Nightshade for Warning

by Bailey Cattrell

  “Do you know where that land came from?” I asked with a half smile.

  She looked surprised. “From the Sontags.”

  I shook my head. “Not those thirty acres. My brother was at the county clerk’s office yesterday and found some old documents that said that particular piece of property came directly to our great-great-grandfather from Poppy herself.”

  Joyous’ eyes grew wide. “Really?”

  I nodded. “She gave it to her son.”

  She got up and walked over the front window. Drawing back the gauzy curtain, she gazed out at the cacti and rocks. “I guess I’ll be doing some thinking about that place.”

  I rose and joined her at the window. “How long have you known we’re related?”

  “Since my parents died. Blake couldn’t have cared less about the past, but they knew I was interested in history. They left me all that documentation along with a bunch of other old stuff in the attic.”

  “So they knew about Poppy and Zebulon?”

  One shoulder lifted and dropped. “They never said anything to me about it. I bet Daddy knew, though. It was probably why he was so set on keeping that land in the family.” Her eyes were wet.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to them.” I patted her shoulder.

  A deep, shuddering breath. “Thanks.”

  “I’m glad you showed me the letters,” I said.

  She turned to look at me. “Me, too. And I’m glad you’re looking into my brother’s murder. We might not have been close, but he was family and I want to see justice done. If your friend didn’t kill him, then someone has to find out who really did.”

  “Which reminds me, I have to get going.”

  “Of course.” She walked me to the front door and smiled. “Good luck, cousin.”

  I nodded. “I’ll take all I can get.”

  Outside, I walked to the Wrangler, started it up, and pulled onto the street. Two blocks later, I pulled over and turned off the engine, mind awhirl.

  I’d thought that I didn’t have any family on my mother’s side ever since Gamma had died. Now, I found myself liking the whole idea of having a cousin. I didn’t know if I would have picked Joyous, but she was starting to grow on me.

  And you can’t choose your family, right?

  • • •

  LUPE had texted me while I’d been relearning family history with Joyous.

  Will call when I get a chance.

  There was no voice mail, though, so apparently she hadn’t had a chance.

  My watch read almost noon. Astrid was going to kill me, but I took a left, away from the shop, and pulled into Cooperhawk Court. I’d brace Harris at the restaurant after I closed Scents & Nonsense that evening, but I still didn’t know exactly how Vaughn Newton fit into the picture. Maybe I could get Polly to tell me more.

  My phone rang as I parked in front of Gold Rush Realty.

  “Colby! Did you find a lawyer?” I asked.

  “Apparently, criminal lawyers are hard to come by in Poppyville.”

  “Yeah. That’s because we don’t have that much crime.”

  Or at least we never used to.

  The front door of the blue-and-white converted house opened, and a man emerged. His streaked hair was braided and jammed under a porkpie hat, but the rest of his clothes echoed what he’d worn yesterday afternoon while photographing my tiny house—surf shorts, T-shirt, flip-flops.

  What was Tanner Spence doing in Gold Rush Realty?

  “Gessie knows a guy who might be able to help,” Colby went on. “But he’s semiretired, and today he’s in Sacramento. We’re waiting for him to call us back.”

  “Dang. Okay, I’ll try Lupe again.”

  We hung up, and I climbed out of the Wrangler.

  Spence had come down the walkway and now stopped in front of the Jeep. He looked it up and down. “Nice ride.”

  My forehead wrinkled. “Most people think it’s an old piece of crap.”

  He patted the hood. “Now, don’t talk about her like that. This is a classic. What year? Ninety-eight?”

  Surprised, I nodded. “You know your cars.”

  “This just happens to be a favorite of mine.”

  I gestured toward the office building. “Checking out the real estate here in Poppyville?”

  He grinned and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Why? You live in Sacramento, don’t you?”

  One side of his mouth turned up. “Sometimes.” His eyes narrowed. “Any more questions I can answer for you?”

