Season of Danger: Silent Night, Deadly NightMistletoe Mayhem

by Alexander, Hannah; Alexander, Hannah

  Amelia grabbed her sister’s arm. “You don’t suppose she’s been arrested, do you?”

  Their meaning dawned on Kelly. Brenda! She tossed her apples onto the display and headed for the exit.

  “If she were in jail, sister dear—” Eunice’s voice trailed her “—she would at least get one phone call.”

  Minutes later, Kelly pulled up in front of Brenda’s rambler house. Lack of a squad car out front brought no comfort. She hammered on the door. No response. Kelly tried the latch. It was open, and she stepped into a darkened foyer. The piney fragrance of a holiday reed diffuser greeted her. A muted sob drew her feet toward the living room. No lamp brightened the gloom of dusk in that room either—not even a glimmer from the Christmas tree standing dark sentry in the corner. But she made out a figure hunched over on the couch.

  “Brenda!”

  The sniffles cut off, and her sister’s face lifted. “Kell?”

  “What’s going on?” Kelly knelt in front of her sister. “I heard the police were here.”

  Brenda wiped her nose with a tissue crumpled in her hand. “They were.”

  “Did they accuse you of something?”

  “Not in so many words, but I’m surprised Art Strand didn’t arrest me on the spot.”

  “Why? There would need to be strong proof.”

  Brenda flopped against the back of the couch. Kelly had never seen her sister’s face so hopeless. A chill encased her heart.

  “They asked me who makes the sweet tea,” Brenda said. “I had to admit that I personally make it each day.”

  “So the poison was in the tea?” Kelly stood up. “Anyone with access could have put something into it when your back was turned.”

  “Which leaves few suspects. I don’t let just anybody traipse through my kitchen.”

  “Then I’m a suspect, too. I drop in on a regular basis.”

  “Yes, but you never had breast cancer.”

  “What does that have to do with poison in the tea?” Kelly’s brow puckered.

  Brenda sat up and ran her fingers through disheveled hair. “I need to get Felice from the babysitter’s house. I dropped her off there while the police searched the place.”

  She started to rise, but Kelly pressed her down on the couch and perched on the edge of the coffee table. “You’re not moving until you tell me what the police found.”

  “It’s what they didn’t find.” The last word came out a wail.

  Kelly had no clue what her sister meant, but she moved onto the couch and wrapped Brenda close, absorbing a fresh spate of tears. The storm finally receded, and Brenda eased away.

  “You must think I’ve lost every marble in my head.” She dabbed at her face with the tissue.

  “The thought crossed my mind.”

  Brenda offered a weak smile.

  “What didn’t the police find that’s got you upset?”

  “Do you remember when I was in the midst of chemo treatments, and things didn’t look good?”

  “I’ll never forget.”

  “Nobody thought I should try the experimental drugs I researched on the internet.”

  “The effects were unproven and unpredictable.”

  “I know.” Brenda nodded. “Turned out you were right to trust God and the doctors, but I—” Her gaze fell, and she picked at imaginary lint on her slacks. “I got a homeopathic doctor to prescribe Iscador for me anyway. I chose the oral kind, because I didn’t want injections. I was getting enough of those.”

  Kelly’s brow puckered. “Iscador? Was that the herbal treatment?”

  “Yes. Do you remember the main ingredient?”

  Kelly searched her memory and then gasped. “Mistletoe!”

  Back when they were fighting for her sister’s life, Kelly had researched Iscador as soon as Brenda mentioned it as a possible treatment. But the theory behind its use to fight cancer was somewhat speculative and mystical, though its proponents claimed the drug boosted the immune system, mitigated pain and slowed the growth of cancer cells. The drug was used primarily in Europe and very little in the U.S., due to lack of solid, clinical evidence for its benefits. Kelly had strongly discouraged Brenda from trying an unproven treatment that involved a poisonous herb, but Brenda had been desperate, and Kelly didn’t blame her for that.

  She squeezed one of her sister’s hands. “You wanted to try anything possible to survive and raise your child. I get it.”

