Raquel Byrnes

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” Levine looked flabbergasted. “We could have been questioning gypsies weeks ago.”

  “I just found out a lot of it recently. At least the candle thing. And that is why Simon went down to the beach. To find out if any of them were involved.”

  “Well, all this is just great. It’s not like they would lie or anything.”

  “So, I have a few questions.” I ignored his slander against the gypsy families and instead took out stationery from the inn on which I’d jotted some questions I couldn’t quite answer.

  “I need to know exactly what happened when the twins…when Lucien drowned.” I took a breath, waiting for him to kick me out, but he sighed instead, almost sorrowful.

  “Her story was that she was sunning herself on the chaise lounge near the lake’s shore while the twins played in the shallow water.”

  “You said ‘story,’ so you don’t buy it, at least on some level?”

  “Well, for starters, it was a strange 9-1-1 call, garbled. When we got there, Amanna was…sleepy? No, that’s not right. She was groggy.”

  “Like she was drunk?”

  “Well, that’s what we thought, and so we did a breathalyzer test right then, but it was negative,” he said. “But still, the strange behavior seemed more than shock. She seemed out of it.”

  “Was she drug tested at the hospital?”

  “She never went there.”

  “What? Her son dies and no one takes her to the hospital?”

  “Well, her daughter was bad off. Apparently Amanna had been able to get to Lavender, but not Lucien, but Lavender had nearly drowned so Amanna went to the hospital in Seattle with her. They flew there. It was my deputy’s call to let her go, and he was dressed down for it. By the time we figured out what was what and got a court order for Amanna’s blood it was two days later.”

  “Plenty of time for her system to metabolize anything.”

  “That’s about right.” He nodded, put his hands up. “There was no evidence at the lake cottage or anywhere else that things didn’t happen exactly like she said. But…”

  “Why the strange behavior. She didn’t have a history of anything like drugs?”

  “Nah.” Levine shook his head. “Amanna and her sister worked in that apothecary since they were kids. The sheriff before me didn’t have any hassle with them and drugs in high school.”

  “But she acted strange enough for you to seek a sample of her blood.”

  “Well, a kid died, Ms. Ryan,” Sheriff Levine said and sighed. “I did everything I could to find out why. Besides, it’s not the first time a woman close to Simon meets a mysterious end.”

  “The girlfriend.” I nodded. “I heard about her accident.”

  The sheriff shrugged. “That’s what they keep saying it is.”

  Pulling the papers in front of him together, he was obviously finished, and as I stared at my list of questions, I realized that I didn’t really know what to ask. The only thing that linked Amanna’s death with what was happening now was Simon’s blackouts. He said he’d had them two years ago and then not again until a month ago. Around the time I came to Noble Island.

  There had to be something significant about the timing, but I couldn’t really see what. There were storms. Lavender was already acting strange, scratching out mouths from pictures, talking about ghost lines. With just Mrs. Tuttle, O’Shay, and Davenport in the house with me. Phillip didn’t show up until weeks later, after all this started.

  “Thank you, Sheriff, for talking with me,” I said.

  “Did you get what you came for?”

  “I…I have to run something by you, but I’m afraid of what you might do with it.”

  “That doesn’t sound good, Ms. Ryan.”

  “It’s just a rumor,” I said, not sure if I should even be telling him. “But I’ve been told that Amanna might have been, uh…unfaithful.”

  He nodded, his lips tight. “I’ve heard that rumor.”

  “You knew?”

  “It’s why I went at Simon so hard for her death. If he knew about it and I could prove it, well, at the time, it would’ve gotten me a lot further. Has Simon said anything to you about it?”

  “No.”

  “Then I guess that whole theory is dead in the water.” Levine shrugged.

  “So you didn’t ever find proof.” I sighed, relieved. “Because I don’t think he knew.”

  “What makes you say that?” He leaned in, his eyes boring into mine. “Did he tell you anything about that night?”

