Laced with Poison

by Meg London

  “But what?” Arabella sat up slightly straighter. “It’s best to tell us everything, then we can decide on a course of action. I can always speak to Francis if need be.”

  Bitsy heaved a sigh and stretched her long legs out in front of her. “Jessica and I actually knew each other in college.”

  “UT? University of Tennessee?”

  Bitsy nodded. “We were both rushing the same sorority, Phi Mu. There was only one spot open, and we both wanted it. Jessica’s mother had been a Phi Mu and her grandmother before her.”

  “She told us that,” Emma said.

  Arabella nodded. “At least twice, I’m quite certain.”

  “I certainly didn’t have any such illustrious heritage.” Bitsy rolled her eyes. “My parents didn’t even go to college, and they weren’t particularly keen on my joining a sorority for fear I wouldn’t fit in with all those snobby girls, as they always called them.” She sighed again. “I don’t know if you remember it or not, but around that time there was a case involving a man named Gerald Palmer—same last name as mine but absolutely no relation—who was wanted for embezzling a huge amount of money from some charity.” Bitsy paused and had a sip of her tea. She closed her eyes and let out a huge breath. “Well, Jessica started a rumor that that man—Gerald Palmer—was my father. He wasn’t, but it didn’t matter. She was voted in, and I wasn’t.”

  “Oh!” Arabella half rose to her feet in indignation.

  “What a dirty deed!” Sylvia exclaimed.

  “It was, wasn’t it? She apparently thought it was perfectly fair in order for her to get what she wanted.”

  “But that’s terrible,” Sylvia said. “I mean it’s terrible that she did that to you, but right now, the bad news is”—Sylvia shifted around in her seat—“it makes you prime suspect number one as they say on those cop shows.”

  “I know.” Bitsy hung her head.

  “You know what I would like to know?” Arabella turned toward Bitsy. “Where do those flowers come from anyway? The ones you put on your cupcakes.”

  Bitsy shot a panicked glance at Emma and bit her lip before answering. “They come from Liz Banning’s garden.”

  “Liz, did you say?” Arabella put a hand to her ear.

  Bitsy nodded.

  “Our Liz?” Arabella turned to Emma for confirmation. “Liz Banning?”

  Bitsy nodded again, her mouth pulled down into a frown.

  “Oh dear!” Arabella jumped and tea sloshed out of her glass and down the front of her dress.

  “We’ve got to warn Liz.” Emma grabbed her purse and began digging for her cell. “Did you tell the police the flowers came from her?”

  “I had to.” Bitsy’s tone was apologetic. “They asked me. I couldn’t lie.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” Arabella got up from her seat and went to put her arm around Bitsy’s shoulders. “They would have found out anyway.”

  “We’ve got to warn Liz,” Emma repeated as she upended her purse and dumped the contents onto the counter. She grabbed her phone and began punching in Liz’s number. Suddenly she stopped abruptly.

  “It might be better if I drove out there and talked to her in person.” She looked to Arabella for approval.

  “I think that would be very wise, dear.”

  * * *

  AS soon as the Sweet Nothings open sign was flipped to closed, Emma jumped in the bright yellow used Volkswagen Beetle she’d bought several months after arriving back home in Paris. After driving Arabella’s Mini, she didn’t want to try maneuvering around town in some hulking SUV. The Bug, as she referred to it, was just the right size.

  Liz lived outside of town in her childhood home, which she and her husband had renovated and expanded. Emma suspected they might all be sitting down to dinner, and she hoped she wouldn’t be interrupting them.

  Liz’s station wagon was pulled up to the garage when Emma got there, but she was relieved to see that Brian’s red pickup truck wasn’t. He spent a lot of time at his sister’s, and she didn’t feel up to facing him at the moment.

  Liz had an apron tied around her waist when she answered the door.

  “Emma! How nice to see you.” Her freckled face broke into a huge grin. “You’re just in time for supper. Nothing special, I’m afraid. The kids wanted mac and cheese, although I did make it myself, and not from a box. And don’t tell them,” Liz’s voice dropped to a whisper, “that I added some Asiago and Parmesan to the usual cheddar.”

