“Just stay here and rest, Dr. Popper,” she replied. “Everything will be fine.”
Despite the hazy feeling that had me in its grip, when I saw her walk over to the front door and lock it, I knew that my worst suspicions were true.
By that point, the room had begun to spin around. At the same time the walls seemed to be fading from view. I blinked hard, trying to fight off the weird sensation that I was drifting away. It didn’t help.
“You poisoned me!” I cried. “Inez, it was you! You killed Eduardo Garcia!”
I wasn’t even sure if she was still in the room. Then, in a low, angry voice I’d never heard before, she said, “You do not understand, Dr. Popper. Eduardo betrayed me.”
“How did he betray you, Inez? Why did you kill him?”
“Eet was the only way,” Inez said in the same hard voice. “You see, ever since we were children, Eduardo and me, we were together. We were so close—best friends. And then we became lovers. Everyone in our village knew that we would get married. I have always known, in my heart, that it was me that Eduardo really loved. We were meant to be together. But when he came to this country, he let himself be tricked. The money, the women . . . even Meester Mac, the way he treated Eduardo like he was a—a star. A celebrity.
“Eduardo had not been here long before he started to believe he was someone else. Someone so . . . importante. Too importante for me. But I know thees is wrong. Then he tells me he is going to make a big change in his life. He says he is waiting for the right time, and then he will tell me about it. But I do not have to know what eet is, because I already know that he will not want me to be part of it, that he will choose one of his other women. And if Eduardo will not stay with me, I will not let him stay with anybody.”
“Tell me what happened right before he died,” I said, struggling with each word. “Exactly what happened? How did you do it, Inez?”
“Eet was the night before he fell from his horse, right before the party he was going to with all his fancy new friends,” she replied in the same bitter tone. “I invited him for dinner, here at the cottage. No one saw him come. No one pays attention to what I do, because I am just the housekeeper. That night, I gave him salad with leaves from the locoweed. Eet grows everywhere here, just like in Argentina. But I grew my own plants, here in the cottage, so no one would ever see me cutting off the leaves.”
“You did the same thing tonight, didn’t you?” I accused, speaking as loudly as I could. “You put locoweed—angel’s trumpet—in the salad you gave me.”
“I had no choice, Dr. Popper. Surely you must understand that. You told me yourself the police were wrong to think he was poisoned at the party. At the asado, you said you were going to find out who he had been with the day before he died. I knew then that you were even smarter than the police and that it was only a matter of time before you figured out who killed Eduardo. That was why I started the fire. Only you didn’t go inside the stable, the way I expected.”
“But what about the other night, Inez?” I cried, my voice coming out in gasps. “I thought whoever murdered Eduardo had also poisoned you!”
“Eet was all an act. I knew that Callie would call you eef I told her to. Making you believe that I had been a victim of poisoning, just like Eduardo, seemed like the perfect way to keep you from thinking I had anything to do with his death. I picked a night when no one else but Callie was at home, because I knew eet would be easy to fool a leetle girl.
“And eet turned out to be just as easy to fool you.” Inez laughed. “I found out I am not such a bad actress. Even when I pretended I was throwing up in the bathroom, you believed me. But it was fake, all fake. I just act like I am sick!”
“So you killed Eduardo because you felt he had betrayed you, Inez,” I said loudly, hoping the 911 operator could hear us both.
“Yes. And everything would have been fine, except for you. The way you were asking questions, talking to people . . . I knew you were a danger to me, Dr. Popper. Last night, after you left, I realized something importante: that even though I managed to make you think that I, too, had been poisoned, I was only fooling myself by thinking that in the end, you would not figure out that I had killed Eduardo. That maybe I even made a mistake by pretending that I, too, had been a victim because it made me more involved. You were trying so hard to find the murderer. I had no choice but to try again to stop you. Eet is the only way I can be safe.”
