Murder by Yew (Edna Davies Mysteries)

by Suzanne Young

  The slap, slap, slap of the windshield wipers was mesmerizing as they swished away the light but steady rain. I’ve made a mess of things, she thought, driving north to pick up Interstate 95.

  “Albert leaves me alone for the first time in our married life and look what I’ve done.” She spoke to the windshield, feeling close to tears, thinking of Albert’s mischievous blue eyes and shock of white hair. “He’s going to be very angry with me.”

  In her mind, she pictured the sparkle leaving Albert’s eyes and a frown deepening as his wide mouth turned down at the corners. “He already thinks I’m too forgetful. Well, maybe I am at times, but I know I didn’t put toxic ingredients in my tea. I really have been very careful with Mrs. Rabichek’s recipes.” Speaking the words aloud made her feel better but didn’t succeed in convincing her completely. Had she mistaken one plant for another? Had mixing liquids together created a poison? “What have I done?” she moaned before focusing her attention back onto her driving.

  She stared hard at the wet road, leaning forward over the steering wheel as she merged into traffic on Route 95. When she was safely in the middle lane and had settled into the flow of the other cars, her mind strayed back to her dilemma. “What if they send me to jail?” she spoke again to the windshield. The thought was so horrifying, she refused to consider it. Turning on the radio, she concentrated on her favorite classical station for the remainder of the trip, trying to identify each instrument as music surrounded her, a trick she used to distract herself from worry.

  She arrived in Boston shortly after five-thirty, and Starling greeted her with a bright smile, a warm hug, and a change of plans. “Couldn’t get reservations for tonight,” she said, taking the overnight bag from Edna’s grasp. Tall and lanky with straight, shoulder-length auburn hair, Starling had her father’s physique and her mother’s coloring. This evening, she wore faded jeans and an oversized yellow tee-shirt. Ushering Edna into the apartment, she said. “I figured I might as well not waste a good cleaning job, so I went to the market for fillets of sole and fresh vegetables. Do you mind if we eat here?”

  Stephanie Davies (dubbed “Starling” from birth by her older brother) was a graduate of Boston University. As a freshman, she had fallen in love with the city, confiding to her mother that she couldn’t think of any place she would rather live. Her condominium, the second floor of an old brownstone, was in Boston’s Back Bay, not far from the Charles River.

  “Dinner here sounds wonderful.” At that moment, Edna felt the strain of the last couple of days and two restless nights and wanted only peace and quiet in which to forget, though she knew that would be impossible. When Starling took her coat and tote bag and headed for the spare bedroom, Edna moved to the living room and sank into a pillow-soft sofa. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the warmth emanating from the glass-fronted fireplace. The next thing she knew, Starling was shaking her by the shoulder.

  “Mom. Mother?”

  Edna woke slowly, feeling groggy and disoriented, and it took her a few minutes to realize where she was. As the world around her came into focus, she looked up into large brown eyes, very like her own. Starling was securing a lock of hair behind her ear, her brow furrowed with concern.

  Edna cleared her throat and struggled to sit straighter. “I must have fallen asleep.”

  “You must have needed it. I let you sleep for an hour, but you should probably wake up now or you won’t be able to sleep later.” Then, she sat on the edge of the sofa, facing Edna. “What’s going on, Mom? It’s not like you to fall asleep in the afternoon. I know you’re upset over your handyman dying, but it seems to me to be more than that.”

  Edna studied her daughter’s face for a minute, trying to decide how much to divulge. She didn’t want to alarm Starling unduly, but she needed to talk to someone. “You’re right. A number of things have been going on, as you put it, but it’s all rather confusing. Would you be a dear and fix a drink for me while I try to clear my head? Then we’ll talk.”

  Starling’s frown deepened, but all she said was, “How about a glass of wine? I have a bottle of Riesling cooling in the fridge.”

  “Sounds like just what the doctor ordered.” Edna’s attempt at an old family joke brought only a weak smile from her daughter.

