Bloodroot

by Cynthia Riggs

  “Davina’s favorite treat in the whole wide world. Thank you, Charlotte.” Jane seated herself in the armchair set at a right angle to the couch.

  A large wooden bowl on the glass-topped coffee table held a collection of whelk shells, most of them broken and showing the glistening peach-colored spiral inside the shell.

  Charlotte reached toward the bowl, but before touching the shells she looked up and asked, “May I?”

  “Of course. They’re just shells that Davina and I picked up beachcombing. As children we always called them conchs.”

  “I believe that’s another name for them. Both are correct.” Charlotte picked one of the broken shells out of the bowl and turned it over, studying the intricate whorl. “I’ve never thought of displaying the broken ones like this. I’m going to copy your idea.” She glanced up. “I hope you don’t mind. They make a beautiful display.”

  “Not at all. I’m flattered.”

  “Abigail and I had a nice chat on the phone. I understand she’s from Jamaica and has been with you for twenty-five years.”

  “Ever since I was born,” said Jane.

  “She has that lovely Jamaican accent.”

  “She’ll be bringing out our tea things in a few minutes.”

  “I can’t tell you how delighted I was to have you invite me to your house,” said Charlotte. “Horace doesn’t like to mix work and home. A matter of professionalism, he says. As a result, I know very few of the people who work with him.”

  “You heard about the death of one of his patients earlier this week?” Jane paused a moment, thinking about Mrs. Wilmington. “I was the technician who was helping the woman’s dentist.”

  “Oh, my dear. How horrible for you. Something you’ll never be able to forget, I imagine.”

  “No. Never.” Jane shuddered. “Later the same day, our receptionist drowned.”

  “What an eerie coincidence.” Charlotte ran her fingers along the smooth inside of the broken shell. “I heard about the two deaths on the local news. Not until after friends called to ask why the ambulance was at the clinic.” She leaned forward and replaced the shell fragment in the bowl. “Horace keeps too much bottled up. He never said a word about the death. Two deaths.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I don’t understand that man.”

  Running through Jane’s mind was the thought, how was she going to break the news to Mrs. Mann? Perhaps a glass or two of wine might help. “I know I said tea, Charlotte, but this seems like the kind of afternoon for wine. Would you care for a glass?”

  Charlotte smiled, erasing the image of unremarkable with a smile that gave her warmth and a sudden beauty. “Indeed, I would.”

  “Red or white?”

  “Either, but a slight preference for red if you have a bottle already opened.”

  “Red it is.”

  From the kitchen came Abigail’s voice. “Two glasses of Merlot poured and on the way.” She brought in a tray with partially filled glasses, a bottle of Napa Valley Merlot, and an assortment of tea sandwiches on dark pumpernickel, light rye, and thin white bread. She was dressed in one of her customary muumuus, this one with a print of tropical leaves and red, yellow, and blue macaws. She was barefoot.

  “Cheese and ham, cream cheese and olive, watercress, tuna salad, and egg salad,” said Abigail.

  “Oh, my,” said Charlotte, glancing up at the tray. “All favorites. You must have known I’d skipped lunch.”

  “Put some meat on your bones,” said Abigail. Before she went back to the kitchen she looked out the wide back window. “Baby’s still happy out there.”

  “I’ve been watching her play with such pleasure,” said Charlotte.

  “You have children, I understand.” This is not the right time for the announcement, thought Jane.

  “Two rambunctious boys, eight and eleven. They grow up fast.”

  They touched glasses and helped themselves to one sandwich after another. Their conversation ranged from the weather to Island politics and began to edge into the personal.

  “I’m so glad you called.” Charlotte smiled. “Rather, that Abigail called.”

  “I have to apologize for not being the one to call you. I’m not good on the phone,” said Jane.

  “I can understand that. I feel the same way. Afraid I’ll interrupt someone in the midst of dinner or a family fight or as they’re rushing to catch the ferry.”