  Brenda’s head lifted. Her face was grim and composed, more like the tough big sister Kelly knew best. “Your reservations about it bothered me, so I couldn’t bring myself to take the drug, and shortly after I got the shipment all the way from Europe, I was pronounced to be in remission. The container has been sitting in my bathroom closet ever since.”

  “Did you tell the police about the Iscador?”

  Brenda shook her head. “I didn’t remember it until after they’d left. Then I looked, and the bottle was gone. No wonder the authorities didn’t find it.”

  “Gone? Someone took it? When? How?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Brenda spread her hands. “It’s going to look bad for me, but I have to tell the police about the missing Iscador.”

  Kelly bit her lip against a protest. “A part of me wants to beg you to keep your secret.”

  “Then someone will get away with murder.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “Our parents would roll over in their graves if we weren’t honest. I’d like to go with you when you report the theft.”

  “I’ll make a sweep through the house tonight to make sure it didn’t get mislaid. If I don’t find it, I’ll go see Art tomorrow.”

  “Call me, and I’ll be right at your side. How much of that stuff did you have?”

  “Several ounces. The instructions mandated a small dosage at first, increasing gradually over time and tolerance. But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that if the whole bottle were dumped into tea, there was more than enough to make many people very sick.” Brenda visibly shuddered.

  Kelly snorted. “Any type of treatment for cancer is poisonous, even herbal treatments. I did some homework after mistletoe was identified as the poisonous agent that made the pets and people ill. Mistletoe can cause nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, blurred vision, raised blood pressure, the collapse of blood vessels, convulsions—”

  “I know. I know,” Brenda interrupted. “That’s why the dose has to be carefully regulated. Just like with chemo and radiation. The treatment carries risks.”

  “Tell me about it.” No one would know it to look at her now, but Brenda had sometimes been at death’s door from the chemotherapy. There was no way Kelly was going to lose her now to a cold prison cell. “We have to figure out who took the Iscador.”

  “What? You’re going to interview everyone who’s visited since my bout with cancer? Less than two weeks ago, most of the town came through for my Christmas open house.”

  Kelly swallowed a groan. Brenda tried new recipes for the restaurant at her annual Christmas party. People attended in droves.

  “What about Nick?” she blurted.

  “Nick Milton?”

  “He created a horrible scene at your party—and you weren’t serving any alcohol. Art had to throw him out.”

  Brenda scowled. “I never did figure out why he ranted at a room full of guests that we were all against him and his family. Poor Chelsea would have slunk out with her head hanging low if my staff and I hadn’t rallied around her. Why? Do you think Nick could have taken the Iscador?”

  Kelly frowned. “He doesn’t seem bright enough to plan such an elaborate revenge. Besides, how would he know what Iscador is or what it could do?”

  Sharp whines came from the rear of the house.

  “That’s Bo.” Brenda rose. “I shut him in the garage while the police were here.” She clicked on a table lamp, and Kelly’s heart twisted at her sister’s splotchy face and red eyes.

  “He probably needs to go outside.” Brenda led the way to t
he kitchen and opened the doorway into the garage.

  A small bundle of dark, curly fur yipped and scampered inside, stub tail a blur of waggles. Kelly scooped the terrier up and received enthusiastic kisses on her chin. “You go get Felice. I’ll look after Mr. Bo Jangles.”

  Brenda hugged her. “You tease me about being the strong big sister, but you’ve been a rock for me more times than I can count.”

  Kelly forced her lips to curve upward. “We’ll get through this, too.”

  It wouldn’t do to let her sister see that fear wrapped her heart. The poison was administered to people at Brenda’s Kitchen through tea made by Brenda with drugs bought by Brenda. How much more evidence would the authorities need to make an arrest?

  SIX

  Matt pulled up outside the veterinary clinic. The morning sun offered a good view through the picture window. He glimpsed the top of Tim’s head bent over the reception desk. Kelly must be in the back, looking after patients. As much as he didn’t want to interrupt her business, with all the strange and dangerous events that had been swirling around her, he’d feel neglectful if he didn’t remind her he was available if she needed anything.