  “I don’t mean to intrude,” Emma protested.

  “Nonsense. You know Ben and Alice will be thrilled to see you.”

  Just then Ben skidded into the hallway and came to a stop in front of Emma. “Aunt Emma!” He jumped up and down in his stocking feet.

  Liz ruffled his hair affectionately. “I heard Brian asked you to Chip’s wedding.” She couldn’t hide her smile.

  Emma shrugged. “He asked me to do him a favor.” She made a face.

  “A favor?” Liz laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. It’s a date. I assume you’re going.” There was no doubt in Liz’s voice.

  “Of course.”

  “Do you have a dress? We could go shopping in Memphis and find something that will make my thickheaded brother sit up and take notice.”

  Emma thought about her closet stuffed full of clothing and the plastic storage bins under her bed. “Yes, let’s.”

  Emma hated having to bring up the reason for her visit, but there was no getting around it. “I have something to tell you,” she said in a low voice to Liz. “Could we…”

  “Ben. Go wash your hands.” Liz pointed down the hall, and after a feeble protest, Ben obeyed.

  “Let’s sit in here.” Liz led the way into the living room.

  The living room had a high, beamed ceiling and a window seat that ran beneath the bay window. Comfortable, overstuffed chairs and sofas were grouped in front of the stone fireplace.

  Emma perched on the edge of a chair and waited while Liz took a seat on the sofa. She looked at her friend’s face and hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to begin.

  She cleared her throat. “Bitsy had a visit from the police.”

  “What?” Liz’s face collapsed into lines of worry.

  “They told her that Jessica died from foxglove poisoning.”

  Liz’s hand flew to her mouth. “Foxglove is a plant. Everyone knows it’s poisonous. How did—”

  “They think a foxglove flower was used to decorate one of Bitsy’s cupcakes.”

  “But all those flowers come from me, and I would never, ever use foxglove.” Liz glanced toward the window. “I don’t even grow it in my garden. Heaven forbid the children would get into it.” She shuddered, and Emma noticed her clasped hands tighten. She looked at Emma. “There’s got to be some explanation.”

  “I’m sure the police will figure it all out. Fortunately, Chuck Reilly is away on vacation. Another detective came to see us at Sweet Nothings, and he seems much more on the ball.”

  “The police have been to Sweet Nothings?” Liz’s eyes widened in alarm.

  Just then the doorbell rang, echoing three or four times before dying away.

  “Honey, will you get it?” Matt, Liz’s husband, called from the kitchen.

  Liz turned to Emma with a look of panic on her face. “Who could it be? We’re not expecting anyone.”

  “Maybe it’s Brian?”

  Liz’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “You’re right. It’s probably Brian. He has a knack for knowing when I’m about to put dinner on the table.” She smiled briefly.

  Emma followed Liz to the door and held her breath while Liz pulled it open.

  Detective Walker was standing on the steps. “Mrs. Banning?”

  Liz nodded, her eyes round with fear.

  “Could I have a word, please?”

  “LIZ? What is it? Who’s here?” Matt Banning strode down the hall toward the front door.

  Emma knew he worked as a software designer, but to her, he looked every inch the cowboy fro
m his boots to his checked shirt. He was drying his hands on a towel, and his eyes were dark with concern.

  He put his arm around Liz and looked Detective Walker up and down. “What can we do for you?”

  Walker pulled out an identification card and handed it to Matt. “We’re investigating the death of a Ms. Jessica Scott at a party that your wife attended on Saturday afternoon.”

  Matt looked from Walker to Liz, his eyebrows raised. “Quite a lot of people were at that party. Why are you questioning Liz?”

  “Ms. Scott apparently ingested foxglove, a highly poisonous plant. The hostess served cupcakes that were decorated with edible flowers apparently grown by Mrs. Banning. We are looking into the possibility that foxglove was mistakenly used as one of the decorations.”

  “Liz would never make a mistake like that!” Matt stood even straighter, and Emma thought he looked taller than his normal six feet, four inches.

