Nightshade for Warning

by Bailey Cattrell

  She leaned against the wall and folded her arms over her chest. “So you had to come take a look at the death scene? Good heavens, Ellie. I wouldn’t have thought you were so macabre.”

  I hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Max is downstairs interviewing my brother’s girlfriend. I was just wondering what the situation is. Thank God I ran into you. Though I thought you and Max were each working solo now?” The two detectives on the Poppyville force were not the best of friends.

  “The chief asked us to work this case together in order to close it as soon as possible.” Her eyes narrowed. “So your brother’s girlfriend is Larken Meadows.” It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t like the way she said it.

  Slowly, I nodded. “Why is Max so interested in her?”

  Lupe looked out the window onto the croquet lawn that stretched behind the hotel, and didn’t reply. That frightened me as much as anything she might have said.

  “It’s murder for sure, then?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

  She shrugged, still not looking at me. “Sontag was quite ill, and there was evidence of a rash—which may or may not have anything to do with his death. But his pupils were dilated, and he was on the floor, so he certainly didn’t die in his sleep.” She paused and took a breath. After a few moments she said, “There were also indications that he suffered from convulsions.”

  Now she met my eyes. “So poison is a possibility. We’ll know for sure after the autopsy. Of course, it’s also possible that he died of natural causes. Some kind of seizure, say.”

  I felt my nostrils flare, and she leaned toward me a fraction.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  This time I was the one who looked away.

  “Ellie, I can tell you know something. Is it about Larken?”

  I shook my head. “No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just . . .”

  “What?”

  I sighed. “I think you’ll find it was definitely poison. Atropine, to be specific.”

  “And you know this how?”

  Deep breath. “It was the tea, right?”

  She just looked at me.

  “I suspect it had Atropa belladonna in it. I saw the berries, and a piece of the root near the bed.”

  “Wait a minute. Belladonna? As in . . . ?”

  I nodded. “Deadly nightshade.”

  Not just for warning. For murder.

  Her hands came up to her face, the long fingers massaging her temples. “Ellie, I trust that you know your stuff when it comes to anything botanical, but if you’re right about the nightshade, Ms. Meadows is in a lot of trouble.”

  My eyes widened. “Why? Because some room service guy saw her outside Blake Sontag’s door last night?”

  “And because she’s already admitted to giving him a jar of homemade herbal tea to help him sleep.”

  My shoulders slumped. I’d promised Colby I’d try to help Larken, and instead I’d just managed to plunge her deeper into hot water.

  Nice going, Elliana.

  • • •

  AS soon as I descended the stairs, Astrid and Colby stood, so I knew they’d been watching for me. Larken remained seated between them, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

  I hurried across the expanse of carpet.

  “Did you find out anything?” Astrid asked. She still held Precious, who was wide awake and taking in the sights.

  “I’m afraid so,” I said, and sank into a wingback. Larken turned to look at me with red-rimmed eyes.

  “Uh-oh,” my brother said. He went around back of her chair and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Larken, I talked to a detective who’s investigating Blake Sontag’s death. Not Lang, the other one. Her name is Lupe Garcia. She’s a friend of mine.”

  Astrid sat down on the other side of Larken. We exchanged looks. Relief mixed with curiosity on my friend’s face. “Are they working together again?” she asked.

  “Lupe said the chief wants her to work with Max on this case,” I said. After her first case with Detective Lang had involved him trying to pin Josie’s murder on me, Lupe had asked not to work with him anymore. Her boss had agreed, since murder was such an anomaly in Poppyville.

  Or had been. But now that it looked like there was another one, naturally the chief of police wanted it solved as soon as possible.

  “What did she say?” Larken asked in a small voice.

  I took her hand in mine. “I understand you took Blake some herbal tea.”

  “Uh-huh. For his insomnia, as a kind of peace offering.”

  I glanced up at Colby. His attention was fixed on his girlfriend like a laser.

  “What was in it?” I asked.

  She sighed. “Just herbs, like I told Lang. Valerian and agrimony, with a bit of chamomile and mint that I wildcrafted. For the flavor, you know.”

  I nodded. “He brewed some, and I could smell the valerian and the mint. Agrimony was a nice touch. Nothing else?”

  Eyes wide, she shook her head. “Why?”

  “The mint was wild?”

  “And the chamomile. The valerian and agrimony I had in my herbal kit in the van.”

  Astrid looked intrigued.

  “Okay,” I said. “Is there any way that you might have picked up something else when you were gathering the mint and chamomile?” It was a long shot, but within the realm of possibility.

  Larken’s lips pressed together. “I’m very careful.”

  At the same time Colby chimed in with, “She knows what she’s doing.”

  I took a deep breath, looked at Astrid and then back at Larken. “So there is no chance, no chance whatsoever, that deadly nightshade could have ended up in your tea.”

  Horror dawned slowly on her face. “No! Oh, my God. Is that how he died?”

  I sat back. “It’s very likely that’s what killed him.” And I’d gone and told Lupe that. Of course, she would have found out soon enough. At least we knew what we were dealing with now.

