A Crime of Poison

by Nancy Haddock

  “If they aren’t, the townspeople may storm the jail,” I joked to lighten the mood.

  Eleanor laughed. “Nixy is correct. Our friends are holding a protest rally in the square. Marching around the courthouse, chanting, the works.”

  Aster sighed. “Sounds like the old days. Activism isn’t dead.”

  I grinned at her wistful expression. “Not by a long shot, especially when it concerns you and the rest of the Silver Six.”

  Maise rapped her knuckle on the counter. “What’s the status of the investigation? Have you narrowed down a suspect list?”

  Eleanor and Sherry looked to me to answer, and I grimaced. “I’m sorry, but no. Eleanor and I talked with the Darbys, Lorraine Chandler, and Barbara Linden today—”

  “Don’t forget Marshall Gibson,” Eleanor added.

  “Yes, and Mr. Gibson. Anyone could have killed Cornell, and Randy Darby might’ve gone after Dex, but the Darbys have been out of town.”

  “Randy Darby had a beef with Hamlin?” Maise barked. “What was it?”

  “Attempted blackmail.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

  Eleanor nodded. “If the man tried pulling that on Randy, he was probably doing the same to others.”

  “Which is a good motive to murder Hamlin, but what does that have to do with Cornell Lewis’s death? No, never mind. The guard will be here in a minute.”

  “We’ll fill you in tomorrow when you’re out of here,” I promised, “and I do have one more lead. I need to talk with Debbie Nicole.”

  “She worked with that librarian, Dennis Moreno, who up and moved so suddenly,” Sherry said.

  “I’m hoping she’ll have information about why Dennis left town and be willing to tell me.”

  “Whether she gives you another lead or not, it will be good to have answers,” Aster said as the door at the back side of the room opened.

  A woman I didn’t recognize entered the room but didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. Maise stood and said it for her.

  “Time’s up, but we’ll see you in the courtroom.”

  “We’ll all be there,” Sherry assured her.

  Aster glanced at the guard. “Just a few more sprays, all right?”

  The guard nodded, and Aster went to town with that lavender water. She misted herself, then Maise, then the phone receiver before she replaced it on the hook. Then she spritzed herself and Maise once more for good measure.

  On the other side of the wall, we waved and smiled as the ladies looked back at us. Aster surrendered the plastic bottle, and they walked out. As soon as they did, Eleanor and Sherry choked back sobs. I replaced the receiver on our side of the Plexiglas and hugged them both.

  “It really will be okay,” I murmured. “Let’s go fill Dab and Fred in on the visit.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  By the time Sherry, Eleanor, and I arrived back at the emporium twenty minutes before our five o’clock closing time, the marchers had dispersed. I didn’t know if they’d show up the next day, but it was fine if they didn’t. I was grateful for the show of support.

  It didn’t take long to bring Dab and Fred up to speed, and didn’t take long for me to convince the seniors to call it a day either. Jasmine also left to get ready for a date, but Kathy offered to stay to help me ready the store for the next morning.

  “Kathy, I have a question for you,” I said as we counted the register receipts. Which were lower than usual, but no surprise considering the chaotic day.

  “If you’re going to ask if I want to work here, the answer is yes.”

  “Even after all the craziness of this week?”

  She smiled. “Jasmine told me it’s usually a calm, easy job, but I kind of enjoyed the excitement.”

  I leaned my hip against the wooden counter. “I wish I could say the same, but Jasmine is right. We keep the working environment friendly and light. Probably to the point of boring. And business may be considerably slower after the holidays.”

  “I don’t mind, Ms. Nixy,” she said as she handed me the tally. “Even the few days I’ve been here, I’ve learned a lot of practical things I don’t get in my business classes.”

  “Good, and call me Nixy. I’ll check with the Silver Six, but I know they’re pleased with your work.” I paused. “There is something else, Kathy.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you remember much about living at Ozark Arms? About the people there who might’ve wanted Cornell Lewis dead?”

  “First off, I saw my name on the flip chart. Jasmine told me it was y’all’s murder board.”

