Murder by Kindness

by Barbara Graham

  “Money?” Nina looked confused by the sudden switch in topics. “Now you want to know about money?”

  “Yes. We know you didn’t kill him, but there are loose threads everywhere.” Tony didn’t have a choice. He needed answers, and some of them only Nina would have.

  “He pays—paid—four hundred-eighty dollars a month in child support.” Nina’s tired expression deepened. “I guess that’s gone, too.”

  Tony knew the amount was based on Daniel’s net income. The man had a college degree and was bright enough to be very successful. “That’s not much.”

  “Tell me about it.” A spark of anger flashed in her eyes. “He claimed he made less than twenty thousand dollars a year.”

  Either Daniel was lying, or he wasn’t declaring his full income. Nina absolutely needed the money for her children. But if he wasn’t lying, there was a good chunk of his modest income not available for his own living expenses. “Did he pay on time?”

  “Yes. Well, most of the time until recently.”

  “Do you think his parents helped pay, either for the kids’ sake or to help Daniel?”

  “No.” Nina wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “They are wonderful people, and I love them dearly. The kids love them. They spend a fair amount of time together.” She stopped.

  “But?” Tony waited.

  “Unless they have a stash of money none of us knows about, they live on their savings and social security. Daniel’s dad always worked two jobs and his mom cleaned houses, just to make ends meet. It seems unlikely they’re sitting on a golden nest egg or could afford to give any money to Daniel.”

  Tony nodded. He knew a few people who had a golden nest egg, but they were mostly people you’d expect to have socked away money other people might have spent on extras like movie tickets or a new jacket every ten years.

  He made himself a note to check into the details of Daniel’s finances.

  “Speaking of gold—” Tony got no further before Nina jumped in.

  “There is no gold. There has never been any gold.”

  “Easy, easy. Take a breath, Nina.” Tony laughed. “I’m actually not interested in the reality. I want to know if Daniel believed the old stories.”

  “Probably. It would have suited him just fine to find a buried treasure. You know, Civil War gold, or money from a train robbery, or anything that would supply him with big bucks without his having to put out any work.”

  “If you guessed—based on conversations—would you say Daniel actually made more money than he declared or enough to provide for his six families?”

  “Not even close.”

  One of the house reconstruction workers came looking for Nina.

  “Go ahead. I think I’ve asked enough questions for one day,” Tony said. “Oh, and Theo wants you and your crew to come for dinner tonight.”

  Nina did smile then. “Yes. I suppose we need feeding, maybe even badly enough to eat your wife’s cooking.” With a wave of farewell, she headed for her house.

  After Nina left, Sheila stepped forward. She had silently listened to the questions and answers, making copious notes. “He’s lucky no one killed him before this.”

  Tony couldn’t deny it. “What do you think?”

  “I think with five wives, one ex-wife and, what, five children, he would need to make a lot of money somehow.” Sheila grinned. “A man with zero money and lots of kids is not a hot commodity in the dating market.”

  “He has lots of living expenses, besides paying Nina child support. Each wife must have expected that he would contribute to the household funds.” Tony pulled out his cell phone and accessed the calculator application, but wasn’t sure what to enter after Nina’s child support payment. He started making wild guesses, giving each family the same amount as Nina received. “What else?”

  Sheila said, “He’s on the road almost constantly, so gasoline, food, hotels for nights he’s not with one of the wives. He drove a new car. Nice clothes.”

  “If he was as generous with all of his children as he was with Nina’s brood, they spent a lot of money on entertainment.” Tony looked up from his phone. “That’s a lot of satellite dish installations.”

  “Even if the man could sell milk to a cow, I don’t see how he could afford everything.” Sheila waved at Nina’s home. “Do you believe he was hunting for gold in the storm cellar?”

  Tony didn’t know what he thought anymore. He felt like the center in a gathering storm. The idea that Daniel merely fell into the hole and broke his neck was one he liked. However, it was a stupid one. Still, stupid was easy to find. The world was full of it.