  Larken’s head was swinging back and forth. “No, I’d never, ever, in a million years, mistakenly harvest belladonna, and I’d certainly never give it to anyone else on purpose. Any real wildcrafter worth her salt knows to avoid that stuff.”

  Colby frowned. “It’s that bad?”

  “A few berries can kill a child. A couple of leaves can kill an adult,” she said in a strangled voice.

  “And the roots are the deadliest of all,” I said, thinking of the shred of brown woody root next to Sontag’s bed. If it hadn’t been for the warning in Gamma’s journal—along with the reference to the plant smelling like tomato leaves—I wouldn’t have guessed that snippet of root was belladonna. Now I felt sure of it. My brother pushed away from the back of Larken’s chair. “And you’re positive you couldn’t have given it to Sontag by accident?”

  She glared at him.

  “I just thought if it was an accident, then no one could blame . . .” He stopped and held up his hands. “Sorry. Okay. So Detective Lang thinks you intentionally poisoned Blake Sontag with that tea.”

  “And he knows that we had an argument over dinner,” Larken said, ducking her head in embarrassment. “Apparently I was pretty loud when I told him what a horrible person I thought he was.”

  I put my hand on her arm and gave a little squeeze. “He said some pretty mean things, that’s for sure.”

  She made a face. Then her expression turned speculative. “Where does belladonna grow around here?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never run across it. That doesn’t mean anything, though. It grows wild a lot of places.”

  She nodded. “If the microclimate is right.” She sighed. “You can even order plants online.”

  “Really?” I asked in surprise. “How do you know that?”

  “A friend of mine has a poison garden. It’s kind of a thing
with some people, having a garden full of nightshade and foxglove and oleander and the like.”

  We all stared at her.

  “Hey, it’s not my thing,” she said in a defensive tone.

  “Can you tell us where you went when you left the restaurant?” I changed the subject.

  Her eyes grew big. “That detective kept asking me that.”

  Swallowing, I managed a smile. “I bet he did. What did you tell him?”

  “I just . . . walked. I went down the boardwalk toward your store and found the trail in the park. It wasn’t quite dark yet. I followed it down to the river. I was upset, you know? And water calms me.” She glanced at Colby, who nodded his encouragement. “Then I came back to the hotel and sat out on the veranda for a while. I don’t know how long. I was trying to figure out how to fix what happened at dinner. Finally, I decided to offer Mr. Sontag something that would help him sleep, so I went out to the van to make up that tea.”

  “Colby, when did you track Larken down last night?”

  “About eleven,” he said.

  I nodded. That fit with when he’d texted to let me know everything was okay.

  “I gave Mr. Sontag the tea and came back down to sit by the swimming pool.”

  My lips pressed together in thought. “How did you know what room he was in?”

  “Well, I was going to check at the desk, but then I saw that guy who came by the table last night. The one with the camera on his T-shirt? He was over there in the bar with a bunch of photography stuff all over the table, like he was checking it.” She pointed. “I asked him, and he told me Mr. Sontag was in room 344. So I just went on up.”

  “And Blake was there.”

  “Uh-huh. I almost didn’t knock, because I could hear him on the phone. It sounded like he was arguing with someone.”

  My ears perked up at that. “Did you hear what he said?”

  She looked rueful. “Not really. He kept saying something about joy, though, which seemed weird.”

  Joy? Or was he arguing with his sister, Joyous?

  “Anyway, when I did knock, he hung up and answered the door right away. Eager, almost, like he was expecting someone.”

  Interesting. I glanced over at Astrid and saw that she thought so, too.

  “You told Detective Lang all this?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “Did you go into his room?” I asked.

  The muscles in Colby’s jaw worked when he heard the question.

  But she shook her head. “No. He asked what I wanted, and I apologized for what I said at dinner and gave him the jar—a little mason jelly jar, you know? He took it and thanked me and shut the door.”

  “He thanked you?” Colby asked.

  She nodded, her eyes suddenly filling. “He was actually kind of nice. I mean, he shut the door in my face, but still.”

  I scrambled for another question, but drew a blank.

  “So what do we do now?” Colby asked me.

  Gathering my thoughts, I said, “Since we know Larken didn’t kill him, we have to find out who else had motive and opportunity.”

  Astrid snorted. “From what you told me about the guy, that sounds like it could be a long list.”

  “Just tell us what to do,” Colby said, ignoring Astrid’s doom and gloom.

  “Go for a hike,” I said.

  “What?” He looked confused.

  “Seriously. You and Larken should go for a hike up Kestrel Peak. It will help clear your minds, and I need to regroup and form a plan.”

  Astrid pointed her finger at me. “So I’ll drop Precious here off at the vet office, and meet you at Scents and Nonsense for a powwow.”

  I nodded. “Sounds good.” I could use all the help I could get, and Astrid had proven before that she had my back.

  • • •

  HALF a block from Scents & Nonsense I saw Maria with her hand cupped against the glass of the window, peering into the shop. Astrid had had the good sense to lock the door before pursuing me to the Hotel California, but hadn’t put the CLOSED sign in the window. I, of course, hadn’t remembered either one.

