by Joy Fielding
“Can I have some water?”
“No, honey.” Bonnie pushed the bottle of Mr. Clean aside.
“Is the water bad too?”
“It’s not our house,” Bonnie reminded her.
“Then why are we here?” Amanda asked logically.
Because I’m looking for something, Bonnie thought, but didn’t say, watching as two imaginary white rats scurried in front of her conscious mind. Insecticide, rat poison, weed killer, Dr. Kline had said. Bonnie didn’t keep any insecticide or weed killer at home. She’d never had the need for rat poison. She’d never had rats until Sam came to live with her. Bonnie reached into the back of the cabinet toward a cylindrical tin can cramped in the far corner.
“I want to go home,” Amanda pouted, leaning her full weight against her mother’s back, upsetting Bonnie’s precarious balance. Bonnie fell to the floor, her hand knocking over the boxes of dishwashing detergent and the bottle of Mr. Clean, scattering the sponges in all directions.
Amanda giggled. “Mommy made a mess.”
Bonnie regained her equilibrium, quickly gathering up the sponges and returning them to their container, then righting the boxes of dishwashing detergent and the bottle of Mr. Clean, before extricating the cylindrical tin from the back of the cupboard.
She saw the skull and crossbones before she saw anything else. DANGER, POISON, it said above it in bold black capital letters. SUREKILL, the orange letters announced over black and white stripes, then in somewhat smaller letters beneath it, RAT POISON. A drawing of a dead rat occupied the center of the label.
Bonnie swallowed, feeling dizzy and cold and numb and hot as she turned the tin around. “Precaution,” she read. “Harmful if swallowed. Keep out of the reach of children. Do not use in any areas where food may be exposed. Do not use in bulk food storage areas. Do not use in cupboards where food or cooking utensils are stored. If swallowed, do not induce vomiting. Principal ingredient: arsenic.”
Bonnie dropped the tin to the floor, watched it roll just out of reach. Amanda ran after it, grabbing for it.
“Don’t touch that,” Bonnie yelled, frightening the child, who jumped back, tears filling her eyes. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Bonnie said quickly. “It’s just very dangerous. You mustn’t touch it.”
“Why did you touch it?” Amanda asked.
“I shouldn’t have,” Bonnie agreed, stretching toward it, grabbing hold of it, her fingers covering the warning.
“Put it away, Mommy,” Amanda cried. “Put it away.”
Bonnie returned it to the rear of the cabinet, made sure everything else was where she had found it, then washed her hands.
“I want to go home, Mommy. I don’t like this house. I want to go home.” Amanda was already out of the kitchen and into the front hall.
“Amanda, wait,” Bonnie called after her. “Wait for me.”
“I want to go home,” Amanda wailed, as Bonnie scooped her into her arms.
“How about we go get some ice cream?”
“I want to go home,” Amanda insisted stubbornly.
“We can’t go home yet, sweetheart,” Bonnie told her.
“Is L’il Abner missing again?” Amanda asked. “Because I’m not afraid of him, you know. Sam told me that he was just mean because he was hungry, and that he’ll make sure he doesn’t get hungry again.”
“That’s good, pumpkin.”
“I like Sam.”
“So do I,” Bonnie told her, and realized it was true. Could he really be a cold-blooded killer? She opened the front door and stepped outside, locking it after her.
“And I like L’il Abner too. He’s cool.”
“Yes, he is.”
She carried Amanda down the stairs, trying to decide her next move before she got to the car. She’d buy Amanda an ice-cream cone, call the police station again, insist on being put through to Captain Mahoney wherever he was, tell him about her discovery. Maybe he’d have some ideas. There had to be something she could do.
“Bonnie?” the woman said, waiting for her by the side of her car.
Bonnie’s eyes shot to the tall blond woman in the paint-stained green smock. How long had she been standing there? “Hello, Caroline,” Bonnie said, lowering Amanda to the ground.
“I saw the car pull up, and I thought it might be you,” Caroline began. “But you looked so different, and I didn’t recognize the little girl….”
“This is my daughter, Amanda,” Bonnie told her, not sure what else to say.
“It’s nice to meet you, Amanda.” Caroline Gossett knelt down, extended her hand toward Amanda, who grabbed it and shook it vigorously. “Does anyone ever call you Mandy?”
“My uncle Nick does.”
“Well, Mandy, you’re a very beautiful little girl.”
“Thank you.”
Caroline Gossett rose to her feet, looked at Bonnie. “Are you all right?”
“I’ve been better,” Bonnie admitted.
“Can I do anything to help?” Caroline asked.
“I could use a glass of water.”
“Me too,” said Amanda. “Mommy said we couldn’t have any water in that house because it wasn’t ours.” She pointed at Joan’s house.
“Well, not only do I have nice cold water at my house,” Caroline said, “I also have ice cream and cookies.”
“Ice cream!” Amanda parroted. “Cookies.”
“Come on,” Caroline directed, taking Bonnie’s elbow. “You look like you could use a place to sit down.”
“Do you want to tell me what’s been going on?” Caroline asked once Amanda was comfortably ensconsed in the family room in front of the TV with her bowl of Häagen-Dazs cookie dough ice cream.