  Tony stood in front of the erasable white board with a full package of new color markers. Six wives. Each was assigned a color.

  Blondie was appropriately yellow. He wrote her name at the top of the board and added columns to detail all of the information he knew about her underneath. Name. Age. When married. Where they met. Where she lived. Children’s ages. When and where did they last see each other? Where was she when Daniel Crisp died, his neck broken?

  He had barely begun filling in the information when Wade joined him. Together they sorted through reports and notebooks, and created a detailed accounting. As detailed as they could make it.

  Using a second white board, they decided to rearrange the wives list to a chronological one according to their wedding dates. Number one was Nina.

  Number two, Nannette, married Daniel a couple of years before the Crisps’ divorce.

  Nikki, the nurse, was immediately after the divorce. Tony thought she might have the best chance of being legally married. Except no papers were filed.

  Nancy1, Nancy 2 and Nora were each married to Daniel six weeks apart. It was long enough for the previous marriage license to expire and for the next quick marriage to take place. From what he’d been able to gather, Daniel was a whiz at encouraging short courtships and engagements. And he’d used the exact same sales pitch. Tony had heard it from all of the wives but Nina. “I knew the day we met that you are my destiny, my only love, my future.”

  It had taken all of Tony’s self-control to keep from expressing his personal opinions. Seriously, the man had a script for marriage proposals? No wonder he was dead.

  “Let’s look at this a different way.” Tony stared at the columns. “Excluding Nina, who discovered his wedding addiction? We need different information. We need to know what they really knew about his finances and his other wives.”

  “You mean you don’t think he was smart enough to keep all his wives secret from the others. Were they all as dull as sheep?” Wade grinned. “I can give you Grace’s opinion.”

  “Theo’s, too. If I was dumb enough to try to juggle wives, I’d expect to have my throat slit in the night.”

  “No, that’s just it.” Wade stepped closer to the white board. “If you were that dumb, you’d expect everyone around you to be just as dumb. What if the wives worked together?”

  “It couldn’t be all of them, but maybe a couple of them decided to fix the problem. Maybe they hoped if it looked like an accident, no one would ever know they had been tricked by a spineless man with a penchant for marriage.” Tony put check marks by the names of the women seen in Silersville. “They might have hoped their unfortunate decisions to marry would not be exposed.”

  “Ah, but just because no one has said they saw the others, it does not mean they weren’t here.”

  “True, so true.” Tony studied the list. “From what I’ve seen, Nancy1 is the strongest personality.”

  Wade said, “Because she was able to talk him into bringing her on a weeklong trip? That would seriously mess with his usual visitation schedule.”

  “No kidding.” Tony shook his head. “What if she called a meeting of the Wives of Daniel Crisp Club? They could have all been here at the same time.”

  “And if they all pushed at the same time, who would be the guilty party?”

  “Their acting is pretty good.” Tony sta
red at his notebook. “Do you suppose we could arrest them all for conspiracy?”

  “Not without proof.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Doc Nash arrived in Tony’s office, at Tony’s request. Tony handed him a written report regarding Eunice Plover’s autopsy results that had been faxed to his department. The doctor gave it his undivided attention, studying it carefully. Page after page.

  Tony understood the information well enough to understand that, according to the tests, Eunice Plover’s system contained enough arsenic to kill off every rat in the Eastern United States. The doctor finished reading, then sighed heavily and looked up at Tony.

  Tony thought as a change of direction from the adventures of the Crisp wives, it was sad and disheartening. He took possession of the report again. “Tell me what you know about arsenic. How does it work?”

  Doc Nash settled onto the chair. “Well, it’s found in many places. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that you had arsenic in your system right now.”

  “What do you mean?” Tony leaned closer, listening intently.

  “Well, it hasn’t been very long since I read a report that showed many foods and beverages we eat or drink all of the time contain traces of arsenic, everything from baby food to rice.” The doctor looked angry and a little queasy.