  He got out of his car and headed for the front door as a woman exited, cooing in a yellow cat’s ear. Matt sidestepped as she swept past him, oblivious to his presence. Shaking his head and chuckling, he entered the clinic. While he was dodging the cat owner, Kelly must have emerged from the exam area. She stood beside Tim at the counter.

  They looked up as he came through the door. The assistant’s face was a montage of greens and yellows, overlaid by strips of white bandage, but his gaze was bland. Kelly’s was edged with frost, and she turned her head away. Uh-oh! She probably associated him with the search at her sister’s house, whether he’d been there or not.

  “How are you doing?” Matt said to Tim.

  The question elicited a glance and a small smile from Kelly. She liked him being nice to her assistant. Did that bode well for his interest in her, or was it a sign of favor toward Tim?

  “Healing,” Tim said and went back to his work at the desk.

  Kelly tucked a stray strand of red hair into the professional chignon at the back of her head. “What are you up to today? I thought you’d be out chasing down careless restaurateurs.”

  The statement held no sarcasm, so Matt took it at face value and smiled. “I’m catching up on paperwork at home.” His smile faded. “I heard about the search at Brenda’s house. At least they didn’t find anything.”

  “Right.” Kelly’s gaze darkened, and she looked down at some papers on the desk.

  What had he said to set her off? He cast around for another topic. “I talked to Art this morning, and I thought you might like to know that the knife in my tire was wiped clean of fingerprints.”

  “No suspects then?” He had her attention again.

  “Not yet. They didn’t find any witnesses in the neighborhood, either.”

  Tim handed Kelly a file folder. “Most folks are at work that time of day, so I’m not surprised. And less surprised that this hoodlum got away with slashing your tires right under the noses of our able police department.”

  Kelly shot a frown at her assistant, then sent Matt a long-suffering look. He stifled a grin. Eeyore, all right.

  “Have the police been investigating the pet poisoning?” she asked. “I still believe that angle might lead to the culprit who tainted the tea at Brenda’s Kitchen.”

  “They’ve interviewed the same pet owners you did, but got no better results.”

  Kelly’s cheeks went pink. “A day of infamy I’d rather forget.”

  “It’s criminal!” Tim shot from his seat. Red turned his face into a full set of Christmas colors. “Excuse me, but I get riled every time I think of anyone feeding poison to defenseless animals.” He stalked from the room.

  Kelly’s gaze followed him and then turned toward Matt, brow puckered. “Tim is sensitive about the patients we serve, which makes him a great veterinary assistant.”

  “He seems to care more about animals than people.”

  “He’s had a lot of disappointments with people.” She shook her head. “He hasn’t figured out yet how to find the good in spite of the bad.”

  “If anyone can help him with that, you can.”

  Kelly beamed.

  Finally, he’d said the right thing—except it had been like an open suggestion for her to spend more time with her assistant. He could pat himself on the back and kick himself at the same time. The mental picture put a goofy grin on his face, which she mirrored. The silent meeting of the eyes held for long, sweet seconds, then her gaze suddenly shuttered, and she looked down at the file in her hands.

  Matt cleared his throat. “I just wanted to let you know I’m around if you need anything.”

  “I appreciate the thought,” she said, though her attention remained on the file.

  “I’d better let you get back to your paper shuffling, while I return to mine.”

  “Sure. Thanks for coming in.” Her weak smile was dismissive.

  Matt walked to his car with his heart dragging behind him. It had taken him months to fall in love with Carrie, but Kelly had snagged him when those gorgeous emerald eyes snapped at him during the first scold over his decoration-ravaging dog.

  He drove home and stopped by the mailbox at the end of his driveway. He powered down his window and retrieved his mail. Among regular, white envelopes and an outdoorsman’s catalog, a brown manila envelope without address or postage caught his eye. Whatever the packet contained was thicker than a magazine, but soft and squishy. Not a bomb then. He chuckled at his mental drama even as he eyed the clip that held the flap shut. Whoever put the envelope into his box wasn’t the mail carrier and hadn’t sealed it. He didn’t have X-ray vision, so opening the envelope was the only way he was going to find out what was inside.

