Murder by Kindness

by Barbara Graham

  “No, he doesn’t. But, I have seen Gates and Eunice together at different events. They’re relatives.”

  Wade continued to watch the doctor trying to stabilize Jenny. “He’s a lot younger than she is. Not that that means anything.”

  Tony nodded. “I hope we can talk to Jenny soon.”

  “And if she did kill Mrs. Plover, will we be able to find any evidence?”

  Tony’s perpetually irritated stomach rumbled. “Just to be on the safe side, although it is closing the barn door after the horses have gone, we’ll replace the seals as we leave.”

  Soon the kitchen was filled with the ambulance crew joining the doctor. Tony and Wade stood in the dining room. He remembered their mission. They had come for clothes for Mrs. Plover.

  An oxygen mask covered her nose and mouth as Jenny stared into his eyes. “Jenny, can you describe the clothes you wanted to get?”

  He thought he could do that small service for the deceased.

  Gasping for breath, Jenny told him what to get, and where he would find it. She passed out and the doctor went to work again.

  Tony gathered the clothes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Jack Gates answered their knock on his door and stood in his doorway, using the door frame for support. “Sheriff? Wade?”

  “May we come in?” Tony said.

  “Sure, sure.” Walking with his swinging-dragging gait, Jack led the way into his living room. A wheelchair sat empty in the adjoining dining area. “I hate that chair,” he volunteered without being asked as he waved Tony and Wade toward the sofa. “What’s up?”

  Clutching his notebook, Tony settled onto the sofa. “Do you mind answering a few questions?”

  “No. Not at all.” Jack lowered himself onto a partially raised power recliner. He pushed the buttons on the control and the chair shifted Jack’s seating position. “What’s this about?”

  Tony said, “We’re trying to chase down some loose ends. Can you tell me about a pie Jenny Swift delivered to you?”

  “Oh, sure.” Curiosity filled Jack’s face but he shrugged. “She brought me a pie maybe a week ago now. Recently, she’s been very generous to me.”

  “What kind was it?” Wade said.

  “Lemon meringue.” Jack sighed heavily. “It’s my all-time favorite dessert.”

  Tony heard “favorite” and saw unhappiness. “You don’t look pleased to have received it.”

  “No. I was pleased, but . . .” He sighed again and his hands twitched on the armrests of his chair. “I have recently developed some health issues that prevent my enjoying that much sugar.”

  “Jenny didn’t know?”

  Jack shrugged. “It’s not the kind of news I thought to spread around. It’s not a secret; it’s just not the kind of thing that comes up in casual conversation.”

  “So when she brought the pie, what did you do?”

  “I thanked her profusely, which made her happy, and I ate a small slice, you know because it is exceptional pie and willpower is not what I’m best at. After she left, I took the rest of the pie up to Eunice’s house. She has, er, had a voracious appetite for goodies.” Jack sighed heavily. “I thought she’d enjoy it.”

  “What about you?” Tony asked quietly. “Did you enjoy the pie?”

  “Why, yes. It was delicious.” Jack looked intrigued. “Should I not have? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Tony didn’t answer directly. “Any sense of feeling ill afterwards?”

  “Ill?” The expressions chasing across his face began changing from polite to concerned to suspicious. “Why? Was there something wrong with the pie?”

  “We believe so.” Tony heard himself and grimaced. “It sounds so bizarre, but we have reason to believe there was arsenic in the pie, and that’s what killed Eunice.”

  Jack laughed. “Nonsense. If there was, wouldn’t I have died, too?”

  “I don’t know. You are a good-sized man and ate a small piece. Maybe that’s all the difference necessary between feeling fine and a fatal dose. Maybe her slice was larger.”

  “I hate to speak ill of the dead.” Jack’s eyes filled with tears. “But my aunt was prone to overeating, particularly sweets. I can imagine she might have eaten the entire remaining pie. What I can’t imagine is why you think Jenny would bring me a pie full of poison in the first place.”

