Poisoned (The Alex Harris Mystery Series)

by Elaine Macko

  “Yeah, it’s the blue one with the big scarecrow in the front,” volunteered Pocahontas.

  “That’s right. Now watch for cars.” The kids took off. Sam watched from the window to make sure they went to the right house. Having followed through with her parental duties, she turned to me. “Okay, they’re fine. Now what did you mean about finding another body?”

  “Well, not a body, really, but a lot of very interesting stuff.” I filled Samantha in on the contents of the letters.

  “So where are they?”

  “Here in my purse.” I took them out and placed them in the drawer of one of the end tables.

  “Don’t I get to look?”

  “No. They’re very old and besides, we’re not wearing gloves. I don’t want John yelling that I’ve tampered with evidence. I’ll probably be in deep doodoo just having taken them as it is.” I might even go to jail, I thought fleetingly, and wondered if John would put in a good word for me or pull the cell door closed himself.

  “So you think this clinches the case?”

  “Don’t you? Who else would be so determined to make sure nothing stood in the way of the land deal?”

  “Yeah, but if your theory is right, it’s not their land.”

  “True, but without those letters, no one would ever know that.”

  “That poor, poor family.” Sam shook her head in true sorrow for the Brissarts. “Well, Nancy Drew, it looks like you’ve solved another one.”

  “Mom! Look what Mrs. Connolly gave us.” Kendall raced into the house carrying a large, expertly decorated cookie and interrupting my thoughts of a stint on the Today Show as I explained how I solved the murder.

  “I hope you remembered to thank her,” Sam said to her daughter as she wrapped her arm around the young girl’s waist.

  “We did.”

  “Well, I guess we better be getting home. Daddy should be there by now and he’s going to want to take you guys out.”

  “Aunt Alex, Susan’s parents decorated their garage just like a cemetery. We’re going there first!” Henry said full of anticipation.

  I was amused by their excitement and glad to see they enjoyed it so much. I wanted to do something special with my own house for Halloween, maybe turn the garage into a witch’s castle complete with spider webs and scary music. Maybe when John moved in we could do it together with help from Henry and Kendall.

  “Well, have fun, you two. And don’t eat all that stuff in one night.”

  I walked everyone outside. After my sister drove away, I pulled my car into the garage and lit the pumpkins on my front porch. One pumpkin was a bit soft, and one side of its mouth drooped but the cold weather had helped in keeping them fresh. I turned on my porch light and waited for the first trick-or-treaters.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  At the sound of the doorbell, I picked up the two baskets piled high with candy and went to the front door. Maybe I should be passing out apples and carrots sticks but I knew only too well from my own childhood that those healthy treats would not go over with the kids.

  I opened the door to find a trio of fairy princesses along with a protective parent standing out by the street. It was a sad fact that parents hesitated to let their little ones go off by themselves. I could remember a time when my parents wouldn’t even begin to worry about Sam and me until ten o’clock rolled around.

  There weren’t any other children approaching for the moment so I adjusted the cardboard witch on my front door and closed it. I walked to the big picture window and untangled the two skeletons hanging from the window latch. With the streets quiet for the moment, I headed for the kitchen to make a sandwich.

  Armed with a salami sandwich on Italian bread and a small bag of chips, I went back into the living room and called John’s number. No answer. He should be back from Farmington by now, I thought munching on a handful of potato chips. Maybe he stopped off at the station. The doorbell rang again jerking me out of my thoughts and I reached for the baskets before going to answer it.

  By eight o’clock, I felt certain John would not be making it over. Annoyance overtook me and I wondered if this was how it would always be having a relationship with a policeman. I had to admit John usually didn’t work very late, and once the murder was solved things should go back to normal. Then he would be moving in. This thought pushed away my annoyance at his not making it over.

  Outside, across the street, several children were still walking from house to house. I had one bag of candy left and hoped it would be enough. Forty-five minutes later, I had just handed my last piece of chocolate to a pirate with two eye patches. I strongly suspected that he had tiny little holes poked in them allowing him to see what was being tossed into his bag, let alone maunder around the neighborhood. Having no more candy left and not an apple in sight, I flicked off the porch light and locked the door.

  At nine-fifty-five, my doorbell rang. I had just changed into my pair of men’s flannel pajamas so I reached for my robe and went to answer it.

  “I’m sorry, but the candy’s all gone.”

  The person standing on my front porch seemed a little old to be out trick-or-treating, but if the truth be told, I had continued with the tradition well into my teens. He wasn’t very original, though, wearing only an old-man mask with strands of long, gray hair hanging from the back. It was quite frightening. Something about the way he stood looked vaguely familiar, and I felt certain I had seen the plaid shirt peeking out from under his leather jacket before. However, the gun in his right hand was something new entirely.

  “Get in there!”

  Fear washed over me, and not just from the mask. A gun had a way of doing that.

  “I said get inside and close the door,” the voice behind the mask whispered, all the while holding the gun on me.

  The whispered order frightened me more than if the man had yelled and all of a sudden I felt very cold inside my pajamas and robe.

