I nodded. "So if everyone has to go out of their way to get it, us finding it on only one of them makes a difference."
The sound of a snap came from Andrew’s end of the line. "Exactly, and right now, Jason Delany is the only person who's been found to have the arsenic that killed Charlie Porter."
"But where would Simon Lambert or Jason Delany even get arsenic?" Danielle asked.
"On it." I switched from the notebook app to a search engine and typed in arsenic and uses. “Conductors, wood preservation, household cleaning agents and poisons, rat poisons, and insecticides. Okay, that last one sounds like anyone could get it.”
“And the wood preservation, household cleaning agents, and rat poisons sounds like more people than we would think have it lying around,” Danielle said.
"Now that I’m hearing the details, I'm not sure that where they got the arsenic matters as much as how they got it to him," Andrew said. "You can't just talk someone into drinking a glass of it."
"Could it have been ground up into his stash?" Danielle asked. "Just because we didn't see a bag that day doesn't mean neither of them was carrying it on them."
"But it's too big a leap to assume Jason would help kill Charlie at the risk of his sister," Andrew said. "I agree with Laura, if Jason were going to kill Charlie, he would have done so earlier."
"That takes us back to Carl Hawkins." I grabbed my so far untouched sandwich and took a bite in frustration.
Now I understood why this case had bothered Reid so much. Everyone involved had plenty of reason to kill Charlie, but they’d let weeks, months, or years pass without action.
The others looked as exhausted as I felt. Granny was slumped down in her chair with shoes off, feet up, and her plate balanced in her lap. Every now and then, she gave Coco a gentle nudge with her toes. Danielle was trying and mostly failing to pull a burp from Ben, who seemed more content to snuggle himself into a ball.
“You know, I don't think Carl fits either,” Granny said with a sigh. “Wandering eye or no—”"Which we can't be sure happened, Granny Margaret," Andrew said.
Granny kept going as if she hadn't heard him. "He's trying to do right by that baby. Selling those tools and putting that fanciful stuff away is just what's needed for them to start moving on."
Danielle rolled her eyes, still patting Baby Ben's back. "You make it sound like he was playing with toys for fun, Granny."
"Isn't he?" she asked.
"No, he's a historical interpreter," Danielle said. "In the summers, he travels to sites to sell things. In the off-season, he uses the equipment to craft weapons he sells."
I froze, my eyes snapping to Danielle. She was still trying to burp Ben, oblivious to the fact there was a lightbulb over my head and she had just turned it on.
"Dani, what kind of weapons does Carl Hawkins make?" I asked.
"Umm, swords and arrows mostly," she said. "If you ask me, he's making a mistake. He'll probably do better long term diversifying his stock than he will selling his tools."
Granny's brow furrowed. "Well… that's a big mistake to make."
"It wasn't Carl Hawkins's mistake." I rose to my feet, fighting to stay calm. Nothing I knew about the murder of Charlie Porter made sense… if everyone involved was telling the truth.
Almost none of them were, but one of them had been lying from the beginning.
"What is it, Laura?" Danielle asked, concern etched on her face.
I gestured for her to wait while I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Might as well give everyone the news at the same time. I dialed Conner Reid. It went straight to voicemail.
"Detective Reid, this is Laura Fisher. I know who killed Charlie, and I know where they got the poison."
Chapter Twenty-Six
Once I was finished leaving the voicemail for Reid, I tried to leave without letting Granny, Danielle, or Andrew know where I was headed.
That didn’t work out so well.
After a five-minute discussion about why I needed to go where I was going, what I thought I would find, and what I needed to do once I did, Andrew heaved a sigh.
“If I can’t talk you out of it, then I’m just going to tell you to be careful,” he said.
That was the closest to a blessing as I was going to get from any of my family members.
I got in my car and drove to Key West. There was no point in going to the sheriff's department; Reid wouldn't be convinced until he saw evidence confirming my theory.
Fortunately, I know just where to find it.
This time, I didn't stop at the coffee shop. There'd be plenty of time to indulge after. While I was looking for a place to park, I drove past Paige's bakery. The lights were off and the blinds pulled down.
It was a bit early for a bakery on a main thoroughfare to be closed, but maybe the pregnancy alongside the wedding cancellation had convinced Paige to get more rest. Though it was equally possible Simon and Caroline hadn’t called her to cancel the order yet, and she was just in the back working.
I parked and walked around the back. There were no cars in the small lot, and it looked just as abandoned.
You can just walk away now. Reid can do this. He’s a professional.
I knew better than to listen to the little voice in my head. Andrew already told me Reid wouldn’t be able to follow up on my theory. He admitted there was something to it, but he also said no judge in his right mind would grant a search warrant based on it. Jason was already sitting in jail for Charlie’s murder. There was already evidence against him—though I agreed with Simon that the anonymous tip was suspicious.
I figured the bakery really was empty, so I went back to my car and drove to Paige's house.
Before I parked, I did a quick circle around the block to check for Carl Hawkins. His car wasn't there. To be honest, I didn't expect it to be.
Andrew's guess had been dead on. We had just all been so focused on Carl, we didn't follow the logic in the right direction.
