“Fine.” I hung up.
A quick knock, and I re-entered the house. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave. Was there anything else you wanted to tell me before I go?”
Negative murmurs all around.
“Cabot! Home!”
The tall attendant immediately rose and moved around to the back of Dorothy’s wheelchair. She pushed it toward me. “Could you open the door, please?”
I did, and the two sailed out to the front sidewalk. From there they turned left. I craned my head around the door. “Where are they going?”
“Grandmother lives a couple of blocks away,” Willa said from behind me. I turned to see her adjusting her crutches and standing.
“Ms. Ambrose,” Glenwood said, coming toward me.
I stepped out of the doorway to allow him through. He stopped, crowding my personal space. I could smell his breath. Peppermint and coffee.
“Thank you for indulging my sisters here. I’m sure you’re very busy. I look forward to seeing you the next time you’re in the market for wine or mead.”
“Goodbye.” I watched him walk out to the late-model Mustang parked across the street. He didn’t seem all that upset by his brother’s death. Then again, everyone seemed to be keeping their emotions under tight control. A family trait, perhaps. Or else no one had really given a damn about Quentin.
Ducking back in, I reached for my windbreaker on the coat rack and accidentally knocked another jacket to the floor. Stooping to pick it up, I spied a large prescription bottle inside an open leather purse on the floor. I hung the jacket back up, put on my windbreaker, and stretched down for my tote, quickly reading the label on the bottle.
Interesting.
OxyContin. 30 mg dosage, prescribed to Victoria Swenson. With a big stylized K on the label, a la the Kringle’s Drugs logo.
So much for controlling her arthritis pain with herbs.
Herbs. Methaglins were meads flavored with herbs. The garden at Grendel had poisonous herbs in it—both Willa and Victoria admitted they grew oleander and foxglove, which could be deadly. And Victoria had said wine was the best substance for herbal extractions.
Maybe I could salvage this trip after all.
I turned and found Victoria right behind me. “I’ll walk out with you,” she said.
“Listen, you two know a lot about herbs.” I paused, then plunged in. “Is there one that would mimic a heart attack?”
Victoria wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and carefully bent to pick up the leather purse. “Digitalis would.”
“Foxglove,” I said. Whoop-de-do. I’d seen it in their garden, sure, but the trumpet-shaped flowers also grew in every field and ditch for miles around.
Willa said, “Nicotine.”
Her sister nodded. “From nicotiana.”
“I saw both of those in the herb garden at the meadery.”
Victoria lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Digitalis and nicotiana are pretty. We know enough not to brew with them.”
Or enough to brew with them. I wanted another look at that herb garden. Who knew what other toxic goodies the Swenson sisters grew.
My cell phone rang again. I ignored it and moved toward the door. “I’m so sorry about your brother. Do you know when the service will be?”
Willa’s brow wrinkled. “We can’t arrange a date until they release his body.”
Oh, God. I should have thought of that. She didn’t seem the huggy type, so I patted her on the arm and said goodbye.
Out at the curb, her sister opened the door of the white Volks-wagen.
“I gave my friend your tea last night,” I said. “Already she swears it’s helping her. Do you think I could get some more?”
“Sure. Come out to the meadery tomorrow. I’ll be in the garden until noon or so. Plant therapy, you know.”
“Of course. Thank you. I’ll see you then.” I pulled my phone out of my tote as I began hoofing it home.
About a block away from Willa’s, I called Barr back.
“Did you leave when I told you?” he asked. “Or just keep on asking questions?” No “Hi, Sweetie.” Not even a hello.
“I tried calling you. Three times. I know you had your cell phone, and you chose not to answer it,” I said.
“I was in the middle of working a case! I can’t stop just because my wife calls.”
“Well. Okay, I guess. But what’s the big deal with my talking to Willa? After all, you said you wanted to talk with everyone again, and Robin won’t be much help. As I recall, the last time there was a murder in Cadyville, you actually asked for my help. You wanted me to talk to people, gossip, get them to tell me things they wouldn’t tell the police.”
He sighed. “I know. And you did a great job. There’s just something about this I don’t like. It feels dangerous.”
“Strangling someone wasn’t dangerous?”
“Poison—if this is poison—is sneaky. It’s a coward’s weapon. Or a genius’s. Cowards, especially smart ones, can be scary. And if this has to do with the notes on that tape, we’re talking about someone who carefully plans ahead. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“If it makes you feel any better, those Swensons didn’t tell me very much.”
“You talked to both sisters and the brother?”
“As well as the grand dame herself, complete with creepy nurse attendant.”
“And what did you learn?”
“Hypocrite.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Well, Dorothy Swenson thinks no one in her family can do any wrong. Willa knows her way around poisonous herbs, and Victoria is a master herbalist who grows plants like digitalis and nicotiana that can cause heart failure. I also happen to know from my visit to the meadery yesterday that they grow oleander and deadly nightshade, both of which are quite tox—”
“Wait a minute—you went to Grendel yesterday?” Barr interrupted.
