A Crime of Poison

by Nancy Haddock

  “Ms. Nix, did you tell us everything you knew about finding Mr. Lewis’s body?”

  I opened my mouth to say I had, but the cookies in the car popped to mind. Specifically, the number of cookies I thought I’d seen.

  “I did, but this seems a good time to ask you something.”

  “Nixy,” Dinah warned with one word.

  I turned to her. “Don’t worry. I’ll behave as long as the detective doesn’t go all Dragnet on me again.”

  A beat passed, and then Dinah cracked a grin. Vogelman didn’t.

  She slapped a hand on her papers. “Excuse me? What does that mean?”

  “You were stiff and officious, but that’s beside the point.”

  “Well, then, enlighten me. What is your point?” Her tone carried sarcasm, but her gaze was sharp and expectant.

  “How many cookies were on the plate in the car? I saw whole ones and some pieces, but I didn’t carefully count them.”

  Vogelman hesitated, then shrugged. “There were six unbroken ones and two in pieces. Why is that important?”

  “Let me refresh your memory. On Saturday Cornell had a plate of snickerdoodles. Aster’s label was on the cover. There were four whole cookies then. He said he’d need to ration them to make them last the day.”

  “I have that in my notes,” Vogelman admitted.

  “So he either ate all of Aster and Maise’s cookies and bought another plate at the bake sale—”

  “Stop right there,” the detective interrupted. “I checked with the sale organizers. Mrs. Parsons and Mrs. Holcomb made the only plate of snickerdoodles donated.”

  “Then a person unknown gave Cornell more. Maybe it was innocent. Maybe the other cookies were unintentionally tainted. Or maybe introducing peanuts to the cookies was intentional. The result is that Cornell ate them and had an allergic reaction.”

  “Mrs. Parsons or Mrs. Holcomb could easily have given Mr. Lewis more cookies. They admitted the recipe makes four dozen, yet they donated only one dozen.”

  “I’ll bet they kept two of those dozen, one to freeze and one to eat, and the last twelve went to Mrs. Gilroy, their next-door neighbor. They feed her all the time, and she has a fierce sweet tooth. In addition, if all the peanutty cookies came from the same batch, then Cornell would’ve reacted to the one he’d already eaten on Saturday.”

  She frowned and glanced down at her notes, and then back at me. “Ms. Nix, do you own a handgun?”

  I blinked at the radical change in topic. “I do not.”

  “Do you know how to fire a handgun?”

  “I dated a guy who took me to a firing range once. That was four or five years ago.” I shook my head. “Poor guy. He shot himself in the foot, and that was the last I saw of Glock Gary.”

  Dinah made a choking noise. I didn’t dare look at her. I checked the time on my phone.

  “You have three minutes left, Detective, so let me summarize. I didn’t kill Mr. Lewis or Mr. Hamlin. No one in my family killed either man.”

  “Then why did we find him on your aunt’s land?”

  I sat back in my chair, reeling from that bit of news. “You found him at the farmhouse?”

  “On another piece of property.”

  “Another piece? As in undeveloped land? One with a forest of pine trees?”

  “Yes. Out of all the places in the country, Mr. Hamlin was found on Ms. Cutler’s land. Do you know where it is?”

  I frowned. “Aunt Sherry owns eight parcels or whatever they’re called. I don’t know where they all are, but I know they’re fenced, and the access roads are gated and padlocked.”

  “Have you seen that for yourself?”

  “I drove by them in April when Aunt Sherry showed me around Lilyvale and the surrounding areas.” I started to add that Sherry had told me about the logging company harvesting trees because I’d been concerned about her finances. But Vogelman didn’t need to know that, and I was out of patience.

  “Listen, I know you want to solve these murders. I know there are signs that point to Maise and Aster. From your questions, I’m guessing you have suspicions about Sherry, Fred, and maybe all of my family.”

  She didn’t bat an eye, and I pressed on.

