A Crime of Poison

by Nancy Haddock

  “They’ll do recon for scuttlebutt there on both Cornell’s and Dex’s enemies.” Maise stabbed her finger on the pad and continued. “Sherry needs her hair trimmed, so she’s headed to Helen’s salon in fifteen minutes. Aster and I will hold down the fort while you go with Eleanor to talk to more people on her list. Any questions?”

  “Just one,” I said.

  “Speak.”

  “What on earth did y’all have for breakfast?”

  Fred barked a laugh, and Maise swatted my arm. “Move out.”

  “Aye-aye.”

  • • •

  Since it wasn’t yet ten in the morning, I left Eleanor making phone calls to locate our quarries while I ran two errands. First, I stopped at Gaskin’s Business Center to pick up the photos I’d e-mailed to Kay requesting 5 × 7 prints. After a short chat with her, I left with the pictures in a manila envelope Kay had provided and popped down to Great Buns to see what Judy had heard lately.

  She was alone in the bakery but madly boxing cookies at the stainless-steel counter. When she saw me, though, she stopped and rushed to hug me.

  “Oh, Nixy, I heard about that new detective questioning the Six. How are they doing?”

  “They’re fighting mad,” I said as Judy pulled away. “Please tell me you’ve heard some gossip that could be a lead.”

  She returned to the counter, changed her plastic gloves for a fresh pair, and resumed filling the cookie box. “I heard Dex Hamlin was found dead somewhere out around the Pines Motor Court. The truck was parked on an access road back in the trees.”

  “Yeah, on a piece of Sherry’s land on a road her logging company uses.”

  “Sherry has a logging company?”

  “I said that wrong. The company she hires uses those access roads.”

  “Ah, those access roads are all over the place. Maybe a logger bumped Dex off.”

  “Why?”

  “No idea, but you and the Six are in full investigation mode, right?”

  I gave her a weak smile. “As of today, yes. Please keep your ears open for us, will you?”

  “You’ve got it, but check out that company. And don’t get yourself in trouble again, or you’ll wear me thin.”

  • • •

  Sherry had left for her hair appointment by the time I returned, but Dinah Souse was in the store. There were no customers at the moment, and she repeated the briefing she’d given to the seniors.

  “Every scrap of evidence is circumstantial, but I fear Vogelman will present it to the county’s deputy prosecuting attorney.”

  “Dinah, I’ve watched my share of cop shows, but dumb this down for me. Do you think Aster and Maise will be arrested?”

  “If the detective has her way, that might happen. If it does, I’ll push for the arraignment to be held as quickly as possible. After the ruckus y’all’s friends made when Sherry was questioned last spring, I don’t think the judge will want to keep them in custody for long.”

  “Do you really think the circumstantial evidence is compelling enough to sway Judge James?” Eleanor asked.

  Dinah sighed. “Given the chance, I’d argue against it, but I can’t take action at this point. I know how worrying this is, but strive for calm.”

  “I’ll break out the lavender oil and make more spray.”

  “Whatever it takes, get on with life as usual. You have nothing to hide, so don’t.”

  I’d get on with life by getting on with the investigation.

  • • •

  Eleanor and I decided to track down Marshall Gibson, the goateed hospital volunteer, before keeping our lunch appointment with the Darbys and Lorraine Chandler. When she couldn’t reach him at home, she called the hospital. I was a bit surprised that whoever she talked with gave out the information, but she was told he was working.

  After checking at the main desk, then the ER, we ran him to ground in the compact but relatively comfortable surgery waiting room making new pots of regular and decaf coffee. The hospital only had twenty beds, so I was surprised to see ten people waiting for word on their loved ones.

  We had no privacy for the talk we needed to have.

  When Marshall turned from the beverage counter with its bar sink, his face lit with pleasure when he recognized Eleanor.

  “My dear Mrs. Wainwright,” he said as he quick-stepped to her. “How are you? Not here for surgery, I hope.”

  “No, Marshall, I’m fine, and you know I asked you to call me Eleanor.”

