Pushing Up Rhubarb (A Millsferry Mystery Book 1)

by Diana Saco

  I awoke the following day feeling more calm and lazy and content than I had in a very long time. I had spent the night at Chloe’s—not in the guest bedroom. The mutual attraction had come as a surprise to both of us. One minute we were enjoying dinner, talking about food and art, and laughing about runes. The next minute, we weren’t.

  When I first met Chloe, and Bruno told me about her previous relationships, I had pegged her for a player. Part of it was her looks. She was drop-dead gorgeous, so it was easy to assume the cliché—that since she could date whomever she wanted, she probably did. She also seemed aloof when I met her, which I took to mean that she wasn’t good with serious relationships. After I got to know Chloe, however, my sense of her as a friend and romantic partner changed completely. I learned that her feelings ran deep. I came to understand that her affections—once she developed an attachment—were true. So I wasn’t surprised at her behavior the morning after. She wasn’t cool and standoffish. She was sweet, attentive and playful. She made us both a delicious breakfast, which we ate in the kitchen while discussing the upcoming day like two old friends. The conversation was light and easy and as comfortable as a well-worn blanket. I tugged at that sensation and luxuriated in its warmth.

  “Do you have to go into work today?” she asked.

  “I don’t want to, but I think I have to be on my best behavior. As punishment, Al has put me on desk duty. I even have to do all the billing.”

  “You poor thing.”

  “No, you can’t be nice to me. Not for this. I screwed up. And the big guy is willing to keep me despite everything. But he did extract a few promises.”

  “Like no more breaking into people’s houses?” Chloe guessed.

  “Surprisingly, no. He decided that ‘creative types’ like me sometimes need to be able to think and act outside the box, maybe even break a few rules. But he made me promise to consult him next time. So we could decide together how far we’re willing to go on a case.”

  “That’s reasonable.”

  “Sure. Take his side,” I joked.

  “He seems like a good person.”

  “He’s the best,” I said. I flashed through fond memories of our years together and also thought about our new deal, and then something awful occurred to me. “Oh, Holy Gumbo!”

  “What?” Chloe asked.

  “I think I already broke my promise to Al.”

  “How? What did you do?” she asked.

  “I slept with you!”

  Chloe looked at me like I had just said I was a purple zebra with neon green stripes. . . . wearing tap shoes.

  “You’re a client,” I explained.

  “Surely, you’re not thinking you needed to ask his permission before sleeping with me?”

  “Well, it could affect our business.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Let’s take care of this right now.”

  I watched nervously as Chloe picked up the phone, tapped her contacts, and pressed the call button. After a moment, she said, “Good morning, Al. It’s Chloe Owens.”

  I couldn’t believe she called Al. I banged my hand against my forehead thinking she was going to rat me out. I listened as she continued.

  “Just fine, thank you. The reason I’m calling is because Nina told me about your new arrangement. . . . Yes, the one where she’s supposed to tell you when she’s about to do something stupid that could hurt the business. We’re wondering if that extends to sleeping with clients. . . . I see. Well, in that case, is it okay with you if Nina and I sleep together? . . . Yes, she did. . . . Excellent! . . . I’ll tell her. . . . Oh, thank you. I’ll tell her that, too. Goodbye.”

  “Well?” I asked after she hung up.

  “He said it was okay.”

  “He knew we already slept together, didn’t he?” I asked.

  “Yes, he did,” Chloe admitted.

  “And what were you supposed to tell me?”

  “First, that we have to behave in the office—‘no smoochin’ there.’ And the other thing he said to tell you is that you’re one lucky couillon?”

  “Ah, that’s so sweet! He thinks I’m a lucky crazy lady.”

  “Well, that makes two of us,” Chloe said, smiling back. “Will I see you at Mason’s this afternoon?”

  “Yes, he wants to go over my testimony for tomorrow’s cross.”

  “Are you worried?” she asked.

  “Not for me. I mean, how much worse can it get?” I asked rhetorically.