  “I understand how you feel, sir,” Walker said diplomatically, his gaze sweeping the foyer and the living room beyond. “We would like your permission to search your yard and garden if you don’t mind.”

  For a minute it looked as if Matt was going to say he minded very much, but then his shoulders slumped and he said, “Fine. If that will prove to you that my wife had nothing to do with this tragic mistake, go right ahead.”

  Walker nodded, turned on his heel and called out to several men who were waiting in the driveway. He spoke briefly to them, and then they all disappeared around the edge of the garage, into the backyard.

  Matt shut the door with a little more vigor than was necessary, exhaling so forcefully that Emma couldn’t help but think of a bull blasting air from its nostrils prior to charging the matador.

  “They have a lot of nerve!” he declared. His face had turned a dark, dusky red, and his eyes were sparking.

  Liz linked her arm through his. “You were right, dear. Best to let them get on with their search. They’re not going to find anything. I’m confident of that. Let’s not let it spoil our dinner.” She turned toward Emma. “You are staying, aren’t you?”

  Emma nodded and followed Liz and Matt into the kitchen where Liz bustled around setting a place for Emma and dishing out portions of macaroni and cheese. The children had already eaten, and Matt removed their plates from the table and put them in the dishwasher.

  Emma’s appetite had deserted her, and she pushed her portion around and around on her plate hoping Liz wouldn’t notice she wasn’t eating. When she looked up, she saw that Liz was doing the same thing, and the only one eating with any gusto was Matt.

  The kitchen table was in a niche created by a large bay window that overlooked the backyard and Liz’s gardens. They could see the policemen traipsing up and down the rows of flowers in the fading light. Emma glanced at Liz. Liz smiled, but Emma could see the worry in her eyes and the tightness of her expression. She balled her fists in her lap. How could the police possibly think Liz had made such a criminal mistake?

  “Mommy, Mommy.” Alice came running into the kitchen, her blond ponytail flying, her face puckered with concern. “What are those men doing in our backyard?”

  Emma noticed Matt’s jaw tighten threateningly.

  “It’s okay,” he said soothingly, “Mommy and Daddy know they’re here, and it’s okay.”

  “Okay. Can I have a cookie?” Alice pointed at a fat ceramic jar in the shape of a cat sitting on the island.

  “Only one,” Liz warned.

  They all waited as she retrieved an oatmeal cookie and dashed off toward the family room clutching it possessively.

  Twenty minutes later, both Liz and Emma had given up all pretense of eating, and Matt was on his second helping. The doorbell rang, and Liz jumped up, banging her leg against the table. Tears came into her eyes and she dashed them away quickly.

  “You stay here.” Matt threw down his checkered napkin. “I’ll get it. I’m sure they’re satisfied now and will go away and leave us alone.”

  Emma and Liz stayed in their seats at the table, listening to the murmur of voices drifting down the hall. Suddenly Matt raised his voice. They couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it was obvious he was upset.

  Liz bit her lip. “I’d better go see what’s going on.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Emma pushed back her seat and jumped up.

  Liz hurried toward the front door, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” She turned to Matt and saw the look on his face. “Oh.”

  Walker was standing in the foyer holding what looked like a small plastic bag in his hand. He turned toward Liz. “We’ve searched the gardens, and while we did not find any foxglove plants within their confines,” he paused momentarily, “we did find several plants beyond your property—certainly near enough to give you easy access.” Walker brandished the bag he was holding, and Emma could see it contained a flower of some sort.

  “But I didn’t…I had no idea…that’s ridiculous,” Liz stammered. “Besides why would I…” She looked around her frantically. “I didn’t even know the woman.”

  “What does this mean?” Matt demanded, his brows lowered threateningly.

  Walker looked serious. He turned to Liz. “I have to ask that you don’t leave town without letting us know.”

  Liz’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh.”

  “We appreciate your cooperation.” Walker nodded toward Liz and Matt. “Good day.”

  * * *

  ARABELLA arrived at Sweet Nothings the next morning with her usual hustle and bustle. Pierre’s collar and leash jangled as she pulled him into the shop.