“I’m not sure I know where to start.”
“Start with that haircut.”
Bonnie smiled. “I haven’t been feeling very well lately,” she began. “My hair was a mess. I thought cutting it might help.”
“Did it?”
“Did you know that lifeless hair, bleeding gums, and acute nausea are all symptoms of arsenic poisoning?” Bonnie asked, reciting what the druggist had told her.
“What?” Caroline Gossett leaned forward on the living room sofa. “Are you saying that you’ve been poisoned?”
“Apparently there’s a high level of arsenic in my bloodstream.”
“I don’t understand.”
Bonnie sank back into her chair, took another long sip of water, her eyes filling with tears. “Someone’s been trying to poison me.”
“My God. Do you know who?”
Bonnie shook her head. “Obviously someone close to me,” she admitted reluctantly. “Probably the same person who killed Joan.”
“What do the police say?”
“That I’m in the wrong jurisdiction.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story. Captain Mahoney wasn’t there. I’ll have to try him again later.”
Caroline stood up, walked to her kitchen, returned with her portable phone. “Try him now,” she said.
Bonnie punched in the number for the Newton police station, told the operator she wanted to speak to either Captain Mahoney or Detective Kritzic, was told they were still out, did she want to leave a message?
“Give them this number,” Caroline said, and Bonnie did as she was told.
“Thank you. I hate imposing on you this way.”
“Christ, you’re amazing.” Caroline shook her head. “Someone’s trying to kill you and you’re worried about being an imposition. Do me a favor—don’t worry. I’m delighted for the company. Besides, you obviously can’t go home until you sort this out. You and your daughter will sleep here tonight.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You can, and you will.”
“But your husband….”
“I didn’t say you could sleep with him.”
Bonnie smiled, almost managed a laugh. “I can’t stay here forever.”
“I didn’t say forever either.” Caroline squeez
ed in beside Bonnie on the chair. “But if someone close to you is trying to kill you, then you can’t go home until the police figure out who it is. Besides, you obviously need a few days to rest and recuperate. Should you be in a hospital?”
“No,” Bonnie lied. “I have some pills.” She indicated her purse on the floor beside her feet.
“Okay then, it’s settled. You’ll stay here, at least until tomorrow.”
Bonnie checked her watch. “There’s a friend of mine I’d like to call,” she said. “Would you mind?”
“Call anyone you like.”
Bonnie punched in Diana’s number at home. It was answered on the first ring.
“Diana?” Bonnie said, grateful to hear her voice.
“Bonnie, is that you?” Diana shouted into the receiver. “Where are you?”
“I’m with a friend,” Bonnie told her, alarmed by her friend’s voice.
“Rod’s been calling here every five minutes,” Diana told her. “He’s absolutely frantic. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s beside himself. He says you just disappeared.”
“I haven’t disappeared.” She pictured her husband, imagined him barking questions into the phone, her brother and her stepson hovering nearby, listening. “How’s your bathroom?” she asked suddenly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your bathroom. I know that Sam was working hard to finish it before you got back.”
“It’s fine,” Diana said, clearly distracted by the sudden twist in the conversation. “He still has a little left to do, but it looks great.”
“And how was New York?”
“It was okay,” Diana said dismissively. “Bonnie, what’s going on? Rod says he went out for a few hours, and that when he left, you were so sick, you could hardly stand up. When he came home, you weren’t there. No note as to where you went, nothing. He’s going crazy with worry.”
“Diana,” Bonnie interrupted. “Listen to me. I’m all right. I’m safe now.”
“Now? What are you talking about?”
“Someone’s been poisoning me.”
“Poisoning you? Bonnie, you’re talking crazy.”
“I’m not crazy. I had blood tests taken. They show a high level of arsenic in my system.”
“Arsenic?”
“Someone’s been adding arsenic to my food.”
Diana’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Rod?”
“I don’t know,” Bonnie said after a pause. She could feel Diana shaking her head in astonishment.
“I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it,” Diana said. Then, “Where are you?”
Bonnie glanced at Caroline. “At a friend’s.”
Caroline smiled.
“What friend?” Diana asked.
“I think it’s safer if I don’t tell you,” Bonnie said, suddenly understanding the things her brother had told her. If her brother was who he claimed to be, that is.
“Safer?”
“If you don’t know where I am, then you don’t have to lie to anyone. You can’t be persuaded or tricked….”
“I’m not easily tricked, Bonnie,” Diana said.
Unlike me, Bonnie thought.
“Have you talked to the police?”
“Not yet.”
“But you’re sure about this? I mean, it couldn’t have been an accident?”
“How does one accidentally swallow arsenic?” Bonnie asked.
There was a slight pause. “All right, look, what do you want me to say to Rod?”
“I don’t want you to say anything.”
“Bonnie, are you kidding? He’ll be calling here in two minutes. You just want me to pretend I haven’t heard from you?”
“I’ll speak to Rod.”
“You will? When?”
“I’ll call him now.”
“What will you say?”
“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
“This is crazy, Bonnie,” Diana said. “I feel so helpless. There must be something I can do.”