  “Go and close those curtains.” He pointed to the front window with the gun.

  I pulled my robe tightly around me and walked to the large picture window. The children had long since gone and all the houses looked dark. I pulled the drapes, leaving just a bit open at the bottom. With any luck John might be on his way and might see me inside, I prayed. I felt my entire body tremble. Whatever he planned on doing to me I hoped he would take off the mask. I couldn’t look at it any more.

  “Okay, now come and sit on the couch. Where’s your purse?”

  “Over there.” I pointed toward the dining room. “On the table.” I could hear my voice trembling and hoped it might play on the man’s sympathies, if he indeed had any, which seemed highly unlikely given that he had a gun and all.

  He walked over toward the table backward, keeping an eye on me. With his left hand he picked up my brown leather bag and emptied the contents on the table. “Where is it!” he yelled as he walked back into the room.

  I pulled back thinking he might hit me. “Where’s what?” I choked on a sob as the man grabbed my arm and turned it hard. “Stop! You’re hurting me. There’s about forty dollars in the kitchen, behind the flour container. You can have that, just don’t hurt me.”

  “Don’t be cute. I want the papers.”

  “Pape...” Then I had it. I knew where I had seen him. I just never thought he would follow me home, having believed, erroneously as it turned out, that he wouldn’t think I was clever enough to figure it out. How long had he been out there? Had he been watching me all night? The thought brought a new chill to me, spreading rapidly all the way to the bone. I could almost see the uneven teeth under the rubber of the mask. I turned my face toward his hideous disguise and said with as much scorn as my trembling voice could muster, “Why don’t you take off your mask, Stuart?”

  “Aren’t you smart. Now I’ll have to kill you for sure.” Stuart pulled the mask off. His hair was matted to his head and sweat dripped down his face, his black eyes wild. “I’m not going to fool with you. I want those papers now!”

/>   “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The papers I saw you put in your purse back at my grandmother’s house. Where are they?”

  “I gave them to the police.”

  “No, you didn’t. You came straight here after dropping Chantal off.” My face went deathly pale. “That’s right,” he said, wiping sweat from his face with his sleeve. “I followed you. So don’t lie to me. Where are they?”

  He twisted my arm harder this time and I turned my head to bury it in the sofa. The pain was immense and I knew that if he didn’t let up, he would twist it right off my body. Yuk.

  “Where are they!” This time he forgot the sinister whisper. “I’ve already killed Bradley, the dear boy,” he said, his voice full of mockery.

  “Yes, you did. Why didn’t you kill Mr. Kaminski as well?”

  “Kill Ralph?” Stuart asked with a look of pure puzzlement. “Why would I harm Mr. Kaminski? He’s been like a father to me. More than my own ever was.”

  “That’s right. The knock on the back of the head wasn’t all that bad. The fall on the rock knocked him out.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry for that. I just didn’t want him to see me.” Stuart’s voice took on a child-like tone.

  “You thought he had found the originals. But he didn’t. John has them.”

  “You didn’t have any time to give those papers to anyone. Unless you gave them to your sister.”

  “How did you...?”

  “Who your sister is? You underestimate me. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Ever since you stopped by to talk with Trish. You nosey types are always trouble. Now give me the papers and let’s get this over with.”

  I cried now, my tears dropping onto my sofa. I had a terrible feeling that this was it—he was going to kill me. If this had been a mystery show on TV, the cops would be pulling up right outside this very minute, but this was real life and the gun that Stuart held contained real bullets not blanks. I would never see my family or John again. Any minute now my life should start to pass before my eyes, I thought.

  “You’ll never get away with it. Chan...” I closed my mouth.

  “Chantal. Yes, Chantal knows all about it. That’s okay. I’ll have to stop by her place on my way home and take care of her, too.”

  “You wouldn’t!” I cried.

  “You knew I killed my brother. I saw it in your eyes at my grandmother’s this afternoon. How did you figure it out?”

  I had no wish to divulge anything to this maniac, but anything to stall him until John could get here. That is, if he was on his way, which I strongly suspected he wasn’t. “Because your grandmother said you called with the news about Mr. Kaminski. No one knew he had been hit. The police were very careful to keep it out of the papers. But then you would know, wouldn’t you?”

  Stuart shrugged.

  “The more I thought about it, I really didn’t think that May and June had it in them.” I wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my robe. “They rant and rave a lot, but I don’t think they would kill.”

  “So you settled on me.”

  “It took some doing,” I said trying to get a glimpse of the clock on the bookshelf. Where the hell was John? “But I’ll bet you have quite a few debts mounted up. Horseracing is not an exact science.”

  “No. No, it is not,” Stuart said, the gun still pointed at me. “And there are quite a few people who would like their money. Hard as I’ve tried, they just don’t want to wait anymore. But I wasn’t there the night Bradley died. You really had to stretch your imagination to come up with me.”

  “It really wasn’t all that difficult once I thought about it. You saw your grandmother at the store buying the ingredients for the cookies, and you were at Bradley’s house before he died. Did he show you the photocopies he made? Is that how you knew what he found?”

  “Had them spread out all over. Quite excited about his little find.”

