Deadly Currents

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Deadly Currents Page 22

by Beth Groundwater


  “Looks like no one’s home. Let’s go.”

  Cynthia followed her to the front yard and kept a lookout while Mandy examined the flower beds below the front windows.

  “Nothing,” Mandy said. “Let’s check the back yard.”

  She led the way around the side of the house. A number of large urn-shaped planters filled with flowers were stationed around the colored concrete patio. Two tall blue spruces flanked a long rainbow-shaped flower bed between them at the far end of the lot. While Cynthia headed for the flower bed, Mandy checked the urns but saw no monkshood. She joined Cynthia, and again none of the flowers had the right characteristics.

  Mandy pointed toward a garden shed in the far corner of the lot. “Might as well search around that.” She circled the shed to check for more flowers. As she was rounding the far corner, she heard the door of the shed creak open.

  Cynthia let out a low whistle. “Check this out.”

  Mandy hurried to the doorway and looked in. Cynthia stood next to the left wall and lifted a rifle by its barrel, holding it up for Mandy to see.

  “Put that down!” Mandy yelled. “Don’t you know not to touch evidence?”

  Eyes, wide, Cynthia let the rifle drop back onto its stock to lean against the wall. “Evidence? What do you mean?”

  “What if that’s the gun that was used to shoot Rob?”

  “Criminy!” Cynthia stepped away from the rifle.

  “Let’s get out of here. Now!” Mandy wheeled. She had just started toward the house with Cynthia when she heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and a garage door opening. “Shit,” she whispered.

  Cynthia froze. “What do we do?”

  “Run for the spruces and hide.” Mandy took off for the nearest one.

  Cynthia panted behind her. They both ended up squatting behind the same spruce, but it was large enough to cloak them from the view of anyone in the house.

  “I’m so nervous, I’m about to pee my pants,” Cynthia whispered. “How are we going to get out of here?”

  Mandy spread apart a couple of the spruce’s lower limbs and peeked in the house windows. Nate’s wife was unloading grocery bags in the kitchen. “I think it’s only Nate’s wife, not the man himself, but I still don’t want her to see us. Let’s wait a bit and see where she goes.”

  “Okay, while we’re waiting, here’s a blonde joke apropos to our situation.”

  When Mandy shot Cynthia a derisive look, Cynthia said, “Hey, might as well make the best of things. Anyway, a brunette and a blonde are walking along in a lovely park, like this yard here. The brunette says suddenly, ‘Awww, look at the dead birdie.’ The blonde stops, looks up, and says, ‘Where?’”

  Mandy chuckled, then looked up. “I hope there aren’t any birds sitting in this tree, preparing to drop a bomb on us.”

  “Lovely thought.”

  They waited until Nate’s wife had finished her task and left the room.

  “Where’s she gone to now?” Cynthia asked. “My legs are cramping.”

  A window was raised in the second story then came the faint sound of running water. A toilet flushing? A shower? The sink? Mandy counted to sixty and listened again. The water was still running.

  “I think she’s taking a shower. Now’s our time to make a run for it. Go!”

  The two of them shot out from behind the tree, through the yard, across the front lawns, and into the car.

  Mandy fumbled the keys out of her pocket and started the engine.

  Just then, Nate’s wife ran out of the front door of the house. “Hey! What were you doing in my yard?”

  Mandy slammed the car into gear and stomped on the accelerator. As she drove away, she checked the rearview mirror. Mrs. Fowler stood in her yard, shading her eyes and staring at the car. Mandy hoped the woman wasn’t reading the license plate.

  Mandy didn’t stop until they were entirely out of the neighborhood. Then she pulled over. She took a big breath, which felt like her first since they high-tailed it out of Nate Fowler’s back yard.

  “Whew, that was close,” Cynthia said. “Do you think she could tell who we were?”

  “I sure hope not.” Mandy looked at Cynthia. “You up for one more, or have you had enough?”

  “Enough? Heck no, I haven’t had this much fun since we pulled that panty raid on Kendra and her pal’s tent when we all went camping at the Sand Dunes.”

