Deadly Devotion (28 page)

“Yeah, but I can’t figure out how Molly knew about Gord.”

“That’s my fault. The night I was at the Pizza Shack, she heard me mention I was looking for him.”

“And she probably asked Edward who he was.”

Tom exited the highway and took the mountain access road south. He drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel. “How can we be sure they didn’t plan the murder together? If Gilmore cut Molly off, her expensive baubles would last only so long and then they’d need money. Daisy’s money.”

“You saw Edward tackle Molly in the hospital room. He was horrified by her admission.”

“Or he’s a good actor.” Tom rounded the police station and parked in the back lot. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. I need to take over Molly’s interrogation, so another officer will take your statement. Just tell her everything you told me.”

Keith met them in the hall. “We reviewed the video from Kate’s hospital room. Molly didn’t actually confess to Daisy’s murder. She told Edward that she’d do anything so they could be together. She now claims that she was talking about stopping Kate from exposing Edward’s past.”

Kate took a step back, her hand reaching blindly for the wall. “But she said I’d ruin everything because of what I knew.”

Tom squeezed Kate’s arm. “Don’t worry. We’ve got her. We’ll hold her on the attempted murder charge while we piece together a case against her for Daisy’s murder.”

Tom left Kate with Dad and joined Hank in the room adjoining the interrogation room. On the other side of the
two-way mirror, Molly sat next to a smug-faced lawyer who by the look of his Armani suit raked in a grand an hour. Tom shot Hank a questioning look. No way was Molly’s lawyer gonna let her talk.

“They’re up to something,” Hank said, watching Molly through the glass.

Tom leaned against the back wall, crossed one leg over the other, and folded his arms over his chest.

“My client wishes to make a statement,” the lawyer said in a blue-blood accent straight out of Boston.

“This ought to be good,” Hank grunted.

“Go ahead, Miss Gilmore,” the detective inside the interrogation room said.

Molly conferred with her lawyer in a whisper, then cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for threatening Miss Adams. I didn’t want her to get my fiancé in trouble. I wouldn’t have really hurt her. I just wanted to scare her into backing down.”

“So you’re saying your fiancé, Edward Smythe, also known as Jim Crump, killed Miss Leacock?”

She glanced at her lawyer.

“My client has nothing further to say.” The man picked up his notebook and pushed to his feet.

“Wait,” Molly cried out. “I put the bad marigolds in Daisy’s tea. She called an order in to the shop and I mixed a few of the wrong type in.”

“That’s enough,” the lawyer ordered.

Molly ignored him. “I didn’t mean for her to die. ” A smirk teased the corners of her lips. “
If
that’s what she died from. I just wanted her to get sick so she’d realize I was telling her the truth about Edward.”

Tom uncrossed his legs and kicked a foot back against
the wall. “She’s confessing to manslaughter so we’ll drop murder one.”

“At least you’ve got a confession,” Hank said.

“You saw her smirk when she added ‘
if
that’s what she died from.’” Tom flicked his hand toward the two-way mirror. “Kate’s been telling us for more than a week that tagete wouldn’t kill anyone. And she’s the expert. Her lawyer will have a cakewalk convincing the jury that there’s no proof. Or he’ll argue that she lied in a desperate attempt to protect Edward.”

“So we hammer hard on the attempted murder charge. We have a roomful of witnesses and a syringe with her fingerprints on it. One way or the other she’ll do her time.”

“I want a search warrant on her apartment before her slimy lawyers have a chance to clear out any evidence. Or plant it.”

Tom took a deep breath, pasted on what he hoped would pass for a smile, and opened the door to the hallway.

Dad and Kate looked at him expectantly.

“We have our confession.”

Kate lifted her arms in a V and let out a whoop.

Tom averted his gaze, not wanting Kate to see his doubts that they’d see justice served.

“What aren’t you telling us?” Dad asked.

Tom’s jaw clenched. He shot his dad a glare. “She claims she only wanted to make Daisy sick.”