  Should he take it to Art first? He’d look like an idiot if it was a solicitation from some local kid to support their fundraiser. Matt set the mail aside and pulled his car into his driveway. Then he grabbed the mystery packet and opened it.

  Hair! Wads of it. And of a color he recognized.

  Matt threw the packet aside and leaped out of his vehicle. He raced into the garage where he’d rigged an indoor pen with outdoor access for his dog while he was away. Ben wasn’t inside. Matt called, a frantic edge to his voice. No response.

  Pulse jackhammering, Matt called again.

  A familiar whoof! answered. Then the Saint Bernard burst through the hinged flap between the indoor and outdoor pens. The animal rose on his hind paws and hit the fence with his front paws amidst his usual enthusiasm of barks and tail-wagging.

  Breathing thanks to God, Matt opened the gate and wrapped his arms around his pet’s neck. Ben anointed every available inch of his master’s skin with his tongue, and Matt didn’t protest. He ran his hands through Ben’s fur, then stopped cold when he met stubble. Matt held his dog away from him and studied the animal’s left side.

  His marrow turned to frost.

  While he’d been gone, someone had come to his house and shaved a bull’s-eye in his dog’s fur.

  Something rotten in this burg was about to bust wide open. Kelly sensed it lurking so close, her scalp prickled as if someone had breathed on her neck. Maybe she was catching Matt’s “gut feeling.”

  When he stood in her clinic this morning, exuding competence and caring, she’d battled an impulse to blurt out her sister’s secret and ask his advice. But the missing Iscador wasn’t her information to share. When Brenda called to say she was ready to go to the police, Kelly would suggest enlisting Matt for moral support. How far she’d come from feeling like he was a threat! Not that Matt’s sympathy would keep Art from doing his duty and arresting Brenda, but if Brenda got led away to a cell, Kelly would need arms to collapse into, and she wasn’t too proud to pretend otherwise.

  She glared at the silent phone on her office desk. Why hadn’t her sister called? Had she dec
ided not to inform the police about the Iscador? Wicked hope leapt within Kelly. If she had to choose between keeping her sister out of jail and letting a killer escape man’s justice, she’d pick her sister. God forgive her!

  The phone rang, and she jumped as if she’d been sitting on a spring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, sis.” Brenda’s dull tone knotted Kelly’s stomach. “I told Art what his search squad hadn’t found.”

  “Why did you go without me?” Her spine went rigid. “You’re not calling from jail!”

  Brenda let out a limp chuckle. “No, I’m not wearing an orange jumpsuit, Miss Mary Sunshine…not yet, anyway. You’ve been so swamped at work, I didn’t want to disrupt your day with my errand.”

  “What happened?” Kelly planted her elbows on the desk.

  “Art said the state lab would test for ingredients specific to Iscador. If the tests came back positive, then…well, you know how police are. He said something noncommittal, but he followed it with that ominous warning about not leaving town.”

  Kelly’s heart dropped into her toes. “So you continue in a limbo of impending arrest.”

  “More time with Felice, I guess.”

  “You hang tough, big sis. Maybe the poisonous mistletoe will turn out not to be from Iscador after all, and then we’re home free.”

  “Except a killer remains on the loose, and my restaurant is still closed.”

  “Okay, not out of the woods totally. But we will be. I promise!”

  “You’ll thank me that I don’t plan to hold you to that promise.”

  They chatted briefly about other things, like Felice’s latest accomplishment of saying her full ABCs, then ended the call. Kelly cradled the phone, resolve forming. She wasn’t going to wait for test results that threatened her last shred of family. If the police couldn’t shake any evidence loose, maybe someone who didn’t wear an intimidating uniform could tempt information from the one person, other than Brenda, who was most likely to have glimpsed unusual activity at the restaurant. Chelsea might not realize she’d seen something important. A little woman-to-woman chat between a pair of people who loved Brenda might be the grease needed to gain new insights.