  “Whatever evidence you think you have, consider this. It would be stupid to give a man cookies you know will kill him and leave a plate cover with your name on it. To kill a second guy and leave his body on your own property? That’s not stupid, Detective. That’s completely brain-dead.”

  “I can appreciate you defending your aunt and her housemates, but I will do my job whether you like it or not.”

  “We’re done, then. Good-bye, Detective.”

  I hadn’t seen Eric on the way into my interview, and I didn’t see him on the way out. He might’ve been in the observation room or he might’ve gone home. I didn’t care. My priority was getting Aunt Sherry home.

  T.C. was sprawled across Sherry’s lap when Dinah walked out with me. I smiled at the sight, collected my critters’ leashes, and followed Dinah and Sherry outside.

  As we crossed the parking lot to our cars, I was about to ask Dinah for the highlights of the other interviews. She must’ve read my mind, though, because she held up a hand.

  “I know you want a briefing, but Sherry Mae is tired, and so am I. I’ll come by the emporium tomorrow to discuss the situation in detail.”

  “Okay, Dinah. Thank you for coming so quickly and for staying until the bitter end. You’re a lifesaver.”

  She flashed a smile. “Let’s hope not literally.”

  While she got in her car, I beeped the Camry unlocked and opened the passenger door for Sherry. The animals jumped into the backseat.

  When I started the car a few seconds later, Sherry said, “Step on it, Nixy. The gang is on pins and needles waiting for us, and, um, we have something to confess, child.”

  I did a double take. “You’re keeping me in suspense.”

  “It’s best if you hear from all of us at once.”

  On that ominous note, I took off.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aster, Maise, Dab, Eleanor, and Fred must’ve heard my tires on the gravel driveway because they spilled onto the wide, wraparound farmhouse porch before I had the car in park. Maise shot down the porch steps to hug Sherry as soon as she planted her feet on the ground.

  The family must’ve been more worried than I’d imagined because as they ushered us into the parlor, I noticed cordial glasses on the coffee table and a half-empty bottle of Aster’s honeysuckle wine. The open bag of pretzels reinforced how distressed they’d been. I’d rarely seen the seniors snack at all, and never this late at night.

  Dab and Fred took the two wingback chairs at the far end of the long couch, and Amber headed straight for Fred to lie beside his feet. Aster dropped cross-legged to the floor close to the coffee table, while Eleanor and Maise led Sherry to the couch, where all three sank into the comfy cushions. I should know they were comfy. I’d spent a good number of nights sleeping on that couch before I moved into my apartment.

  That left the upholstered chair closest to the entry for me, and I sat with my stomach in knots. I rather expected T.C. to come sit with me, but she leaped to the sofa, padded to Sherry’s lap, and lay with her tail curled around her paws.

  Eleanor poured Sherry a glass of wine. When I declined, she picked up her own glass, but no one spoke. Now that I saw my aunt in bright light, I was concerned about her pallor. I broke the silence.

  “Can you talk about what happened in your interviews, or did Vogelman tell you to keep mum?”

  “I went first,” Dab said, but with a sly grin instead of a scowl. “She said she knew I’d worked as a chemical engineer and asked me how I’d make peanut oil. I told her I wouldn’t make it. If I ever wanted such a thing, I’d go buy it at the store. She scribbled notes like there was no tomorrow.”


  Maise cleared her throat. “I was second. She asked me about peanut oil, too. I told her I use all-vegetable shortening all the way.” Now she cracked a smile. “I thought she was going to turn green when I told our mother used lard, but shortening was healthier.”

  Aster scooted back from the coffee table with a handful of pretzels so she could see us all. “I went in third. The detective kept harping on the plate of snickerdoodles, and how they ended up in Cornell’s car. Well! I finally told her I might still be a hippie at heart, but not a psychic. You went next, Eleanor. What did she yammer at you about?”

  “The time I lived in Ozark Arms, and what Cornell had done to me. He was rude, insulting, incompetent, and thoroughly unpleasant every time I saw him, but I learned to avoid him. And after the first time he supposedly fixed my oven, I never called on him again.”