  Outside, Davina was running a toy truck around the railroad ties that bordered her sandbox. She tossed the truck down and stood up.

  Jane rose from her chair, but Abigail was already out of the kitchen. “I’ll bring her in. Wipe the sand off her first, clean her up for company.”

  “She has such lovely hair. That red gold is an unusual color. Did she get that from your husband?”

  This was it. “She did get it from her father,” said Jane, “but I’m not married.”

  “Oh,” said Charlotte. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

  Abigail carried Davina in. The little girl was clapping her hands together, and as she did, sand sprinkled onto the floor. “I’ll give her a quick wash so she’s presentable,” said Abigail, heading past them and into the bathroom.

  Charlotte took a sip of her wine and set the glass down. “A lot of women these days are opting to have their children without getting married. Sometimes I wish it had been that way years ago.”

  “Charlotte,” said Jane, sitting forward in her chair. She could feel sweat trickling down her back. “I invited you because I wanted you to meet Davina.”

  “I’m so glad. She’s lovely, Jane.”

  “I’m afraid I have something to tell you that’s not easy for me and is going to be difficult for you.”

  Charlotte gazed steadily at Jane. “I have a feeling I know what you’re about to tell me.”

  Jane swallowed. She looked down at her hands.

  “You’re about to tell me who fathered Davina, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re afraid the news will destroy a fine friendship that has just budded.”

  “Yes.”

  “My husband, the louse, is the father, right?

  “Yes.”

  “Well, fathering your baby is the only good thing that bastard has done lately.” She turned to Jane. “You must wonder why I’m not upset.”

  Jane nodded.

  “Or surprised,” Charlotte added. “Well, I’m not. I’ve put up with his dalliances too long. I hurt for you and what he put you through.”

  Jane glanced down. “I have my Davina.”

  Both women stood. Charlotte went around the coffee table, her arms out to Jane.

  When Abigail came in with a clean, dry Davina in a pretty flowered dress, the two were embracing.

  “Mama?” said Davina, holding her arms out to both of them.

  CHAPTER 14

  By the time Casey arrived, Elizabeth had changed out of her uniform into jeans and T-shirt. She poured coffee and set sugar and cream on the cookroom table.

  “Thanks.” Casey sat and stirred sugar into her coffee. “Victoria still lying down? What did she have done?”

  “Dr. Demetrios extracted a wisdom tooth this afternoon.”

  Casey laughed. “At ninety-two your grandmother is teething?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “Sharks grow twenty or thirty thousand teeth in a lifetime.”

  “Thanks for that information.” Casey checked her watch. “Your ex should be here in a half hour or so.”

  “What do you want me to do when he gets here?”

  “Nothing. Go upstairs. I’ll handle Lockwood.”

  A half hour passed.

  A helicopter whirred overhead, the sound of its rotor fading off toward the town center. Casey checked her watch. “That reminds me, I’ve got to get back to work before too much longer. We’re going to hear a lot of noise overhead for the next several days.”

  Elizabeth poured more coffee.

  Three-quarters of an hour passed. “Elizabeth, I g
otta go. You can’t believe the amount of paperwork involved in this visit.”

  “Yes, I can,” said Elizabeth. “We’re working double shifts at the harbor.”

  Junior called. “Any word, Chief?”

  “Nothing,”

  “Where is he?” Elizabeth asked.

  “He’s playing some kind of game.” Casey stirred another spoonful of sugar into her third cup of coffee. “I’ll stay another fifteen minutes, then I’ve got to leave.”

  Fifteen minutes later, as the chief was at the door about to leave, Victoria came downstairs, looking almost like herself again, and wearing her worn gray corduroy pants and the heavy Canadian sweater she liked.

  “Isn’t it kind of warm for that sweater?” asked Casey.

  “I was a little chilly.”

  They started back to the cookroom.

  “How’s the missing tooth, Victoria?”

  “It’ll be fine in a day or two.”