Inez’s voice sounded farther and farther away. Her words echoed through my head, making me feel as if I were falling deeper and deeper into a bottomless canyon.
“I don’t understand. It took Eduardo more than twelve hours to die. But I—I . . .”
“Eduardo ate only the leaves, so it took a very long time for him to be poisoned. As long as no one knew he was here for dinner before the big party, no one could connect me to his death. But for you, I do not have so much time, so I added the root. In Santa Rosita, everyone say eet works so much faster.”
Her words seemed to get softer and softer.
“Inez, please!” I cried, my voice sounding as far away as hers. “You’ve got to help me—”
I heard her shrill laughter.
My head was suddenly filled with a loud rumbling sound, as if a train were running through it. And I kept blacking out, if only for a few seconds at a time.
I had to get outside.
Blindly, I staggered toward the kitchen, trying to find the back door. I walked with my arms outstretched to keep me from bumping into anything. Behind me, I could hear Inez, laughing and speaking in Spanish. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, it occurred to me that she might come after me and grab me. But I also knew that she’d already done her worst. Now, the only thing left for her to do was to let me die.
When I reached the back door, I clutched the knob, grateful that I’d found a way out. I stumbled outside, relieved to feel the fresh, cool air on my skin. But I realized after only a moment that even that wouldn’t do me any good.
Then I remembered the phone—and my 911 call to Police Emergency. Scream! a voice inside my head urged. Tell them to send an ambulance!
I opened my mouth—at least, I thought that was what I was doing. But even though I tried, I couldn’t manage to make any sound come out.
I stared straight ahead, trying to focus. I could see the bright yellow of the stable, and for some reason that struck me as a safe destination. I staggered toward it, blacking out every few seconds, finding it more and more difficult to concentrate or even to catch my breath.
The last thing I saw was the MacKinnons’ barn cat, standing in my path and blinking at me in puzzlement. And then, nothing but darkness.
Chapter 18
“Anyone who is concerned about his dignity would be well advised to keep away from horses.”
—Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh
When I opened my eyes, I didn’t recognize any-thing around me.
I blinked hard, trying to make sense of the pale green walls that surrounded me. I was lying in a narrow bed with an IV stuck in my arm, covered with a thin white sheet.
If I hadn’t known better, I might have concluded that I was in a hospital.
“What happened?” I asked, even though I seemed to be alone. I was surprised by how difficult it was to get my mouth to work. “Where am I?”
“You’re at North Country Hospital—and you’re doing fine.”
I stared at the grinning face that was suddenly looming over me. It took me a few seconds to remember who it belonged to.
“Forrester? What are you doing here?”
His cheeks turned pink. Running his fingers through his thick, disheveled hair, he said, “Making sure you’re okay. I rushed over as soon as Falcone called me on my cell. You gave us a real scare, Popper.”
“What time is it?” I asked Forrester. “What day is it?”
“It’s still Wednesday night,” he replied. “Good thing, too. If we’d waited much longer to get you to a hospital, you might not have ma
de it.”
“I feel like a hippopotamus stepped on my stomach,” I groaned. “Right after somebody Roto-Rootered my throat.”
“That’s because they pumped your stomach.” Sounding half teasing and half worried, he added, “You really should think about cutting back on the amount of angel’s trumpet in your diet.”
I suddenly felt as if a dark cloud had moved into the room. “It was Inez, wasn’t it? She killed Eduardo and she tried to kill me! We have to call the police! We have to tell them what happened!”
“Don’t worry, Popper,” Forrester said with his usual breeziness. “Falcone nabbed her.”
“But how did he know?”
“Your call to the police, of course. You did good, Popper. Dialing nine-one-one was nothing short of brilliant. Even Falcone admitted—begrudgingly, of course—that you’d done an incredible job. The cops have Inez’s whole confession on tape. It couldn’t have been better if they were right there in the room with you two. Right now, she’s is in police custody, charged with murder one.” Frowning, he added, “Attempted murder, too. Where you were concerned, she meant business.”
