“Black is fine. Thanks.”
She put a mug of coffee and a napkin in front of me and a plate of cookies in the center of the table before pouring her own coffee and returning to sit opposite me. She took a cookie and set it on her napkin and slid the plate toward me. “Help yourself. I make these only at Christmas.”
I nibbled the treat. “Mmm. It's very good.”
“The neighbors seem to like them.”
“Are those all for your neighbors?” I asked, nodding toward the red-wrapped plates of goodies on the counter.
“Yes, for everybody on the block and a few friends.”
“That's a big job.”
“I'll say. I spent all day yesterday making candy. Today, it's the cookies, but I'm all done now. That's the last batch I just took out of the oven. But you didn't come to hear about my holiday baking. Tell me, what would you like to know?”
“Well, as I told you on the phone yesterday, I'm curious. I've never heard of anyone who's been poisoned by hemlock before, except for Socrates, of course. Is there a lot of it growing around here?”
“Not a lot, but I've seen it in the county, mostly up around Miners' Creek. It needs some moisture, more than some of our desert plants. You're not too likely to find it in someone's backyard here in town. Do you know what the plant looks like?”
“Yes, I found some pictures of it online and read about a few instances of people who ate the root, thinking it was some kind of carrot.”
“Fools,” she said, startling me with her vehemence. “Some people take it into their heads that anything natural is safe. That's far from the truth. Ingesting part of a plant discovered in the wild when you don't know what it is can lead to trouble, as happened in the cases you read about.”
“How much hemlock would it take to kill a person?”
“No studies have been done on that, as far as I know, but obviously not a lot, or Eric would still be alive.”
“My friend Susan told me Eric and his wife had lived in the house next door for several years.”
“Yes. Natalie inherited the house after her great-grandmother died. I always got along quite well with Natalie. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for Eric.”
“Oh?”
“He was always covering for his nephew Josh. Josh was one of my students, and I can tell you this: that boy's trouble with a capital 'T.'”
Chapter 16
“I noticed he was quite upset when he found out about his uncle, but isn't that only natural? It came as a shock.”
“I wasn't referring to that.”
Neither of us mentioned that he'd called Sylvia a “witch” at the time.
“No. It goes back to high school and his lack of character, even then.”
“What do you mean?”
“It's a long story, but the short version is Josh cheated on a biology test, and I caught him red-handed. The penalty, besides getting a zero on the test, of course, was supposed to be automatic suspension from the basketball team, but the coach convinced the principal to let Josh serve detention, rather than suspending him from the team. After that, Josh found all kinds of nasty ways to get back at me, like letting the air out of my tires, but I could never prove it, so he got away with it. I tried to talk to Eric, but he believed Josh could do no wrong.”
“I'm sorry that happened to you,” I said sincerely, wondering whether Josh had mended his ways or perhaps Sylvia had exaggerated the incident.
“To tell you the truth, I'm really hoping Josh decides to sell the house, rather than move in. I'd hate to have him for a next-door neighbor.”
“He's Eric's heir?”
“I assume so.”
Sylvia probably didn't know about Eric's precarious financial situation, but if it had been as bad as I thought, chances were good that Josh wouldn't have much choice but to put his uncle's house on the market.
Sylvia insisted on giving me one of her gift-wrapped plates of goodies before I left. When I protested that I didn't want to leave her short, she told me she always made a few extras.
I thanked her for the treats, and as we headed for the front door, Middie peeked out from her hiding place behind the bookcase. Suddenly, she decided to return to her nest on the sofa, and she shot back across the room so quickly that I almost tripped over her as she crossed my path for the second time that day.
“Stay put now, Middie,” Sylvia said mildly, as she opened the front door for me.
After I walked down the steps, I turned to wave and saw Sylvia at the window. She waved back, and then the curtain dropped.
I kept a box in the back of my SUV to corral groceries so the bags wouldn't slide around while I was driving. I put Sylvia's gift in it and closed the hatch. I was about to get into the car when the couple who'd tried to help Susan and me the night Eric died approached.