Paige had been lying to us from the beginning. She had the same issues with Charlie that Carl did, maybe more. So much of what she told me had been a lie, I couldn't tell where it ended and the truth began.
It was possible Carl had never cheated on her. It was possible they hadn't gotten back together. I hadn't stayed at the bakery long enough even to see them greet one another.
Okay, I didn't exactly know why she would lie, but that wasn't my job to figure out. All I needed to do was find the one piece of the puzzle Reid needed to turn in the right direction. And a story to make my questions seem less suspicious.
I knocked on Paige's door and ran through the coaching Andrew had given me.
“You’ll need her permission to be there. Anything you find has to be in plain sight. And if you want to photograph or record anything, you need her permission first. Reid can’t use anything you find without it.”
Paige opened the door dressed in a tank top and sweats. When her eyes met mine, she did a double take. "Well, at least I know you're not here to change the order for the Delany-Lambert wedding. I just spoke to Caroline Delany about an hour ago."
"Nope, I promise I'm not here on business. In fact, I’m off duty,” I said. "Actually, I was wondering if Carl was around."
"He's on the mainland on business," Paige said without missing a beat. "Was there something you needed?"
"Yeah, do you know if he's still planning on selling his smithing tools? I was telling my brother-in-law about finding them at your yard sale, and he's thinking about taking it up."
Danielle's comment was at the front of my mind. A man who sold handcrafted tools for a living wouldn't sell his equipment to raise money for a baby. It would have made more sense to make more products first.
Paige's eyes lit up. "Absolutely! Everything's in my garage. I tucked everything that didn't sell to the side in case I opened up again. We could use the extra money."
My heart sank a little, but I forced a smile to my lips. "That's great. Andrew just wouldn't shut up about them. C
an I take another look?"
Paige stepped outside and gestured for me to follow her to the garage. My stomach churned harder with each step we took. I hadn't wanted to be right about this. Now that I knew I had been, I wasn't sure I could go through with it. Did Paige Hawkins really deserve this?
The wicked deserve justice… upon them or done in their name.
With a tug of her wrist, Paige pulled the garage door open. She clapped her hands together and turned to me, smiling.
There was no car in the garage, and judging by the lack of grease stains, Carl and Paige didn't keep their cars there. Three of the walls were covered in metal shelving units. Every surface on the shelves was crammed with pieces of wood, hunks of metal, heavy-duty plastic drawers, and an assortment of small glass bottles. The center, by contrast, was a square of bare concrete.
The unsold items from the garage sale had been shoved in different boxes to one side. Except Carl’s smithing tools. They were near the shelf at the back.
"Here we are," Paige said. "And I'm as motivated as ever to get rid of this stuff. There’s no way all of this junk won't fit in the new place."
"You and Carl are still moving?" I asked.
"Yeah, the house has been pulling in some really good offers." Paige slid her hands into her pockets and shrugged. "I figured now's as good a time as any to upgrade. Although there may be a stop off in an apartment until after the baby gets here."
I couldn't help but notice that, even though I'd asked about him, she hadn't mentioned Carl at all.
“You know, I never asked what kind of smithing your husband does.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “Oh, that. He does historical practice smithing. Nails, horseshoes, every once in a while axes.”
Bingo.
“He does woodworking too?” The last dot slid into place. “Andrew’s definitely interested in doing that.”
“My sympathies to Danielle,” Paige said. “I guess I should warn you so you can warn her. It’s a time-intensive hobby. Especially if he wants to turn it into a side job.”
“Andrew travels a lot for work. He and Danielle are used to time apart.”
“It will get worse,” Paige insisted. “So much worse. Take what he does now and add going out of state for renaissance faires and historical villages on top of that.”
“That does sound like a lot,” I said. In fact, it sounded like Paige and Carl wouldn’t have much time to spend together at all.
Paige nodded, folding her arms across her chest. “You have no idea. Last year, Carl added Civil War events to his schedule thinking it’d give him access to a wider market. He had his best year ever, and we barely went out on a date all year.”
I frowned and looked at the ceiling, pretending to reconsider my offer. “Andrew’s gone so much already… I was kind of hoping this would convince him to stay home more. Danielle’s been a little lonely, you know? And especially with the new baby…”
Paige’s face softened. Her eyes turned toward the ground. “Yeah, yeah, I know that feeling. I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but it might go over better if he only sells online if he plans to. Or better yet, leave it as a hobby. A super casual hobby.”
“I’ll gently encourage him to limit it to doing demonstrations for guests at the Paradise,” I said.
“You know, that’s kind of brilliant,” Paige said. “He wouldn’t be good at it for a while, so anything he made would probably be worth more with an experience attached. At least that’s what Carl always said.”
“And it’d keep him home on the weekends.”
"Yeah. So, make me an offer." Paige folded her hands, placed them in front of her, and looked at me expectantly.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to get Andrew in on this first." I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. "Take a few pictures and maybe shoot some video of the tools? That way, Andrew can make sure they're the right kind and from the right era."
Paige hesitated for a second. "Yeah, I guess it's all right if it's only going to Andrew."