  “Their payback was tough, though. I had to wash my sleeping bag twice to get all the sand out.” And payback on this expedition could be much tougher. Their adversary had a gun and had shown a willingness to use it. “You’re sure? Whoever we’re looking for has killed one person and tried to kill another.”

  “I can’t let you do it alone, Mandy. And I know you will.” Cynthia folded her arms and set her jaw.

  Mandy looked at her a moment longer, then put the car in gear. “Okay, find Lenny Preble’s address.”

  Lenny lived in a one-story cottage, not unlike Mandy’s, also with a small yard contained by a chain link fence. But unlike Mandy’s, Lenny’s yard was meticulously groomed and contained a large vegetable and flower garden along the length of the back fence. Mandy stepped into the alley behind Lenny’s yard to walk along the fence. Cynthia trailed behind, her head swiveling from side to side to check for observers.

  Against the fence, a bank of corn stalks rustled in the warm breeze. Past them, plump green tomatoes hung on staked bushes. Mandy’s mouth watered as she imagined dipping slices into cornmeal and frying them up. Fried green tomatoes had been a favorite dish ever since her uncle had introduced her to the southern delicacy. She shook her head. Can’t think about him now.

  The next section of Lenny’s garden seemed to be devoted to herbs. Mandy recognized the curly parsley heads, stalks of chive, and delicate thin leaves of dill plants. She had moved on to the flower bed when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. A flash of panic hit her before she realized it wasn’t ringing and no one could hear it.

  When she answered, Rob said, “I convinced the doc to release me, but he wants the nurse to talk to you when you pick me up to make sure we’re both going to follow instructions. Can you be here in a few minutes? She can’t wait very long.”

  “Sure. See you soon.” Mandy pocketed the cell phone and turned to Cynthia. “I’ve got to pick up Rob.”

  “Want me to finish up for you?” Cynthia asked. “I know what foxglove looks like, and I can walk to my place from here. In fact, I think that’s foxglove right there.” She pointed to the left side of the flower bed.

  Mandy didn’t want to tell Cynthia that she was looking for the wrong plant, so she scanned the whole flower bed, as if she was having trouble finding the foxglove. After spotting some plants about three feet tall with palmate leaves, she peered at them to check the buds.

  “Not there,” Cynthia said. “Over to the left.”

  “Oh, I see now.” Mandy did indeed see the foxglove, but couldn’t make out any color on the unopened buds of the palmate plants. They looked like Western monkshood plants, but without climbing the fence into Lenny’s yard, she couldn’t be sure. She stepped closer.

  Cynthia pulled on Mandy’s arm and hissed, “Someone’s coming.”

  “We’re out of here, then.” No way did Mandy want a repeat of what had happened in the Fowlers’ yard. Trying for an air of nonchalance, as if she belonged in the neighborhood, Mandy led the way back to the car. She nodded at the teenage kid walking a prissy little poodle that must have belonged to his mother, given the embarrassed glance he cast their way.

  When they reached the car without the kid saying anything, she let out the breath she’d been holding and said to Cynthia, “I’ll drop you off on the way to the hospital.”

  While Mandy drove Cynthia home, she nibbled on her lip. How extensive are these instruc
tions going to be? Am I really up to nursing Rob?

  _____

  Mandy stood at Rob’s kitchen sink a couple of hours later and took a long drink of water. She had just finished loading the dishwasher after she and Rob had eaten the ham and cheese sandwiches she’d fixed for lunch. She made a note to swing by her house sometime later to get her peanut butter and blackberry jelly, so she wouldn’t go into PBJ withdrawal.

  A glance at the pile of bandaging supplies on the counter caused a heavy sense of dread to settle on her. Tonight would be the first time she’d have to redress Rob’s wound by herself. She remembered the nausea she had felt when the nurse described signs of infection to her—the green pus, the smell. The last thing Mandy wanted to do was get her nose anywhere near the angry red scar.

