Deadly Devotion

by Sandra Orchard

  “At least you agree with me on that point.”

  “How would Hank have known about your connection with Gord?”

  “I wasn’t connected with him.” Her voice rose defensively. “He came to our lab now and again. Lots of interns did.”

  “Then who knew he’d been in your lab?”

  “I don’t know. Other interns, maybe. Darryl.”

  Darryl. Tom wrung his hands over the steering wheel. His prime suspects were switching up faster than ducks in a shooting gallery. “Whoever sent our Gordon impersonator to the police might’ve known you were suspicious of him and decided to turn the tables. Who knew that you’d taken an interest in Gord’s whereabouts?”

  Kate slammed her foot into the floorboard as if she had a brake. “Al Brewster did. Gord was an intern at Herbs Are Us. Brewster must have told Hank I’d been asking questions. Did you know that he was once arrested for growing marijuana?”

  “Yes, I did.” Tom hated how everything seemed to point back to Hank and his dad. “Anybody else?”

  “Why won’t you face the truth? The police chief’s corrupt. You said yourself that lots of the town’s citizens were wary about his appointment to chief.”

  “A few days ago you were dead certain Edward was our man. So let’s not jump to any more conclusions.” Tom signaled a lane change. He’d done enough conclusion-jumping for both of them.

  “I asked Darryl about Gord,” Kate said, her tone more subdued, “and I think I might’ve mentioned him to Edward too.”

  “Of Darryl, Edward, and Brewster, was Darryl the only one who knew you kept tagetes in the lab?”

  “Anyone who’d been through my lab or who was familiar with my research would know I have jars of dozens of different herbs. Someone only had to plant suspicion that tagete was one of them, because if the police failed to find it, they’d just claim I’d disposed of the evidence.”

  Her unemotional assessment of the scenario sparked an unwelcome thought. If she hadn’t happened to ask the chief what the complainant looked like, the fact he was an imposter wouldn’t have been discovered so soon.

  Tom slanted a glance at Kate. What was he thinking? That she planned the ruse to force the department into reopening the case?

  An attempted frame-up certainly merited the consideration.

  No, she wouldn’t. With the help he’d been giving her, she’d had no reason to stoop to such deceptions. He couldn’t even imagine her capable of them. Not really. Besides, until he’d gotten sidetracked by Edward’s interference, he’d been certain that Hank and his dad were behind everything.

  As if she’d read his thoughts, Kate said, “I think Hank is covering for his dad, which means he’ll thwart any attempt we make to prove Daisy was murdered unless . . . we expose him publicly.”

  “We will do no such thing.”

  “But it’s simple. We ask him to meet us at A Cup or Two, and then—”

  “Leave this to me.”

  Kate frowned at his clipped response.

  Tom let out a sigh. “This isn’t an Agatha Christie mystery. Telling the probable killer you know he’s guilty is not the way to flush him out, unless you want to be his next victim.”

  “How’d you know that’s what I was going to suggest?”

  “Because I know you. If you want to help, go home. Forget about the investigation. I will find Daisy’s killer.”

  “You don’t believe me. You can’t believe your boss would do such a thing. Can you? But you thought I could.”

  He braked and faced her. “That’s not it at all.”

  Skepticism lined her face.

  “I need you to trust me.”

  “This from the man who says ‘people are rarely what they seem.’ How do I know Hank didn’t send you to deal with me?”

  The accusation flattened Tom with the force of a battering ram to the chest. “You know me.” He sucked in a breath. “How could you think I’d—?”

  “I don’t know you. The man I thought I knew never would have dumped me at the police station.”

  He punched the gas and ate the remaining couple of miles to her work in about as many seconds. He swerved into the lot and pulled into an empty spot a stone’s throw from her yellow Bug. “I said I’m sorry. What more can I do?”

  “You’ve done enough. You’ve proven people aren’t what they seem. That’s what you wanted. Wasn’t it? Well, I was happier believing in people. You should try it sometime.” Kate sprang from the car and slammed the door.