I started with the box of tools, taking care to move around to capture different angles instead of moving them like I would have on a photoshoot. There was something oddly beautiful about the textured metal and heavy shapes. My photographer’s mind itched to arrange them into a scene.
Next, I moved to the shelving units. I took one wide shot of each of the plastic tubs, and the two stacked with metal and wood. They weren't what I was looking for.
The shelf with the bottles I saved for last. My heart sped up as I walked toward it. Each of the twelve corked jars held a different color liquid. At a glance, the organizational system made no sense to me, but Carl Hawkins would be able to put his hands on anything he wanted in two seconds. Just like I could in my studio or in my graphic editing software.
I was sure the arsenic was here. All I needed to do was find it.
One of the corked bottles, the sixth in line, had a white sticker on the back. None of the others did.
"Do you mind if I touch these?" I asked, pointing to the outlier. "I'll be careful."
Paige wrinkled her nose. "Be very careful. People back in the day were a little wild, and historical interpreters aren't much better. I know for a fact a few of those are dangerous. That one in particular."
I turned the bottle around as gently as I could. "Did you help Carl with his crafting?"
She snorted. "Never, but I went to a convention with him once. I figured we'd at least get to spend meals and evenings together, but no. There was always another smith from heaven knows where that he just had to talk shop with."
"Sounds like Andrew when he gets going about juvenile case law."
Andrew didn't have a garage full of tools, nor did I think he’d ever want one. He had a personal library which he kept in a locked bookshelf in the upstairs sitting room.
Not long after I moved back to Paraiso, Andrew called home and asked Danielle to look something up for him. I had been staring at that bookshelf for days trying to figure out Andrew's system. It wasn't alphabetical. It didn't seem to be chronological. I was sure it would take Danielle a solid five minutes and more direction to find the book. But she shocked me by pulling the book off the shelf almost instantly.
To hear Paige tell it, she had no interest in her husband's historical smithing hobby. But Danielle wasn't interested in Andrew’s books and she knew his system.
"Do you know what any of these are?" I asked.
"Probably." Paige walked over to me and leaned forward to peer at the shelves.
“Oh, wait. Can I record this? There's no way I'll remember everything.”
“Well… yeah, okay. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
I switched from photo to video, hit record, then nodded to Paige.
"Most of these are for dyeing," she said. "But this one is a finishing oil. And the one with the sticker is toxic. It's got arsenic in it. Carl uses it to preserve the wood.”
I nodded and turned the bottle around, zooming in on it. What I thought was a white sticker was actually a yellow sticker. A small face in the center with its tongue stuck out.
I didn't know why, but now I knew for sure.
Paige Hawkins had poisoned Charlie Porter.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Before I left the Paradise for Key West, Andrew guessed there would be a gap of time between when I confirmed my theory and when I could tell anyone about it.
During which I would be alone with a murderer. In her home.
He'd given me instructions on how to handle myself if it happened. But now that I knew my theory was right, I couldn't for the life of me remember what Andrew told me to do.
"Did you get everything you need?" Paige asked.
I swallowed and forced a smile to my face. It had to have been tighter than I meant it to be. I could only hope Paige wouldn't notice.
“Sure did," I said. "Thanks so much for letting me do this. I'm hopeless when it comes to anything technical that isn't a camera.”
Paige
laughed. "I'm the same with anything that isn't baking. Tell me the flavors of a dessert you had years ago and I can replicate it perfectly. With just about everything else, I'm such a flake."
"Yeah. Must be an occupational hazard with creative types." My laugh was weaker than Paige's. Mostly because I was trying to figure out what to do next.
"Any idea when your brother-in-law will want this stuff?" Paige asked. "The sooner the better. I've got my eye on a gliding rocker.
"If you want, I can send him the pictures and video now," I said. "If he’s interested, I'll just pay you now and take it all off your hands."
"Ugh, you're a lifesaver! That's one last thing to worry about." Paige balanced her hands on her hips and heaved a big sigh of relief.
Darn it, what did Andrew tell me to do? He was sensible, so it was probably along the lines of get out, call Reid, and come home.
But this might be the only chance I had. I couldn't leave until I was sure.
First things first. Reid needed to see the evidence. I attached the photos and video to a text and sent it to Reid with the caption, Is this enough?
"Can I tempt you with some tea and cookies while you wait?" Paige asked. "I made a fresh batch a few hours ago."
Twenty-four hours ago, I would have jumped at the chance to score a free serving of anything Paige made. Now… it just didn't have the same appeal.
But it was an easy excuse to stick around. I gestured for Paige to lead the way.
The kitchen had the same stark white walls and beige tile as the living room. It was a little smaller than Granny's kitchen, but with half the counter space. Judging by the cutting board and knife on its surface, Paige had adapted to the limitations of the space by using the square wooden dining table as a center island.
Paige grabbed the cutting board as she entered then dropped it into the skin as she passed it. "Please excuse the mess. Between the wedding, the pregnancy, and the move I've barely had a minute to think let alone clean."
She ran a fresh cleansing wipe over the table and gestured for me to sit in one of the two wooden chairs. Turning her back to me, she pressed a tab on the kettle.
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