“She left the anonymous notes and set the fire, too?”
Forrester nodded.
“So Falcone got her—thanks to me.” Even though every single molecule of my body felt as if I’d been zapped through time by a teletransporter, I managed to smile.
“By the way, he told me to give you a message. I don’t really understand it, but he said you would. He said, ‘Tell Dr. Popper I owe her—again.’ ”
“I’ll keep that in mind. By the way,” I added, “thanks for saving me.”
He grinned. “Hey, I really wish I could take the credit. But I’m not the one who found you lying in the grass outside the stable and called the ambulance.”
“Who did?”
“Our pal Johnny Ray. Guess he had a soft spot for you, after all. You’re quite a charmer, Popper, winning over a crusty guy like him. It’s a good thing, too. While the police knew you were in trouble from the nine-one-one call you made on your cell phone, they didn’t know where you were.”
“Dr. Popper?” I heard a female voice call softly.
Glancing across the room, I saw Luisa standing shyly in the doorway. She was the last person in the world I would have expected to visit me.
“Come in, Luisa,” I told her. I glanced at Forrester, who looked equally surprised.
“The nurse said I could visit for a short time,” she said. “Ees all right? I have something I would like to tell you, something I think ees maybe important.”
I nodded, encouraging her to go on.
She looked over at Forrester uncertainly before she began. “Eduardo came to me the day before he died. It was late in the afternoon. Maybe five o’clock, fivethirty. Eduardo, he always makes me laugh. He tells me I am his mother here in America. That his real mother is at home in Argentina, so far away, but that God has sent him a second mother to look after him.
“Usually, Eduardo is so happy. Why not? He has everything here. The money, the horses, the women who treat him so special, even the men who have so much power, like Meester Mac. But that night, Eduardo is not laughing and having fun. In fact, he is very serious.
“He tells me he has made a very big, very important decision. He has decided to go home to Santa Rosita. He says the life he once thought was not good enough for him, living in his village with his madre and padre and raising a family of his own, is now the life he desires. He says he wants to go back and marry the one woman he has always loved, his sweetheart from the time he was a little boy.”
“Inez,” I said softly. “He was going home, and he planned to take her back with him.”
“Sí,” she replied.
It took me a moment to comprehend what she was telling me. “When was he going to tell her?” I finally asked.
“He told me he had already tried,” Luisa said. “Just a few days before, he had told Inez that he was about to make a big change in his life, one that would have an effect on her life, too. He could see that she had a very big . . . what is the word, reaction? That was when he decided to make his announcement special, to create a moment the two of them would remember for the rest of their lives. He wanted to make a big occasion.
“That was the reason he wanted to talk to me the day before he died—the night he had dinner with Inez at her cottage. He said he wanted to propose marriage to her in some very wonderful place. He asked me where I thought it should be. A restaurant, maybe, or a garden . . . I told him she loves flowers, and that maybe he should take her to a place with beautiful gardens. He thanked me and said he would do that, the very next day.
“But then . . . everything went wrong.” She shook her head slowly. “I theenk Inez expected that he was going to tell her something very bad. Maybe that he was getting married to someone else. . . . She was so afraid she would lose him completely. And I believe she felt, in her heart, that she could not let anyone else have him. So the night before Eduardo was planning to propose marriage to Inez, the one thing she had been waiting for her entire life, ever since she was a leetle girl . . .” Luisa choked on her words, unable to go on.
“A day late and a dollar short,” Forrester muttered. “Tough luck.”
“What a tragedy.” I closed my eyes, suddenly overwhelmed.
I opened them just as quickly. “Luisa, there’s one more thing I have to know. What about Callie? What kind of relationship did she have with Eduardo?”