  “I was just—”

  “It’s all over town, Ellie. You’re trying to find out who killed Blake. I wish I’d known that before I opened my big mouth yesterday and told you all about how I hated the guy.” He made a rude noise. “I didn’t realize you thought I was a murderer.”

  “But you aren’t, right?” I tipped my head to one side.

  I watched to see if he reacted to what amounted to an accusation. I liked Spence; however, I couldn’t be sure he was innocent, and Larken was being questioned by the police at that very moment.

  When Spence did react, it was only with a look of disgust and a shake of his head.

  I held up my palms in front of me. “Okay, so you hated the guy. You know you weren’t alone in that.”

  “No wonder you wouldn’t go out to dinner with me,” he muttered.

  I shook my head. “I told you that I’m involved with someone.”

  “Oh, I remember. It’s ‘complicated.’” He grimaced. “Too bad, because I really enjoyed hanging out with you. I’ll see you around, Ellie.” And he walked away.

  Is this going to affect how he writes the feature on my tiny house? I wondered. Then I set my jaw. I hoped not, but it was out of my control. And what was he doing in Gold Rush, anyway? After all, now that he’d finished the article for Conscience Magazine, why was Spence still in Poppyville at all? Maybe he was after the Sontag land as so many others seemed to be.

  When I climbed the steps to the wide porch, I saw the sales flyer for the parcel was still up in the window.

  The door opened, and I almost collided with Cynthia. Today she wore a seafoam green linen suit, and her hair was in a smooth chignon.

  “Ellie! How are things?” It was a rote question, but she caught herself and peered into my eyes. “Really. How are things going with the investigation into Blake’s murder?”

  I sighed. “Confusing, mostly. Too many suspects, but none are quite right. The only thing I know is the one person the police suspect the most didn’t do it.”

  “What about Felicity?” she asked. “Did you talk to her?”

  “Absolutely. So did Detective Garcia. You were right about how much she loathed Blake. She didn’t even bother to deny it, but she has an alibi that night from multiple people.”

  “And no other progress? It’s been two days.”

  “Jeez, Cynthia. I’m doing the best I can. It all seems to revolve around some land out past the Kestrel Peak trailhead. You know, where the Sontag place is?”

  She frowned. “I thought that was all a state park.”

  “All but thirty acres.”

  Hitching her Coach bag a little higher on her shoulder, she said, “Well, real estate isn’t exactly my bailiwick. Max Lang said they have a suspect. Maybe you should just leave it to the police after all.”

  I stared at her. “Did he tell you that suspect is Larken Meadows?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “No, he didn’t.” A speculative look settled on her patrician features. “Of course. That’s why you’re involved. It doesn’t have anything to do with saving Poppyville’s reputation as a sweet little tourist town.”

  “I want to preserve Poppyville’s good name as much as anyone,” I said. “But you know as well as I do that Larken had no reason to kill Blake Sontag. You
were there when they met, and when they argued. I’m looking for real justice, not a quick fix.”

  The look she gave me made me wonder if a quick fix wouldn’t suit her just fine, but then she shrugged and smiled. “Of course, Ellie. We all want justice for Blake. Now, you be sure and let me know if there’s any way I can help, okay?”

  I agreed, and she clicked out to her Lexus on heels that would have killed me within an hour.

  Inside Gold Rush Realty, the receptionist was on the phone. From what I could hear, there was some snafu with a signing. She smiled and waved me toward a chair.

  Antsy, I perched on the edge. My cell phone buzzed, and I saw Astrid had texted.

  How much longer? Just wondering. Wouldn’t mind taking Charlie for his walk before it gets too hot.

  I put the phone back in my pocket and stood just as the receptionist finally hung up and apologized for making me wait. I went over and leaned my elbow on the counter, trying for casual.

  “Say, I’m supposed to meet Vaughn Newton here.” A total lie, but at least it might get the conversation going.

  She frowned, and I sighed inwardly. The no-tell policy regarding potential clients would of course extend to everyone in the office. Quickly I scrambled for an excuse to find out more about Mr. Newton.