  “That’s right,” Fred chimed in. “She called on me, and when I couldn’t help her, I referred her to specialists. They never could fix that oven and stovetop, though. Just like I couldn’t stop that rattle in your old car, Maise. I swear that clunker laughed at me.”

  “It wasn’t that bad, Fred.”

  To keep us on track, I said, “Fred, Vogelman asked me about your pistol. Did she grill you about it, too?”

  “The stupid idjit woman has lost her mind if that’s all she’s got on me. Gun ain’t loaded, and I ain’t shot it in years. She sent Eric over to get it so she could see if it had been fired.”

  “What do you mean by ‘sent him over’? You didn’t give him a key to the house, did you?”

  “He followed us home, but there’ll be nothin’ to find. It’s a family piece, just for show, even if I do bluster about it from time to time.”

  I turned to Sherry. “How about you?”

  “She hassled me about the pieces of forested land I own and what a great place it was to hide Dex’s body. As if.”

  I nodded. “She asked me about your land, too. And the cookies. And about Fred’s Colt .45.”

  “And there’s more.” Sherry paused and took a gulp of wine. “Remember that confession we have to make to you? Brace yourself, child.”

  “For heaven’s sake, what could be so bad?” I demanded, anxiety eating at my gut.

  “My arrest record.”

  My jaw went slack, but after a silent moment, the others chuckled and chortled. Fred laughed so hard, he slapped his knee and momentarily startled the dog.

  “What on earth is so funny about having an arrest record?”

  Eleanor waved a hand. “Nixy, I do believe we’ve all been arrested at least once.”

  “At—at least?” I stammered.

  “At one time or t’other we’ve been in the pokey for disturbin’ the peace, resistin’ arrest—”

  “Unlawful assembly,” Dab put in.

  Aster giggled. “Nixy, you do realize how old we are, don’t you?”

  I blinked.

  Maise shook her head as if I were the class dunce. “If you did the math, you’d get it, but I’ll save you the trouble. We belonged to the generation of activism. Sit-ins.”

  “Protest marches,” Sherry added.

  “And pro-marches, too,” Eleanor said. “We each marched for civil rights, although not together. We hadn’t met back then.”

  “I protested the Vietnam War, but my dear sister never held it against me even though she was already in the Navy.”

  That bit of Maise’s and Aster’s history I remembered hearing from Sherry, but I was still stunned.

  “Apartheid, dolphin-safe fishing, save the whales,” Dab said. “We’ve all taken up causes now and then.”

  I shook my head. “I’m speechless.”

  “Too bad Vogelman wasn’t,” Sherry said tartly. “How she could think a charge of civil disobedience years ago has any bearing on these murders, I don’t know.”

  “She’s grasping at straws,” Dab said.

  Maise turned to me. “Can’t Eric talk some sense into her?”

  I shrugged. “Y’all saw how he acted tonight. I don’t think he’ll tell me squat even if I do talk to him.”

  We chatted another five minutes before Fred stretched and swung his walker around from the side of his chair.

  “Don’t know ’bout the rest of you, but I’m for bed.”

  That was my cue to leave with the critters, but I reminded the gang to call me immediately if they needed anything.

  As I settled the animals in the backseat, I glanced at Bernice’s house. I didn’t see any lights on, so I presumed she was in bed. I also presumed she’d have the scoop on the Six being questioned before the sun went up. If she didn’t already.

  I’d backed out of the driveway and pointed the car toward home when my cell played Eric’s ringtone. I glanced at the passenger seat where the phone rested. Answer the call or give him the silent treatment? Who was I kidding? I wasn’t the silent-treatment type.

  “Are you at the farmhouse?” he asked when I answered the call.

  “I am. Are you calling to tell me Inspector Clouseau is on her way over to arrest every last one of the Silver Six?”

