“My mom died just after I started first grade,” the stranger added in.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I don’t really know. I remember waking up one morning to go to school, and the house was quiet, which was unusual. My mom would always be in the kitchen making breakfast and lunches, and my dad would be stomping around grumbling about something. That morning there was nothing. I went out to the kitchen, then the living room, and finally dared to peek into their room. The house was cold, no one was home.” He shared his memory with us.
“How long were you alone?” Paula wondered.
“All day. My dad came home just before it got dark out. When he came in, I asked him where my mom was.” He paused as he remembered that day. “He told me she was gone and wasn’t coming back, then told me to go to my room.”
“So, you don’t know if she really died or if she maybe left?” I suggested.
“You’re right, I didn’t know for a few days what actually happened to her. When I went back to school, my teacher told me how sorry she was to hear about my mother’s death and that I didn’t need to worry about the make-up work.”
“Oh, how sad for you. That is a horrible way to find out. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I told him. I couldn’t imagine being seven years old and finding out from your teacher that your mom died.
“It took me about a week to work up enough courage to ask my dad if what my teacher said was true. He stormed around the house grumbling about the teacher and people always trying to dig into his personal business, but never confirmed or denied what she said. All I know to this day is that I never saw her again,” he said quietly.
His story was heartbreaking. We sat quietly for a few minutes while we absorbed what he shared with us. How could a father not tell his son the truth about his mother? It seemed as if the Mr. Sampson we knew was just an older version of the father that this stranger grew up with.
“Wow, I’m so sorry. What a terrible thing for such a young boy,” Paula said.
“Life never got any easier with him. For the next twelve years, I got up every day and went to the jewelry store with him. I was allowed to walk down to the school about five minutes before it started and had to be back to the jewelry store five minutes after school was out. Every day off at school was spent at the store with him. I wasn’t allowed to do anything normal kids did. I couldn’t play sports, join clubs, have sleepovers or go anywhere. I was the weird kid that all the other kids made fun of.” He continued his story.
“I don’t know how you survived that,” I said, unsure of what I should say.
“I lived for graduation day. During my senior year of high school, a Marine recruiter visited the school. He offered me the way out that I’d been praying for. I told him everything. He helped through the process of enlisting. It was easier then than it is now, but he made me promise to work hard and get my diploma, which I did. Within an hour of the graduation ceremony, I was on my way to the bus station in Reno, and I never looked back,” he said, as he recounted those final days.
“How did you get to the bus station?” I asked.
“My one and only friend all through school made sure I got there.”
“And you have never come back here?" I asked, to which he responded with a shake of his head. “How did you know the old man died?”
“The Sheriff tracked me down. I went through school with him, so he knew I existed, then it was just a matter of working his magic to find me. I hopped on the first flight out hoping everything would be simple to deal with, but of course, it isn’t,” he sighed.
“He didn’t have a will?” Paula asked. I knew her curiosity would get the better of her and she would ask as soon as she got the chance.
“There is a will; it leaves everything to me if I’m still alive and can be found,” he laughed. “Problem is, he didn’t bother listing his assets, so I have no idea what he owns or owes.”
“Oh boy, sounds like a puzzle,” I said.
“It is, and it’s one I’ll have to deal with when I get back,” he said, shaking his head.
“You’re leaving? Now?” Paula seemed shocked that he would leave.
“I have to go home, and deal with a few things there, then I’ll come back and deal with things here. I only expected to be here a couple days but it’s going to take longer here, so I’ll have to come back in a week or so,” he shrugged, not knowing what else he could do.
“Sounds like you have quite the time ahead of you with traveling and figuring everything out. When are you leaving?” I asked.
“Now, actually. My flight leaves in a couple hours, so I better get to the airport,” he stood and put his coat on.
“Have a good flight,” I said with a sigh of relief, knowing he wouldn’t be lurking around town for the next week or so.
“Try not to miss me too much,” he smirked and left before I could tell him that I wouldn’t.
“Poor guy,” Paula said.
“You’ve certainly had a change of tune about him,” I laughed. “Did you believe everything he told us?”
“It’s kind of hard to believe, isn’t it? I mean I want to believe him; I don’t want to think he is anything like his father, but I guess we still don't know for sure if he is who he says he is.”
“He did say the Sheriff called him about the old man. I guess we could ask the Sheriff and at least that question would be answered,” I shrugged. “I’ll ask him tomorrow. I was planning to call him anyway to find out if there is any news on the old man’s cause of death.”
Paula dropped me off at the bakery before she headed home. It was starting to snow again, and I hoped my wood stove was still going strong so it would be warm upstairs. If not, I guess Frosty and I would just crawl in bed again and read.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Chapter 11
“Good morning Sheriff,” I greeted him as he headed down the walkway toward the bakery.
“Hi Abby, darn cold out here this morning,” he said.
“I haven’t seen Stuart this morning, so figured I better get some of this snow off the walkway before lunchtime.” I motioned to the snow.
