Marigolds for Malice

by Bailey Cattrell

  As we watched, Odell rose and went to talk to Larken by the greenhouse. Haley remained on the bench, the cardigan she’d been wearing the day before now wrapped around her button-down shirt and dark slacks. Her hair was held off her face with a headband, and I could sense her shyness and discomfort among all these people she didn’t know.

  Astrid, bless her heart, must have seen the same thing I did, because she broke away from Dylan and went to sit by Odell’s daughter. I felt my lips curve up as she said something that made Haley snort and cover her mouth.

  Lupe gave me a puzzled look. “Some people are just shy. You don’t usually seem like the mothering type.”

  “Yeah. I’m not. There’s just something about her that feels needy.”

  I saw Max was watching us.

  “I better move around,” Lupe said, eyeing him. “Later.”

  Thea was talking to Ritter when I turned back. I waved and joined them by the rose trellis. Just then Gessie came through the gate, juggling bowls of guacamole and chips. Thea quickly excused herself and went to help.

  I slipped my arm around Ritter and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The skin was still a little pinched around his eyes. I’d been hoping for a big night, but perhaps it would be better for him to go home and get more rest right after dinner.

  Then he smiled down at me, and I decided he could get as much rest as he needed that night—right by my side.

  Together, we went to commune with the others who were mourning the loss of Eureka Sanford.

  * * *

  • • •

  SHE came to my classroom to talk about the gold rush, and the kids loved her!”

  “. . . never seen anyone so determined to get the town council to see things her way . . .”

  “. . . a temper, but it was short-lived.”

  “Came in every Tuesday for dinner. Great tipper . . .”

  Snippets of conversation reached my ears from all over the Enchanted Garden. As Ritter and I passed Odell Radcliffe, he said to the mayor, “I think the head of the department was terrified of her, but she was always on the side of right. And Eureka didn’t change a whit after the success of her first book. She was a mentor and an advocate for her students.”

  I moved away and heard Warren telling Trixie, “She told the silliest jokes. Kid stuff. I loved the one about why elephants paint their toenails red. Because—”

  She cut him off. “I don’t care about her stupid jokes.” She was about to say something more but saw me and clamped her mouth shut.

  Ritter raised his hand in greeting to an old high school friend standing by the front fence. “I’m going to say hi.”

  I nodded and stepped back to scan the garden. Clusters of people murmured together, their voices combining to form a soft buzz among the flowers. The branches of the oak and apple trees arched over them, protective and listening. A few visitors meandered into the greenhouse, where Larken stood by the door looking earthy and serene. As I watched, Maria joined her, and I wondered whether she’d had a chance to finish reading Charles Bettelheim’s diary.

  “Ellie! How are you?”

  I turned to see Dr. Eliza Scott from the Poppyville Clinic. No white coat today. She wore tailored tweed slacks with a wide-necked cashmere sweater, matching vest, and boots. She was a tall African American woman pushing fifty with gray-streaked hair in a thick braid over one shoulder, and always seemed to smell faintly of strawberries.

  She smiled at me from behind her glasses. “This was a nice thing for you to do.”

  I gestured toward Maria, who was telling Larken that Eureka wore her newsboy cap because she couldn’t be bothered to mess with her hair when there were so many other things that were so much more important. “It was her idea, actually.”

  Dr. Scott looked around the garden. “But this is the perfect place. It’s relaxing here. Calming, you know?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s open to the public?” she asked.

  “Of course. Anytime the shop is open,” I said. “No purchase required.”

  “I should take a break and come here during the day. I often forget to have lunch, and there are times my job is a bit, well, stressful.”

  “I can imagine,” I said, not mentioning how often I forgot to eat lunch as well. I’d snagged a deviled egg and a chicken wing when people had begun trickling in, though. “Did you know Eureka well?”