Bonnie thought of Diana’s apartment in the city. She couldn’t impose on Caroline’s generosity indefinitely. “There might be,” Bonnie told her. “After I’ve spoken to the police, I’ll have a better idea of my options. I hope,” she said, and almost laughed. “Look, I’ll call you first thing in the morning.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Because I won’t move from the phone until I hear from you.”
“I’ll call you first thing.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I’m not sure of anything,” Bonnie admitted. If you couldn’t trust chicken soup, what could you trust? she thought. “I’ll call you,” she said, pressing the button to disconnect, then immediately punching in her home phone number.
Rod answered before the first ring was completed.
“Rod….”
“Bonnie, where the hell are you? Are you all right? Where did you go?” he said, the words running together, like colors bleeding into one another in the wash.
“I’m all right.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m with Amanda,” she said, sidestepping his question. “And I won’t be home tonight.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry I made you come home early from Florida, Rod.”
“You’re sorry you made me come home early? What are you talking about?”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Rod.”
“Bonnie, wait, don’t hang up.”
“I’ll explain everything tomorrow.”
“Bonnie….”
Bonnie turned off the phone, handed it back to Caroline, wondering if tomorrow she’d be any further ahead.
30
It was almost ten o’clock the next morning when Bonnie woke up in bed alone. Amanda, who’d been curled into a warm little ball beside her all night, was gone. Bonnie looked around the large white room—white carpet, white lace curtains, white bedspread. She checked the white en suite bathroom—white tile, white tub, white towels. Amanda wasn’t there.
“Amanda?” she called out, slipping on the white terry cloth robe Caroline had left at the foot of the bed, padding out of the room in her bare feet. “Amanda?”
She continued down the wide hallway, past several closed doors, listening for any sounds, hearing muffled voices coming from the room at the end of the hall. She approached quietly, leaning against the door, feeling it open.
“Mommy!” Amanda sat, fully dressed, her hair freshly brushed, in front of a large-screen television set. “Caroline let me watch cartoons.” She pointed at the screen where one animated figure was clubbing another animated figure over the head with a large piece of spiked wood. “And she gave me two bowls of Corn Pops for breakfast. And chocolate milk.”
“Two bowls of Corn Pops? Aren’t you lucky.”
“She said to be very quiet so you could sleep in.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Caroline said, coming up the hallway, looking wonderfully healthy in a pale lavender sweatsuit. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“I can’t believe I slept so late,” Bonnie said.
“You look much better for it,” Caroline said. “Can I get you something to eat?”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for solid foods.”
“Not even a piece of toast? I make a mean piece of toast.”
“Okay. Toast sounds good.”
“And tea?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever drink tea again,” Bonnie said truthfully.
“How about some orange juice?”
“Orange juice would be great.”
“Good. It’ll be ready in two minutes.” Caroline peeked in at Amanda. “How are you doing in here, kiddo? Can I get you some more Corn Pops?”
Amanda giggled. “I had two bowls,” she announced proudly.
“You did? How did that happen? Lyle usually doesn’t let anybody share his Corn Pops.”
; “How does Lyle feel about our being here?” Bonnie asked as Amanda returned her attention to the cartoons. “I mean, really.”
“You heard what he said last night. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”
“That’s very generous, but why should he put up with strangers in his house? He doesn’t even know me.”
“He knew Joan. He wants to see her killer brought to justice as much as I do.”
Bonnie looked to the floor, saw her bare toes wiggle back. “I should call the police,” she said.
“I’ll get your breakfast ready.”
Bonnie called Captain Mahoney. He wouldn’t be in until noon, she was told. Again, Bonnie left a message, stressed its urgency. Wasn’t there some way of reaching the captain before then? Doubtful, she was told, this being a Saturday. Perhaps someone else could be of assistance.
“What did he say?” Caroline asked, as Bonnie walked into the kitchen, took a seat at the kitchen table.
“He won’t be in till noon.”
Caroline deposited two pieces of toast on a plate in front of Bonnie, along with some butter, raspberry jam, and marmalade. Then she poured a tall glass of juice and handed it to Bonnie, watching while she took a sip. “Drink up,” she instructed. “You don’t want to get dehydrated.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you take your pills?”
“A few minutes ago.”
Caroline laughed. “I’m starting to sound like my mother.”
“She must be a lovely woman,” Bonnie said sincerely.
“Thank you. She was.” Caroline paused. “So, what do you think? Is that, or is that not, the best piece of toast you ever tasted?”
Bonnie obligingly took a bite. “Most definitely the finest piece of toast in creation.”
“Try the raspberry jam. I made it myself.”
Bonnie scooped a small bit of jam onto her toast. And don’t eat anything you don’t see prepared in front of your eyes, she heard Dr. Kline intone solemnly. Immediately, she lowered the piece of toast to the plate. What was she thinking? Did she seriously think that Caroline Gossett was trying to poison her too?
“Something wrong?”
Bonnie took a deep breath. “No, nothing.” She bit determinedly into the piece of toast, savoring the rich raspberry flavor on the inside of her mouth, then swallowing. Ultimately, she decided, she had to trust somebody. “I should call my friend,” she said, picturing Diana waiting nervously for her call.