  “Yes, but that was several years ago.” The phone on his desk trilled, and he hurried to answer it. All eyes in the room turned to him, waiting. “O’Malley family,” he said when he replaced the receiver.

  “Here, here,” a young woman said as she rushed to the desk. Four others I took to also be O’Malleys anxiously crowded behind her.

  “All is well. Your mother is in recovery, and the doctor will be here in a jiffy to talk to you. There’s a private room next door if you’d like to meet him there.”

  After distracted thank-yous, the family headed out. At least that was five fewer people listening. If Marshall would even talk to us.

  He made a tick mark on a printout, laid the pen precisely beside the paper, and straightened. Then he narrowed his gaze on me.

  “I know you. You came looking for that scoundrel—” He must’ve realized he was talking too loudly because he broke off and then motioned us into the hall. Once there, he rounded on me.

  “You were looking for Cornell Lewis in the ER,” he snapped.

  “Yes, but not because he’s a friend. Or rather was a friend.”

  “Then why?”

  “I do believe we need to start over. Marshall, let me present Leslee Nix, Sherry Mae Cutler’s niece. She goes by Nixy, and we’re looking into Cornell’s death.”

  “And now Dex Hamlin’s, too.”

  Marshall shook his head. “Eleanor, Lewis was a scourge. Why do you care that he’s dead?”

  “Because my dear housemates and I are suspects in his murder,” Eleanor said baldly.

  “That’s preposterous!” he exclaimed. “You still live at Sherry Mae Cutler’s farmhouse, don’t you?”

  “That’s right, and Aster Parsons and Maise Holcomb live with us, too.”

  “Maise was a nurse here in town,” he said as he stroked his goatee with a thin index finger that looked like it had been broken. I noticed his hand trembled slightly as well. Was he nervous?

  He peered into the waiting room, then sighed as he turned back to us. “I don’t know what I can tell you, but I’ll help if I can.”

  “We appreciate that, Mr. Gibson.”

  “Marshall.”

  I jumped right in. “On Sunday when I saw you in the ER, you said you hadn’t seen Cornell Lewis and he hadn’t come in for treatment.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You also seemed surprised he was in town. You hadn’t heard rumors he was here?”

  “Actually, Barbara Linden—you remember Barbara, Eleanor?” She nodded, and he continued. “I was watching football and cooking on Saturday, but I saw her when I went out to get my mail during halftime. She told me she’d seen him at the folk art festival.”

  Huh. So Marshall did know Cornell was in town. “Did Barbara mention if she saw him with anyone in particular? Did you want to confront him?”

  “No, she didn’t mention anyone,” he said, and looked at Eleanor, “but, yes, I did want to have a few choice words with him. I wanted to warn him away from bothering any of us. I even drove downtown, but when I saw how far away I’d have to park, I went home. He wasn’t worth that much trouble.”

  I couldn’t decide whether I believed him, but I changed gears. “How long have you volunteered here?”

  He hesitated as if I’d thrown him off stride, then answered proudly, “I’ll get my five-year
volunteer pin next month.”

  “This is a delicate question, but do you remember Dennis Moreno from the apartment complex?”

  His expression closed ever so subtly. “He worked at the library.”

  “I heard he was bullied, too.”

  “He was. He was gay, and Cornell was merciless to him.”

  “Was gay?” I echoed. “Is he deceased?”

  “Not as far as I know. He moved home. His mother was ill, I think.”

  “Do you know of anyone who would kill Cornell Lewis?”

  “The residents would’ve loved for him to keel over, but he was fired, and that was good enough for us.”

  “Okay, thank you for your help,” I said as the waiting room phone rang.

  Marshall said a quick good-bye and strode off to answer it.

  “What now, Eleanor? Can we drop in on anyone else on your list?”

  “There will be no dropping in on anyone,” she said firmly. “We have thirty minutes before we meet the group for lunch. I do believe I’m in the mood for a strong cup of coffee, so drive to the Dairy Queen. And then, Nixy, you will tell me why you keep asking my friends about Dennis Moreno.”