  “It is, and your name is there because I thought you might remember seeing or hearing things that the older people might not have paid attention to. Maybe seen that someone had a deeper hatred of Cornell than the others.”

  “Well, I can tell you straight up that I wanted him dead, but that was after he all but pushed my mom down the stairs. Once we were gone, I didn’t think about him much, although I admit it set me back to see him last week.” She shook her head. “I got over it, though. It helped to talk it out with my boyfriend.”

  “I’m glad, but any details you can recall might be a big help. For instance, did Cornell give any particular residents a harder time than others?”

  She snorted. “He was an equal-opportunity bully as far as I remember.”

  “Did you and your mom ever notice things missing or disturbed after he’d been in your apartment? Did you ever see Cornell sneaking into other apartments, or sneaking anything out of them?”

  “If he did that, it was in the daytime when people were at work.” She paused and frowned. “There was one time I was home sick while my mom was at work. He came in while I was in the kitchen, and I caught him poking around in a two-drawer file cabinet where Mama kept her receipts.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He blustered. Asked me if I was playing hooky, and threatened to call the police. I told him I had a fever and he’d better get out before I threw up on him.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Bet he got out of there fast.”

  She gave me a gamine grin. “He sure did.”

  “Thanks, Kathy. If you think of anything else, remember anyone threatening Cornell, let me know.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “By the way, Kathy,” I said as she went to get her purse, “who are you seeing? Has he been into the store?”

  “Derek Goodson, and man, was he angry when I told him about Cornell. He offered to beat him up for me, but I told him to forget it. All that happened a long time ago, and the man wasn’t worth getting into trouble over.”

  “It’s a good thing he listened to you. Have a good night.”

  Or had Derek listened to Kathy? I considered putting his name on the suspect list, but no and no. Men didn’t generally go bake cookies to kill someone. Especially young men with a lot more on their minds than tracking down Cornell. Way too much trouble.

  After locking the front door behind her and setting the alarm, I checked the workroom door lock with Amber and T.C. looking on. When I opened the door leading from the workroom to the apartment, they scampered upstairs. Only as I trudged up behind them did I remember I’d never phoned Debbie Nicole. Was the library open late on Thursday? I couldn’t remember, and I was too tired to ask one more murder-related question today. I wanted some comfort food, a soak in the claw-foot tub instead of my usual shower, and maybe a little reading in bed.

  I fed the critters and realized I’d need to take them out again before I called it a night. Maybe I’d just let them out back to do their thing in the parking lot. There was a strip of grass back there, and I could do poop patrol in the morning if needed. Plus, they’d never once tried to run off, and animal control wouldn’t be looking for strays after dark.

  As Amber and T.C. crunched their munchies, I s
earched the fridge for my own meal. The leftovers from Tuesday’s dinner at the farmhouse were front and center. Roast with carrots, potatoes, and small sweet onions, a dab of green bean casserole, and chocolate cake. I could work with that.

  I could’ve heated my dinner on the stove, but I didn’t want to deal with washing pans. My microwave warming trick was to cook a bit longer at a lower temperature setting, so I plated the roast and veggies, covered them with a paper towel, and let ’er rip. While the aromas of comfort food permeated the room, I flipped through TV channels. I scrolled past HGTV, something about World War I on the History Channel, and several sitcom reruns. The Thursday Night Football game wasn’t on yet, so I settled on Animal Planet as the timer dinged.

  I’d just finished the last bite of cake when Eric’s ringtone sounded.

  “Hey, Nixy, how did your visit with Maise and Aster go?”

  “Other than the location, it was good. Did Detective Vogelman complain about the lavender water?”

  “She didn’t say a word to me, but I haven’t seen her in a few hours. She may have gone on home to her dad.” He paused a beat. “I was thinking about taking T.C. and Aster to the park for a quick visit. Are you game?”

  “They will be, and they’d appreciate the attention, but I’m beat.”

  “I’ll be happy to take them by myself if you aren’t too tired to bring them downstairs.”