  “Don’t tempt fate, Nina.”

  “I’m just saying, I think Friday was rock-bottom for me. All my secrets are out.”

  “All your secrets? Are you sure about that?” Chloe asked carefully as she reached for my hand and caressed my knuckles with her thumb.

  “Yes,” I said, holding the hand that was caressing mine and giving her the reassurance she was asking for. Maybe she thought I was upset that she told Al. I had never been secretive about my affections. But Chloe wouldn’t have known that since we hadn’t gotten around to talking about our past relationships. “I’ll fill you in sometime, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, giving me a tender smile.

  I let myself get lost in it for a moment, and then I blinked confused. “What were we talking about?”

  She laughed. “We were discussing the trial and your secrets.”

  “Right. So. As I was saying, I’m not worried for myself, but I think the case has taken another one of those turns I was talking about yesterday when I was at the Runes.”

  “You mean Marvin’s poisoning and the video of me putting the sugar away,” Chloe said.

  “Yes, those are new disclosures.”

  “When will we get the test results on the sugar?” she asked.

  “No idea. Al said sometime today. I have a funny feeling it’s going to be a long wait.”

  *****

  Long wait turned out to be a gross understatement. We knew the lab closed by 6:00 p.m. At precisely 5:49 p.m. on Monday, Al received an email forwarded by the sheriff’s office. It was the report on the sugar. The tests came back positive for high concentrations of oxalic acid. Marvin had been poisoned—and me along with him given my silly cover story the night I broke into the Munch house. We knew that Monica had done it, but the prosecution didn’t know that, or wouldn’t be inclined to believe it. So we had spent most of that afternoon and early evening in Mason’s office strategizing ways to present the facts as we saw them.

  Mason was entirely too pleased with himself throughout the entire meeting. It was as though he’d been let in on some secret that the rest of us didn’t know yet. In fact, Al and Chloe and I kept exchanging looks. From our perspective, the Snakstr video made Chloe look culpable. It was physical evidence, in color no less, of her handling the poisoned sugar. Mason was acting like he wanted wallet-size copies to pass out to people.

  I nearly spit out my coffee in surprise when he actually did ask us to make printouts of one of the stills from the video, but in 8x10 size. It was one of the clearest shots of Chloe—as seen from inside the refrigerator—with her left hand holding her phone to her ear and her right hand holding the container, which was also in full view. The proportions in the original were bloated by the fisheye lens, so we ran the digital image through an enhancement filter that corrected for lens distortion. The correction made it even easier to recognize Chloe and the container. The overlaid timestamp got a little distorted but remained legible. The hardcopies weren’t necessary because the jury box was rigged with individual computer displays for trial exhibits. But Mason wanted the jury to have something to hold. He reckoned Loyal was going to flaunt the video, and he wanted to “out-flaunt him” (Mason’s phrase, not mine). When Chloe offered to autograph the photos, I thought Mason might agree, but he politely declined. He said he intended to project that same image on the courtroom monitors alongside Chloe’s cellphone bill showing that she was talking to Monica at precisely the same time. In short, he would present the same facts as Loyal, but with an interpretation tha
t would highlight contradictions in the prosecution’s account and spotlight Monica’s orchestration of the events.

  During a break in the meeting, I found myself rubbing elbows with Mason at the coffeemaker in the conference room and asked him how he could be so confident that the jury would believe our version of the story. His answer nearly made me spit out coffee for the second time that evening.

  He said, “I’m calm because I’m not going to tell them our version of the story, Nina. You are.”

  *****

  I didn’t spend the night with Chloe. She didn’t offer, and I didn’t ask. We both had too much on our minds. Chloe was understandably nervous, and I was feeling the weight of the responsibility Mason had placed on me. I had been thinking, on and off, about my runes and how they were supposed to help me. My thoughts returned to them in the wee hours before dawn. I considered Chloe’s interpretation and decided that it felt right, but I was still missing something. I understood that presenting the jury with a complete explanation of the events would make our account at least as plausible as Loyal’s, which was enough for reasonable doubt. I’d known that from the start. In a way, the message the runes gave me was obvious and too general to be of any use.