  Cornered, I didn’t know how to answer him without handing him rope to hang Simon. The bell over the door jangled again, and Dr. Fliven stepped in, smiling.

  “Well, hello, Ms. Ryan.” He plopped a manila file on the counter. “Davenport and Phillip just went to pick up Simon. If the storm doesn’t throttle us too early, they might just make it home before it hits.” To the sheriff, he said, “Here is Simon’s hospital record for the police report.”

  “Police report?” I asked. “You’re charging what…the whole gypsy population?”

  “Someone has to account for what’s going on. Poisoning is assault.”

  “The entire clan will get charged if Davenport has any say, I’m sure.” Dr. Fliven shook his head. “Knife fights. I can’t imagine.”

  “I’ll be with you in a minute, Dr. Fliven,” Sheriff Levine said, turning back to me. “I’m talking with Ms. Ryan, here—”

  “Do you happen to have a car?” I asked the doctor. “I got here in that little golf cart, and with the rain coming down so hard now, I was hoping for a ride.”

  “Why, yes, I do. Are you ready?”

  “No—” Sheriff Levine started.

  “Yes,” I said and stepped away from the counter. “Unless there’s a legal reason?”

  Levine glared at me, but shook his head.

  Dr. Fliven eyed us for a moment, but I smiled and stood by the door, so he came over and pulled it open. I walked with him, glancing in at the sheriff as we passed the substation window. He was watching me, a frown on his face. I was so relieved to have a way out of the conversation with him.

  “So, what brings you down here in this weather?” Dr. Fliven asked.

  “I was asking Levine about Amanna’s death, actually.” I watched his face for a reaction.

  His jowly mouth turned down at the corners. “Terrible business, that,” he said. “So glad I didn’t have to perform the autopsy on that poor woman.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Levine brought in an expert from Seattle. Said it was due to Davenport’s pull here on Noble. I understood. Was glad to be rid of the responsibility, to be truthful.” He turned to me and smiled. “You came all the way down here in this weather for that?”

  “I also came to get Mrs. Tuttle’s things,” I said and nodded to the suitcase I was pulling. “She left them at the inn.”

  “Ah.” He pointed to a sedan and took the suitcase from me. He loaded it and pulled the passenger door open for me. “Is she doing OK?”

  “Yes. She says that Tobias is doing well.”

  “Remarkably,” Dr. Fliven said. “In fact, he is doing so well so quickly that I suggest she change his doctor.”

  “If he’s doing so well, why would she do that?” I put my hands to the heater, grateful to be out of the cold. “It’s good that he’s improving, right?”

  “Yes, but this happened before, a couple of years ago. Levine had to call for an airlift when the boy collapsed. I told Mrs. Tuttle if his medicine wasn’t working to such an extent, then his doctor should have changed it. The boy might as well have been taking peppermints for all the good they were doing him.”

  “Well, I’m glad he’s doing well.” I looked at the doctor’s kind face. “Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”

  “Sure.” He pulled onto the road that led to Shadow Bay Hall. “Is it medical?”

  “What would cause someone to have loss of time?” I cringed. I sounded like
an idiot. “I mean, is it possible for someone to have something akin to an alcohol blackout without drinking?”

  “Huh?” he said, his lips twitching. “Well, there are tumors of course.”

  “Let’s set aside anything organic,” I said. “And illicit drugs.”

  “Oh, well, barring those, I’d say that there are some toxins and viruses.” He looked at me. “This is hypothetical? Is Davenport all right, Ms. Ryan?”

  “Yes. He’s fine.” I patted his hand. “It’s for something I’m…researching.”

  “I see. Does this person have any other symptoms? Rashes on the torso, flu-like symptoms, for example?”

  “I would say no.” I tried to remember. The only time I’d seen Simon’s body was on the beach last night, and I was more concerned with the blood. Though, I think I would have noticed a rash. “No other symptoms.”

  “Then I would think it was a drug.”

  “No, no drug use. This person wouldn’t be getting high.” I shook my head. “Nothing like that.”

