Nightshade for Warning

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Nightshade for Warning Page 18

by Bailey Cattrell


  “I . . . I suppose there might be more,” I stammered.

  “And are you going to go with him? No, you are not. I know you, Ellie. You love this place. It would kill you to leave Poppyville. So does that mean you’ll end up here by yourself every time Ritter goes to work?”

  I stood up and checked my watch again. “I don’t know. Maybe he’ll find something closer. Maybe I’ll go visit him. Maybe it won’t work out at all. We’ll figure it out when the time comes, but for now we’re doing this long-distance thing as best we know how.” I took a shaky breath. “Maybe it will get easier.”

  He rose as well. “I hope so, Ellie. You deserve every happiness, big sis.” He handed me his coffee mug. “Now I need to get back to the stables and have a chat with Larken. If she’s really going to make an offer on the Sontag place, she needs to do it right away. The real estate agent told her there are other—”

  “Interested parties,” I chanted at the same time he said it.

  But were any of them murderers?

  CHAPTER 17

  COLBY left, and I took my cell out to the Enchanted Garden. I wanted the tranquil vibes of my favorite plants around me for this call. I settled into a chair between the climbing rose and the jasmine vine that wended around a small obelisk by the fence.

  The phone rang at eight o’clock on the dot, and my heart beat a little faster.

  “Hello?”

  “Elliana!” Ritter said. “Finally. It’s been such a pain getting this satellite phone to work. Turns out it works better certain times of the day, which makes sense, I guess, since the satellite is in orbit and all.”

  “Hi there,” I said, amused by his rambling. It wasn’t like him at all.

  Silence, then, “So how are you?”

  “How long can you talk?” I asked.

  A rosy finch launched off the thistle seed feeder and flew over to land on the top of the stone obelisk beside me. His bright eyes regarded me with curiosity.

  Ritter made a noise in the back of his throat. “Only a few minutes, I’m afraid.”

  Dang it.

  “We have e-mail set up on the computers now, though. I might only be able to call a couple times a week, but we can stay in more frequent touch that way. And a couple of others on the team are planning to video chat with their families once in a while, so I’m going to look into that.” He paused. “This being apart blows.”

  I laughed at his wry tone. “It really does!”

  “I miss you like sin. Actually, I miss the sinning, too.”

  I swore I could feel my heart swelling in my chest. “Me, too.” I realized I was grinning like an idiot. “How’s the project coming along?”

  “I can tell you all about that in e-mail. I want to know about this new murder you’ve become involved with.”

  “You heard?”

  “Thea told me.”

  “Thea,” I said. “Oh. Right.” Of course he’d called his sister.

  “I have to say, I was stunned when I heard it was Blake Sontag who was killed.”

  “You knew him, then. I wondered,” I said.

  “We were actually close friends our senior year in high school. He was funny, and a heck of a ladies’ man. Not a bad gig, being his wingman.”

  I resisted the urge to ask for details. There would be time for that later. Instead, I asked, “He was really funny?” It was hard to keep the skepticism out of my voice.

  “Hilarious. Like, life-of-the-party hilarious.”

  “That sure doesn’t sound like the guy I met,” I said. “Did you stay in touch with him after school?”

  “For a while, yeah. But he grew obsessed with becoming a big success, and Good Time Blake disappeared. He was all about getting ahead and making a name for himself.”

  “Yeah, that sounds more like him.” Even if it meant stepping over—or on—other people.

  “You know, it’s too bad, because I don’t think he was doing it for himself,” Ritter said. “His dad was always pushing him to do better and be more. Blake revered him and craved his approval.”

  “Hmm. His parents both died a few years ago,” I said. “A sudden, tragic accident.”

  Ritter whistled. “I didn’t know that. That must have been devastating. Mr. Sontag was a demanding father, but they were really close.”

  Cynthia had mentioned how much Blake had changed. From what Ritter was telling me now, it sounded like part of that change was to please his father. However, losing his dad might have made him into the bitter curmudgeon I’d had dinner with. Bitter, but also suffering from insomnia—and possibly hypochondria according to Rhonda. I felt a flicker of real pity for the dead man.

  “What about his sister, Joyous? Did you know her, too?”

  “Not really,” he said. “Now what’s all this about your brother’s girlfriend being a suspect? Thea didn’t give me many details.”

  As quickly as possible, I filled him in. When I was done, the only sound was static for a few seconds. Then he said, “I understand why you’ve jumped into investigating Blake’s murder with both feet, but I can’t help worrying.”

  “Oh, I’ll be—” I began.

  “Seriously,” he broke in. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Elliana. Remember what happened last time you took it upon yourself to track down a murderer.”

  That sobered me. In trying to clear my own name, I’d come close to being killed myself.

  “I promise,” I said quietly.

  “Good. I couldn’t handle it if something happened to you,” Ritter said.

  My throat tightened. “You be careful up there in the wilds, too, mister. I don’t want to hear about any frostbite or caribou attacks, okay?”

  He laughed, and soon we were murmuring a few last sweet nothings before his allotted time on the phone was up, and we had to ring off.

