by Leslie Leigh
Melissa and Brian ate breakfast in a small diner. Brian had sausage and biscuits, and Melissa had her favorite tamale breakfast with eggs and pico de gallo. Melissa knew of some shops they could browse between Nogales and Rancho Rio while they waited for The Flying Pig to open.
As they were shopping for Mexican leather sandals, Melissa’s cell phone rang. It was Mr. Corbin asking if she had found out any more about the loan.
“I haven’t, Mr. Corbin, but I do know that Kim found his will, and it leaves all of his collection to her, minus the seven he sold Mr. Davis. The brother doesn’t figure into it as far as the collection is concerned.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“I also think I may be able to arrange something that will give you a more definitive timeline regarding the collection. Also, I should be able to work it out so you can see the rest of the collection late afternoon or early evening today.”
“How about first thing in the morning?” he requested. “That will give me better light.”
“I can arrange that.”
“Thank you so much, Ms. Michaelson.”
“Please, it’s Melissa.”
“Thank you, Melissa,” he said.
“What do you think you can arrange as far as a more definitive timeline?” Brian asked.
“I was just thinking. Since Mr. Davis admits that payments were made, but we don’t know how much, and there seems to be no records on either side other than the original agreement, why couldn’t her lawyer send a letter to Mr. Davis stating that the twelve-thousand will be paid in full before December 31st?”
“How could he guarantee that?”
“Once Corbin sees the rest of the collection, he can give some kind of valuation. The thirty-one pieces alone, he has suggested, are worth around ten million.”
“Ten million? So sad.”
“Why is that sad?”
“Ten-million dollars might have made Jim James a happier man.”
“Might is the operative word, Brian. I strongly suspect his work may have been revealed by the belladonna, but those images came from deep inside him. I would say that’s small compensation for what he put Kim through. I think we don’t, and never will, know the half of it.”
They arrived at The Flying Pig.
“This could be awkward,” Melissa said before they got out. “If Derek’s there, how am I going to talk to Debbie without him hearing or without raising his suspicions?”
“I don’t know that you can do it without raising his suspicions, but how about I engage him in conversation, and you and Debbie slip out to the side of the building or something?”
“How are you going to engage the man? He wouldn’t even shake your hand last time.”
“Trust me. I think I can come up with a subject that will not only interest him but make him dance a little.”
“A happy dance?”
“Definitely not.”
They got out and went inside. This time Debbie smiled, acknowledging their presence and gestured for them to sit. As last time, the place was completely empty except for her and Derek.”
They surprised Debbie by sliding into the same booth where she was folding the flatware into the napkins, Melissa first.
Melissa smiled, and Brian got up again.
“Mr. Winslow!” he said, heading toward the back. Melissa saw Derek pause like a mad dog might just before he laid into someone.
“Debbie,” Melissa said, keeping her voice low, “can we talk outside?”
Debbie nodded, and they both scooted out of the booth and headed out the door.
“Where you goin’, Debbie?” Derek called.
“Just outside with Melissa for a minute.”
He said nothing further, and they walked out. Melissa indicated she wanted to go around to the side of the building, and Debbie led the way. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and leaned with her back to the wall.
“I don’t know how long Derek will let you be out here without having a cow, so I’m going to come straight to the point. Were you in a relationship with Jim James?”
She looked away from Melissa, blowing smoke up and over their heads.
“I slept with him a few times.”
“A few times?”
“More than I wanted to.”
“What does that mean? Did he coerce you?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Go on.”
“Apparently, he has had a thing for Jim’s wife for quite a while.”
“He, who?”
“Derek.”
“Okay…did she know this?”
“I have no idea. But Derek asked me to sleep with Jim hoping that he would fall for me, and he could have Kimmie.”
Wow. Of all the things Melissa could have imagined, this wasn’t one of them.
“So…?”
“So, Jim didn’t fall for me. I kept telling Derek that Jim James was too in love with himself to be in love with me, but it fell on deaf ears. The whole thing was pretty eff’d up.”
“Was that all there was to it?”
“No. Somehow he had had Jim on a string for a couple of years. He had something big over Jim’s head, apparently.” She took another drag on her cigarette. “It was kind of sick to see.”
“Sick in what way?”
“As in cruel.”
“He would dangle tidbits in front of Jim and then blindside him with something else.”
“How?”
“I’m pretty sure he was giving him money, and they had this weird agreement. You remember how I told you that Jim liked the flavored vodka?”
Melissa nodded.
“Well, every night, whoever the bartender was, Derek, Scott, or sometimes me, there was a standing order that the bartender would save the last two fingers of any flavored vodka we had emptied that night. I would walk him out to his truck and hand it to him, telling him to keep it under the seat. It’s really a miracle he never got stopped. James would put it in his juice the next morning—a hair of the dog kind of thing.”
“Hmm…what was James’s favorite flavor?”
Debbie shrugged. “He liked them all.”
“Was James here the night before he died?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure.”
“Did he take a bottle home that night?”
“I don’t honestly know. I wasn’t here that night, but he always did.”