“A jury won’t buy that,” Kate exclaimed confidently. “Ricin’s too deadly.”

Tom steered them toward a quiet corner. “She didn’t admit to giving Daisy ricin, only tagete.”

“But you saw how she reacted when I accused her of lacing the tea with ricin.”

“Yeah, but we don’t have proof, and she knows it.” Tom let out a heavy sigh. “With no criminal record and a father who has money to burn, she’ll likely get off pretty light.” He squeezed Kate’s shoulder. “But you accomplished what you set out to prove—your friend didn’t kill herself.”

Kate shrank from his touch, tears springing to her eyes. “It’s not enough.”

Kate drove slowly along the curving roadways through the cemetery. The grass was a lush green, the sky a brilliant blue—a perfect day for planting flowers. After she finished here, she’d get started on the memorial garden in front of the research station. Kate smiled. Daisy would have gotten a kick out of all the different varieties of marigolds Kate intended to plant in her memory.

The song on the car radio cut out. “Lawyers for Molly Gilmore, only daughter of diamond tycoon Jeremiah Gilmore, today demanded attempted murder charges against their client be dropped after key evidence in the case went missing,” the newscaster said. “The judge denied the request, citing sufficient eyewitness testimony to proceed. The police continue to withhold the name of the victim, but CZN news has learned that she is Kate Adams, an associate of Daisy Leacock, the research scientist whose suspicious death remains under investigation. In other news, GPC Pharmaceuticals has—”

Kate snapped off the radio. She should’ve known her anonymity wouldn’t last. Now the media would be hounding
her
and
Edward. Kate reached the end of the roadway and touched the brakes.
Which way?

She backtracked twice, trying to find the side drive that passed by Daisy’s grave. Finally she located the place, grabbed her trowel and tray of flowers from the trunk, and set to work. As she planted, she talked. “I wish you could hear me, Daisy. I saw Edward today. What you did for him—putting his real name in your will—made a big impression, but after Molly’s betrayal I’m not sure how he’ll be. He really loved her.”

Molly must have loved him too, or she would have stuck to her original plan of revenge and twisted her testimony to make him look guilty.

Kate shook away the thought. Molly didn’t deserve her pity.

Kate reflected on her earlier conversation with Edward as he’d helped move her boxes into Daisy’s house, her house now. She didn’t feel right about accepting the house when Daisy had left it to him, but Edward had insisted. That alone convinced Kate he’d changed. If he hadn’t wanted to stick around town, he could have sold the house and pocketed the proceeds. But he’d refused to consider the possibility.

“I reminded him what you wrote in your journal, that you wanted to show him God’s love in a tangible way,” Kate said aloud. “That even though he lied, you wanted to prove you loved and accepted the person he really was.

“He seemed skeptical, but at least he kept your Bible. That’s a start. I wonder if he’ll ever come back. He said he had to get away for a while. The news teams have been relentless.”

Kate pried a bright orange marigold from the flat and set it in place in front of the stone. “Everything that’s been going on got me thinking about Dad. How all these years I’ve been afraid to find out what really happened. I know. I
know. After Mom died, you told me the time had come, that the truth would set me free, but I wasn’t ready.”

Unfortunately, now that the media had figured out she was Molly’s intended victim, it was only a matter of time before they ferreted out the family dirt, especially with GPC Pharmaceuticals moving to the area. What a nightmare.

If she hoped to neutralize the collateral damage, she needed to be armed with the truth, whether she was ready to hear it or not.
Hear
it. The thought twigged a memory. The creepy phone message from weeks ago replayed in her mind.
Kate Baxter . . . I think you’ll want to talk to me.

Shivers tingled down her spine. Thankfully, the caller with the horror-flick voice hadn’t bothered her again. But she would investigate.

Of course, she could start by asking Tom. After finding out about her name change, he’d probably scoured the public records to puzzle out her secret.

Except . . . she wasn’t ready to face him again. Not just yet. Between Julie’s wedding and the move, brushing off Tom’s attempts to see her hadn’t been difficult.