“Erin and I took the tour. I wanted to tell you all about it, but then Quentin went and died and you had to leave, and then you went to sleep before I could tell you, and then you left this morning without break—”
“Sophie Mae. Stop yelling.”
A young man pushing a stroller on the other side of the street stared at me.
“Without breakfast.” I said in a lower tone.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”
I waved my hand in the air as if Barr could see it. The guy across the street continued to gawk at my antics. With effort, I refrained from sticking my tongue out at him and yelling boogada boogada boogada!
“Do you want to hear this or not?” I couldn’t help the impatience that oozed out around every word.
“Yes.”
“Okay. So despite saying she doesn’t use anything but herbs for her arthritis, Victoria has a big ol’ bottle of OxyContin in her purse. From Kringle’s.”
A pause, then Barr said carefully. “Anything else?”
“Well, the Leed’s lawsuit against Quentin came up, but they didn’t add anything to it. And I did tell them all a little about Elizabeth Moser’s tape, but just to see if anyone reacted.”
“Did they?”
“Not one stinking bit.”
He laughed. “Is that it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Then I’ll see you tonight. Try to stay out of trouble until then, okay? I love you.”
“I love you, too.” But I was talking to dead air.
_____
When I got home, all I really wanted to do was take a nap. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. I called Tootie and invited her and Felix over for dinner and wine making the next evening, and then headed down to the basement to get some work done.
Three batches of soap later, I was cleaning up the big industrial mixer when Penny knocked on the basement door.
“It’s open,” I called.
She came in, nose instantly wrinkling. “What smells?”
I laughed. “Everything. I was making soap earlier. Orange-
clove, rosemary-peppermint, and lavender-basil.”
“With lye?” Unbelievable that those wide eyes could get any wider.
“Now, don’t you worry about it.” I took her purse and set it out of the way in a cupboard. Handing her the yellow apron with the roosters on it, I gently steered her to the work island. “We have a whole new project to work on today.”
She put the apron on over her pink, bead-studded sweatshirt and looked at me expectantly.
I’d decided that perhaps Penny needed a more hands-on management approach. After all, she’d been out of the workplace for a long time. It wasn’t fair to expect her to jump in and take over like she was some kind of Sophie Mae clone.
“Have a seat. I have everything set up. See all these lotion bars?” They were stacked, already wrapped in cellophane, in a bin to her left.
She squinted at them.
“First, set out as many of these terra-cotta saucers as you can reach. Should be at least fifty. Then fill each with exactly this much excelsior.” I demonstrated. “When they’re all full, place a lotion bar gently on top. Then tie a length of ribbon around each one like this.” I’d precut all the ribbon. “When you have all fifty, then unfold one of these boxes, put more excelsior on the bottom, put the lotion bar in its saucer on top, add a bit more excelsior so it doesn’t move around during shipping, and close the box.” I walked through each step. “Then stack the boxes five high at the other end of the counter.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said, settling her ample behind onto the stool. “It’s not brain surgery.”
“Of course not. Easy peasy. I need two gross of these to go out tomorrow.”
There: clear goals, detailed instructions, time limit, and quantity desired.
“Two gross. That’s, um …”
“Two hundred eighty-eight boxes, all told.”
“And you want me to do all that in four hours?”
“Yes, please.”
Throwing both hands up in the air, she said, “Well, all right then. I’ll try.”
I pressed my lips together and smiled. “That’s all I can ask.”
_____
Inventory took another hour, and then I spent the next hour and a half on the phone and online, placing orders for bulk ingredients and packaging supplies. As I was getting ready to dive into processing four day’s worth of retail orders from my website, the phone rang. The caller ID on the handset told me it was Meghan.
“Hey,” I answered, heading toward the stairs. “Hang on a minute.”
Penny barely spared me a quick glance as she frantically dipped into the big bag of excelsior, lower lip held firmly between her teeth.
Once I was in the kitchen and the door to the basement was closed, I said, “Sorry about that.”
“I caught you in the middle of something, didn’t I?”
“That’s okay. I wanted to get away from Penny to talk, though.”
“Why?”
“She’s kind of a gossip, likes to stick her nose in other people’s business.”
“You two should get along just fine, then.”
“Shut up.”
She laughed.
“Erin’s not home yet,” I said.
“That’s okay. I kind of miss you, too, you know.”
“Really?”
“Not as much as I thought I would, but yeah.”
“Ha ha. Well, I really do miss you. How’s Kelly?”
“How detailed an answer do you want?”
“Oh. Wow. Okay.”
“I might have some good news when I get back,” she said.
“Hmm. Sounds intriguing. Do tell.”
“Not yet. Anyway, I wanted to check in with you and see if everything’s okay. Erin said you couldn’t come to the phone last night. Were you just working?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Great—my housemate’s sixth sense for trouble was kicking in. “You just concentrate on having a good time in New Jersey. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up when you get back on Saturday.”
Brodie barked, and the front door opened and closed. I cast eyes skyward and thanked the timing gods.
“You’re sure that—”
I cut her off. “Your offspring is now in the building. Do you want to talk to her?”