“Do you know who was bartending?”
“As far as I know, it was Derek. He was the one on the schedule, and the one I talked to when I called in.”
“Thanks, Debbie. I really appreciate you talking to me.”
“No problem,” she said.
They went back inside, and Melissa was about to sit down when Brian came up from the back and gestured that they were leaving. Melissa gave him a questioning look, as they got to the car.
Brian said nothing until they were in the car backing out. “That man is the biggest whack-job I’ve ever seen. He’s stubborn as hell, too.”
“I can see that he has you riled. I’ve never seen you like that.”
“Well, I’m pleased that your conversation with Debbie was short.”
“Wish we knew what flavor James took home with him the night before he died.”
“I do know. My friend that I called about the bottles sent me a copy of the lab report. It was black raspberry, and the bottle was tainted with the belladonna.”
Melissa nodded, pleased with herself. “Perfect,” she said, “because that would be just about the color of belladonna tincture. Aaaaand, Derek Winslow had motive to kill Jim James.”
Brian whipped his head toward her.
She nodded. She told him about Derek’s secret crush on Kimmie and about Derek coercing Debbie to sleep with Jim in hopes of drawing his attention away from Kim.
“Did it?”
“Debbie said Jim’s attention was on nobody but himself, so Derek’s plan didn’t work.”
“Okay. So, we might have a motive, but Derek wasn�
��t there to push or prod Jim out the window, and we have no connection to the belladonna.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m guessing that we would find that the fingerprints belong to Winslow.”
“That’s going to be a harder sell to the sheriff, and I’m sure Winslow isn’t going to volunteer his prints.”
“Of course. The sheriff would rather suspect wives and mothers-in-law than any of his fine, upstanding businessmen.”
When they arrived back in Catalonia, they went to the market where they found Kim working with Vivian.
“Hi!” Kim said, brightly. “Mom’s fingerprinting didn’t take as long as we thought, and it eliminated her as the suspect.”
“Great!” It was good news, but it belied her agitation. “Kim,” Melissa said. “Will you walk with me to my house?”
“Sure,” Kim said, quizzically, putting down the rag with which she had been dusting.
“And, with that,” Brian said, turning toward the counter and leaning on it, watching Melissa and Kim walk away, “I’d like a coffee and one of Flora’s muffins.”
“Coming right up,” Vivian said.
Before Melissa and Kim were very far down the street, the bell over the door rang, announcing Miss Ada’s entrance.
“For the love of Pete,” Miss Ada said, “the things you hear in this town.”
Everybody’s ears pricked up at this. There was little doubt that Miss Ada was always a source of the most esoteric information about the people of Catalonia.
“What can I get for you, Miss Ada, and what did you hear?” Vivian asked.
“You’re asking, Vivian? I thought you were above gossip.”
Flora came out of the kitchen upon hearing Ada’s voice. “Go on, Ada,” she said. “You know I want to hear it.”
“Did you know that place out there in the desert—out in Rancho Rio—has some kind of private men’s club going on?”
“Yes,” Brian spoke up. “Some kind of lodge?”
“Hmph,” she said. “A lot you know. A blind pig, if you ask me.”
“A blind pig—a speakeasy? Why would you say that? It’s been a long time since prohibition, Miss Ada,” Brian said.
“What’s prohibited is what they add to the cocktails. Didn’t Melissa just treat Charlie Munson last week?”
“I couldn’t say,” Flora responded.
“His wife said she did. He’d been over there to The Flying Pig the night before. Melissa gave him something for belladonna poisoning.”
Brian’s eyebrows went up. He had forgotten Melissa mentioning that.
# # #
“Kimmie…Kim,” Melissa began, “the night that Derek Winslow came to your house. Did he come to see Jim, or to see you?”
Kim immediately looked away from Melissa. The color rose in her face, and Melissa could see that her cheeks were burning.
“I’m sorry, Melissa. I didn’t want anyone to know. He came to see me one night when he knew Jim was at The Flying Pig.”
Melissa just kept silent so that Kim would go on.
“He told me about Jim and Debbie. He told me that Jim didn’t love me anymore but that he—Derek—did.”
“How did you react to that?”
“I didn’t know how to react. It made sense—the part about Jim, I mean. He was gone every night. I knew there had to be more to it than just drinking.”
“But you were afraid to ask.”
She nodded her head slowly.
“Did you sleep with Derek?”
Kim jerked her head toward Melissa. “No! How could you even ask me that?”
“He seems to have some pretty powerful sway over some people.”
“He…he scared me. I was afraid I would say the wrong thing and that he would hurt me.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I said that as long as Jim was alive—” Her eyes flew open, immediately filling with tears. “Oh, god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.” She buried her face in her hands.
Melissa took a hold of Kim’s wrists, gently, and tipped Kim’s chin so that she was looking at her. Melissa wanted to say something, say anything to make it all better, but there was nothing she could say right now. She just held Kim while she cried.
After a few minutes, Melissa picked up her phone and called Brian. “Call the sheriff and tell them they need to pick up Derek Winslow.”