“Hi,” the man said. “Are you helping Josh clear out the place?”
“No. I was just here to see Mrs. Costa.”
“I'm sorry. I don't think we ever introduced ourselves the other night,” his wife said. “I'm Rachel; this is my husband Jack, and our dog's name is Charlie.” Charlie wagged his tail and sniffed my feet.
“Amanda Trent,” I said, stooping to pet the little beagle.
“They say she's a witch, you know,” Jack said.
“Jack, that's crazy talk,” his wife said. “Mrs. Costa's a perfectly nice old lady.”
“Eric and Josh didn't seem to think so. I heard Eric yelling at her just last week. She was outside on her porch, and as soon as she heard him, she went inside and slammed the door. Later, I saw her peering out from behind the curtain, and she was holding that black cat of hers. She does that all the time. It's spooky.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Jack. If someone was yelling at me, I'd go inside, too. As far as her looking out from behind the curtain, she probably wants to see what's going on in the neighborhood. She's not the only one. Remember how many people were watching the other night?”
“Yeah, I suppose, but you have to admit she looks witchy with her scraggly gray hair and black clothing. She's always carrying around her black cat, and her broom's right there on the front porch.”
“Because she uses it to sweep the porch, silly. You've watched one too many Halloween movies.”
“Woo-oo-oo!” Jack managed to make the word reverberate in an eerie way, and Charlie howled at the weird sound.
“I think that's our signal to get going,” Rachel said. “Bye now.”
The couple ambled down the street while Charlie tugged at his leash in an effort to hurry them along, I suspected.
Although Jack had sounded almost serious when he'd mentioned that people thought Mrs. Costa was a witch, I definitely had the impression that he'd been teasing his wife.
I drove home thinking that I hadn't learned too much about hemlock, but now I knew that Eric and his neighbor had been at odds. Had their dispute been so serious that Sylvia Costa had poisoned Eric? She knew where to find hemlock, and she certainly knew how to bake. Nobody at the craft fair would have suspected a thing amiss if she'd brought some carrot bars in and slipped them onto the table at the Pioneers' booth. But if she had, that would mean she didn't mind poisoning other people in an effort to poison her neighbor. And there would have been no way she could have controlled whether Eric got any carrot bars, even if she knew he enjoyed such treats, unless she put them in his kitchen herself. All those actions would have been devious, and Sylvia didn't strike me as a devious person.
Then, again, she had the habit of surreptitiously watching her neighbors. Maybe she knew more than anyone realized.
Chapter 17
I wondered whether the police had questioned her, and I thought perhaps I should put a bug in Dave Martinez's ear. Sylvia might have seen something significant from behind her curtains, and she might not even realize it.
When I arrived home, I put speculation out of my mind as I treated Mona Lisa and Laddie to a mid-day snack, followed by playtime, a game of catch in the bac
kyard for Laddie and a round of chasing her feather toy for Mona Lisa. The day had turned overcast and gray, and the temperature had dropped considerably. It would have been a good time to curl up beside a cozy fire, but I had no fireplace, so that wasn't going to happen. The gloomy day affected us all, and soon Mona Lisa and Laddie were both napping while I lay down on the sofa with a yawn and drifted off to sleep.
It couldn't have been more than a minute or two before I heard my phone ringing. I hadn't intended to take a nap, but only to rest for a moment. I jumped up and retrieved my cell phone from the kitchen counter. I didn't recognize the number, but that would never prevent me from answering because there was always the possibility that a potential customer who was interested in my artwork could be calling. In hopes that was the case, I answered by stating my name.
“This is Cassie Lindell from the mayor's office. Mrs. Gibbs asked me to let you know that she'll stop by your studio Friday evening if she can find the time. It's been a terribly busy week.”
“Thanks so much for letting me know.” If I sold Melinda the painting Friday night, I wouldn't have to worry about paying my bills for the next couple of months.