  “So, if Eunice ate too many of whatever foods from the arsenic-loaded list she could have poisoned herself?”

  “Doubtful, extremely doubtful.” Doc Nash steepled his fingers and put on his professorial expression. “The amount of arsenic found in foods like vegetables, meat, beer and wine is comparatively minute. If she ate a lot of contaminated foods every day, she might have consumed enough on her own to eventually feel somewhat ill. But, for her to die as she did, Mrs. Plover had to have eaten a very high dose of arsenic or have been given a fatal dose of poison in another manner and all at once.”

  “So this was not an accident?” Tony felt his hope of semi-natural causes slipping away.

  “It could have been suicide.” The doctor’s face twisted with either anger or disgust. “You might want to check and see what her mental condition was. She wasn’t one of my patients, at least not recently, because several years ago she did not care for a diagnosis I gave her, and she swore she would never let me treat her again.”

  Trying not to form any premature theories, Tony asked, “Where would she be able to find enough arsenic to commit suicide?”

  “That part is fairly easy.” Doc Nash shook his head. “It’s just not a good way to kill yourself. There are many more dependable, less uncomfortable ways.” He fell silent and stared at Tony.

  Tony understood. “What you really think is someone killed her with malice aforethought, as the saying goes.”

  “I do. She could be an irritating woman but still, I can’t imagine anyone going to the trouble of poisoning her. I would expect her killer to be someone under great pressure or intense exasperation, snapping and strangling her with their bare hands.” The doctor shrugged. “For the most part she was a nice, generous, caring woman. I am truly sorry that she is dead.”

  “You just contradicted yourself. You think someone killed her with arsenic but don’t think anyone would poison her. You read the autopsy notes. Did you notice anything I need to know about?” Tony’s mind was flying in circles. “Do they even sell arsenic anymore?”

  “Truthfully, I don’t know.” Doc Nash’s shoulders rose and fell. “Historically, I’ve heard some people intentionally ingested increasing dosages of the poison and developed a form of immunity. They were called arsenic eaters. So, two people could have eaten the same thing and only one died, if the other was immune.”

  “That’s interesting but it hardly suits this situation.”

  “Well, not as far as we know.” The doctor was reading something on his cell phone. “It used to be sold for rat poison. And years ago, it was in many products, even wallpaper. There was even a time when people applied it to their skin to achieve a certain type of complexion.”

  Tony frowned. “I doubt she was trying to do anything about her complexion.”

  “I doubt that, too. But, people do the strangest things.”

  “I suppose the first thing to find out is where to get arsenic these days and if she purchased it, or if someone we can connect her with recently purchased arsenic.” Tony opened his notebook. “I know besides rat poison, it’s used in a lot of ceramics.”

  “Ceramics?” The doctor’s evident surprise made him blink several times.

  “In the glazes.” In spite of the seriousness of their conversation, Tony had to grin. It wasn’t often he could surprise the doctor. “I took a pottery class when I was in college and we used arsenic and white lead in some of the glazes. We often joked at the number of people we could do away with, with our poorly made pottery.”

  “Ceramics?” Doc Nash seemed to be stuck on the one word.

  Tony actually laughed at his doctor’s expression. The doctor didn’t seem to have been expecting this comment. “Is there a problem?”

  “No. This is the first time you’ve mentioned it in all the years I’ve known you.” The doctor stared at Tony’s hands as if trying to visualize them working with clay. He raised his eyes and blinked again.

  “I’ll bet you took at least one class in college just so you could be in the same classroom with a certain good-looking girl.” Tony gave a slight shrug. “Not only that, it satisfied a requirement that I had some sort of life-improving class like art or music or literature in order to graduate.”

  “So, what did you learn about arsenic?” The doctor had finally come to terms with the concept of Tony creating ceramics. “How was it stored?”

  “It was kept locked in a special cabinet. It was not something we could access without restrictions. There was also white lead and the possibility of other poisonous chemicals involved in the glazes.”