  “We were getting to know each other,” Dr. Scott said. “We got along. I’m sorry we never had the chance to spend more time together.” She sighed, and I felt a pang of the same regret. “Mostly our conversations were about the gold rush and my family history here.”

  My forehead wrinkled a little. “Oh?”

  “I went to Cornell, but I was born here. My family has deep roots in Poppyville. Eureka wanted to interview me for a book she was writing.”

  My eyes widened. “Really? What did she ask about?”

  “My great-great-great-grandfather. He was a slave who came west with the son of a Louisiana plantation owner during the gold rush. He bought his freedom with the gold he mined for himself, and my family has been here ever since.”

  “Dr. Scott, I knew your family had been here a long time, but I didn’t know that story.”

  “It’s not an uncommon one. There were a lot of African Americans who were caught up in the gold rush for various reasons, not to mention the Indian tribes that were run roughshod over by the stampede of prospectors and dreamers. I was glad to see the Greenstockings included some of that history in the educational materials at Heritage House.”

  “Thanks to Eureka,” I said. “She was the expert.”

  The doctor nodded her head. “She wanted to know about the stables back then. My family ran that stable until a generation ago, but my parents weren’t much on sentiment, so I didn’t really have anything to give her. I sent her to talk to Gessie King.”

  I frowned, then looked around. “Gessie was just here, but I don’t see her now. Do you?”

  “She left a few minutes ago,” Dr. Scott said. “Told me she had to get back to check on a horse that’s been acting colicky.”

  I nodded and went to find Ritter. Talking to Gessie would have to wait.

  * * *

  • • •

  PEOPLE began to trickle out of the Enchanted Garden around six o’clock, and almost everyone was gone by seven. I shooed Astrid out when she tried to help clean up.

  “I left you all to deal with the aftermath of the time capsule ceremony the other day. I’ve got this,” I said.

  “We’ve got this,” Ritter emphasized. My hopes for the evening had kindled again.

  “Deal,” Astrid said, munching on one of her own lemon sour cream cookies. “I’ll be by in the morning. Oh, and I’m thinking brookies for tomorrow.”

  “Brookies?” I asked.

  “Half chocolate chip cookie, half fudge brownie.”

  The thought made me half swoon. “Yum,” I managed.

  She grinned and grabbed Dylan’s arm.

  “Nice garden,” he called as she dragged him through the gate.

  There was still something off about the guy, but I couldn’t help laughing a little at their antics.

  Larken approached. “I’m sorry. I have to get back to the farm. The critters are all waiting for their dinner.” She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be easier when your brother gets back, and I won’t have to do everything by myself.”

  “No worries,” I said. “And the website update? I’ll e-mail you the information, so you can dive in whenever you want to.”

  She grinned. “Excellent! Ellie, you are going to love what I come up with for you.”

  After she left, Ritter asked me what Larken meant, and I filled him in as we packed up the few leftovers, put away chairs, closed the greenhouse against the coming chill of night, and otherwise cleaned up.
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br />   When we were nearly finished, he went in to shut off the lights in Scents & Nonsense, and I did a check of the garden one last time to make sure we hadn’t missed a paper cup or stray napkin. As I came around the oak tree, a flash of orange caught my eye. I walked over and kneeled by a fairy tableau that featured a sweet set of wee white wicker chairs and table, complete with tiny embroidered pillows on them and potted succulents arranged on the white pebble floor.

  A single orange marigold had free-seeded at the edge of the pebbles, pushing a few of them aside with its dark green leaves. One bloom had unfurled, and now it stood winking at me in the gloaming as night approached.

  Marigolds for malice.

  A low moan carried down through the budding leaves of the oak, barely audible but ebbing and flowing like a wailing tide against my senses. I reached down and yanked out the marigold by the roots.

  Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the garden, carrying with it the scents of mountain mahogany and fountain pen ink. I knew that combination from only one source.

  Eureka.

  Had her spirit tried to warn me of something? And if so, what?