  Then she said, “I’m so sorry, but you already missed him. He and Polly left together to look at the property.”

  The property.

  I pasted a look of deep disappointment on my face.

  “But you can probably catch them,” she said brightly. “They left about half an hour ago.”

  “The place out past the Kestrel Peak trailhead, right?”

  She pointed at me. “That’s the one!”

  “Okay, thanks!” I turned to go, then whirled back. “Say, that guy who was just in here?”

  “Mr. Dreamy Eyes?” she said, and propped her chin with her hand.

  “Uh, yeah. Sure. Him. What was he interested in?”

  She pursed her lips while still trying to look friendly. “Oh, I don’t know . . .”

  I leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial voice, “He is awful cute, isn’t he? His name is Tanner Spence. I was just wondering if he was meeting Polly and Vaughn, too.”

  She hesitated, then shook her head. “He didn’t say anything about that. Looked at all kinds of listings. Land, houses, rentals. Said you can tell a lot about a town by the real estate market.”

  Well, that wasn’t very helpful. It did make me wonder why he’d be interested in learning about the town, though.

  I thanked her and quickly went out to the Wrangler. If I hurried, I might be able to “accidentally” run into Polly and Vaughn Newton.

  But first I needed to run by the shop and see if Astrid was okay with holding down the fort for a little bit longer. High clouds had moved in, cutting the sunlight and lowering the temperature a bit. If they held, it would be a cooler afternoon than usual.

  All the spots in front of Scents & Nonsense were full, so I pulled into a space in the lot across Corona and got out. Astrid was on the boardwalk in front of the shop with the watering can, thoroughly dousing the myriad of potted plants and window boxes that I’d neglected of late. She looked up and saw me. Waving, she stepped past the parked cars and out into the street as I started across from the parking lot.

  A roaring filled the air from the direction of Raven Creek Park. In slow motion, I twisted to see a huge black form coming toward us.

  A car. SUV.

  A Cadillac Escalade, in fact.

  Déjà vu—right down to the freezing in place.

  The gleaming chrome on the enormous boxy front flashed in the sunlight as the SUV bore down like an evil predator on its helpless prey. The engine howled. The smell of hot oil and burning metal seared the air.

  Hands gripped the steering wheel at ten and two, pale and mesmerizing, looking as if they were floating behind the windshield without benefit of being attached to a body. Suddenly they wrenched the wheel, and the vehicle swung straight for me.

  A frantic shrieking pierced through the roar of the engine.

  Then I realized I was the one screaming. The colorful emblem set in the middle of the leering mouth of the grille was almost upon me when my muscles miraculously unlocked. I launched myself backward with all the strength I had.

  It was enough to propel me away from the vehicle, but only by a hair. I felt the wind created by the rushing mountain of metal blast my face as I fell. I landed hard, crying out in pain as I bashed into the curb on my backside and bounced down to sit in the gutter.

  A scorching screech of metal on metal saturated the air. It made my teeth hurt, and I squeezed my eyes shut against it. I heard footsteps running toward me as the engine gunned, and looked up in time to see the black SUV turn the corner onto a side street.

  “Ellie! Oh, my God. Are you okay?”

  With an effort, I turned my head. Spence was leaning over me, horrified worry all over his face.

  He ran his hand over my neck and the back of my skull, then tipped my chin up so he could look first in one eye and then the other. “Ellie? Say something.”

  “Something,” I croaked out.

  His laugh was short, but relief softened his gaze. “At least you don’t seem to have a concussion. Can you move your neck?”

  I slowly obliged. “I didn’t hit my head.”

  “But you landed really hard, didn’t you? I can tell by the way you’re moving. Or rather, not moving. Does your back hurt?”

  “It’s fine. Sitting down is going to be unpleasant for a while, though.” I tried a smile.

  He didn’t seem to notice. “Wiggle your fingers.”

  I wiggled.