  Something about it still nagged me, however—like a riddle I hadn’t yet figured out. A mouth, a storyteller, a hero. A narrative that would bring the case to completion. That would provide closure. That would give us mere mortals pleasure. The assertion seemed wrong. I couldn’t think of any narrative that would bring all the parties involved satisfaction, let alone pleasure. Getting Chloe acquitted would mean dragging Monica’s name and reputation through the dirt. Protecting Monica’s reputation would mean risking Chloe’s freedom. If the runes were right, the resolution to this case lay in telling a narrative of the events that would clear Chloe’s name without sacrificing Monica’s. How was I supposed to do that? I still had no idea how to proceed, and I was running out of time.

  *****

  A few hours later, I was back in the courtroom with all the major players in attendance and a few minor ones. Marvin was out of the hospital, and Maxi was still out of jail, so they were in their usual seats behind the prosecution’s table. Randall Kirkland was also on hand, his first time at the trial. He was on the witness list, and we expected Loyal would call him as his next witness after my cross-examination was done. Aunt Dottie was in her usual spot behind Chloe with Al sitting next to her and laughing at something she had just said. I loved hearing the big guy’s booming laughter—just in general but more so lately given how serious he’d been with me. Lily Bingham was there, too, this time sitting on the prosecution’s side. I think she sensed that her husband would be needing her support today, an idea I found interesting. I also noticed Scarlet Peebles was in the gallery. She had said to me once that she liked to follow certain cases she had worked on, especially ones with a unique cause of death. This matter certainly qualified. She was talking animatedly to the person sitting next to her, who just happened to be Farm. No accident there. He looked giddy—well, giddier than usual—from all the attention Scarlet was giving him. Farm and Gizmo were both at court today for my moral support. They also knew the Snakstr videos were being entered into evidence and wanted to be on hand in case they were needed to corroborate any details.

  Since I was involved in procuring the videos, my testimony would be used to authenticate them for both sides. But in his cross, Mason hoped to provide me with an opportunity to explain why Chloe was in Monica’s house. That was going to be our opening for reframing the facts the right way. The way we felt the events had unfolded. The way that would exonerate Chloe.

  We all rose as Judge Ota took his seat. He rapped his gavel to officially resume the proceedings and then folded his hands on the bench and leaned forward.

  “Well, if we thought the case got exciting Friday afternoon, I understand we’ve had more startling developments since then. I considered disallowing any mention of these developments, but both parties insist they are relevant to these proceedings, and they assure me they have no objections. Mr. Tidwell, I understand that you have also agreed to allow the prosecution to continue questioning Ms. Braco with regards to these new developments?”

  “Yes, Judge.”

  “All right then. But before we proceed with that, Dr. Moffit?”

  Maxi stood up. “Yes, Your Honor?”

  “Have you changed your mind about unlocking your sister’s tablet?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “You do realize, madam, that I agreed to let you out of lockup only because your brother-in-law had a medical emergency. As he’s better now, you are still in contempt of court and will be held until you agree to open your sister’s tablet. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Very well. Bailiff, please escort Dr. Moffit back to lockup.”

  “Judge, if I may,” Mason interceded. “I believe that some of the testimony given today could persuade Dr. Moffit to change her mind. In the interest of judicial expediency, I ask that you allow her to stay and watch the proceedings.”

  “And if she doesn’t come around?” Ota asked.

  “Well then you just throw her contemptuous ass-pect back in jail.”

  Maxi smirked at Mason as several jurors laughed.

  “Sounds good to me. A small reprieve for you, Dr. Moffit. Make yourself comfortable. Now, how was it Mr. Bingham put it the other day? Ah, yes—‘Nina Braco, come on down!’ ” The game-show line got a bigger response today. The judge saying it made everybody feel they had permission to laugh.