  “You misunderstand. I meant medication.”

  “Medication? What kind?”

  “Well, anything really, that was meant to alter brain chemistry if taken by a healthy individual would cause adverse reactions.” He pulled into the drive at Shadow Bay. “For instance there are anti-depressants that can cause this, a heart medication that was just yanked from the market. Let’s see, uhm…anti-convulsives, things like that.”

  “And could you accidentally take this and not know it?” I asked, unbuckling.

  “I doubt it. Some of the medication is quite acidic. You would know right away.”

  “Oh,” I said, and the steam went out of me. “Thanks for the ride.

  “I hope I helped you with your research, Ms. Ryan.”

  “Yes.” I pulled the suitcase from the backseat. “Thanks.”

  He nodded, started down the driveway, but stopped and honked. I ran back down.

  “One more thing. Most kids refuse to take the medication so it has to be ground and put in something. Like applesauce or pudding. If that helps.”

  I nodded, blinking the rain from my eyes. Waving, I ran up the steps and pushed through the door. The paper with my questions was drenched, the ink running off the page. I balled it up, disappointed. The house was still; the only sound was the rain beating against the windows. The windows, blurred with slicks of water, framed the trees as they rattled and bent in the wind.

  “Hello?” I peered into the kitchen. “Mrs. Tuttle?”

  A paper on the table caught my eye, and I walked over to read it.

  Cleaning Simon’s cottage for when he comes back. Lavender wanted to come.

  I peered out the window of the side door, but the path wound around a stand of trees, and I couldn’t see the workshop. Tuttle, Davenport, and Phillip all out of the house. I went to my room and pulled off my wet coat, throwing it on the bench seat. Remembering the book I’d taken from Lavender, I pulled open the drawer to grab it. No book. Confused, I tossed my coat and pulled the drawer back as far as it would go. I pulled out all the other drawers in the desk. The book was gone. I sat back on my haunches, worried. Would Lavender have taken it back? I ran to her room and searched under the dresser and nightstands. I flipped up her pillow and searched under the bed. It was nowhere.

  Puzzled, I picked at the bandage on my thumb. I’d cut myself the night before, and the rain unstuck the adhesive. It flopped from one end. I pulled it off, wadding it and putting it in my pocket. The motion made me jolt. I’d done the same thing with the tissue. Running back to my room, I pushed the door in, breath catching. The mortar and pestle sat on my dresser. The one Mrs. Tuttle had given me. I stared at my thumb, realization dawning like a sickness in my gut. I’d wiped the bowl with the tissue and then used the same one to wrap an open cut.

  It wasn’t the tea. It wasn’t the seeds. Tobias’s medication was an anticonvulsive and it wasn’t working.

  He might as well have been taking peppermints.

  Simon and I didn’t have epilepsy. We’d been drugged. And it wasn’t the first time this had happened. All this seemed to mirror the day two years ago when Amanna died. Someone was planning another death. Someone close. Siyah’s warning on the beach echoed through me.

  Who had the most to gain from Amanna’s death? And who would need to keep you from finding out why?

  40

  I shook as I walked to the room, my breath coming in hitches. I had to be wrong. This made no sense. Pushing open the door, I stood in the center of the carpet scanning for something, anything, to prove me wrong. The desk by the window seemed like as good a place as any to start. I pulled open the drawers. Pens and notepads in one, some books in another, none of them what I was looking for. The last one held a bunch of folders. I took them out, leafed through the papers. A bank statement. I pulled it out scanning the expenses for a month ago. Phillip was heavily in debt. Credit cards, loans, all of it pointed to a man desperate for cash.

  I searched the shelves at the far end of the room and my hand closed around a familiar object and swallowed hard. Shoved behind a stack of books was a bottle of Tobias’s medication.

  Shaking, I sat on the bed, my throat closing, making it hard to breathe. It started to fall into place. Their lifelong rivalry. The intimate knowledge of the house and its secret passageways and of Tuttle’s son. Hadn’t he lived here on and off for years? Wouldn’t he…

  “What are you doing?” Phillip’s angry words shook me, and I dropped the bottle of medication. It rattled and bounced between us on the hard wood floor. His gaze followed it, and he looked up at me, eyes wide.