  She plunked the glass on the counter and turned away from the medical supplies. You’ll do it because you have to do it, girl. For Rob.

  The subject of her mental conversation sat ensconced in his easy chair, with his feet up and remote in hand. After watching him flinch and groan whenever he moved during lunch and seeing his face grow paler, Mandy had forced him to swallow a couple of his pain pills. Now, his eyes were drooping. He was having trouble focusing on the baseball game on the set.

  Fine. He can use a nap. When Mandy’s cell phone rang, she snatched it up and opened it, hoping to avoid startling Ron out of his doze. No luck.

  He sat up and looked expectantly at her.

  The caller was Quintana. “Where are you?”

  “At Rob’s house.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  Mandy closed the phone and sat in the chair next to Rob’s. “Detective Quintana’s coming.”

  Rob raised an eyebrow. “He must have something to report. Maybe he arrested whoever did this.” He pointed with his chin at his bandaged shoulder.

  “I hope so.” And she hoped he wasn’t coming for another reason.

  A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Rob clicked off the TV, and Mandy let the detective in. He walked into the living room with a decided bounce to his step and waited for Mandy to resume her seat. He seemed too excited to sit himself.

  “We found the gun that matched the bullet they cut out of your shoulder, or at least we’re pretty darn sure. The CBI ballistics lab will confirm that when they compare the rifling marks.”

  “CBI?” Ron asked.

  “Colorado Bureau of Investigation.”

  “Whose gun?” A sinking feeling stole into Mandy’s stomach.

  Quintana turned to her. “Nate Fowler’s.”

  Of the five top suspects, she would have pegged him as having the least volatile personality. But maybe that was the problem—he held it all in until he exploded.

  “The bullet came out of a Winchester hunting rifle,” Quintana continued. “We found one in Fowler’s garden shed no more than an hour ago, and it had been fired recently. Still smelled of cordite. None of the other suspects had weapons in their homes.”

  He sat on the edge of the sofa. “Nate kept claiming the rifle wasn’t his, that he’d never seen it before. That made him even more suspicious in my mind, so I arrested him. But I’m having CBI run an ownership search and look for fingerprints, too.”

  “Oh, hell.” Mandy put her head in her hands.

  “I thought you’d be happy,” Quintana said.

  When Mandy lifted her head, the detective was staring at her with a quizzical gaze. She cleared her throat. “You aren’t going to like what I have to say.”

  Quintana and Rob shot glances at each other.

  Mandy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “Cynthia touched the barrel of that rifle.”

  “What! How do you know that?”

  “Because I was there when she did it.” Before she could lose her nerve, Mandy blurted out, “We were searching the Fowlers’ yard for Western monkshood plants. And Evie Olson’s and Lenny Preble’s.”

  “Hell, Mandy, what part of ‘you need to lay low for a while’ did you not understand?” Quintana jumped to his feet and started pacing. “You two could have botched my whole investigation by tampering with evidence.”

  “I’m really sorry. I knew better, but Cynthia had already picked up the rifle before I saw her with it.”

  “Damn. I’ll have to fingerprint her. And if her prints show up on the gun, Nate can make the case that Cynthia was the one who fired it at Rob, not him.”

  “Why would Cynthia do that?” Rob asked.

  Quintana slapped his thigh. “Who cares? All Nate has to do is throw suspicion on the story that he fired it.” He stuck his chin out at Mandy. “And did you even consider that while casing out suspects’ gardens, they could have been casing you out from inside their homes? Aiming a gun at you?”

  “You just said the other suspects didn’t have weapons at their houses.”

  Quintana’s face reddened. “But you didn’t know that! And what if Fowler had his gun with him inside the house instead of in his shed? Both of you girls could be dead now. What am I supposed to do to keep you out of trouble, tie you up?”

  With a broad leer, Rob said, “Now that I’d like to see!”

  “You stay out of this, buster.” Mandy glared at him, then focused on Quintana. “I have to take care of Rob. Now that he’s out of the hospital, I’ll be sticking close to him. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”

  Quintana pointed at Rob. “Make sure she stays with you. I expect you to call me if she gets another idiot hankering to do any more sniffing around.”