  “Pierre! Come on,” Emma coaxed.

  “It’s that annoying dachshund, Bertha.” Arabella tut-tutted as she yanked on Pierre’s leash. “Pierre has already escaped twice to see her, although it’s been almost two months since the last time he managed it. Mr. Zimmerman was absolutely furious. But Pierre is quite determined to woo his Bertha, which is ridiculous. There’s no way either Mr. Zimmerman or I would allow it. Can you imagine? A French bulldog and a dachshund mating?” Arabella shuddered. “It would be World War Two all over again.” She laughed. “Pierre comes from a championship bloodline, and nothing must be allowed to sully it. If I ever do breed him, it will be carefully thought out.”

  Pierre finally gave up the tug-of-war the two of them were engaged in and skulked off toward his dog bed.

  “He looks as if he imagines himself as Romeo to her Juliet.”

  Arabella laughed. “Romeo and Juliet indeed. Star-crossed lovers, right, Pierre?” She chucked him under the chin and scratched his back. Pierre gave a sigh of contentment, the love of his life momentarily forgotten.

  Arabella wound Pierre’s leash into a coil and stowed it beneath the front counter. “So tell me. How did you make out with Liz last night?”

  Emma shook her head and shuddered. “Not well. I had barely gotten there when the police showed up.”

  Arabella gasped.

  Emma looked down at her clasped hands. “They insisted on searching the Bannings’ garden, but they didn’t find any foxglove.”

  Arabella’s face started to light up, and Emma held up a hand.

  “But they found some very close by on the neighboring property. Within easy reach of Liz’s garden.”

  “Oh, poor, dear, Liz! But the police couldn’t possibly think that—”

  “They haven’t made any accusations, but they did ask her not to leave town.”

  Arabella gasped again. “Oh, but that sounds as if they must be serious.”

  Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. Liz was devastated. When I left she was sitting in the dark in the living room just…staring. I offered to stay and help get Alice and Ben to bed, but Matt said he could manage. I wish I could do something.”

  “So do I.” Arabella frowned. “Liz wouldn’t have mistaken foxglove for an edible flower.”

  “Absolutely not. She’s had years of experience and has taken dozens of classes. She’s a M
aster Gardener. But if it wasn’t an accident, that means someone did it on purpose to make Jessica ill or…or to kill her.”

  “That’s so hard to believe!” Arabella sagged against the counter. “Liz didn’t even know that woman, did she?”

  “That’s what she said, but other people at the party knew Jessica. And maybe one of them had it in for her for some reason.”

  “How will we ever find out who that might be?”

  “We could start with her colleagues. She worked at that retirement community Sylvia moved to.”

  Arabella gave a glint of a smile. “I think it’s high time we checked out Sylvia’s new apartment, don’t you?”

  Emma smiled back. “Brilliant idea. Let’s ask her when she comes in for her shift later.”

  “We could have a pizza party!” Arabella enthused. “It would be fun.”

  * * *

  SUNNY Days Retirement Community did everything possible to live up to its name, Emma noticed when she and Arabella pulled into their driveway early that evening after work. The façade—a main building with several wings branching off of it—was a bright red brick, and brilliantly colored asters and mums bloomed in pots on either side of the front entrance.

  Emma turned into the parking lot and found a spot for the Bug, the interior of which was perfumed with the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked pizza. Emma grabbed the pizza boxes, and Arabella clutched a box of Bitsy’s devil’s food, vanilla and carrot cupcakes as they made their way back toward the entrance.

  “The place looks cheerful enough,” Arabella said as they entered the small lobby filled with furniture covered in a bright floral fabric. She took an experimental sniff. “And there’s no smell except for that lemon air freshener.”

  Emma looked around. Arabella was right. The place looked comfortably homelike and very clean. She approached the front reception desk where an older woman with a halo of thin white hair and imperfectly applied red lipstick sat reading a magazine. A name badge with Volunteer Resident written on it was pinned to her gray cardigan. She looked up at Emma and smiled.

  “Can you tell me how to get to Sylvia Brodsky’s apartment?” Emma asked.