  Tony and Wade went to visit Jenny in her hospital room. Even though she was attached to an IV and several monitors, she looked close to death.

  “Will you tell us what happened?” Tony watched as Jenny’s eyelids lifted halfway and then closed again. He heard her sigh and waited.

  “I had barely delivered the poisoned lemon meringue pie to Jack when I came to my senses. I ran back to his house just in time to see him pull out of his driveway. I was frantic until I saw him return. He seemed fine, but all night I stayed awake and watched the house.” Tears seeped beneath her eyelashes.

  Tony handed her several more tissues. And waited while she wiped her eyes.

  After dabbing at her eyes, she compressed the tissues into a ball in the palm of her left hand and her fingers tightened around it. Jenny’s eyes closed again as a shudder ran through her. She inhaled and then, as she exhaled, her eyes opened and she stared directly into Tony’s. “I went over first thing the next morning, terrified he had died. When he opened his front door and I saw his face looked absolutely normal, I was so relieved. He was laughing as he talked to someone on the telephone. I said I would come back later.”

  “Did you think he hadn’t eaten the pie?” Tony made notes about the times.

  “I thought maybe I hadn’t used enough poison, or maybe that it was too old and had lost its power.” Jenny blinked away more tears. “What happened?”

  Tony didn’t think it would matter if he gave her an answer. “Jack has developed diabetes and did not want to tell you and hurt your feelings, so he took the pie. Later, he gave most of it to his aunt.”

  “Oh, my.” Understanding completely, Jenny lay back against the pillows. “My dearest friend, Eunice, could never resist overeating desserts.”

  Tony guessed he had about a hundred more questions to ask her, but the doctor signaled his time was up. Jenny needed rest.

  A few hours later, Tony received a call from Doc Nash.

  “Jenny Swift was returned to her house and when I went to check on her, no one answered the ringing doorbell and the door was locked. I’m very worried. She should not have been alone.” The normally calm physician sounded almost panicky.

  “I’ll send Wade and then I’ll join you both. We should be there in a few minutes.” Tony was talking to Wade even as he headed to his vehicle.

  When they broke into the house, Tony and Wade and the doctor found Jenny Swift stretched out on her couch unconscious. Next to her was an empty glass and a handwritten note.

  Tony picked it up and began to read. “I’ve always hated the idea of suicide. Someone taking over God’s decision about how long we should live. And the horrible tragedy the family is left to bear. Their pain is mixed with undeserved guilt. But there are only a few members left in my family, and I pray they will forgive me. I killed the wrong person.

  “To Eunice’s myriad friends, I am sure that this confession will not ease your pain, or compensate for your loss. Nor mine. She was my best friend. The pain of knowing what I have done is beyond belief.

  “To my intended victim, Jack Gates, I suspect we will both meet again in the depths of hell. If you have not already informed the authorities of the reason I hate you so, I will explain it to them now.

  “Jack Gates killed my daughter. And I have hated him every moment of every day since then. My dear friend Eunice knew you only as her nephew, and she possessed the greatest, kindest heart. A couple of times I tried to tell her why I thought so little of you. I don’t know whose idea two of you taking a cruise was, but for some reason it became the final straw. I heard you both laughing about the fun you would have. My daughter has
been dead for twenty years and instead of the grief fading, lately it has grown stronger. I could no longer tolerate the sight of you. I suppose you feel sure that you have won this final battle between us. Only time will tell.”

  By the time Tony finished reading the note, the paramedics had managed to revive the woman. She was still desperately ill, and he knew she might not make it.

  The look she gave him was one of heartbroken disappointment. She wanted to die. She couldn’t speak because of all of the medical equipment; the tears streamed from her eyes and soaked the cushion under her head.

  A few hours later, Tony and Wade stood by Jenny’s hospital bed. She was in a different room this time. The doctor had warned them to make the visit short. She was greatly improved, but was not out of the woods yet.

  “We found your note.” Tony read her rights to her, mostly so she’d realize they could not ignore her actions.