Brian didn’t even ask questions; he simply did as she requested.
Chapter 17
Derek Winslow did nothing at his arrest other than invoke his right to an attorney. As soon as his fingerprints were taken and checked against the database, they matched the partial on the belladonna bottle.
After talking with Miss Ada and Charlie Munson, the sheriff and his deputies raided the club behind The Flying Pig. They found a veritable witch’s brew of illegal substances and a doctor’s name on the roster who was most likely the supplier.
The interesting thing was that they weren’t your standard run-of-the-mill street drugs, rather, substances like opium, nightshade, and absinthe. Melissa heard that it was called “Poet’s Club,” which was funny when one considered who was on the membership roster.
Brian got off the phone after talking to the prosecutor’s office. “They’re not sure what all they’re charging him with at the moment. His intent was to kill, but there’s little precedence for leading someone to kill themselves. It will probably be attempted murder. But you needn’t worry, with all that the sheriff found at the club, he and his doctor friend will be going away for a long, long time—transporting illegal substances from Mexico to the U.S. is a federal crime.”
“I just hope he doesn’t come back to haunt Kim at a later time.”
“My hope is that you can help her, Melissa. This girl is facing a lot of self-recrimination.”
“I have to believe that I and others can help her. Ten-plus million dollars will buy a lot of therapy.”
“How is that working out?”
“The lawyer sent a letter to the brother telling him of Kim’s entitlement to the entire estate but said that it was likely that Kim would agree to give him a portion. I guess she also had the lawyer tell him that she wanted to meet him.”
Brian just raised his eyebrows at that.
“As far as Mr. Davis is concerned, since Kim has agreed to sell Mr. Corbin the entire collection, he is going to advance her one-hundred-thousand dollars. That will allow her to pay Mr. Davis in full. Between that amount and what Mr. Corbin will give him for his seven paintings, he may not get the millions he desired, but he’ll be very well off.”
“Did anybody ever find George Hall?”
“Yes. It seems he left just before Jim’s death and knew nothing about it. He was visiting a dying family member and when that was over, he was able to immediately claim an antique which the family member had long-since promised him. He liquidated it and took a trip to Europe. He is due back at the end of November.”
Brian chuckled. “Lucky for him, the collection will have been carted off to L.A. by then, and he’ll never have to see the paintings again.”
“Yes,” Melissa said, “that will be very good news for George. Now, I have one last question. Did we ever solve the mystery of how the empty belladonna bottle got into the truck?”
“I can solve two mysteries in one with that one. Winslow substituted two-hundred milliliters of belladonna for the usual flavored vodka which Jim poured into his juice and drank all at once. Then, so that no one would find the empty bottle to pin on him, instead of trashing it, he wiped it clean, well, almost clean, and tossed it through the open passenger window in Jim’s truck.
It was also Winslow who broke into their apartment. He was looking for any other bottles that he might have given Jim in the past which could be traced to him. He was so careful to wear gloves that time, completely forgetting that the night he went to see Kim, he left his prints in several different places.”
# # #
The art opening had been truly grand. It was odd, after Meli
ssa had been privy to so many complaints to the town council regarding Jim’s work, to hear the citizens of Catalonia going on about “the eccentric and exquisite Jim James” and his work.
Melissa and Kim didn’t stay long. Kim was happy he was finally getting his due, but seeing the installation and hearing the things people were saying was a bit too much for her.
As they walked past the signage for the event, they stood and looked at it. Yes, Melissa thought, it couldn’t have been more aptly named. “Narcissus and Nightshade: The Life of James Michael James.”
~~~
OBLIVION and OLEANDER
Chapter 1
The heat was humid and oppressive, as Melissa unlocked the door to Melissa B’s Market and stepped into the slightly cooler interior. Flora had been baking for a couple of hours, and although the ovens were off now, the heat remained. At least the air conditioning would cool it off fairly quickly once it had the chance. However, it was only eight in the morning.
It was promising to be a productive monsoon season, but the tremendous buildup of heat and humidity in the days before made people long for the relief brought by the thunderstorms. The green, lush renewal of the land would be a welcome reward for the long hot summer, but it was difficult to remind oneself of that fact when it was 104 degrees with 78% humidity.
Melissa had seen a promise of fifty-percent chance of rain that day when she had looked at the weather on her computer before leaving the house, which for Catalonia meant it was highly likely they would see a nice storm before the day was out.
Flora greeted her with a big smile even though she must have been uncomfortably warm. Her apron and cotton dress clung to her and one curl had pasted itself in the middle of her forehead.
“I tried something new today, Melissa,” Flora said. “I thought perhaps the flagging pastry sales could use a boost.” People tended to buy cold drinks, iced coffee and tea, at this time of year, so traditional pastries didn’t fare so well. Deep lavender meringues with flecks of real lavender were piled high on a plate, surrounded by bite-sized chocolate cream puffs.
“Oh, Flora, those are perfect!” Melissa said. “Those should catch everybody’s eye. I can almost taste that cool cream center on my tongue.”