  “No, and, Nixy, Vogelman is not incompetent.”

  “Agree to disagree. So, are you still at the station?”

  “I’m in the parking lot behind the emporium. I wanted to see you,” he said, his dreamy voice deepening.

  Okay, I had to admit that got to me. I wanted to see him, too, in spite of my frustration and ire. I sighed.

  “All right, I’ll be home in about five minutes.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  • • •

  The fur babies went nuts when they saw Eric, but they didn’t seem interested in walking. Up in my apartment, they lapped up his attention right after they lapped some water.

  “How are the Six holding up?” he asked from his end of the sofa. I sat on the other end. This was not a snuggle-time talk.

  “They’re tired and ticked, and so am I. Sherry told me Vogelman made a big deal about her arrest for some protest march.”

  “Did you know about her record?”

  “Eric, that’s not a record. That’s an isolated incident forty to fifty years ago. Besides, every one of the Six has been arrested for supporting some cause or another, but that didn’t keep them from clearing the background checks to volunteer at the technical college.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know bringing that up may have been a little extreme—”

  “A little?” I snorted. “Eric, Vogelman pulled that bit of ancient history out of her hat to intimidate Sherry. It didn’t work. And the peanut oil thing? Maise wouldn’t be caught dead cooking with olive oil, much less peanut oil.”

  He shrugged and extended his hand, palm up, across the divide of cushions. “Nixy, I don’t want this to come between us.”

  I hesitated only a second before I put my hand in his. “I don’t either, and I understand your position. I really do. I just don’t have to like it.”

  With our fingers loosely linked, he offered a smile. “We’ve butted heads over my cases before. Like when Sherry was a suspect back in April.”

  “Yes, but you gave her the benefit of the doubt. You didn’t take the easy way out. You kept digging, and you listened to me when I brought you information.”

  “I had the advantage of knowing Sherry from the time I was a teenager,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.

  “I remember. She was one of your favorite teachers.”

  “Right, and I also wasn’t under the same kind of pressure Charlene is.”

  “You mean she’s bent on impressing your chief.”

  “To a point, you’re right. I had to placate him while I continued investigating, but not necessarily impress him.”

  “Making a false arrest isn’t going to win her points, is it?”

 
; He opened, then closed his mouth.

  I squeezed his warm hand and scooted marginally closer. “Eric, I get that this is her case. I get that she has to do what she thinks best. She’s way off base, though, and as long as she’s focused on my family, how hard will she look for the real killer?”

  “Or killers plural. Lewis was essentially poisoned, but Hamlin was shot.”

  “Can you tell what caliber of gun was used?”

  “No, and the bullet lodged in the body. Whoever did it policed his brass.”

  “So you have to wait for the autopsy,” I groused.

  “Yes, but you don’t.” His lips quirked. “I know you’re snooping with the Six. Charlene told me about the flip chart in Fred’s workroom.”

  “She poked fun about it, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “At least she didn’t tell me to butt out of the case.”

  “I won’t either. I’ll only say be careful, and if you have anything you think we should know, tell me. Okay?”

  I gazed into his bedroom brown eyes. “Okay.”

  He scooched close enough to put his arm around my shoulders. “Good, now will you please kiss me?”

  • • •

  Thursday morning, I was still unhappy with the whole situation of Vogelman questioning the Six. In contrast, I was happy to have seen Eric last night and settled some of the tension between us. I smiled through my routine: get dressed, feed myself and the critters, take our walk, and get ready to open the store.

  Then I found the list of names Eleanor had prepared, compared them to those on the flip chart, and made a plan.

  So had the Silver Six, because as they burst through the back door with the huge tray of cookies they always had on hand for customers, Maise announced, “We have a plan!”

  Since they were in better moods than I expected, I laughed.

  “Tell me.”

  Maise marched to our customary confab worktable and slapped a legal pad on it. “Fred and Dab need supplies from Big George’s hardware store.”

  “For them holiday metal-art things you want,” Fred put in.