  CHAPTER 19

  I TOSSED the marigold plant on the compost pile before coming inside, but the scent remained on my skin. At the kitchen sink, I scrubbed at my hands with pine-scented soap, then grabbed a dish towel and looked down at Dash.

  He was not so patiently waiting by his feeding station, which was under the end of the counter—easily accessible with his short legs and out of traffic in the small space. I dished out a bit of kibble and added half a leftover deviled egg from the memorial. He tucked in with glee, crunching and slurping as if he hadn’t eaten in a week, despite all the food I’d seen people giving him in the Enchanted Garden.

  Glancing at the clock on the stove, I saw we had a half hour before we had to leave for dinner, so I grabbed a couple of glasses and the two-thirds-full bottle of wine I’d opened the night before.

  Ritter stood by the back door in the living room. The jacket he’d been going to hang on the wall hook was still in his hand. As I approached, he glanced up at me, then pushed the door with a fingertip.

  Silently, it swung open.

  “Did you mean to leave this open?” he asked.

  I shook my head, still smelling the bitter hint of marigolds that I’d dragged inside. “It was definitely closed.”

  “Locked?” Now he sounded concerned.

  My lips pressed together as I replayed the afternoon in my mind. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe someone came in during the gathering for Eureka. To get a drink or use the bathroom.” He lifted one shoulder and let it drop, apparently willing to let the subject of my open door do the same.

  I frowned. “Through the back door? They’d have had to go outside the fence. I deliberately locked the front door so no one would decide to explore inside. There were plenty of drinks, and I made the restroom in the shop available.”

  He took the wine from my hand and set it on the low table beside the love seat. “Does it look like anything’s missing?”

  My eyes widened. “Oh, no. You don’t think . . .” I trailed off and whirled around to check the spiral bookcase.

  Gamma’s journal was still there, right where I’d left it. I felt my shoulders relax a fraction as my gaze flicked around the living room. A quick trip into the kitchen and bathroom revealed no disturbance, either. I started up to the loft, and Ritter quickly joined me on the stairs.

  I turned to look at him.

  “If someone came in, they could still be here,” he said.

  “Oh!” My eyes widened. There had been a murder, after all. And I’d been asking questions.

  He grinned. “It’s probably nothing. You want me to go first?”

  I gave him a look. “Why do I get the feeling you’re just trying to get me into the bedroom?”

  He shrugged, the grin still on his face. “Fine. You stay here. I’ll go up and check.”

  “Let me check my jewelry box,” I said. “And then we’ll put the mysteriously open door out of mind, have some wine, and you can regale me with tales from the tundra.”

  “Nice try,” he said with a smile. “I’d much rather you fill me in on what your sleuthing has unearthed.”

  I grimaced. “Woefully little.”

  Ritter shadowed right behind as I padded up the circular staircase. Everything in the bedroom looked to be as I’d left it, and my few pieces of jewelry were exactly where they were supposed to be. When I checked the cupboard where I kept the ancient copper alembic I used to distill essential oils from the garden, it sat, squat and gleaming, in the shadows waiting for the next time I needed to create a custom perfume.

  Back downstairs, Ritter took my hand and led me to the love seat. “Everything good, then?”

  “Yep,” I said. “Maybe I just left the door unlocked, and the wind blew it open.” Even as I said the words, I knew it sounded like something a stupid heroine in a slasher movie would say. But I honestly couldn’t think of any other reason for it to be unlatched.

  Ritter uncorked the bottle and poured the wine. His eyes flashed as he handed me a glass, and I felt my face grow pleasantly warm at the prospect of what the rest of the evening held. For the first time, things felt like they had before he left for Alaska.

  I lifted my glass and smiled, and Ritter did the same before bringing the wine to his lips.

  Then the scent hit my nose: slightly sweet, yet deeply earthy and similar to the tannins in the wine. But it wasn’t the wine. It was something else. In the split second after detecting it, my neurons lit up with all the knowledge that years of honing my senses had developed, and a single picture flashed into my mind.

