a hand on her shoulder and was rubbing it soothingly, although she looked almost as on-edge as her colleague. Maris saw that Jessica wasn’t restrained, and inwardly thanked Mac. He’d already gone above and beyond the call just by bringing her here.

  “Sheriff,” Ashley said. “I think we’d all like to know what’s going on. Is there a reason you’ve asked all these people to be here?”

  Bryan Martin looked up. “If this has something to do with my dad, I’d like to know.”

  Mac hooked his thumbs in his utility belt and nodded at Maris. “The reason I’ve asked you all here is something that Maris Seaver is going to have to tell you.”

  Suddenly, all heads swiveled toward her again. For a moment, it felt like being a bug under a magnifying glass.

  Clearing her throat, Maris said, “Thank you all for coming here on such short notice.” She clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from trembling. “To answer both of those questions,” she continued, “yes. This is about Edwin Martin’s murder.”

  “I don’t mean any disrespect here,” Kristofer said, “but if this has something to do with the investigation, with the death, then shouldn’t…well…Sheriff McKenna be the one talking to us?”

  Maris exchanged a look with Mac that silently said, that question is yours.

  Mac acknowledged the glazier with a tilt of his head. “That’s why I’m here, Mr. Klaas. This is part of the investigation—officially.” He looked up, and for a moment his gray eyes met Maris’s, and she saw confidence there.

  “I trust her,” Millicent declared. “And if I trust her, then you can trust her.”

  Maybe it was the fact that she was sitting behind the big desk, or that her voice simply had the ring of authority, but everyone visibly settled down. Millicent returned to her crocheting, and for a moment the only sound in the credit union was the hum of the air conditioning.

  Maris stepped a couple of paces further into the room. “I realize that everyone is busy and that the credit union needs to reopen, so I’ll keep this brief,” she said. She took a deep breath. What she had to say wasn’t pleasant, but drawing it out wasn’t going to make it any better. “A number of you had reason to dislike Edwin Martin, e
ven possibly to want him dead.”

  “Wait a minute,” Ashley exclaimed, “you think one of us did it?” She looked around at the assembled group. “One of us?”

  Mac made a “hold on” motion with his hand, and the teller stopped.

  “Kristofer,” Maris said, making eye contact with the glazier, “you lost your business because of a predatory loan. A loan that came from this credit union. It was the balloon payment at the end of that loan that caused you to lose a business and building that had been in your family for three generations.”

  “Of course,” Kristofer said, spreading his hands. “I’ve admitted it. It’s probably a matter of public record.” He gestured to the bookstore next door, through the wall. “You said yourself that you saw an old photo of the glass shop.”

  “Exactly,” Maris said. “But what isn’t a matter of record is the fact that Edwin Martin suggested it to you, even pressured you to take it.”

  Kristofer’s face turned angry. “Look, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead…” His eyes flicked to Bryan. “So I guess I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”

  “Is that what happened?” Millicent asked, turning to him. “It happened awfully quick.”

  Kristofer snapped his fingers. “Like that.”

  “Millicent,” Maris said, “you had been watching Edwin for a while, you and the other ladies in the crochet club. Helen concluded immediately that he’d been murdered as soon as she found out he was dead. It was clear that all of you were certain he was a less than savory individual.”

  “An understatement,” Millicent agreed, still crocheting, “if you’ll pardon my being blunt, young man.” She looked at Bryan, who only shrugged and looked at the ground. “And I’m not afraid to say it. Ask any of the By Hook or Crook ladies and they’ll tell you the same. We’d had our eye on that one for quite some time.”

  “Edwin wronged a lot of people,” Maris agreed. “You were the one to tell me about Dr. Rossi.”

  “Dr. Rossi?” Kristofer asked. “What did he do to the doctor?” From the way everyone looked at her, they had the same question.

  “Dr. Rossi lost his house and his family when the credit union foreclosed,” Maris answered. “It’s the lovely home that Edwin lived in at the time of his death.”

  Millicent tsked and both Jessica and Ashley gasped.

  “No doubt Dr. Rossi is just the tip of the iceberg,” Maris said and pointedly looked at Jessica, who looked away.

  “Tell them, Jessica,” Ashley urged her.

  The blonde woman looked at her fellow teller. “Are you insane?”

  Ashley put her hands on her hips. “You’ve already been arrested. Just tell them the truth.” Ashley put a hand on her arm. “For your own sake. You can’t keep it a secret.”

  Maris waited as Jessica bit her nail, and moved her weight from one foot to the other. Finally, she went still and looked defiantly at the group. “He sexually harassed me.” This time it was Millicent’s turn to gasp. “There, I said it.”

  Ashley patted her shoulder. “I heard you slap him, in the closet.”

  “Good for you!” Millicent crowed.

  “Not really,” Jessica replied. “That’s when all the demeaning work assignments began.”

  Maris shook her head. “Even in the brief time I was here to open an account, I saw him treat you with contempt.”

  Ashley and Jessica both said, “All the time,” and had to smile at each other.

  “With all due respect,” Bryan said, with just a hint of impatience in his voice, “where is this going, Ms. Seaver?”

  Maris looked at him. “To be succinct, motive isn’t enough to prove murder.”

  “Then why are we here?” Jessica asked, her voice almost pleading. “We don’t even know how he died.”

  “But we do,” Mac replied. "Edwin Martin died of anaphylaxis after eating grapes.”

  “Anaphylaxis?” Kristofer said, incredulous. “That’s like an allergic reaction, right?” He looked to Mac for confirmation, and the sheriff nodded.