“I guess his wife isn’t doing very well, so he is home with her,” the Sheriff relayed the information to me.
“Do you have a few minutes? I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sure do, what’s up?” he asked.
“Come on in and have some hot coffee, warm up a bit,” I offered.
“That would be great. I’ve been over at the jail for a few days, so the Main Street office is freezing,” he shuddered.
The Sheriff opened the door for me. I went behind the counter to get a cup of hot coffee and one of today’s special sourdough raspberry scones. Since he is a regular customer, I know the items he likes the best.
“So, what’s on your mind, Abby?” he asked.
“A couple of things actually. First, is there any news about Mr. Sampson’s cause of death?” It’s been weighing heavily on my mind, and I really needed to know.
“Well, that’s what I was on my way down here to talk to you about. The coroner said the initial cause of death is asphyxiation.”
“Meaning he was strangled?”
“Not exactly. It means he died from a lack of oxygen,” he explained.
“What would cause that?”
“The coroner is certain Mr. Sampson was poisoned. He is waiting for a full toxic substance screening to come back which will hopefully tell him for certain if there was poison in Mr. Sampson’s system, and what kind of poison it was.”
“Oh,” I sighed. This isn’t the news I wanted to hear. This would mean that I would still be considered a suspect.
“I can almost read your mind. I’m sorry but, yes, you are still being considered a suspect,” he said apologetically.
“How long for the screening to come back?” I was curious how long I might have to try and prove I didn’t poison the old man.
“Usually it takes about 4
to 6 weeks. He asked for the results to be expedited, but it will probably still be a couple weeks. Was there something else?”
“Mr. Sampson’s son…” I started.
“Toby? What about him?” he asked.
“I just wanted to confirm that Mr. Sampson actually had a son and that you knew him,” I said with relief.
“I went all through school with Toby. Poor kid, things just weren’t right. He disappeared right after graduation. I had to track him down a few years ago and tell him about his father’s behavior. I suggested at that time he come back, but he wasn’t about to do anything for his father. Can’t say that I blame him much.”
“He made it sound like you found him after his father died. I didn’t realize you already knew where he was.” I was confused between Toby’s story and the Sheriff’s story.
“I called him when I heard about what the old man was trying to do to you and Paula. He didn’t want to, but he said he would come here for a couple days and take care of things. He got here the morning after the old man was found.” the Sheriff informed me.
“What did he mean by ‘take care of things’? Could he have poisoned the old man?” I blurted out.
“Well…I suppose that is a possibility,” the Sheriff shrugged, then thanked me for the coffee and scone and left the bakery.
“Perfect timing if you ask me,” I mumbled, as I worked out the timeline in my head. If he was tired of the Sheriff calling him about his dad all he had to do was sneak into town, slip the old guy some poison, wait until the body was found, then pretend like he just got here. Start pointing the finger at other people, act like he is busy sorting out the final details, then skip town and no one is the wiser.
When the lunch crowd faded away, Paula came flying in the door wanting to know what the scoop was. I told her about what the coroner said, and about the Sheriff confirming that the stranger is indeed Mr. Sampson’s son.
“I thought about his story all night. It just seems a bit overdone, doesn’t it?” she asked me.
“The Sheriff did say things weren’t right for Toby, but he didn’t go into any detail,” I shrugged.
“Wonder why Stuart didn’t clear the sidewalks today? You don’t think he’s still mad that we asked him about Mr. Sampson, do you?” she mused, as she waited for her tea to cool a bit.
“Oh, Joan wasn’t doing very well today, so he stayed home with her,” I told her.
“Are you going to take them a basket? Can I go with you?” she asked with excitement.
“I already did. I’m sorry,” I said, not realizing that Paula would want to go with me. “I had a bit of time between when the Sheriff was here and the beginning of lunch, so I ran down there with it.”
“Did you see Joan?”
“No, Stuart said she was lying down.”
“Was he welcoming, or did you get the cold shoulder?” she asked. I wasn’t sure how the visit would go when I took the basket to him, after the other morning when we tried to get information about Mr. Sampson.
“He seemed happy to see me and was grateful for the basket. He said it would be just what Joan needed to get through the rough patch,” I smiled. It always made me happy when people were appreciative of the gift. “Did you know that Stuart is into growing exotic plants?”
“Nope, I had no idea,” she said, with a strange look on her face.
“They have a pretty big lot and I noticed a greenhouse at the back of his property. Of course, I wanted to know if he had any kind of poisonous plants in there, but I would also love to find someone around here that would grow fresh herbs for me.
“Okay,” Paula said, in such a way that I knew she was wondering why I told her about Stuart’s plants.
“The Sheriff said the coroner is checking to see if Mr. Sampson was poisoned. The initial cause of death is asphyxiation, but what caused that?” I tried to lead her down the same path of thought that I was on.
Finally, it made sense to her, “Oh, you think maybe Stuart has some kind of poisonous plant that he used?”