  “You, Rosie? You’ve been doing this?”

  “Me?” I shook my head and picked up the medication bottle, shaking it at him. “I found this in your room, Phillip.”

  “Yes, well, from my point of view, I just caught you trying to plant that in my room.”

  “Someone has been drugging Simon. The same person who did it two years ago to cause his first blackouts.”

  “He’s having blackouts?” Phillip’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “For how long?”

  “Don’t change the subject,” I cut in. “The point was to make him think he had something to do with her death, but I know he couldn’t have done it. Not in that condition. I’ve suffered one of these episodes myself and there’s no way…”

  “Rosie, what are you talking about?” Phillip took a step forward, reached for me.

  “Stop—stop right there,” I half yelled. “Don’t come any closer.” I shook with the realization that he and I were alone. At almost a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier, I was not much of a match for him.

  “Whoa…just calm down.” He put his hands up in a surrendering motion. “I’m just as lost as you are.”

  “Did you have an affair with Amanna?” I blurted. “Did you kill her?”

  Phillip staggered back as if hit.

  “N — No…” He shook his head. “Why would you think that?”

  I looked behind him, at the empty hall. “Where’s Mrs. Tuttle?”

  “I have no idea.” He took a step towards me.

  “She was here this morning.” I edged back, eyes flitting for an escape route. “L-Lavender is supposed to leave today. Mrs. Tuttle should be packing her suitcases for her.”

  “Why don’t you have a seat, and we can talk about this?”

  “I want to go, Phillip.” My breath caught when he stepped in my path.

  “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.” Phillip’s expression was unreadable and sent a chill up my spine.

  He moved fast, but I was already jumping onto the bed. I ran across the mattress, his hand just brushing my blouse.

  “Rosie, wait!”

  He lunged again, barely missing me as I slid through the door and down the hallway. I ran into a pedestal with a vase and grabbed the vessel by the neck. I swung it as he came at me, connecting with his temple with a solid thud. Phillip crumpled on the spot, a surprised gasp esc
aping his lips.

  I stood over him, shaking from head to toe as I tried to understand what just happened. Help. I needed help. Who…Levine. I needed to call the sheriff. Panic began to stir, crowding out thoughts. Simon’s workshop would be safe. I could go there. Lock myself in and wait for the sheriff. With any luck, he’d get here before Phillip came to. A moan escaped his lips making up my mind for me. I had to get out of the house.

  I ran downstairs. I reached the kitchen, flew through the side door, running down the path in the pouring rain. I slipped, righted myself, rounded the tree line and stopped, panting. The lights of the cottage were on, the door ajar. Hesitating, I flattened myself against the wall, my thoughts racing. I had to see inside first. I slid as quietly as I could towards the wire mesh window. Taking a breath, I rose slowly until the room came into view.

  A familiar form stood in the center of the workshop, hat in hand. Relief flooded through me.

  “Sheriff,” I cried and rushed into the room. “Sheriff. He—he’s up there.”

  “What happened to you?” Levine led me to the small table in the kitchen. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I…Phillip…I found a—”

  “Just slow down now,” Levine said and took the seat opposite me. “What is going on?”

  “I think Phillip did something to Simon.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I, he’s upstairs, knocked out. I hit him with a vase.” I squeezed the bottle in my hand and Levine’s gaze wandered to what I was holding.

  “Did he do that something to Simon with that?”

  “Yes, its Tobias’s medication. I think he’s been using it to drug Simon.”

  Levine took the bottle with a handkerchief and held it up to the light. “So this has been causing all the problems, has it?”

  “Yes. And I think he is trying to kill Simon.” I told Levine about the financial papers and the debt. “And he’s always been so jealous of Simon. Always wanted his life. I think…I think he may have killed Amanna.”