  “Sorry!” I said, hurrying down the boardwalk. “Let me get this open.” Then I realized I didn’t even have my key. “Dang it. Come around back, won’t you?”

  Looking puzzled, Maria followed me through the gate and to the patio. No one had thought to lock the sliding glass door, and I counted myself lucky some intrepid visitor hadn’t wandered inside. At least I assumed they hadn’t. Behind the counter, nothing looked disturbed. Quickly, I moved through the shop to unlock the front door.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Well, first off,” she said, leaning against the counter and stroking Nabby’s velvety fur until a loud rumble sounded from his throat, “I wanted to know how the interview went this morning.”

  I looked at my watch. It was almost one o’clock. How time flew when murder accusations were being thrown around.

  “It didn’t.” I moved to the coffee urn for a much-needed blast of caffeine. “You saw all the commotion at the Hotel California?”

  She nodded and followed me. “I wondered what that was all about.”

  “Blake Sontag was found dead in his room,” I said.

  Maria stared at me, lips parted. “You’re kidding.”

  We settled into the rockers in front of the big plate glass window overlooking the Enchanted Garden, and I filled her in on a few more details while we nibbled on the delicate, crispy tuile cookies Astrid had gone to all the trouble of making to impress Blake. But every bite reminded me of his murder, and I managed to finish only one.

  The librarian, on the other hand, happily crunched through three cookies while I told her what I knew, leaving out the specific details Lupe had shared, which I knew she wouldn’t want me to pass on, and Max Lang’s suspicions about Larken. The rumors would fly around town about that soon enough.

  When I finished, she said, “Murder? Really?”

  “Suspicious death,” I corrected. “Don’t jump the gun.”

  “Right.” She gave me a knowing look before falling silent for a few seconds, digesting it all along with her sugary snack. Finally, she said, “So . . . no interview after all. Do you think there’s any chance the magazine would send someone else?”

  “Oh, gosh. I can’t imagine they would,” I said. “And heaven knows I’ve lost my enthusiasm for the idea.”

  “Of course.” She stood. “You know, as long as I’m here . . .”

  Ah. There was another reason she’d come by my shop. “Let me guess. You need more foot scrub?” Maria loved my peppermint foot polish.

  “Actually, I was hoping for something a bit more soothing. Don’t get me wrong, I adore the peppermint, but lately my feet have been so achy.”

  I snapped my fingers and stood as well. “I know just the thing.” I went behind the work surface where I concocted many of the Scents & Nonsense signature products and selected a small blue glass bottle from a drawer. Then I turned to the cupboard I’d dubbed the apothecary and removed two brown glass bottles.

  “These are thyme and rosemary oils I distilled about a month ago. They’re from my herb garden.” Carefully, I measured six drops of each into the blue bottle, then screwed its lid on tight and handed it to her. “Add this to a cup and a half of baking soda and dissolve in a basin of water as a foot soak. It should help with pain and swelling, whether from standing too much, arthritis, or whatever else might be wrong.”

  She smiled. “I knew you could help. What do I owe you?”

  I quoted her a price.

  “That’s not enough!”

  I gave her a look. “For twelve drops of essential oil? I didn’t even mix up the foot soak for you. Let me know if you like it, and then we’ll talk.”

  She nodded happily a
nd paid me. “Okay. Say, do you mind if I hang out in the Enchanted Garden for a while? I have some thinking to do.”

  I waved toward the back. “Of course not. That’s why it’s there. And if you want, there’s some lavender lemonade mixed up in the fridge under the coffeepot.”

  “Mmm! Sounds good.”

  After she’d poured herself a glass and wandered outside, I cast around for something to do until Astrid got there. What was taking her so long?

  The shop phone rang. “Scents and Nonsense,” I answered.

  A crackling greeted my ear, then a loud whoosh like wind blowing over the mouth of a bottle. “Hello? Hello? Elliana?” came a distant voice. “Is that you?”

  “Ritter!” I practically shouted.

  CHAPTER 6

  YES! It’s Ellie! Where are you?”

  Mumble mumble, then, “. . . miles from Prudhoe Bay . . . a week so far. Fascinating . . .”

  “You’re cutting in and out,” I shouted louder.

  “. . . are you?”

  “I’m fine.” I wasn’t, obviously, but there was no way to go into any details about Sontag’s murder with this kind of connection. “It’s good to hear your voice!”

  “Finally got the sat phone to work. Expensive, so I don’t have long. Wanted to check in, though. Give Thea my love?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I miss you!”

  “. . . can’t hear. Have to get off. Call you when I can, Elliana . . .” There was more, but it was garbled, and then the call went dead.

  I’d happily pass on his love to his sister Thea. The question was, had any of his feelings for me been included in the garbled static? Was it wrong of me to hope so, or was this long-distance relationship doomed to fail?

  I hung up and found myself blinking through tears. Ritter had helped me through a tough time when Josie died, including helping me track down her killer. The experience had created a bond between us that only added to our affection for each other.

  But how strong a bond?

  With a sniffle, I set my jaw. Strong enough on my end, and that’s all I can control. If this Alaska–California romance doesn’t work out, it won’t be because of me.