  Jenny’s voice was barely audible. “Ask me anything you want.”

  “Where did you get the poison that you filled the pie with?”

  “My old house is filled with it. Even the antique wallpaper in the attic is known as arsenic green. It really does have arsenic in it. I loaded the pie I intended for Jack. I soaked the wallpaper with lemon juice, and I added spoons and spoons of the poison still left in tins and boxes in the attic. It was once commonly used for many purposes. You could say, I guess, my murder weapon of choice was an antique.” She moved restlessly on the hospital bed. “I put it in my tea, but I guess I didn’t use enough on myself.”

  “What made you decide to give him a poisoned pie?” Tony was baffled. He had seen Jack with both Jenny and Eunice many times, and all of them seemed totally happy and agreeable. “What changed? Your note indicated he’d killed your daughter?”

  “I hated that my friend trusted him. Just because someone is a relative does not mean they are good people. He was ‘oh, just so nice,’ and ‘deals bravely.’ Do you know why he has trouble walking?”

  Tony couldn’t imagine what this had to do with a poisoning. “Some accident when he was much younger.”

  “Some accident indeed—when he killed my daughter.” Jenny’s fingers clenched the edge of the sheet. “He was driving under the influence of something. I don’t know if it was drugs or alcohol. I don’t care. It made him lose control and his motorcycle tipped and slid under hers. She and her motorcycle went over a railing and down a steep canyon into a river. She drowned, trapped under all that weight.” Jenny struggled for breath, almost like she was drowning, too. “I didn’t ever tell Eunice it was her nephew I blamed. I’m not sure I knew of their relationship in the early days when she and I became friends. All those years ago. I was completely distraught at the time. I suffered from horrible depression and could barely even lift a hand. My new best friend visited me, made me laugh, made me live and introduced me to quilting as therapy.”

  “And Jack Gates?” Tony hadn’t heard this story before.

  “He didn’t live here then. To be honest, I’m not sure when I realized who he really was. When he moved into the house across from mine, it took a while before I was positive it was the same man. Eunice loved her nephew and was happy and excited he’d moved to Silersville.”

  “You didn’t tell your friend who he was, to you?”

  “Oh, I tried to tell her, but I guess I didn’t try hard enough. I could see his front door from my kitchen window. When he started riding that bike, I hoped he would crash or be hit by a truck.”

  Tony hated hearing of her tragedy. “I’m so sorry.”

  Jenny struggled to speak. “I’m not asking you to be sorry. I’m telling you why I wanted him dead.”

  “Where was the accident?” Tony couldn’t remember even having heard about it.

  “They were in New Mexico, riding through the mountains.” Jenny sighed. “At the time lots of people told me that his being crippled was punishment enough and I should forgive and forget.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “I could never forget. He killed my little girl.”

  Although Tony felt deep sympathy for the woman, he had to have the facts. “Why didn’t you ever mention this before? This is not the kind of thing that usually stays secret in a community like ours.”

  “It’s been such a long time now. As I said, at first I wasn’t sure it was the same man,” Jenny explained. “He didn’t live here, only visited a few times with my daughter, and then only briefly.”

  “Do you know where he grew up? Or where his family is, other than Eunice?” Tony wondered if there were relatives somewhere he needed to notify. Her eyes drifted closed. And for a moment Tony thought she had fallen asleep.

  “He and Shannon, my daughter, lived in St. Louis. I don’t know anything about his family, except I did meet his mother and father at the wedding. Shannon and Jack got married here. Your dad performed the wedding.” Her eyes opened and met his. “He would be so disappointed to know what I have done.”

  The doctor signaled that it was time for them to leave.

  Tony nodded his head, even as he thought about the twenty years since the tragedy had taken place. He would’ve been peeling potatoes on an aircraft carrier; at least that was the story he liked to tell. He was saddened and disappointed by what he had learned. He touched her shoulder gently. “And now you’ve killed your best friend.”

  Tears seeped into the pillow. “I will never forgive myself.”