  Before long, Starling was back with two glasses of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers that she set on the coffee table in front of Edna. “Speaking of doctors,” she said, hooking a cushioned stool with one foot and dragging it over beside the couch, “How are you enjoying Dad’s retirement and your new house?” She lowered her slender frame onto the small seat and handed a golden goblet to Edna.

  “To tell the truth, it’s not turning out to be what I expected.”

  Leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees and cupping her wine glass in both hands, Starling studied her mother’s face. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, it’s not the house. The house is fine. It’s your father. Between golf and then this conference he’s gone off to, I feel I haven’t seen much of him lately.” When they were out, her words surprised Edna. She hadn’t realized how agitated she’d grown over Albert’s being away. Or maybe Dee’s remarks were beginning to get to her.

  Starling fidgeted. “It sounds like a temporary thing to me. Maybe he just wants to stay out of your way. You know, let you settle into the house and all.”

  “He told me months ago that once we found our retirement home, we’d celebrate with a cruise to the Caribbean. He hasn’t mentioned that trip since before the closing, and every time I try to bring it up, he changes the subject.” Edna realized she sounded petulant.

  “Maybe he’s planning to surprise you and doesn’t want you to ruin his fun. You know how he loves springing things on you. Remember when he bought you that new car and wrapped up the keys in a jewelry box?”

  Edna thought for a minute, then laughed. “Yes, and wrapped the small box into a bigger box, then wrapped that box inside an even bigger box.”

  It was Starling’s turn to laugh. “When you first unwrapped it, you thought he’d gotten you a new TV.”

  “Inside the TV box was a microwave carton. I was certain he’d bought me a new microwave, something I really didn’t want at the time.” Edna wrinkled her nose in a grimace of mock displeasure.

  “What was the next one?” Starling giggled. “A radio, wasn’t it?”

  “No, it was the packaging for a set of wine glasses, then the radio box, and finally the keys were inside the necklace case. By that time, I was absolutely certain he’d bought me the strand of pearls I’d been hinting for.”

  Edna laughed along with Starling. She felt happier and more relaxed than she had in a long time. She’d been right in deciding on a change of scene, and Starling almost always cheered her up. This weekend, she would forget her worries for a while. “I’m starving,” she said, realizing with some surprise that it was true. “What about that dinner you promised me?”

  Obligingly, Starling headed for the kitchen to start dinner, and Edna set two places at the round dining table in a small alcove at one end of the living room. When she’d finished, she wandered over to look at the new pictures Starling had hung on her “trial” wall.

  Starling owned half of a photography studio. During her off hours, she walked around Boston taking pictures of the city and its people as the mood struck her. She would enlarge what she considered to be the best shots and hang them on one of the whitewashed walls in her living room, which she referred to as her trial wall. The pictures she didn’t tire of were moved to different locations in the apartment or hung in the studio where, more often than not, they sold quickly.

  “When did you hang these?” Edna called over her shoulder as she stood looking at the current display.

  “I assume you’re talking about the pictures I took at Quincy Market last week.” Starling poked her head around the corner. “That was really weird.” She came out of the kitchen to stand beside Edna, pointing at one of the pictures with the t
ip of a carrot. “Some guy stopped me when I was walking through the Market. I wasn’t going to shoot there that day, but he offered me fifty bucks to take some pictures of his brother-in-law, the mime. Said he was on his way to the airport, and his camera was packed. He wanted to surprise his wife and said it was probably as close as she’d ever come to seeing her brother perform in Boston, since they live in Seattle, and she refuses to travel.”

  “You didn’t mention the fact that you make a living at this, did you?” It was a rhetorical question. Edna knew her daughter would have been silently amused.

  Starling laughed. “Fortunately, I had a new roll of film in the camera. I took a bunch of shots and slipped a business card into the canister before giving it to him.” She frowned. “He left in a big hurry. Didn’t even say good-bye to his brother-in-law.” She shrugged and bit the end off the carrot. “Must have been anxious to catch his plane.”

  “Wouldn’t you have liked to see his face when he read your card?”