  “Interesting,” Millicent murmured, not looking up from her crocheting. “Was he allergic to grapes?”

  “No,” Jessica said, before Maris could reply. “He couldn’t have been. He had me buy them all the time. He was always eating them.”

  “That’s right,” Maris said. “He wasn’t allergic to grapes. Mac, could you tell them about the patch?”

  Mac took a few steps forward to address the room. “We found a transdermal patch in Dr. Rossi’s possessions after the hit and run that put him in a coma.”

  “A transdermal patch?” Bryan asked, turning to him.

  “Yes,” Mac replied. “It’s a type of medical patch that delivers medicine through the skin, like the ones you use to quit smoking. But the lab results have come in, and they’ve confirmed it wasn’t nicotine, or scopolamine for seasickness. It was aconitine.”

  “What’s aconitine?” Ashley asked

  “It’s a kind of poison,” Mac replied. “It’s highly toxic. More importantly, it can be absorbed through the skin.”

  “So does that mean Dr. Rossi killed Edwin?” Millicent asked, looking perplexed.

  “No,” Maris replied, “although not for lack of trying.”

  Kristofer crossed his arms over his chest. “But you can’t prescribe a patch full of poison.”

  “After Edwin died,” Maris responded, putting her hands behind her back, “Dr. Rossi asked a question about whale watching. It struck me as odd at the time.”

  Ashley took a step forward. “That’s right,” she said. “I remember. He asked if Mr. Martin had gone whale watching recently. It was odd because it isn’t the right season.”

  “That’s right,” Maris said. “There was something strange about Dr. Rossi’s behavior the day Edwin Martin died. He seemed to dismiss the grapes out of hand. He seemed confused about them.” She pursed her lips. “I think that when Dr. Rossi arrived he initially thought that he had murdered Mr. Martin. He had already poisoned the patches, but he hadn’t been expecting him to die that quickly. I suspect he rushed here to cover his tracks.”

  “But as Kristofer says, you can’t prescribe poison,” Millicent pointed out. She had set down her crochet project, and was eyeing everyone intensely.

  “That’s where Slick comes in,” Maris said. “I had an interesting conversation with him a few nights ago. He came to the lighthouse to talk to me, and said that he had seen something interesting the day after Edwin's murder. He’d seen Dr. Rossi earlier that day aboard Edwin's yacht. He thought it was strange, because he knew that Edwin had died. Eventually he had to help Rossi off the boat, and the doctor couldn’t get away fast enough.”

  “Do you know what he was doing on my dad’s yacht?” Bryan asked.

  “My theory,” Maris answered, “is that he had gone back to retrieve the rest of the poisoned seasickness patches that he had tampered with. He had given them to Edwin not expecting them to be used until whale watching season, but now he had to cover his tracks. Edwin's death wasn’t yet being investigated as a murder, so this was his chance to get rid of any evidence of his involvement. The thing he didn’t realize, though, was that he wasn’t the one whose murder plan succeeded.”

  “So he tried to kill Mr. Martin but didn’t succeed,” Ashley said, shaking her head. “But if he didn’t kill Mr. Martin, then who did?”

  The others nodded and everyone’s gaze fixed on Maris.

  “Without the poison being responsible,” she said, “we were back to anaphylaxis and Mr. Martin’s shellfish allergy.”

  “So it was an allergic reaction,” Kristofer said.

  “So to speak,” Maris replied. “I mean, in the sense that it was an induced allergic reaction.”

  “The coroner found seafood protein in his stomach,” Mac said, “along with the elevated histamine levels.”

  “You’re saying someone gave him seafood without him realizing it?” Ashley asked. She looked around at the group. “I’m sorry, Ms. Seaver, but I
find that a little hard to believe.”

  “That’s what I thought at first, too,” Maris replied. “But then I had a rather interesting conversation with Eugene Burnside, just earlier this afternoon, in fact,” she continued. “He told me that fresh, uncooked seafood, contrary to popular belief, doesn’t have a smell. When it’s freshly caught, it’s completely odorless.”

  “Meaning?” Jessica asked.

  “Meaning,” Maris said, “that juice from fresh seafood could have been injected into the grapes that Edwin was eating just before he died, causing the allergic reaction that killed him.”

  Incredulous looks shot around the room, but Maris could almost see them thinking it through. Eventually a still silence returned.

  “It would have to be someone who was familiar with Mr. Martin’s eating habits,” Maris continued, glancing at Jessica. The teller lowered her gaze. “But there’s more to it than that. There were the poisoned grapes, obviously. But whoever killed Edwin also needed a way to get into the credit union when it was closed in order to poison the grapes.” Again, Jessica shrank, but Maris pressed on. “I realize that this all points to Jessica or Ashley,” she said, turning to face the two women, “but I think the receipt for the grapes that the sheriff found in Jessica’s desk tells a different story.”

  “Probably planted,” Mac said.

  Now everyone’s gazes were shifting between them.

  Maris indicated the blonde teller. “Jessica would have been an easy target, especially considering her history with Edwin. If the murderer wanted a scapegoat, she was the perfect one.”

  “Wait a minute,” Millicent said. “I don’t understand one thing.” She looked like she was on the edge of her seat. “What about the hit and run that put the doctor in a coma?”

  “That’s the thing,” Maris answered. “The murderer would have needed access to Edwin's car.”

  Maris paused, looking at each of them. Kristofer’s mustache looked as if it were twitching. Bryan had returned to looking at the ground. Millicent hadn’t touched her crochet project for a number of minutes. Jessica looked like she might throw up, and Ashley looked like she was ready to burst.