  Tom ground his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. Okay, so he had a lousy opinion about the character of people. And okay, he’d let Kate down this afternoon. Maybe he even had some serious trust issues. But he had his reasons. Good reasons. Reasons he might tell her about if she’d stop long enough to listen.

  She pushed the remote on her key chain and the car beeped.

  The sound triggered a flash of memory: A ground-shaking explosion. Glass ripping through the air in every direction. Black smoke spewing from what was left of his partner’s car.

  “No!” Tom burst out the door and tore after Kate. “Stop!”

  19

  Kate cupped her hands around her mug of hot cocoa and snuggled into the corner of the sofa. “I’m telling you, Julie, the man will stop at nothing to convince me to stop investigating. Tom scoured every inch of my car. He even crawled underneath. He swears I’m putting myself in danger.”

  “So why aren’t you freaking out? I’m freaking out and I just live with you. What if he’s right and whoever killed Daisy comes after you next?”

  Kate rubbed her arm where Edward’s fingers had dug into her flesh. She shivered at how her near-hysteria over being arrested had caused her to accept a lift from Edward without hesitation. What if it was another lapse in judgment that compelled her to take his side on top of the cliff?

  Shoving away the memory of Tom’s ashen face when she stepped in front of Edward, she forced out a laugh. “If Tom believed I was in danger, do you think he would have left here after following me home?”

  Julie edged the curtain aside and peeked down at the street. “Um, I hate to tell you this, but he’s still out there.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Kate jumped from the sofa, spilling hot cocoa over her fingers. “Ouch, ouch, ouch.” She set the mug on the table and rushed to the window.

  “I’m kidding.” Julie laughed. “Look at your face. I think you’re disappointed.”

  Kate licked cocoa off her fingers. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She plopped onto the sofa and snagged her mug. “Do you think I want a killer to come after me?”

  “Nope. I think you want Tom to be that worried.” Julie waggled her eyebrows.

  “Oh, please.” Kate grabbed a throw pillow and tossed it at Julie’s head. “You make me sound desperate.” She refused to be desperate. No matter how much Tom’s terror-stricken expression outside her car had burrowed under her defenses, she wouldn’t let him back into her heart. If he’d cared about her at all, he wouldn’t have been so easily duped by the evidence.

  Julie stuffed the pillow behind her back and hugged her knees. “If you ask me, you should have let Tom haul Edward off to jail. You would’ve been doing Molly a favor.”

  “I get the impression Molly can take care of herself.” Kate knew being miffed about Molly’s charade was petty. But the woman owned a diamond necklace that could pay Kate’s salary for two years and then some. “She probably laughed out loud when I suggested a scholarship.” Kate snorted. “She needs my help like she needs more diamonds.”

  “Hey, I’m supposed to be the skeptic, not you. I kind of feel sorry for her. I mean, sure, she brought some valuable stuff from home, but she’s essentially still alone with only Edward as a friend.”

  Kate’s conscience pricked. “You’re right. Edward said she never knows whether people befriend her for her, or for her money. Just because Molly can take care of herself doesn’t mean she doesn’t need friends.”

  “And what about you? Everyone in to
wn is talking about your quote- unquote arrest. I had three people stop me in the grocery store and ask me if the rumor was true. It’s a wonder Harold’s not camped out on our doorstep, waiting to get the scoop. There hasn’t been this much excitement in town since Joe Metler’s mare gave birth to the colt with a fifth hoof.”

  “So glad to hear I rank right up there with a mutated quarter horse.”

  “Come on, I’m serious. What are you going to do? I don’t want to sound self-centered, but my wedding is in less than two weeks and . . . I need you . . . alive.”

  Kate sprang to her feet. “Oh no, Julie, I completely forgot.”

  “Forgot what?”

  Kate yanked out her hair elastic, fluffed her hair, and smoothed her blouse. “We have to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Barbara’s. No, wait.” Kate dug through her purse and pulled out the shower invitation for the surprise party she was supposed to have had Julie at—Kate glanced at her watch—ten minutes ago. “Betty’s.”