  • • •

  Lilyvale was small enough to cover a lot of ground in a short time, so we were at the DQ drive-through in minutes. With a black coffee for Eleanor, and a coffee with sugar for me, I explained myself.

  “It feels important, Eleanor. I heard a rumor that someone Cornell bullied ended up dead. Judy thought she heard it from Debbie Nicole from the library, but none of you who were there at Ozark Arms seems to remember a death. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

  “Nixy, as I told you before, talk with Debbie Nicole about it. If anyone can answer your questions about Dennis, she’s your best bet. Truly, I don’t believe most of the residents knew him well.”

  “He wasn’t unfriendly if he saw Minnie regularly and ran books back and forth to her.”

  “He wasn’t unfriendly at all,” she said. “He simply kept more to himself than not.”

  I sighed and wheeled into the parking lot behind the emporium. The CPA that Barbara worked for was across the street, so we’d walk.

  “Okay, I’ll call the library this afternoon to see if Debbie Nicole will talk to me.”

  “Good. Let’s go meet our lunch dates. I’ve already told them we’re investigating and why. I certainly hope they know more than everyone else we’ve spoken with.”

  “Keep the faith, Eleanor,” I advised, and tried to keep my own.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lorna had saved us a round table for six set back near the stairway that led up to the Inn on the Square. There was an after-café-hours covered staircase built into the back of the building. Guests came and went that way via their individual codes punched into the weatherproof box.

  Eleanor and I had just taken chairs facing the door when Randy and Billie Jo Darby entered the restaurant. Both were slender, looked fit, and were in their early sixties by my estimate. They wore sneakers, jeans, and Arkansas Razorbacks polo shirts. Theirs were white shirts with a red logo, but it reminded me that the photos of Lee Durley and Cornell Lewis were in the manila envelope in Fred’s workroom.

  Eleanor stood and waved to them, and the three exchanged warm greetings before I was introduced.

  “Good to meet you,” Billie Jo said as she shook my hand. “I’ve heard a bit about you around town.”

  Randy smiled and it made his eyes crinkle. “What she’s too polite to say is that we heard you’ve been in on solving a few murders.”

  “Guilty as charged,” I said, “but Eleanor, my aunt, and the rest of the gang helped a lot.”

  “I hope we can help, too, although I don’t know quite how since we’ve been touring California for a month,” Billie Jo warned as she took the chair beside mine.

  Randy sat next to her and added, “Great trip. We saw the coastal redwoods, the giant sequoias, Yosemite.”

  Billie Jo patted his hand. “Randy was an executive with a logging company, but the man loves his trees. We saw other sites, too. The wine country, San Francisco. Randy even took me to Disneyland and the San Diego Zoo and Coronado Island.”

  “But I drew the line at Tijuana,” Randy declared.

  “That sounds like a wonderful vacation,” I said.

  Billie Jo laughed. “Oh, it wasn’t a vacation. Not in the strictest sense. Randy and I love to travel, and now that he’s retired, we can pick up and go whenever we like.”

  “I do believe I’d forgotten how often you two are on the go, Billie Jo.”

  “Well, you’ve been gone from Ozark Arms for years, Eleanor. No reason you should remember. Did I understand that Lorraine Chandler was joining us?”

  “Yes, and she just came in.”

  Eleanor rose and waved, and this time all the residents and former residents of Ozark Arms greeted one another, and I had a moment to observe Lorraine. Of average height with short brown hair and a maternal figure, she was also in her late fifties or early sixties. She’d dressed in slacks and a lightweight sweater and wore chunky gold earrings.

  Eleanor introduced us, and Lorraine sat beside her just as Lorna came to take our orders. Since all of us ordered one kind of salad or another, our beverages and lunches were soon on the table. We visited for a few minutes, during which time I learned that Billie Jo and Lorraine had taught together at the elementary school.

  “Why exactly did you want to talk with us?” Billie Jo asked.