“I think I'll drop by myself,” Cassie said. “I haven't ever been to any of the local studios, and I keep hearing about the tour. Have you been a stop on it long?”
“I joined the tour in March.”
“Perfect. I'm looking forward to seeing your artwork. I loved the landscape on your card, and your painter's palette seal was so cute.” I could hear voices in the background, so it came as no surprise when Cassie said she'd better get back to work.
Psyched as I felt, I couldn't wait to tell Belle the good news. I called her and asked her over for coffee. While I brewed a nice blend of French roast that Belle liked, I removed the red cellophane from the plate of cookies Sylvia had given me and set it, along with some napkins, on my little dining table. I planned to have coffee, too, instead of my usual tea. Some caffeine might help me shake my drowsiness.
When Belle came to the door with Mr. Big, Laddie snoozed right through her distinctive tapping, but he woke up when Mr. Big pounced on his tail. The two dogs ran around my tiny living room until I called a halt, and they both sat politely, while I rewarded them each with a baby carrot, a whole one for Laddie and half for Mr. Big. After they ate their carrots, they settled down, side by side, on the floor to watch Belle and me. I'm sure they wouldn't have minded sampling the butterscotch shortbread cookies, which had been dipped in chocolate, but since eating chocolate was a big no-no for dogs, I didn't feel a bit tempted to offer them any.
“First Greg, then you,” Belle said, looking at Mr Big. “Why is it he behaves for everyone but me?”
“Well, I kind of bribed him with the carrot, so I'm not sure that counts.”
Laddie and Mr. Big continued to keep a watchful eye on Belle and me while we munched our cookies and I brought her up to date on my visit with Sylvia Costa and the mayor's response to my card. As soon as they figured out that no more snacks would be forthcoming, Laddie and Mr. Big dropped their chins to the floor, and before long, they both fell fast asleep.
“Mr. Big isn't usually so quiet,” Belle observed. “I hope he's feeling all right.”
“I think the weather may have gotten to him. Laddie and Mona Lisa both act tired, and I almost went to sleep earlier, too.”
“I hope that's all it is. If he doesn't perk up by tomorrow, I think I'll take him to the vet for a check-up.”
“That reminds me. Laddie has an appointment with the vet this week. I almost forgot about it.” I grabbed my purse, which I'd left sitting on the kitchen counter, took out my wallet, and found the appointment card. “Oh, good; it's not until Friday. For a minute, I was afraid it might have been today.”
“I bet you get a reminder call from the office staff sometime tomorrow.”
“That's true. I guess I didn't need to worry about forgetting. I've been so distracted the last few days.”
“No wonder, what with the poisonings and you and Susan finding Eric's body. I know you're worried about money, too, but I have a good feeling about that landscape the mayor's interested in. I bet she buys it when she comes to your studio Friday night.”
“I sure hope so. That's if she comes. Her assistant emphasized that Melinda's really busy this week.”
“If she weren't interested, she probably wouldn't have responded to your note. I think that's a good sign.”
“Fingers crossed.”
“On another subject, have you heard from Brian lately?”
“Not since before the poisonings. He's going to be shocked when I tell him what happened.”
We chatted for a while longer before Belle cajoled a reluctant Mr. Big to come home with her. I spent the rest of the afternoon doing a few chores before I settled down with a book I'd been intending to read while Laddie napped at my feet and Mona Lisa snoozed on the wide arm of my chair.
Coincidentally, Brian called me that very evening. My drowsy pets didn't stir when the phone rang. I hoped we'd all feel peppier in the morning.
Brian listened without saying much when I told him about the events of the past few days.
“Amanda, promise me you'll be careful,” he said. “It doesn't sound as though the police have a handle on what's going on there. Some psycho could be behind the poisonings.”
“Yes, I know. It's a scary thought.”
“Probably best not to eat anything you haven't prepared yourself until the cops find out where that poison came from.”