  Julie rose with a knowing laugh. “The B and B. How did you plan on getting me there without tipping me off?”

  “I didn’t. Just act surprised, okay? It’s bad enough I’m getting you there late. Serena will never let me live it down if she finds out you knew about the party too.”

  “Yeah, I can see her revenge now. She’ll cut your hair two inches shorter on one side than the other.”

  “Hey, don’t laugh. She would. Did you see the dye job she gave her ex-boyfriend’s mom? If she weren’t the only hairdresser in town, she’d be losing clients in droves. Come on. We need to hurry.”

  They jogged down the stairs and along the street. The smell of freshly mown grass scented the air. Hopscotch games drawn in brightly colored chalk decorated the sidewalks. Seniors reclining on their front porches, enjoying the cool evening air, waved as Kate and Julie passed by. Murders weren’t supposed to happen in places like this.

  Half a block from the B and B, Kate caught Julie’s arm, and they slowed to a stroll. “Remember what I said. Act surprised.”

  Julie’s eyes bubbled with amusement. If Kate didn’t know better, she might think Julie enjoyed seeing her tormented.

  Before they reached the front door, Serena slipped out the French doors at the far end of the rambling porch. At 162 years old, the B and B, originally the mansion home of the town’s first mayor, was the oldest Victorian in town. In her hip-hugging skirt and moussed-up hair, Serena didn’t fit the ambience. “It’s about time you two showed up. Clara was about to call our men in blue to haul you all in.”

  “Ooh, that would’ve been fun,” Julie said. “How about we wander down the street a while longer and Clara can send Detective Parker out to look for us?”

  Kate pushed Julie toward the door. “Very funny. Can we please go inside?” Kate followed Julie through the doors to a chorus of “Surprise!” Streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, gussied up here and there by brightly colored balloons—not the pastel pinks typical of bridal showers. Leave it to Serena to shake things up a little.

  Julie laid her arm across Kate’s shoulder and squeezed. “Happy birthday, roomie.”

  “Huh?”

  Julie turned Kate toward the banner hanging over the stone fireplace. It said, “Happy 30th Birthday.”

  “Surprise,” Julie squealed into Kate’s ear.

  “Ahh! I can’t believe this. I totally forgot.”

  Serena handed Kate a glass of punch. “Shut the date out of your mind more likely. But don’t worry. Being thirty is not so bad. Trust me, I’ve had a couple years’ experience.” She grinned.

  Every woman in town Kate knew was here, plus more than a few she didn’t. “How’d you get all these people to come to a party for me?” Kate whispered to Julie.

  “Easy. Notoriety brings out the glamour seekers.”

  “Ha ha.”

  Before Kate knew what was happening, she was being passed around the room like a Hug-Me-Suzie doll. Marjorie, the receptionist from the research station, tugged Kate into a bear hug. “I’ve been so worried about you, dear. Did the police fingerprint you?”

  “No, the police only wanted to ask me some questions.”

  “Oh, what a relief. Darryl was pulling his hair out trying to handle the flood of calls after word got out that the police had come for you.”

  Kate tried to smile but didn’t quite manage to pull it off. Marjorie meant well, but she was born with notoriously loose lips. Poor Darryl. It sounded like he’d borne the brunt of the damage this time.

  “Oh, I do hope Harold gets the real story before he goes to press,” Marjorie went on. “You know how that man is when he latches onto a headline.”

  “I’m hardly headline worthy.”

  “Oh dear, you’re too modest. Everyone knows the only reason we even have a police station in our tiny town is because we’re smack-dab in the center of the region and the officers can get everywhere else quickly. Nothing ever happens here.”

  “Maybe that’s just what they want you to believe.”

  Marjorie shivered, but the smirk that accompanied it suggested the idea of a cover-up was more intriguing than worrisome. “Ooh, Mrs. C and Hilda said the same thing. They said the police want to lull Daisy’s killer into a false sense of security so he’ll get careless and reveal himself. Mrs. C said Detective Parker practically confirmed it.”

  “Really? Now that is interesting.”