  I cut my gaze to Eleanor, who blotted her lips before she spoke.

  “We’re attempting to learn who might have seen Cornell Lewis during the few days he was back in town.”

  Lorraine’s expression sharpened. “You mean you’re looking for his killer.”

  “We aren’t accusing anyone,” Eleanor said hastily. “But he came to our store, apologized for his past behavior, and said he was making amends where he could.”

  “We’re hoping that if he went around apologizing to other people, one of them might have seen something.”

  “Or someone. Namely the killer, correct?” Randy asked.

  “That’s the size of it.”

  “I moved out of the Arms before he was fired. I highly doubt he’d know where I live now, and I certainly didn’t see the worm,” Lorraine stated flatly.

  “So you didn’t come to the folk art festival?” I asked.

  “I didn’t. I was in Little Rock visiting my grandchildren all weekend.”

  Billie Jo shrugged. “We didn’t get home until yesterday, and that’s when we heard Rotten to the Core had been murdered.”

  “So you don’t know of anyone who saw him?” Eleanor asked.

  Randy shook his head. “Rumor does have it that Dexter Hamlin was found dead somewhere out in the country. Is that true?”

  “It is, and we were all questioned about it.”

  “Hah! Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

  I blinked. “You knew Hamlin?”

  “To my disgust. The man tried to blackmail me, and Cornell Lewis had to have been in on it.”

  “What?” Eleanor and I said in unison.

  “The short version,” Billie Jo supplied, “is that Hamlin said Randy had suggestive photos of young girls in our apartment. He demanded to be paid five thousand dollars.”

  Randy banged the table with his fist. “Those young girls were our granddaughter and her friends. They were taking modeling classes in Dallas. Not that they were wearing anything scandalous, but the only way Hamlin could have known about the photos is if Cornell went through our things and found them.”

  “Or I suppose Hamlin could have been with Cornell when he was supposedly fixing something or other in our apartment. They used to drink together as I recall, so one or both of them could easily have done the snooping.”

  My mouth hung open,
and I when I glanced at Eleanor, she wore the same stunned expression. “I never heard about this outrage,” she exclaimed. “You didn’t pay him, of course.”

  “I told Hamlin to stuff it, but he went to my company. I was called on the carpet and had to explain the situation.”

  “And I,” Lorraine said, “marched into that CEO’s office and told them Billie Jo had shown those photos to the other teachers, just like the proud grandparent she is.”

  “My company backed down, but I was plenty angry enough at the time to have shot both of them like the vermin they were.”

  “Goodness!” Eleanor breathed.

  “It turned out well in the end,” Billie Jo said with a wave of her hand. “Randy had the option to take early retirement a year and half later, and I still think the company sweetened his package because they had doubted his integrity.”

  “I got the package because I earned it, dear,” Randy countered.

  I smiled at the comment, but my thoughts tumbled over one another. If Hamlin had tried to blackmail the Darbys, how many other people had he done the same to and succeeded? How many had he still been sucking dry? It sure gave a host of people a reason to kill him, but how did I begin to investigate that angle?

  I didn’t. Unless the Six knew a heck of a lot more about Hamlin than they’d told me, we were up a creek. We didn’t have the resources to snoop into bank accounts or whatever might hold leads to the killer. Eric did, and I believed he’d pass the information on to Vogelman, but would she act on it?

  • • •

  Lunch broke up at twelve forty-five. Eleanor insisted on paying the check, but Randy insisted the rest of us contribute to the tip. Another round of hugs among the friends, and Eleanor and I headed straight across the square to see Barbara Linden. Her office, or rather the office of Brad Brady, CPA, was a stone’s throw from the emporium facing Stanton Drive.

  Barbara proved to be a tall blonde in her forties with a ready smile, and I was sure we’d been introduced sometime in the summer, though I hadn’t had the chance to visit with her.

  “Oh, my goodness, Eleanor!” She popped out of her desk chair and embraced my friend. “How are you?”