A moment’s pause, then, “Put her on. But get ready to fill me in on everything that’s been going on this week. And don’t forget to set aside time on Sunday afternoon for Erin’s birthday party.”
“Don’t worry. She’s requested lemon cheesecake instead of cake, by the way.”
“Naturally.”
Erin walked into the kitchen.
“Here she is. Safe travels if I don’t talk to you tomorrow.” I handed the phone to Erin.
It wasn’t that I was trying to keep my recent inquiries secret from my housemate, but there was no reason she should be distracted from her vacation time with Kelly.
At least that was what I told myself as I went back downstairs.
_____
Customer credit cards processed and packing slips printed, I went out to check on Penny. She looked fourteen different kinds of frazzled.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. You can slow down a little.” Though, truth be told, she had only managed to stack a hundred completed boxes.
“Where’s Cyan?” Her usual good humor had evaporated.
“She’s still working on the prom.”
“She won’t be in at all?”
“Later this evening, for a couple hours.”
“But I can’t stay that late!”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“In fact, my shift is over right now.” She stood and took off her apron. “She’ll just have to finish these up.”
I looked at my watch. She’d put in her four hours all right. Pasting a smile on my face, I said, “See you tomorrow.”
Suddenly Penny was all smiles again. “All righty—see you then.”
Exhaustion swept over me, and my face dropped into my hands once she was out the door. Time to deal with the fact that she had to go. And soon.
After dinner, Erin finished up the history project she had due the next day, Barr worked on his laptop, and I spent the evening going through all the books we had that contained information about poisonous plants. It turned out we had quite a lot of information in our small gardening library. Many of the entries were warnings, since so many kinds of toxic greenery could be mistaken for beneficial herbs.
After a glorious eight hours of sleep, I made my second visit to Grendel Meadery on Friday morning. The tours wouldn’t start until that afternoon, and the tasting room was empty except for two thirty-somethings staring all goo-goo eyed at each other over their mead samplers. From the lobby I eyed the hallway where Jakie had scared the living daylights out of me. It wasn’t hard to resist the temptation to try my luck again.
Victoria had said she’d be in the herb garden. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, I made my way through the room full of tanks and hoses where Glenwood had pontificated on the history of honey and mead. I found the exterior door again easily. Pushing it open, I stepped out to the flagstone path and immediately inhaled the resinous aroma of the rosemary bush blooming by the window.
The chink of metal against terra-cotta sounded from the potting shed. The worn gray door was half closed. I eased farther into the blind spot it provided and walked quietly toward the back corner of the garden. There, spikes of foxglove leaned against the far wall of the courtyard, pale purple, apricot, and yellow. Used for heart conditions for centuries, digitalis was both poison and cure. Too much would result in a coronary—like the ones that killed Elizabeth Moser and Quentin Swenson. And there was nicotiana. Tobacco. Nicotine. Abused by smokers the world over in small doses but, again, an overdose would stop your heart. Who knew what else was in this garden? Death camas? Jimson weed?
I took out my cell phone and started snapping pictures. Bah. Foxglove and nicotiana were common garden flowers. I knew a lot abou
t plants, but I was no master herbalist like Victoria. Maybe if I could compare some of these pictures to those in my books, I could identify all these plants. There were herbs and flowers galore, as well as medicinal foods. Purple puffs of aliums—chives, garlic, and onion—had just burst forth. I knew what they were but photographed them anyway. And near my feet, a few odd-looking celery plants thrived. No doubt there was a use for this mundane vegetable in traditional herbology.
The year before, we’d had trouble growing celery in our backyard garden, probably because of the shady spot where yours truly had tucked them into the ground. These were in full sunlight but had really skinny stems. Maybe it wasn’t celery at all. Come to think of it, it almost looked like an exotic variety of parsley. I reached to pluck a leaf.
“Don’t touch that.”
Instantly feeling guilty, I jerked my hand back and straightened.
Willa stood outside the shed, crutches in one garden-gloved hand. Mud smeared the cast that reached up to her denim shorts, and water dappled her blue T-shirt. Sadness emanated from her posture. She looked about ten years older than she had the first time I’d met her in this garden.
When she recognized me her stony expression relaxed a little. “Sophie Mae. What are you doing out here?”
“Meeting Victoria. I need more of that tea for my friend’s arthritis.”
“Oh. Well, she’s not here.”
“Really?” I looked at my watch. “She knew I was coming. Said she’d be engaging in some garden therapy this morning.”
Willa sighed. “I know. I’m not surprised, though. She’s been forgetting a lot of things lately.” She gestured toward the shed. “Her teas are in here, though. I’ll get it for you.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I moved to stand in the open doorway. The shed, gray and dull on the outside, was full of scent and color inside. Cedar potting benches ran down either side of a narrow central aisle. Wide, shallow baskets of dried flowers covered the one on the right, while the opposite surface held flats of seedlings and terra-cotta pots. The earthy aroma of coffee-colored loam coiled up to meet the gentle perfume of lavender, eucalyptus, and mint bundles hanging from the ceiling.
“Do you know when your sister will be back?” I asked.
Wined and Died: A Home Crafting Mystery Page 12