  “She taught those boys in school and can read them like a book. She says Hank and Tom were always thick as thieves. They’re cooking up something. You can be sure of that.”

  Kate’s heart dipped. That’s what she was afraid of.

  “Oh my, yes, Mrs. C can always tell.” Marjorie patted Kate’s arm. “Don’t you fret. We all know Daisy wouldn’t kill herself.”

  Kate wished she could be equally as certain that Tom wouldn’t cover up a crime for his boss.

  Julie sidled over to them. “Look who else is here.”

  Tom’s sister peeked her head out from behind Julie.

  “Tess! Wow, it’s great to see you.”

  Julie hugged Kate’s shoulder. “After hearing how well the two of you hit it off this past weekend, I hunted Tess down at the antique shop and invited her to the party.”

  “And I’m so glad she did. You should have told us it was your birthday.” Tess held out a floral-wrapped gift. “This is for you.”

  They exchanged you-shouldn’t-haves and I-wanted-tos until Julie blurted, “Open it, already.”

  Kate tore into the package. “Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow,” she whispered at the sight of an ancient book—Culpeper’s Complete Herbal. Originally published in 1653, it was the first herbal medicine book written in English instead of Latin. In utter disbelief, she traced the embossed lettering on the front cover, then opened it with trembling fingers. According to the date inside, this edition was over 150 years old.

  “Oh,” she said again, too overwhelmed to string together a coherent sentence. She carefully turned the ragged-edged pages, brittle from age. At the page on chamomile, she gasped again. The former owner of the book had added handwritten notes in a calligraphic-like script. “Tess, this is amazing. I can’t believe you found this, or that you’d give it to me.”

  “You’re the only person I know who would truly appreciate it.”

  Tears sprang to Kate’s eyes. She closed the book and gave Tess a long hug. Kate hadn’t thought she’d find another friend like Daisy, one who she not only felt an immediate kindred spirit with but who also understood her passion for herbs. “Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing Tess harder. “You can’t imagine how precious this gift is to me.”

  “I’m so glad you like it. Finding it was God’s doing. That woman from the tea shop—”

  “Beth?”

  “No, not the owner. The cashier. I think she said her name was Molly. Anyway, she was in the store looking for a gift for her dad and spotted the book in one of the boxes my husband was unpacking. Said her dad is really interested
in herbal folklore.” Tess touched the book, her lips curving into a pleased smile. “Of course, the minute I saw the title I thought of you. Molly was all set to buy it, but when she saw the writing inside, she changed her mind.”

  “Lucky for me!” Kate opened the book to one of the pages that had a note added. “I think the handwritten annotations make the book all the more special.”

  Beth, looking much better than she had a few days ago, joined Kate and Tess and Julie. “Did I hear my name?”

  “Oh, Beth”—Kate turned the book toward her—“you’ve got to see some of these entries. You could glean interesting quotes for your tea shop.”

  “I’m not sure how much of the book you should believe,” Tess cautioned. “I looked up marigolds, and Culpeper touts them as being good for the heart. But aren’t marigolds what the coroner said—”

  Julie grabbed Tess’s arm. “Please don’t get Kate started on the differences between edible and inedible marigolds.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Julie’s aunt Betty—owner of the B and B—chimed in. “After what happened to Verna’s cat, I think people need to be made more aware of the dangers, especially those with youngsters.”

  “Thankfully most toxic plants are so bitter that children spit them out before any harm is done,” Kate said. “The plants you need to be diligent about are the ones with sweet-tasting berries. I had a professor whose child almost died from eating the bright red berries of the yew tree in their front yard. The flesh is sweet and safe to eat, but the tiny seeds inside are deadly.”

  As the women launched into a litany of similar near-miss stories, Beth leaned over to Kate. “I guess I’d better do something about that tree in my kitchen before long.”

  Kate gave Beth a side hug. “It’s so good to see you well enough to come tonight.”

  “I told Darryl that I’m going stir-crazy cooped up in our apartment. He’s been working such long hours that I’m bored to tears on my own all day.”