  I sat in the garden for a while, thinking. I felt happier, but if anything, his absence felt sharper after our conversation. Ritter had been a stabilizing part of my life for months, and I missed his smile, his touch, his wry wit—heck, pretty much every single thing about him. And even before our friendship had bloomed into romance, he’d been a huge help when I was investigating Josie’s murder.

  I stood and brushed a bit of pollen off my sleeve. Astrid had played a big role in that case, and she was willing and able to help me prove Larken innocent now.

  I might ache with missing Ritter, but I was an independent, capable woman in charge of her own life. I’d be fine.

  Right?

  • • •

  ASTRID looked up from where she was arranging oatmeal lace cookies studded with dried dandelion petals. Today she wore a loose, tie-dyed top over Thai fishing pants and Birkenstocks. Her copper hair was pulled back into a frizzy bun. I’d told her about my conversation with Ritter as soon as she’d come into Scents & Nonsense.

  “So you’re really going through with this long-distance thing.”

  I looked at the ceiling and counted to seven before saying, “I said I was before. You didn’t believe me?”

  She shrugged. “No. I did. I mean, you’re as loyal as they come, Ellie. I guess I’m still surprised that you’re in such a difficult relationship after having to put up with Harris for so long.”

  “The circumstances might be difficult, but the relationship isn’t.” I heard the defensive note in my voice.

  “Right. I stand corrected,” she said with a grin, and turned away to put the plate of cookies over by the coffee urn.

  She set it down and looked up at me. “We all just want what’s best for you, Ellie.”

  “I get it, and that’s nice, but how would you like it if I— Say, how did your date go last night?”

  “Ooh, he’s hot! In fact . . .” She trailed off, and her face turned pink. “I think I’ll keep the details to myself.”

  “I only wan
t what’s best for you,” I said with a grin.

  She stuck her tongue out at me.

  Laughing, I looked out at her ancient Peugeot parked on Corona Street. “Who’s in the back of your car?” She only drove it when she was hauling animals—or people. Otherwise Astrid made her way around town on her bike. At present, a square-headed dog was hanging his head out the window.

  “That’s Charlie,” she said. “He’s an American bulldog I’m taking care of today and tonight.”

  “You’re boarding him at your house?” I asked.

  “Yup. I don’t have to go into Dr. Ericcson’s today, so I thought I’d give Charlie a nice long walk in the park after I dropped off your cookies this morning.”

  “Any chance he’d like to hang out in the Enchanted Garden with Dash for a while?”

  Her eyes lit up. “He’s a good boy. I’m sure we could leave him out there. Are we going someplace?”

  A glance at my watch confirmed it was nearly ten. I grimaced. “Actually, I was hoping you could watch the store for an hour or so this morning.”

  Her face fell.

  “I want to have another chat with Joyous Sontag,” I explained.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Because the last one went so well?”

  “Hmm. You’re right about that. But I took Larken with me to see that parcel of land last night.”

  “That’s right! How did it go?”

  You mean besides the naiads and dryads and albino deer? How about the bubble gum tule fog that wasn’t supposed to be there and no one else saw?

  “Fine. In fact, Larken might want to make an offer on the place.”

  Astrid’s eyes grew round. “You’re kidding!”

  I shook my head.

  “Darn it! Does that mean she and Colby are breaking up?”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen. And there’s nothing definite yet about Larken buying that land.” I leaned my elbows onto the counter next to the register. “But, Astrid, can you imagine? She wants to have a little farm with chickens and goats and bees, and given her love of horses, probably one or two of those, too. The alternative might be a bunch of houses and a dried-up aquifer.” I told her what Colby had told us the evening before.

  “Ugh,” she said. “I like the farm idea a lot better. So that’s why you want to talk to Joyous?”

  Partly. “Yes. I want to make a case for her selling it to Larken and no one else. And while I’m at it, I’m going to see if she’ll tell me who else is interested in buying it. For all I know, the real estate agent was making that part up, but if there is someone who wants that land, then they might also be a suspect in Blake Sontag’s murder.”

  “Ooh. I see what you mean.” She gave a decisive nod. “Sure. I’ll be happy to watch the shop. Just let me get Charlie out of the car.”

  While she went to retrieve her charge, I got to work mixing up a custom perfume. To a base of unscented jojoba oil, I added a few drops of frankincense, then sandalwood, and finally neroli. After taking a sniff, I adjusted it with a bit more frankincense, capped the small atomizer bottle, and tested the pump. The air filled with the intense combination of earthy, resinous scents suitable for either a man or a woman to wear.

  More to the point, all three scents helped alleviate fear, and while Joyous had a reputation in town for being cranky and antisocial, her general apprehension had been nearly overwhelming when Astrid and I were in her house. It had really come to a head when she spoke of her family land. Now that I’d been there, I had an idea why the place scared her so much. The frankincense was especially effective against ongoing anxiety and fear of other people, while the sandalwood also promoted open-mindedness and acceptance of new ideas.