  “Would you like some ice cream, Gram?” Elizabeth asked from the kitchen. “It might soothe your jaw.”

  “That sounds just right.”

  “I really gotta get back to work, Victoria, but I have some information for you.” Casey set her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Smalley faxed me the results of the autopsy.”

  Victoria held a hand to her swollen cheek.

  “Don’t you want to put ice on that?”

  “In a bit. What about the autopsy?”

  “Arsenic. More than enough to account for her death.”

  “Arsenic,” said Victoria.

  “Were you aware of any odor when you were at the dentist’s the other day?” Casey sat back again.

  “She had vomited and obviously soiled herself. Those were the prevailing odors. I’m not sure arsenic has a smell.”

  Elizabeth returned with the ice cream. “What about arsenic?”

  “Mrs. Wilmington’s death was not caused by a dental procedure,” said Victoria. “It was arsenic.”

  Elizabeth handed her the ice cream and a cloth napkin full of crushed ice. “How does one get hold of it?”

  “Easily, if you know where to look.” Victoria held the ice pack against her cheek. “For instance, farmers used to put out arsenic to kill the rats in their barns, and there are still old barns around that probably have containers of arsenic. When I was a girl, stores sold it without thinking much about it. Women used products containing arsenic as a cosmetic or skin whitener.”

  “Did your grandmother hear about the call?” asked Casey.

  Victoria readjusted the ice-pack napkin. “What call?”

  “Your former grandson-in-law is back.”

  “Lockwood? He’s on the Island?”

  “He said he was on the ferry and I could expect him in an hour,” said Elizabeth. “That was almost two hours ago.”

  Casey looked at her watch. “He’s playing his games.”

  “I always got along well with Lockwood,” said Victoria. “I feel sorry for him. He’s probably just going through a difficult time. He’s an intelligent, well-educated, and clever man.”

  “Yeah,” said Casey. “Heard it all.”

  “Gram, he’s definitely intelligent and clever. Also, he’s scary.” Elizabeth traced a finger around a worn spot on the tablecloth. “When we met in college he was a wonderful, bright, funny guy. He began to change shortly after we got married.” She looked up. “It happened so gradually I didn’t notice at first. We were broke. Had trouble paying our bills. Both of us worked. He had a job that had a lot of prestige, but didn’t pay much.” She looked over at her grandmother. “He started using profanity a lot. I figured he was under pressure from the job. Then he began telling me what a lousy wife I was and how stupid I was. I sort of believed him because I can be kind of sloppy. Figured with all the pressure he was under, I ought to be a better wife.”

  “That’s the way it starts,” said Casey. “Did you try to get help for him?”

  “He wouldn’t hear of it. Everything was my problem, according to him. My fault.”

  Casey nodded. “Yup.”

  “The first time he hit me I was astonished. He wasn’t brought up to be a violent man. He was terribly apologetic, talked about all the pressure he was under. I figured everything would be okay, he’d never do it again.”

  “Heard it all,” Casey said again. “The victim accepts the apology, figures it won’t happen again. Blames herself. The perp realizes he can get away with a smack or two. Even a beating. First thing you know, someone ends up dead.”

  “It’s difficult to imagine such an intelligent man losing control like that,” said Victoria.

  “He doesn’t lose control,” said Casey. “He’s definitely in control. Violence is how he stays in control.”

  “The second time he hit me, I left.”

  Victoria reached out and put a sympathetic hand over Elizabeth’s.

  “You said he wasn’t brought up to be violent,” said Casey. “What was his family like?”

  “Ordinary, well-educated people. His mother and I didn’t get along, but I figured that was a typical mother-in-law–daughter-in-law relationship.”

  “Did he like his mother?”

  Elizabeth shook her head.

  “Did he ever tell you why?”

  Elizabeth looked down at her hands. “He told me one time when we were first dating that his mother liked to play doctor with him. She’d keep him home from school when he had the slightest sniffles.”