  I thought about the steep steps for a minute, but I’d have to go down them and come back up at some point. If Eric took them out, they might be able to settle down for the night.

  “You’re on, and if you don’t mind, let me give you a key to bring them back upstairs.”

  The connection was silent for a moment. “Are you okay?”

  “My nerves are fried to a crisp,” I said, using a Sherry phrase. “I’m considering a long soaking bath.”

  He chuckled. “I could help with that, too.”

  “I’m sure you could, but maybe another time.”

  “Like on our getaway to Eureka Springs?”

  His voice had deepened, and my skin tingled, but I kept my voice light. “Let’s catch the killer, and we’ll see.”

  • • •

  Amber and T.C. were ecstatic to see Eric and would’ve smacked into the door in their eagerness to jump into the truck if he hadn’t already opened it. He kissed me on the cheek and told me he’d be back in an hour, and I hightailed it upstairs to begin my indulgence.

  I left my few dishes in the sink and ran a not-quite-scalding-hot bath, liberally sprinkling the water with the scented Epsom salts Aster had given me. Lemon to lift the spirits, rosemary to stimulate mental alertness. Rosemary was as calming to me as lavender, and I let myself sink into the water and absorb all the mojo the essential oils and salts could deliver.

  I might’ve fallen asleep with my head cushioned on the cushy bath pillow. Thoughts scrolled through my mind, but I didn’t attempt to focus on any of them. My sense of time and place grew fuzzy as I drifted, and only the cooling water roused me. Time to get moving.

  I dried with one of my most decadently fluffy towels, pulled on black yoga pants that had only seen a yoga mat once, and topped them with a Dallas Cowboys football jersey. When I opened the bedroom door, I about jumped out of my skin. Eric sat on the couch with a mostly eaten burger and a small mound of fries on a paper plate. He’d tuned into the football game, but the volume was set so low, it was barely audible.

  “Feel better?” he asked with a lazy grin.

  “Much, thank you. I take it T.C. and Amber were good for you?”

  “So much so that I accidentally dropped a few fries and they scarfed them up.”

  “After you wiped the salt off the fries, I hope.”

  “I might’ve done that,” he said with a shrug. “I also got you a banana shake. It’s in the freezer.”

  Ahh, more comfort food. I loved that he remembered my favorites, even if it was just from the Dairy Queen. I headed straight to the kitchen to grab the shake and a spoon. When I did, I noticed that he’d washed the plate, fork, and glass I’d left in the sink and had them drying on my stainless rack on the counter. Eric really was a keeper.

  I warred with myself about posing questions about the murders, but I was so tired, my thoughts so jumbled, I wasn’t sure I could string a coherent sentence together. In the end we sat on the sofa in companionable silence watching the game as he finished his dinner and I worked on my shake. Two of my favorite teams were playing tonight, so I didn’t care who won. I was feeling relaxed and serene for the first time since before the folk art festival, and I intended to stay there.

  • • •

  The bouncy music of my cell phone alarm awoke me Friday morning at seven. I vaguely remembered setting my alarm but had no memory of moving from the sofa to my bed.

  Eric had obviously tucked me in, leaving me in my yoga pants and jersey. I gave myself half a minute to be embarrassed, and a full one to grin like a lovesick lunatic. That done, I sprang out of bed to get my morning under way. I had a court date to keep.

  • • •

  Judge Leo James was in his late fifties with short salt-and-pepper hair and laugh lines around his eyes and mouth that contrasted with his solemn, distinguished demeanor.

  Or rather he was solemn until the bail-setting part of the arraignment, when the prosecutor argued against releasing Maise and Aster on their own recognizance by bringing up their arrest records. When Judge James heard that the arrests had been over forty years ago and involved protest marches, he looked right at them and said, “Right on, sisters.” That was when I knew we were out of the woods, however temporarily.

  The ladies had to return to the county jail to be processed out, and Dinah warned us that could take a few hours. They would call when they were ready to rock out of there. Still, word that they’d soon be home had raced through the square, because Sherry, Eleanor, Dab, Fred, and I exited the courthouse to cheers from friends and business owners.