  “You bet. If he likes my work, maybe he’ll send some business my way.” Starling leaned toward one of the pictures. “After the guy left, I decided to get some black-and-whites of the mime for myself. I’d taken only a few shots before he disappeared, too. I turned my back for a second to get a meter reading off the bricks and when I turned around again, he was gone.” Starling straightened and pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. “The place started filling up, so I hung around for a while. Some of the pictures turned out okay, don’t you think?”

  Edna walked along the wall, looking closer at the photos. All at once, she stopped and leaned forward. “Most peculiar,” she said, squinting at one shot in particular.

  The picture had been taken before the mime left. A low railing separated him from several tables at an outside cafe. From behind the performer, Starling had done a good job of capturing the delight on the faces of his audience. The general pleasure, however, didn’t apply to the table directly in front of him. One woman and two men were scowling at someone who was mostly hidden behind the entertainer.

  “What is most peculiar, Mother? Is that a comment on my work?”

  Edna smiled at her and waved a hand in protest. “Nothing of the kind. As usual, you’ve caught the spirit of the city.” She turned back to the wall and pointed to the glowering woman in the photograph. “What I thought was odd was this picture of my housekeeper.”

  Twelve

  “You’re kidding. Where?” Starling leaned over Edna’s shoulder to see the image of Beverly Lewis frowning at the person hidden by the mime. “Oh, sure. I remember them. I took that shot because everyone else in the crowd was having such a good time, and these people looked like they wanted to kill each other. Some contrast, huh?”

  Edna nodded. “Bev certainly looks angry, doesn’t she?”

  “So, that’s the housekeeper you told me about, the one everyone’s dying to hire?” Starling shuddered. “She doesn’t look like someone I’d want working in my house.”

  “I know it’s hard to believe, seeing her in this picture, but she’s actually quite good-natured. I bet that’s her brother.” Edna pointed to a slight man sitting to Beverly’s left, guessing at the relationship because of the almost identical twisted expressions on their faces. “The man with the moustache doesn’t look at all familiar, and he doesn’t look quite as angry as the other two. Who are they glaring at? Who’s behind the mime?”

  “A woman.” Starling hesitated, speaking slowly and frowning slightly as she recalled the memory of the fourth person at the small outdoor table. “She was wearing huge dark glasses and … and a big, floppy hat,” Starling finished triumphantly as she moved to stand beside her mother. “As I remember, she wore black, all black, except her hatband was bright red, and she had several silver chains around her neck. Quite a stunning woman, actually.” She glanced at Edna. “Is it important?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s just that I’ve never seen this side of Beverly. She’s usually so jovial.”

  “I don’t think any of the pictures of the woman in black came out very well, mostly because that big, floppy hat covered her face. The proof sheets are at the studio, though, if you want to see them.”

  “Maybe I’ll follow you to work before I leave Monday morning. I’ll look at them then. It’s not important enough to make a special trip.” Edna paused and squinted at the picture again before adding, “I am curious, though.”

  Gesturing at the photo, Starling snorted a laugh. “You’re right about one thing. It is pretty weird that I should have a picture of your housekeeper on my wall.” The carrot in her hand must have reminded her of dinner. “Oh, no. The fish!” She raced back to the kitchen.

  Edna followed more slowly and finished making the salad while Starling rescued the almost blackened fish and cooked some rice. When she finally sat down to eat, Edna realized again just how famished she was. Photographs and death were pushed to the back of her mind as she enjoyed the meal and gossiped with her daughter. After dinner, they sat in the living room with a pot of tea and a plate of sliced pound cake on the low table in front of them.

  “What did Dad say about what happened last week?” Starling passed a cup and saucer to Edna before picking up her own and snuggling into the pillows in one corner of the couch.

  Settled into the opposite corner, Edna sipped her drink before replying. She knew Starling was talking about Tom’s death. She hadn’t yet mentioned the police investigation and was reluctant to share her thoughts with her daughter. Savoring the tea gave her time to consider. Finally, she said, “I haven’t told him.”