  When I left Scents & Nonsense, Astrid was reading a magazine—she refused to take any payment those times she stepped in to help at the store, so I refused to let her do anything but answer the phone and help customers—and Dash and Charlie were lying on the cool flagstones on the shaded patio as if they’d known each other forever. Nabby glared out at the canine newcomer from where he perched on the windowsill.

  All was right with the world inside Scents & Nonsense. It was nice to know, since I had a feeling my next encounter might not go so smoothly.

  • • •

  I WAS halfway to Agate Park when my cell rang. A glance at the screen told me it was my brother. I thumbed ANSWER.

  “Detectives Lang and Garcia were just here,” Colby said before I could even manage a hello. “They took Larken!”

  “What?” I twisted the steering wheel and screeched to a stop at the curb. A woman walking her dog across the street gave me a scowl. I ignored her. “They arrested her?”

  “I don’t think so.” His voice was shaking. “At least they didn’t say that, and there wasn’t any of that Miranda rights stuff. Detective Garcia said they wanted to ask her some more questions.”

  Damn.

  “Okay, I’ll give Lupe a call,” I said. “In the meantime, sit tight. This might be nothing.”

  “The police have suspected my girlfriend of murdering Sontag from the get-go, and now they just came and took her away,” he said. “It’s not nothing.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “Okay, you’re right. Call a lawyer.”

  “Who?”

  “Is Gessie around?”

  “She’s giving a riding lesson.”

  “Go ahead and interrupt her. The only criminal lawyers I know of are over in Silver Wells, but she might know of someone closer.”

  “Okay. Thanks, sis.”

  “Did you talk to Larken about buying the Sontag land?” I asked, realizing as the words came out of my mouth that if she showed too much interest in it, Larken would be making herself look even more suspicious. So far her only possible motive to kill a man she’d just met was a rather public argument. Flimsy at best. But if the police found out she was trying to buy land that the murder victim had refused to sell . . .

  What a mess.

  “We were talking about it when the police showed up.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” I said with forced cheer. “I promise. I’ll call you when I have news.”

  We hung up, and I thought about the promise I’d just made. I’d do whatever I could to keep it, but what if that wasn’t good enough?

  It has to be.

  Lupe’s phone rang three times before going to voice mail. I kept it short.

  “Colby says you have Larken. Is she under arrest? We’re looking for a lawyer, so hold off on questioning her, okay?” I sighed and ended the call. I knew nothing I said would stop Max Lang from asking as many questions as he wanted.

  And Larken, knowing she was innocent and wanting to help, would probably try to do her best to answer them.

  It was more important than ever that I find the real killer. And fast.

  • • •

  JOYOUS Sontag didn’t answer my repeated knocking. I pushed the doorbell several times, as well, to no avail. Was she avoiding me? It seemed extremely unlikely that she wouldn’t be home.

  Leaning close to the door, I called, “Joyous? It’s just Ellie. Will you please talk to me?”

  Nothing.

  Pressing my forehead against the door in frustration, I tried again. “Please come to the door. Polly at Gold Rush Realty took me out to see your family land, and . . .” I trailed off.

  “And what?” The sharp reply came from behind me.

  I whirled to find Joyous standing by the corner of the house, watching me with a critical eye. She wore khakis stained at the knee in a way that would be familiar to any gardener. A straw hat balanced jauntily on her dark hair, and she held a trowel in one gloved hand.

  I stepped down and crunched across the gravel landscape to where she stood. “And I think I have an idea why you want to sell the place so badly.”

  “Do y
ou want to buy it?” she asked, a glint of eagerness in her gaze.

  A small shake of my head turned that eagerness to disappointment.

  “Then we have nothing to discuss.” She turned away and started back around the corner.

  “My friend might want to buy it, though.”

  Joyous stopped and said over her shoulder. “Have her talk to Polly.”

  “She already has. But I want to talk to you about it.”

  She whirled back around. “What is your problem, Allbright? Why do you feel like you need to invade my privacy? Why do you want to talk to me about a real estate transaction that you aren’t involved in and that an agency is handling?”

  Taking a deep breath, I said, “Because the Realtor took me out to see the place last evening.”

  CHAPTER 18

  JOYOUS’ eyes narrowed. I felt her fear, but also an ember of hope flaring to life. Wordlessly, I reached into my purse and drew out the bottle of perfume I’d made for her. I held it out toward her.

  “Smell this.”

  She glared at me, but it seemed more habitual than heartfelt. After a few seconds of hesitation, she set the trowel on a landscape rock, took off her gloves, and stuffed them in her back pocket. Then she reached for the bottle in my hand. Grudgingly, she pushed the atomizer down.

  And blinked. Then her eyes closed, and she deeply inhaled the fragrance. I could smell it from where I stood, too, and felt the unraveling of fear that left behind curiosity and possibility.

  Joyous Sontag opened her eyes and smiled.

  Smiled.

  Barely keeping my mouth from dropping open, I said, “That’s for you.”

  The smile dropped away as if she’d suddenly realized it was on her face. But I’d seen it.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s what I do,” I said.

  She looked down at the bottle in her hand, then took one last whiff and screwed the cap back on. “I don’t understand.”

  “You know I own Scents and Nonsense, right?”

 

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