  Rob grinned. “You’ve got my word on that.”

  After rubbing a hand across his forehead, Quintana glared at Mandy. “And I know what your license plate number is.”

  “Oh no, did Mrs. Fowler report us?”

  “Damn right.”

  “Did she know who we were?”

  “No, but she will soon. When you go over to apologize. Not only that, you’ll have to convince her to drop the case if you don’t want to face trespassing charges.”

  “Lovely.” For Cynthia’s sake, Mandy would have to grovel to Mrs. Fowler until she dropped the charges. “When?”

  “I have to lay the groundwork first. Gauge her mood. Right now she’s probably feeling the need to strike out at someone, since we just took her husband away in cuffs.”

  Mandy leaned forward. “Cynthia and I didn’t see any Western monkshood plants at Nate’s house. Did you find aconite powder or monkshood roots?”

  “No, though we searched thoroughly. I only arrested Nate for firing the rifle at Rob. I don’t have any evidence that he’s the one who killed Tom King. That could have been a completely different person, for a completely different reason, but my gut tells me the two incidents are linked.”

  Mandy’s gut agreed with Quintana’s. Could that rifle have been planted in Fowler’s unlocked shed by someone else? “I think both Lenny Preble and Evie Olson have Western monkshood growing in their yards.”

  Quintana frowned. “Did anyone see you at their houses?”

  Mandy took a deep breath. “No one at Evie’s house, but a teenage boy walking a dog saw us at Lenny’s. I don’t think he suspected we didn’t belong in the neighborhood, though.”

  “Good. You two have given me enough messes to straighten out.”

  “Speaking of messes, why aren’t you questioning Nate? Where is he now?”

  “He’s refusing to talk without a lawyer present. Trouble is, his lawyer’s in Pueblo, so I have to wait for his return. Thought I’d give you the good news in the meantime. I never imagined what a barge full of bad news you had to give me.”

  Quintana’s radio crackled, the dispatcher saying something about legal counsel. He keyed the mike. “I’ll be right there.”

  He turned to Mandy. “Nate Fow
ler’s lawyer has arrived. I need to get back to the station. No more investigating on your own, you hear? Or I might just have to put you in a cell next to Nate’s.”

  If you sit by the river long enough,

  the bodies of all your enemies will float by.

  —Chinese Proverb

  Mandy closed the door behind Quintana, then leaned her back against it to think. He had said the two crimes might not be connected, but she thought the same person was responsible for both. The problem was that Quintana hadn’t found any signs of aconite at Nate Fowler’s home. Could it be obtained in some other form? Was there some other way someone could get their hands on aconite without growing the plants?

  “I recognize that look,” Rob said. “You’re hatching some plan. You better not be thinking of leaving here after what Quintana just said.”

  “No, I’m just thinking of doing some surfing.” She sat down at Rob’s computer. “Some Internet surfing.”

  “I suppose that’s harmless.” He tried to stifle a yawn.

  “Why don’t you take a nap?” Mandy said. “I promise I’ll stay right here.”

  “Wake me in a couple of hours. I want to watch my crew run the Hooligan Race.” Rob lay back in the easy chair and cranked up the footrest.

  Mandy typed “aconite” into the Internet search engine and scanned the results. As she paged down, she soon found a reference to a homeopathic remedy catalog and clicked on the reference. The website named a long list of ills that the toxin supposedly cured, from flu and chills to feelings of apprehension or fear. Yeah, fear that someone’s planning to poison you.

  For a mere thirteen dollars, one could buy thirty tablets, and for nineteen dollars, the economy 200-tablet bottle. It was also available as a skin liniment. Mandy doubted any business would sell a poisonous dosage, so she clicked on ‘dosage and potency guidelines’ to see if there were any warnings about how much was too much, but found nothing. Of course not. The guidelines were deliberately vague to keep someone from suing the company for giving out dangerous advice.

 

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