  “Why not?” Starling looked surprised. “I thought you discussed everything with Dad.”

  Edna sighed, realizing she couldn’t talk about what was bothering her if she hid part of it. Time to ‘fess up, she thought.

  “Mo-om,” Starling wailed her impatience.

  “I haven’t said anything to him because I think, at the moment anyway, the police suspect me of poisoning Tom.”

  “What?” Starling sat bolt upright, sloshing some of the tea into her saucer. “You can’t be serious.”

  Now that she had opened the floodgates, the tight control Edna had kept over her emotions was gone, and a lump bulged in her throat. She coughed it down, not wanting to distress Starling more. “They’re still investigating, but they took samples of my tea mixes and some trash bags filled with clippings from the yew trees in front of the house.”

  “Why does that make you think they suspect you? Wouldn’t that be some sort of procedure they follow?”

  “It’s more of a feeling than anything they said about my being a suspect. You had to have been there.” Edna hesitated, trying to think of how to explain. “I don’t believe they think I did it on purpose, only that I was careless in choosing my ingredients.”

  “When are you going to tell Dad? You’ve got to tell him sometime. Doesn’t he get home tomorrow?”

  “No, not until Wednesday. He’s changed his plans and is flying to Denver to visit Grant for a few days.”

  “I thought you two were going out there for Thanksgiving?”

  “We are, but he was invited to tour a children’s clinic. He said Dr. Isaacs wouldn’t be around during the holidays, so he had to go this week.”

  “Dr. Isaacs?” Starling set her cup on the coffee table and leaned back against the pillows again. “Phyllis Isaacs?” A broad smile lit up her face. “Wow. Dad’s hanging with pretty cool company. Have you met her?”

  “Her? I thought Dr. Isaacs was a he. I thought his name was Phil.”

  “The Dr. Isaacs I know, the one who runs a children’s clinic in Denver, is named Phyllis. Maybe her friends call her Phil. All I know is Jillybean’s pediatrician works with her.”

  Edna couldn’t help smiling at the family’s pet name for her young granddaughter Jillian. Grant’s eight-year-old was a bouncy, energetic child, and Edna thought of a Mexican jumping bean every time she heard the nickname.

  Starling and Grant were the cl
osest of Edna’s four children, in friendship as well as in age. Mathew had been twelve, Diane eight, and Grant fourteen months when Starling was born. It had been like having a second family when the last two came along.

  Five years ago, Grant’s work took him to Denver, and at first Starling seemed lost without her brother and best friend. Now she flew to Colorado at least twice a year to vacation and visit. She had even attended Grant’s second wedding ceremony, a fact that still irked Edna, since she and Albert had heard about the marriage only afterwards.

  Edna realized these wandering thoughts were her way of warding off her unease at Starling’s revelation. Phyllis Isaacs, not Phil. Had Albert purposely misled her? Why would he do that? Does he have something to hide? She didn’t want to think about it right now and switched the conversation back to Starling’s earlier question. “I don’t know when, or what, I’m going to tell your father. First, I need to find out where Tom went and who else he saw that day.”

  “Isn’t that what the police are doing?”

  “Not if they think they’ve already got a reasonable explanation. Just in case, I want to find out for myself.”

  “It sounds like you think he was poisoned on purpose.”

  “Well …” Hesitating, Edna realized the idea had been growing in the back of her mind. “Nobody has come forward to say they’d been with him. If they have nothing to hide, why not come forward?”

  “So, you do think it was deliberate?” Starling’s eyes grew wide.

  “Yes, I believe I do,” Edna said as the thought gelled. What else made sense?

  Starling frowned as she nibbled her lower lip. “Maybe we can try to work it out.” “Saaay …” A quick smile brightened her face. “Remember the game you used to play with Grant and me? You’d begin by saying ‘I’m thinking of something,‘ and you’d give us a word that applied to an object we could all see from where we were sitting. Grant and I would try to guess what it was by asking questions, like ‘Is it bigger than a breadbox?’.”