“I suppose so,” I said, thinking of the plate of goodies Sylvia had given me, but since I'd already eaten a few of the cookies with no ill effects, and I'd seen Sylvia eat one herself, I wasn't worried. “I wish I had better news to tell you, but I thought you'd want to know what's going on in town.”
“I do. So much for thinking I moved to a quiet little town. I have some good news, though. At least, potentially good news.”
“You're getting a promotion?” I guessed.
“No, not exactly, but close. A headhunter contacted me to ask if I'd be interested in another job. When he told me about it, I said I was.”
My heart sank. Brian worked as a manager on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico, but I knew there were plenty of rigs on the other side of the world, and I doubted he'd be flying home every month if he worked on one of them. “What is it?” I asked.
“Something a little different from what I've been doing, and it's actually in Southern Arizona, maybe about a three- or four-hour drive from Lonesome Valley, but that's closer to home than I am now. I could come home every weekend if I get the job. Other people will be interviewing, so it's not a sure thing, but I'm kind of excited about the idea of managing a new solar power plant. I've always thought that, with all the sunshine in Arizona, we should be harnessing that energy.”
“That sounds great. Do you have an interview scheduled yet?”
“Yep, just a few days after I get back, the first week in January. I'm trying not to count on it too much, though.”
“I doubt the recruiter would have contacted you if you weren't a top candidate. I bet you have a good shot at it. I can tell by the way you spoke about solar energy that you're enthusiastic about it. That goes a long way, I think.”
As we moved on to less weighty topics, I kept thinking about the prospect of Brian's changing jobs. I could tell it meant a lot to him, and I hoped he'd be the one chosen to manage the solar facility. If so, we'd see each other more frequently. I wondered how a new schedule would affect our budding romance, but only time would tell.
Chapter 18
Even though I hadn't sold any paintings lately, I still needed to keep up production, and I hadn't been doing a very good job of it lately. With nothing on my schedule for Thursday, I planned to spend the entire day in my studio painting, so after a brisk morning walk with Laddie and a quick breakfast, I went to work.
Despite my habit of procrastinating, I'd managed to produce enough work to display
in my studio for tour visitors as well as fill my allotted fifteen-linear-feet space in the Roadrunner and send a few canvasses to the Crystal Star Gallery in Kansas City, where I had a small following. If I succeeded in gaining representation at one of the galleries in Scottsdale, I'd have to accelerate my pace at least a little, especially considering the occasional commission I received for a pet portrait.
By two o'clock in the afternoon, I was congratulating myself for making good progress. I'd worked steadily, taking only a few short breaks. I squeezed a dab of viridian green from its tube onto my palette and began mixing it with some titanium white and cadmium yellow to get just the tint of olive green I wanted to apply to some of the foliage on my landscape. Sometimes, I mixed colors directly onto the canvas, but the detail work involved in painting the foliage made it more practical to mix this particular hue on my palette. I applied a bit of the mixture and stepped back to look at the landscape. I decided it was darker than I'd intended, so I added a bit more white to achieve the desired effect.
My concentration broke when I heard the insistent ring of my cell phone. I was tempted to ignore it, but, on the off chance that a potential customer might be calling, I answered it.
Pamela didn't waste any time asking me if I could come in to work in the gallery for the rest of the afternoon.
“I have the worst toothache ever,” she told me, “and the receptionist at my dentist's office can work me in right away. Susan's here, but we're really busy, and I don't think she can handle it alone.”
I suspected an abscess was the cause of Pamela's distress. I'd had one once myself, and it had been no picnic. She'd need some antibiotics, pronto, if that were the case.
“OK, I'll be there as soon as I can. It'll probably be about twenty minutes before I can get there.”
“Thanks so much, Amanda. I owe you one.”
Pamela had done me plenty of favors since I'd joined the Roadrunner, and I didn't think she owed me a thing. I assured her I was happy to help.
I hurriedly put my paints away, changed clothes, swiped on some lipstick, and bade Laddie goodbye. I didn't see Mona Lisa, who must have been lurking in one of her hiding places.
Hemlock for the Holidays Page 8