  We opened the emporium only a few minutes past our regular time, and minutes later well-wishers began coming by. Kay Baskin from the Business Center was first in the door, but Lorna Tyler, Helen from the beauty shop, B.G. Huff from the furniture store, and many others streamed in and out. Sherry and Eleanor had been prepared for the onslaught. They’d brought a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies from home that morning. As I greeted each person, thanked them for their support, and helped pass out cookies, I also asked them to call if they heard any little thing about Cornell’s whereabouts from Sunday morning until Monday morning, and about Dex’s from Sunday night to Wednesday. They all promised, but I had little hope of any new leads. The people who knew something would’ve spoken up by now.

  Except for the killer. Or killers.

  I wished we knew if we were dealing with more than one.

  • • •

  At eleven forty-five, Eleanor went to pick up Maise and Aster. The goal was for them to go home for a shower and a rest. Thanks to Mayor Paulson and B.G. Huff, they’d been made as comfortable as possible in jail, but a nap couldn’t hurt.

  Not that I thought they’d rest for long.

  Sherry and I were manning the store front when Dab called me to the workroom to see his holiday-themed metal-art sketches. My favorite for Halloween was a grouping of a pumpkin, a broom, and a cat. For Thanksgiving, Dab had drawn a footed cornucopia. He explained the plan was to weave metal strips to resemble a basket and said Sherry had agreed to supervise the weaving. The result would be gorgeous, and I knew he, Fred, and Sherry would pull it off in spades. Then Dab showed me the two pieces he’d designed for Christmas. I loved both the silver bells with holly leaves hanging from a curved stand and the simple silhouette of the Holy Family.

  “Will these be easy enough to produce in time for each holiday?” I asked.

  “We’ve decided to do limited editions every year,” Dab
said.

  Fred nodded. “Ain’t no use in floodin’ the market, now is there? A’sides, we can make ’em collector’s items.”

  “Brilliant, gentlemen!” I enthused. “The bells can be a table or mantel decoration, or be hung on a wreath hook on a door.”

  “Hmm. You’re right,” Dab mused as he peered at his sketch again.

  “Speakin’ of hooks,” Fred said, “you know Aster ’n’ Maise ain’t entirely in the clear for Cornell’s murder. You ever call Debbie Nicole over at the library?”

  “No, it went right out of my mind, but I’ll do it now.”

  When I reached her, Debbie Nicole’s tone of voice made it obvious that she was surprised to hear from me, much less get my offer to take her to lunch. She couldn’t leave the library due to a rescheduled book club meeting, so I arranged to bring a meal to her at one o’clock. Chicken-cranberry-pecan salads from the Lilies Café, and classic chocolate éclairs from Great Buns.

  I called Lorna to put in my order, then Judy.

  “I have three eclairs left,” Judy said, “and I’ll throw in the extra to celebrate Aster and Maise being free women again.”

  “You’re the best, Judy.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” she quipped. “See you soon.”

  • • •

  The library was located a block from the hospital on the opposite side of Magnolia Road. Since both Judy and Lorna had put my orders in a sack with carrying handles, I decided to walk.

  The building was more or less in the Georgian style, two stories, red brick with white columns anchoring a wide porch set with double doors. Concrete stairs led to the porch in the front, and a ramp had been added along one side for handicapped accessibility.

  A large foyer funneled patrons to the checkout desk, and various spacious rooms held orderly bookshelves and comfy-looking club chairs. The upstairs held more books but also boasted three meeting areas. I’d attended a mystery book club in one of them in August.

  Debbie Nicole Samp and I hadn’t kicked off our acquaintanceship under the best of circumstances, but she’d been more cordial each time I’d seen her. Yes, I made it a point to get a library card when I’d moved to Lilyvale in mid-May. Although she was in her early thirties, only a few years older than I was, I had doubts we’d ever be best buds. I hoped that she wouldn’t take offense to my questions about her former colleague.