  “So that Monday night, you watched through the study window to make sure everyone left and then you went in.”

  “Just walked right in. Even had a bit of a chat with my little brother. Then when he left the room to go to the bathroom, I poisoned the cookies and got out of there. Well, as enlightening as this all is, I’d like the papers. Now!”

  I jumped. I couldn’t think of any more stalling tactics. Surely he wouldn’t kill me before he had the papers. Would he risk shooting off a gun? Too many people would hear it. Maybe I could drag this out a bit longer.

  “This should be quick and painless.” Stuart reached into his pocket and pulled something out. I knew a silencer when I saw one and my heart raced faster than it had been. Maybe I would have a heart attack first. “If you’re not going to help me, I’ll just kill you first and search afterward in peace.”

  “You didn’t have any luck finding the papers before, what makes you think you’ll find them now?” I said making one more attempt at stalling Stuart.

  “That was stupid of me. I never thought Bradley would hide them at Mamoo’s house. He was smarter than I gave him credit for. He must have seen something in my face when I stopped by his apartment and knew I wanted them. Okay. Enough talk. Let’s get this over with.”

  He raised the gun and God help me, one of Winston’s damn quotes came into my head. One ought never to turn one’s back on a threatened danger and try to run away from it. If you do that, you will double the danger. But if you meet it promptly and without flinching, you will reduce the danger by half. Meet it head on, huh? Okay I could do that. My eyes darted quickly looking for something to grab that I could use to throw at Stuart but I didn’t think the Yankee Magazine sitting on the coffee table would do much damage. The only thing left to do was scream and that’s exactly what I did. Loudly. Then I screamed again hoping that someone, anyone, might hear me.

  “Drop the gun!”

  “Huh?” At first I thought Stuart was talking to me but then I realized the voice had come from the direction of the kitchen. Stuart whirled around. I threw myself onto the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, hitting my knee on the corner of the table.

  “I said drop it!” the voice yelled again.

  Stuart raised the barrel but before he could get it up a shot rang out in my small house. Stuart fell back, slumped over the sofa. The gun flew from his hands and landed on top of my leg. He clutched his left shoulder yelling in pain.

  I slithered out from my hiding place and crawled around to the back of the sofa.

  “Ms. Harris, you forgot to lock your back door.”

  *****

  With the sound of sirens and flashing lights, not to mention a gunshot, most of my neighbors came out into the street. Stuart Brissart had been put into an ambulance and a police car with two officers followed it to the hospital.

  After coming from behind the sofa, I had jumped up and thrown my arms around Detective Maroni, who blushed at my obvious display of gratitude. I started laughing uncontrollably and he asked me what was so funny.

  “It’s just that I thought you kind of looked like Clark Kent, with your glasses, and nice starched shirts and short hair.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “Well, it’s true. Not only do you look like Clark Kent, but you act like Superman. We’re going to have to do something about the hair, though.”

  I heard a car door slam and turned toward the street. John stood there staring at me. At first I thought he was going to yell, but then his famous smile filled up his face. He rushed up the steps and picked me up.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  “Okay, so where were we?” Mary-Beth asked as she settled back down on the floor.

  “I said that I have never been so happy to see another human being in all my days. I just wish he didn’t have to shoot Stuart so near my sofa. Luckily, he wore leather and it soaked up the blood pretty well.”

  “Alex! We’re eating,” chided Mary-Beth, slicing large portions of cheesecake and passing them around.

  “Sorry. I felt so sure Stuart was go
ing to shoot me right then and there. My life didn’t exactly pass before my eyes, but I kept thinking about John and...” I took John’s hand. “And my sister and Henry and Kendall and Mom and Dad in London and how this was really going to wreck their vacation. And Meme. Meme would never recover if I had been killed.”

  “So you knew it was Stuart right away?” Mary-Beth asked

  “No. Not right away,” I said. “At first I thought he was a robber but he looked familiar somehow. And why it didn’t click all at once, I don’t know.” I took a bite of my cake. “There is one thing I don’t understand.”

  “What’s that?” John asked.

  “How would killing Bradley change anything? I mean just because Bradley was dead, that didn’t mean that Mrs. Brissart would sell the land.”

  “No, it didn’t. But Bradley figured out the fact the land wasn’t theirs to sell. The land in question belongs to Kendra’s family. Stuart told Bradley to just keep his mouth shut on that first night, but that wasn’t Bradley’s way. Stuart counted on the fact that no one else knew who really owned the land and, with Bradley dead and the papers destroyed, no one would ever find out. But I think it went beyond just the money. I think Stuart really hated his brother and in a sick way, he finally felt he had a justifiable reason for getting rid of him.”

  “That still doesn’t mean his grandmother would decide to sell,” I said.

  “I think he figured she would eventually wear down. And ironically, Bradley’s death made her want to just be rid of the whole thing. So she probably would have sold out before too long,” John explained, “if for no other reason than to be done with her sisters once and for all.”

  I sighed. “John, I hate to ask this but I have to know. Did Mrs. Brissart know Stuart killed Bradley?”