  Tony stood in the back of the church waiting for the funeral service for Eunice Plover to begin.

  Jack sat in his wheelchair near the front, next to an empty pew reserved for the family. He seemed weaker each day. Tony had stopped to talk to him, explaining the poison. “She never meant to kill her friend.”

  “I understand.” Jack studied his hands. “Jenny was heartbroken. I might have tried to kill me, too.” He looked up. “Her daughter was the other half of my soul. Neither of us can forget, or bring her back. Could Jenny think I wouldn’t have preferred death to my life filled with guilt and half a body? I got what I deserved.”

  Tony left the man to deal with his grief.

  The remainder of the church was packed with only friends and neighbors. Tony didn’t find it surprising, because he knew the only known relatives, besides Jack, were off somewhere trying to find an attorney who could break Eunice’s will. Not a chance.

  What had proved to be the breaking point with the greedy family was learning that she didn’t even own the house she lived in. It had been sold to a charity, for a dollar, with the provision she could live in it for the duration of her life. She even continued to pay the taxes. That news had broken their spirit. Much as Jack’s spirit had been broken by the knowledge that his aunt died for something he accidentally destroyed in his reckless youth.

  The last greedy relatives scuttled off in the darkness, like cockroaches, taking with them the ceramic planter filled with tulips from the front porch. It was the only thing not locked inside or nailed down.

  Tony’s cell phone vibrated and he stepped into the foyer. “Yes?”

  “Sheriff, there’s another still on fire. This time Chief Cox thinks he knows where the arsonist is.” Flavio’s excitement caused all of the words to arrive in one breath.

  Tony sorted it out. “Where should I meet him?”

  “He’ll be going through the intersection, just a block from the church. He says for you to follow him and that you can’t miss him. He’ll be in a big red truck.”

  Even as Flavio spoke, Tony heard the fire engine and ran to his vehicle. Rather than create any disturbance at the funeral, he decided not to pull Wade or Mike out of the church. He fell in line behind the firemen. The shrieking sirens of the fire vehicles and his Blazer brought the curious out in force.

  By the time they reached the burning still, the culprit was gone. Tony squinted at the pile of rubble. “I thought we might catch him this time.” Chief Cox nodded. “So, whose still is still standing? There can’t be many more.”

  “I have no idea,” Tony
said, his dream of another closed case shattered. “I had no idea there were this many to begin with.”

  Theo felt all recovered after her bout with the very bad flu bug. She arrived at her shop a little late in the morning and parked in the rear. Using her key, she unlocked the workroom door and, turning her back to it, pushed it open with her rump. The twins each held one of her hands and were walking well, but not breaking any speed records as she backed through the doorway.

  Theo was so busy concentrating on the girls and juggling her purse and their lunches that when a horn honked right behind her, she jumped up in the air and squealed. Caro stood just inside the workroom, behind her gaily festooned walker, and she got so tickled by Theo’s reaction, she started laughing like crazy and honking the walker’s horn again and again.

  Theo wasn’t sure whether to be happy her friend was laughing or pull out the stern face because she could have had heart failure. The vote was instantaneous. Theo joined in the laughter, and laughed so hard she had to sit down. Kara and Lizzie, evidently believing the party was for them, laughed and clapped as well.

  Within a minute every person in the shop, even the strangers, were at minimum having a fit of the giggles. Others were laughing hard, gasping for breath. Joy is contagious. Life was good.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Barbara Graham began making up stories in the third grade and immediately quit learning to multiply and divide. Her motto is “every story needs a dead body and every bed needs a quilt.” She writes because she cannot “not write.” Barbara is intrigued by the problems and situations her imaginary friends manage to get themselves into. She refuses to accept any blame for their actions or misfortunes.

  A prize-winning quilter, she enjoys combining her fabric addiction with her predilection for telling tall tales.

  Married to a man who can do math in his head (very useful to a quilter), she has two perfect sons, a perfect grandson and granddaughter. She has a delightful daughter-in-law and is “not the worst mother-in-law in history.”