  “Whoa,” said Casey. “I’m no psychologist, but a grown-up stepping over boundaries with a little kid can do a job on the kid that screws him or her up for life.”

  “Adults do terrible damage to children when they don’t respect their personal boundaries,” said Victoria. “I can only feel sorry for poor Lockwood.”

  “Poor Lockwood, yeah, but he’s not your problem to deal with.” Casey turned back to Elizabeth. “You’re property. He owns you. By leaving, you stole his property. He intends to get it back.”

  Victoria set the ice pack aside.

  “That’s the way it is, Victoria. Don’t go getting all sympathetic about the guy. Who knows what he has in mind now.” Casey stood and hitched up her utility belt. “I’ve really gotta go. If he shows up, Elizabeth, give me a call. Twenty-four hours a day. I’ll try to have one of my cops keep an eye on your drive, but we’re short-handed.”

  “Lockwood and I always got along,” said Victoria. “I’ll be glad to talk to him.”

  “You’re not listening to me, Victoria. No way.” Casey slapped her hand on the table. “This is not a normal man with troubles. This is one bright and very scary and very sick puppy.”

  CHAPTER 15

  On the ferry coming over to the Island Lockwood had just disconnected his call to Elizabeth, when an attractive woman stopped at his table in the lunchroom.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  He looked up. “Please do.” She was tall and heavier than he liked, but attractive, wearing an interesting tunic top with an Asian pattern in shades of yellow and brown. Lockwood graciously moved aside the newspaper he’d been reading to make room for whatever she intended to occupy herself with during the forty-five-minute voyage.

  He hadn’t intended to converse with her. He was thinking of Elizabeth’s reaction to his call and was anticipating his next move. He’d wait until she and Victoria left the house and then he’d plant a small trophy in a private place that Elizabeth might not come across for days. He’d done that before.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you?” The woman broke into his reverie. “I’ve been off Island for a dental appointment.”

  Lockwood looked up with a start but recovered rapidly. “Not something you enjoyed, I’m sure. Don’t you have an Island dentist?”

  “It’s a long story,” she replied, looking out the window. The ferry was passing through the channel between Woods Hole and Nonamesset, the closest island of the Elizabeth Island chain. The green buoy off to starboard was heeled over and bobbed i
n the swift current. He could see the dazzling blue water of Vineyard Sound beyond and the unmistakable outline of Martha’s Vineyard.

  He belonged there. Elizabeth had stolen Martha’s Vineyard from him. With an effort, he controlled the rage he felt.

  “Do you live on the Island?” His voice was tight but she didn’t seem to notice.

  She shook her head. No makeup, thank goodness. Natural. Blond hair worn long and loose. The way Elizabeth should wear hers. Elizabeth knew he preferred long hair but she insisted on cutting it short so she looked almost like a boy. What sort of woman was that?

  “No, I don’t live here. I’m just visiting,” said the woman. He’d forgotten that he’d asked her a question. “My grandmother died and I’m here for her funeral.”

  “My condolences,” said Lockwood, thinking about Victoria. “Was her death unexpected?”

  The woman laughed, unnerving him. “You could say that,” she said. “She died in the dentist’s chair. That explains why I went to an off Island dentist.”

  Lockwood stared at her and said the first thing that came to him. “A mistake by the dentist?” Then realized that was probably an insensitive thing to say, and added, “A heart attack I suppose.”

  “Arsenic,” said the woman, smiling.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “One of my brothers called while I was at the dentist’s to tell me the autopsy results. She died of arsenic poisoning.”

  Lockwood almost choked. He looked down at his newspaper. Looked out the window at the whitecaps on the sound. Martha’s Vineyard had gone from a blue silhouette on the horizon to a palette of greens and browns. Lighter dots marked houses.

  He avoided looking at the woman. A grandmother murdered. And this woman sitting at the table with him actually smiled.

  “By the way, my name is Heather,” she said.