  I wasn’t as filled with fear and loathing of the hot seat today as I had been on Friday. I wasn’t exactly filled with confidence either. I glanced at Chloe as I passed the attorneys’ tables. She smiled and nodded at me, conveying a sense of affectionate trust that put some oomph in my gumption. I must have had a silly grin on my face because after I sat down and faced Loyal, he looked at me, looked back at Chloe, looked at me again, and raised a curious eyebrow. Wow, talk about telegraphing. I pulled my sleeve down over my heart and adopted a more placid expression. Loyal’s twinkling eyes told me he’d already figured out that the nature of my relationship with Chloe had changed, and he seemed amused by that turn of events.

  “Ms. Braco,” Judge Ota said, “let me remind you that you are still under oath.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Good morning, Ms. Braco,” Loyal began.

  “Good morning to you, Mr. Bingham.”

  “I understand you were rather busy over the weekend. Can you tell us what happened Saturday that had you down at Park General Hospital?”

  “Yes, at approximately eleven o’clock in the morning, I learned that Marvin Munch had been taken to Park General Hospital after he collapsed in his home. Initial reports indicated that he appeared to have been poisoned like his wife. Subsequent blood tests confirmed the presence of high levels of oxalic acid.”

  “Did you find out what poisoned him?”

  “Yes, while I was at the hospital interviewing Mr. Munch, my partner Aloysius Dupree and several deputies were at Mr. Munch’s home investigating the cause. During the course of my interview, I learned that Mr. Munch had sweetened his breakfast with sugar that his wife had stored in her bakery refrigerator. I suspected the sugar was the source of the poison and called my partner so that he could ask the deputies to bag and test it.”

  “Why did you suspect the sugar?”

  “Well, if you remember from the testimonies on Friday, I had borrowed a cup of sugar the night I, er, visited the Munch house.”

  “The night you broke in,” Loyal clarified.

  I smirked. “Yes.”

  “And are you saying you were given some of the poisoned sugar?”

  “Yes, and I used some of that sugar in a cup of coffee last Friday morning and was sick the rest of the day with symptoms that matched Mr. Munch’s symptoms. That’s why I suspected it was the sugar.”

  Loyal frowned. “You were sick the
first day of your testimony?”

  “Yes,” I said, perking up at the thought that I was finally going to get a little sympathy.

  “Not a banner day for you—was it, Ms. Braco?” he observed without an ounce of compassion.

  I pursed my lips, dashed again!

  “Was this sugar tested?” Loyal continued.

  “Yes. The results came back yesterday evening, and they confirmed the presence of high concentrations of oxalic acid.”

  “Your Honor, I have a copy of that report here and would like to enter it into evidence as Commonwealth’s Exhibit E.”

  “So noted,” Judge Ota confirmed.

  “Ms. Braco, do you know how the sugar got into the Munch house?”

  “I assume Mrs. Munch bought the sugar at some point.”

  “Let me rephrase the question. Do you know how it was poisoned?”

  “I believe Mrs. Munch herself poisoned it.”

  The room erupted in conversation as people reacted to that comment. I half expected Marvin to jump up and shout “Objection!” But he sat tight-lipped as Ota yelled “Order!” to silence the rest of the crowd.

  “Come now, Ms. Braco. Didn’t you, in fact, discover video Saturday afternoon that shows the defendant, Chloe Owens, putting the sugar in that refrigerator?”

  “Yes, Monica apparently asked Chloe to put the sugar away, which is why there’s video of her putting the sugar in the refrigerator.”

  “Are you trying to protect Ms. Owens?”

  “I’m answering your questions, Mr. Bingham,” I said a little too defensively. I darted my eyes briefly at Chloe.

  Loyal paused and studied me for a moment, turned and looked at Chloe, and then looked at me again.

  “Ms. Braco, is Chloe Owens your girlfriend?”

  Speculative chatter bubbled up from the gallery. I regarded Chloe again, who returned my gaze curiously. I realized she wanted to know the answer to that question, too. I smiled at her and then returned my attention to Loyal.