She sighed. “Poor Callie. I know she had a terrible— what is the word, crush? I used to tease Eduardo about it all the time. He would laugh and say that Callie was his little sister here in thees country the same way I was his mother. He even had a special name he called her: ‘Nena,’ which is—what is the word, slang?—for ‘leetle girl.’ But whenever he would tease her and tell her thees, she would get very angry. I could see she did not like Eduardo to treat her like a child, even though that was the only way he could see her.”
“I’m sure she didn’t like it at all,” I commented, more to myself than to Luisa.
“Dr. Popper, I am so sorry for bothering you at a time like this,” she said. “You must be very tired. I will leave you to rest.”
“Thank you for coming,” I told her. “And thank you for telling me about Eduardo.”
As soon as she left, Forrester reached for his jacket. “Well, Popper, I should probably get going, too. I think you’re supposed to be sleeping this off.”
“Thanks for coming, Forrester,” I said sincerely. “And for everything else.”
“Listen, if you ever get tired of the veterinary biz, give me a call. I know some folks over at Newsday who’d be thrilled to have a top-notch reporter like you on staff.” He hesitated, then leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you at the next murder, Popper. Until then, stay out of trouble, okay?”
As he strode out of the room, I heard him say, “ ’Scuse me.”
And then Nick was standing next to my bed, his face tense and drawn. “I came over as soon as I got a call,” he said anxiously. “It was from some guy named Forrester, whoever that is. He assured me that the doctors say you’re fine. How do you feel, Jess?”
“For someone who’s had her Minimum Daily Requirement of hyoscyamine and scopolamine, I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”
“I want to hear the whole story,” Nick told me, reaching over and taking my hand.
“It’s kind of what’s known as a long story,” I told him ruefully. “Right now, I’m not so sure I have the energy.”
“Okay.” He hesitated before adding, “We have a few other things to talk about, too. You know, you-and-me-type issues.”
“I know I don’t have the energy for those.”
“You’re right. This probably isn’t the best time. I guess we can wait until you’re out of the hospital.”
“It’s a deal.”
“But in the meantime,” Nick continued, “there’s something I really need you
to do.”
“Anything.”
He gave my hand a tight squeeze. “I want you to promise me that from now on, you’ll keep as far away from murder as possible.”
“But—”
“No buts, Jess. Maybe you’re tough enough to handle nearly getting killed, but I’m not. Please?” Looking into his eyes, I saw an intensity I couldn’t remember having seen before.
I blinked. “It’s that important to you?”
“Of course it’s that important!”
“In that case—” The annoying trill of my cell phone stopped me mid-sentence. Casting him an apologetic look, I grabbed it off the table next to me, where it sat along with my keys and other belongings. “Hello?”
“Jessie! I’m so glad I got you!” The desperation I heard in Suzanne’s voice told me that she wasn’t calling simply to complain about a glitch in her social life.
“Suzanne, what’s wrong?”
“Jessie, you’ve got to help me! I—I don’t know what to do! This whole thing is so crazy—”
“Slow down,” I insisted. “What’s happened?”
“Oh, Jessie, I’ve been accused of murder! Robert’s fiancée was killed, and the police think I did it!”
“Jess?” Nick interrupted gently. “What’s going on?”
I raised my eyes and just looked at him.
About the Author
CYNTHIA BAXTER is a native of Long Island, New York. She currently resides on the North Shore, where she is at work on the next Reigning Cats & Dogs mystery, which Bantam will publish in Summer 2006. Visit her on the web at www.cynthiabaxter.com.
Dear Reader,
In my next mystery, Jessica Popper’s role as amateur sleuth takes on new urgency when one of her closest friends, veterinarian Suzanne Fox, finds herself the number one suspect in a murder.
Jessie’s investigation leads her to Long Island’s pastoral North Fork, once covered with potato fields but today home to more than two dozen vineyards and a booming wine industry. In writing the book, I tried to capture the area’s beauty—as well as its colorful history, which includes notorious pirate Captain Kidd and his buried treasure.
Lead a Horse to Murder Page 30