  Apparently satisfied, he sat back on his heels on the sidewalk beside me. A smooshed bakery bag with the Kneadful Things logo on it lay a few feet away.

  “What happened?” he asked. “I was getting a sandwich and heard a car engine and then a scream. When I came out you were . . .” He gestured to where I still sat in the gutter. “Here.” His hand was shaking.

  “I was almost hit by a car,” I said. “I’ve seen it before. In fact, it almost hit me before.” I scowled. “I meant to report the driver, but with everything that’s been going on the last few days, I forgot. But believe you me, that is going to be one sorry tourist when I find out who it is.”

  Spence looked down the street. “What a jerk. You could have been killed!”

  “Uh-huh,” I agreed in a quivering voice. Gingerly, I scooted up to the curb. “Ouch.” My bruised behind started to throb with pain.

  Raising my head, I looked across the street. A gawker knot was gathering on the boardwalk in front of Scents & Nonsense, and a few other people were gathered around a prone figure on the street.

  With a start, I recognized her red hair and quirky fisherman pants.

  “Astrid!” I screamed.

  CHAPTER 20

  I PUSHED myself painfully to my feet, ignoring Spence’s protests and pointing to my friend, who lay alarmingly still on the asphalt. With a halting gait, I limped across to her and fell to my knees.

  Thank heavens, her eyes were open. When she saw me leaning over her, she smiled weakly.

  “You’re okay,” she whispered.

  “I’m fine, honey.” It took all my effort to kept my voice soft and calm. I scanned her all over, looking for blood or any sign of damage. It was hard to tell with her loose clothes.

  “Did they hit you?” I leaned in to check out how her pupils looked, just as Spence had with me.

  “Only the rearview mirror,” she grunted.

  Her left hand was cupped around her right shoulder. Gently, I touched it, and she yelped with pain.

  “Sorry!”

  “The ambulance is on the way,” someone said from nearby.

  “Thank you,” I ca
lled out, without looking up from my friend’s pinched face. “It’s going to be okay,” I said to her. “They’ll be here soon and fix you all up.”

  “I don’t need an ambulance! The clinic is only six blocks away. Can’t someone just drive me over there?” She shifted to one side and tried to push herself up with her good hand. The movement made her gasp with pain.

  “Now stop that,” I said, exasperated. “They’re on their way already.”

  “Help me sit up,” she said, and tried again.

  Strong male hands pushed her upright. Spence had elbowed through the growing crowd to join me beside her.

  “Thanks,” she rasped. Cleared her throat and winced.

  “Here. You forgot this,” he said, and handed me my purse. Then, with tender fingertips, Spence probed at her shoulder a couple of times. This time, she allowed it in silence.

  “It’s dislocated,” he said. “And there might be a fracture. They’ll x-ray it at the hospital.”

  “Clinic,” she said.

  “What?” he asked.

  “The nearest hospital is in Silver Wells,” I explained. “The ambulance will take her to the Poppyville Clinic. Don’t worry—they know their stuff there.”

  The sound of a siren split the air, and I lurched to my feet. Spence grabbed my elbow to help steady me, and together we tried to move the gathered onlookers away from my friend.

  The crowd parted to let Lupe Garcia through. As always, she looked official in dark slacks and white oxford shirt. Today’s blazer was the color of oatmeal. She took in the situation with a sweeping glance and turned back to the milling people.

  “Please step back, everyone. Let the paramedics through.” She held up her hands with her palms out and patted the air as if pushing them away. “Come on, folks.”

  Everyone obeyed, murmuring as they broke away into the smaller clusters and gave us some space. The ambulance parked nearby. A uniformed man and woman got out and ran over.

  I explained what had happened to them as quickly as I could. Lupe stood beside me, listening closely, her frown deepening with every word. Her eyes flicked to the onlookers, who had moved several yards away to inspect a dark blue pickup truck diagonally parked a few doors down. Its shiny side was crumpled and buckled where the SUV had sideswiped it.