  The botanical drawing of Datura stramonium in Gamma’s journal.

  “Ritter! No! Don’t drink that!” It felt as if my hand was moving in slow motion as I reached for his glass.

  Fear stabbed through me as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

  Knocking the glass out of his hand, I sprayed wine across the ottoman and hardwood floor.

  “Elliana! What the—”

  “It’s poison. You didn’t drink any, did you? Tell me you didn’t drink any,” I demanded, hoping against hope that I hadn’t just seen him swallow.

  “Well, yeah.” He frowned at the stain spreading across the fabric of the footstool. “A little.”

  I reached over and picked up the bottle. Held it up to the floor lamp. Sure enough, there was plant material in the wine. Squinting, I made out a tangle of leaves.

  If I checked the greenhouse, I was sure I’d find they’d been removed from the plant I’d overwintered there.

  “It tasted fine,” Ritter said. He was concentrating on the maroon pool on the floor, so he hadn’t seen what I had.

  Pointing to the bottle, I said, “That’s why the door was open. Someone came in and put Datura in the wine. Datura, Ritter. Jimsonweed.” He was trained in botany. I didn’t have to explain how poisonous is was.

  His head snapped up. “Oh, Elliana, how do you—”

  “I smelled it. I still can.” I grabbed my phone and searched for the number for the Poppyville Clinic.

  “You can?” He shook his head. “What am I thinking? Of course you can.” His eyes widened. “Wait. You’re saying I drank wine with locoweed in it?” Yet another name for that beautiful plant. “That stuff’s bad.”

  Reluctantly, I nodded. “It might be. Better to be safe than sorry.”

  I dialed. It rang four times before going to voice mail. Everyone had left for the day.

  I switched on the flashlight feature on the phone and shone the light in Ritter’s eyes.

  His head jerked back. “What the . . . ?”

  Ritter’s pupils should have contracted with the sudden light but hadn’t. He blinked at me like a stunned rabbit. A wave of dizziness moved throu
gh me as I tuned into what he was feeling.

  There wasn’t a scent combination I knew of that could counteract the effects of the tropane alkaloids that made jimsonweed a dangerous hallucinogenic—not to mention deadly. Quickly, I dialed 911.

  “Hello, Nan? It’s Ellie Allbright. Listen, I need you to call Dr. Scott and get her over to the clinic right away. Ritter has ingested some Datura . . . some jimsonweed. Tell her that. I’ll meet her over there.”

  “You got it, Ellie.” I heard typing. “You want the cops, too?”

  I hesitated, but only for a second. “Yes. I think you’d better send them over, too.” I hung up and turned to Ritter. “Come on, big guy.”

  He blinked at me again, and my stomach sank. The effects were already settling in.

  I helped him with his coat and grabbed my own. “Dash, come.”

  The corgi whined.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. But I need you to stay in the shop for a little while.” I didn’t want him in the house with poisonous wine on the floor, and I also didn’t want him alone in the Enchanted Garden if the person who had sneaked into my home could still be nearby. If I was going to be gone for too long, I’d call Astrid and have her come get him—even in the middle of the night, and even if she was with Dylan. She was my bestie at heart, and I knew I could count on her.

  Dash trotted beside us as we started down the path toward Scents & Nonsense, glancing up at me every few seconds with worried brown eyes. Ritter kept looking around, his expression veering from confusion to delight to alarm. My heart sank. Datura caused hallucinations, and his behavior so soon after ingesting the plant scared me.

  What is he seeing?

  A sparkle of light in my peripheral vision made me turn my head, but nothing was there when I looked. A wind chime tinkled in the still air. I smelled roses, though none were in bloom. Faraway laughter giggled at the edge of my perception.

  I hadn’t been poisoned, but strange things were always happening in the Enchanted Garden, especially at night.

  My lips pressed together. Great. This is a fine time for the plant spirits to tease me.