“I think it’s a darn good possibility, especially after his reaction to our questions the other day. He’s hiding something, and that something might be in his greenhouse or the barn next to the greenhouse.”
“So, what are you thinking?”
“I don’t know what to think. Maybe the old man’s son did it, maybe Stuart, maybe someone else? All I know is I feel like I need to figure it out or I’m going to go down for something I didn’t do,” I sighed.
“We need to figure out what to do next.” She agreed that if we didn’t figure it out, I was going to be in big trouble.
“Okay, so we have two possible suspects, - the son and Stuart. Either of them could have done it, both of them had a motive, so I think we have to figure out which one had access to some kind of poison and which one would know about poisons in general. Off the top of my head, I lean toward Stuart just because of his knowledge of plants.” I wrote down all the clues on a napkin.
We continued to list the reasons why we thought each man made a decent suspect, then Paula said she needed to get home to babysit her grandkids while her daughter and son-in-law went to dinner. Babysitting was something she frequently did to help her daughter, plus she enjoyed spoiling the grandkids. I had to admit I was a bit jealous, I would never have grandkids to spoil since I never had any kids of my own.
“Come down later if you want,” she offered.
“Thanks, but I think I’m going to pop something into the microwave for dinner then settle in and work on this list of ideas for a bit tonight. I’ll see you in the morning with a plan of attack.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Chapter 12
“I did a bunch of research last night on poisons, and there are a few that come from plants that cause the person to suffer from asphyxiation,” I explained to Paula as we had our coffee the next morning.
“And Stuart has those plants?”
“I’m not sure; I didn’t have a chance to see any plants when I was there yesterday. I stood at the door and talked to Stuart,” I told her.
“I don’t understand.” She looked confused.
“Somehow, we need to find out if Stuart has any of those plants.”
We spent some time trying to figure out how to go about finding what kind of plants Stuart is interested in, and finally figured out a solution. We decided we would meet after lunch and take another basket of food to Joan and Stuart. Julia would cover Paula’s store, and I would simply close the bakery an hour earlier than normal.
“Hi Stuart, I hope you don’t mind, but we brought you another basket of stuff,” I said, as I handed Stuart the basket of soups, bread and baked goods. Paula added some candies to the basket also.
“I can’t thank you enough for this stuff Abby, it’s a relief to not have to worry about every meal especially since I don’t really cook,” he sighed, as he studied the contents of the basket.
“I’m happy to help. I’ll bring some sandwiches tomorrow if you would like. I didn’t know you didn’t cook. Sandwiches would probably be a nice change,” I suggested. I was hopeful that we would be able to restore whatever bit of friendship that was destroyed when Paula and I asked him about Mr. Sampson. I also needed him to be comfortable enough to explain his plants to me.
“That would be wonderful Abby, but only if you’ll let me pay for them,” he said, surprising me that he would accept another delivery. It made me think that if he had anything to do with the murder, he wasn’t concerned that I would figure anything out. He also didn’t seem bothered by the prior encounter. Maybe I was wrong about him?
“I was wondering, I noticed you have a large greenhouse out back, what do you grow?” I tried to ask as calmly as possible, even though my heart started beating a bit harder.
“A little of this and a little of that, why?” he asked.
“I’ve been thinking about trying to find someone to partner with to grow some fresh herbs, lettuce, tomatoes and other things I could use at th
e bakery. I obviously don’t have a place to grow anything,” I explained. I wasn’t sure how things would grow here; the weather is often unpredictable, and the summer is pretty short. The previous summer I was able to go down the hill to a little town that had a farmer’s market every Saturday, but it was rather expensive and time-consuming. When I first moved here, I spent time walking around the town looking for gardens in people’s yards, but there weren’t many people around that had enough property to grow proper gardens.
“We used to grow a lot of our own vegetables, but as we got older and Joan’s health started going downhill, we gave up. Just couldn’t do it anymore.” He told us about the garden boxes he built to grow in since the ground is so bad, and talked about all the different things they grew. Joan would spend hours peeling, chopping, and canning things to have during the winter.
“So, you don’t grow anything at all anymore? Your greenhouse is empty?” I asked thinking if the greenhouse was empty, I might be able to rent the space from him to grow the items I wanted.
“Oh no, it isn’t empty. I’ve dabbled in growing exotic plants for years. I also try to keep a bit of lavender and chamomile growing to help calm Joan’s nerves,” he sighed.
Exotic plants? Paula and I looked at each other. That was exactly the kind of information I wanted to hear.
“Could we see?” Paula blurted out then quickly realized she might seem a little over eager so followed it up with an explanation of how much she loves plants and flowers.
Stuart hesitated for a minute or so and glanced back into the house. I assumed he was thinking about leaving Joan alone for any amount of time. Then he surprised us when he agreed, saying it would be good to get out of the house for a few minutes and get some fresh air. While we waited for Stuart to get his jacket, and let Joan know he wouldn’t be long, Paula and I took a quick look at the pictures of poisonous plants that I had on my phone.
Murder on Main Street Page 6