  “In other words, are you saying Mrs. Plover could have been taking a pottery class and accidently ingested stuff she was mixing up?”

  Tony shook his head. “I think we’d have heard about a class. Plus, I don’t know how much arsenic it takes to kill someone, but I do remember a little about the amount used in ceramics. I doubt she would have had access to enough in a community class to kill a mouse. From my experience, everyone is very careful to keep track of exactly how much arsenic is being used and how.”

  “Well, you might be on to something with the mouse part of the story. Lots of people used to keep arsenic in their homes. It was the main ingredient in rat poison.” The doctor scratched his head and looked thoughtful. “Do you think this poisoning was intentional, or some sort of bizarre accident?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve known Eunice Plover since we moved here when I was in the third grade. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anyone say anything bad or threatening about her at all. And, except for your personal squabble with the woman, I’ve heard pleasant descriptions of her.” Tony stared at the doctor. “Who feeds poison to an innocuous woman?”

  “I’d say you’ve got your work cut out for you.” Doc Nash looked sympathetic.

  THE GIFT QUILT—MYSTERY QUILT THE THIRD BODY OF CLUES

  Using the remaining 3-1/2″ squares of fabrics (A) and (B): Sew right sides together on one edge to form a two-patch rectangle (A+B). Press seam to (A). Make 48.

  Using the 3-1/2″ squares of fabric (D) as center, sew two (A+B) rectangles on opposite sides with fabric (B) touching (D). Press to (B). Make 12 A+B+D+B+A. Set aside.

  Form a stack of 24 of the four-patch butterfly blocks from Clue Two in a single pile with Fabric (C) in the upper right-hand corner. Stack the remaining 24 butterfly blocks to the right of them, leaving a small space. Rotate the right-hand side blocks until squares of fabric (C) are in upper left corner. Into the center space, place stack of remaining (A+B) two-patch blocks with fabric (B) separating the squares of (C). Sew together. Make 24 rectangles.

  Lay out the strips (A) + (B) + (D) + (B) + (A). Place on each long sid
e of it the sections of butterfly blocks. Corners of fabric (C) should touch the corners of center square (D). Sew together. Press to center. Make 12 blocks.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  At a loss about his next step with the Plover case, Tony added the names of the various counties where Daniel Crisp had gotten a license and had a wedding to the white board detailing Daniel’s complicated marital history.

  “Sheriff.” Rex’s voice held a note of tension. This unusual occurrence brought Tony’s full attention to his words. “Deputy Holt isn’t responding to my radio calls.”

  “Your last contact?” Abandoning his project, Tony headed toward his office. “When and where?”

  “Ten minutes. A wellness check on Molly Burleson.”

  “At whose request?” Tony knew Molly. The elderly woman lived alone and was quite independent. In the summer her garden was magnificent. She probably worked ten hours a day in it. Tony couldn’t imagine the old lady would have set a trap and Holt fell into it, but Tony heard unimaginable things every day, saw them on the Internet and heard them on the news.

  “Her son called from Atlanta. He told me he’d tried calling his mother and kept getting a busy signal. Hang on.” Rex paused to handle another call. “Okay, I’m back. Anyway, Holt said he’d stop by and see what was happening over at her house, and I’ve heard nothing from him since.”

  Tony glanced at their list of citizens they checked regularly. Mrs. Burleson wasn’t on it. “Should she be on the list or is this something new?”

  “As far as I know, she’s never needed us, except to rescue that cat of hers.”

  Tony had dealt with the cat in question. Mrs. Burleson’s cat was perfectly capable of getting out of the tree on his own four paws. The only reason Tony’s department ever got involved with it was the next door neighbor’s complaints about the cat chasing birds. The rescue was actually to prevent the neighbor from shooting at the cat with a BB gun.

  “What about Wade, Mike or Sheila?”

  “No, sir, they’re all tied up. Wade said he’d get there as fast as he could.”