Kate sat back on her heels and kneaded the warm earth between her fingers. “I miss you, Daisy. I miss you so very much. I wish you could have met Tom. Well, I guess you knew him since he grew up here. I couldn’t have caught Molly without him and his dad.”

“Nice to be appreciated.”

Kate toppled onto her backside at the deep masculine voice and sent her trowel flying.

Tom chuckled.

“Don’t scare me like that. Especially in a cemetery.”

He picked up the trowel and offered her a hand. “I’m sorry.
I was visiting my mom’s grave and noticed your car. How are you doing?”

She brushed the dirt from her pants. “Okay, considering.”

“You heard the noon news, I take it?”

“Yeah, my five seconds of fame. Yee haw.”

“We can hope that’s all it lasts.”

“Are you
trying
to cheer me up? ’Cause you’re not very good at it.”

“How about giving me a chance to practice? Say, dinner tonight?”

“Dinner?” She squatted in front of the flowers she’d planted and smoothed the dirt around them. “Um, sure. Dinner sounds good.”

She might even scrounge up the courage to ask about her dad’s arrest.

Calendula
officinalis
, commonly known as pot marigold, is an easy-to-grow perennial flower (annual in colder climates). Since the time of the ancient Egyptians, it has been used for everything from medicinal purposes to an inexpensive substitute for saffron to flavor stews. Tea lovers must be careful not to confuse calendula marigolds with the common tagete variety often sold in garden centers. Some varieties of tagete are toxic and all are inedible.

Although calendula is popular with herbal medicine practitioners, as with many natural remedies, little scientific evidence exists to substantiate the benefits offered by calendula tea. However, the friend who passed on this recipe to me (the inspiration for
Deadly Devotion
when I learned not all marigolds are created equal) acquired the recipe from her grandmother in Germany and has drunk the tea for years. She enjoys the taste and has experienced a number of the benefits often attributed to its use.

Benefits of calendula tea include:
contains vitamins A and C; helps prevent infection and inflammation (thanks to flavonoids); promotes healthier skin; relieves sore throats; reduces
fevers; detoxifies, prevents, or relieves stomach problems; eases menstrual cramps and menopausal hot flashes.

How to dry the petals:
Always choose organically grown plants when collecting petals, and wait until the blossoms are fully open. The blossoms may be left whole, but for faster drying, pry apart the petals and spread them on a cookie sheet. Place in a warm, dry area, out of direct sunlight, with good air circulation. Allow several days to dry, turning the petals several times a day. When completely dry, a folded petal will break rather than bend. Dried petals should be stored in an airtight glass jar in a cool, dry place.

Recipe for Calendula Tea

2 teaspoons dried calendula flower petals

1 cup of boiling water

Place calendula petals in an infuser and pour 1 cup of boiled water over the petals. Allow the calendula to steep for 10–15 minutes. Then enjoy.

Calendula petals picked later in the year may be bitter; if so, sweeten with honey. Calendula can be infused with other herbs for added benefits.

1

D
IAMOND
H
EIRESS
E
SCAPES
M
URDER
C
HARGES
screamed the headline. Kate Adams snatched a copy of the
Port Aster Press
from the newsstand next to the checkout and tossed it on top of the groceries she’d picked up for her elderly neighbor.

Kate should have known the justice system would let her down . . . again. Her father had died in police custody. Now a woman like Molly Gilmore got away with murder.

The male teenage clerk dropped the newspaper on the other side of the register.

Kate shifted so she could read the article as the kid scanned the groceries.
Insufficient evidence.
How could they say that?

Her mentor was dead because of that woman.

Kate studied Molly’s photo. No hint of the crazed glint that had flashed in her eyes when she’d thought her secret was going to be exposed and lunged at Kate with a syringe. At least the attempted murder charges weren’t being dropped. If attacking her with a syringe full of poison wasn’t attempted murder, she didn’t know what was. They even had Molly on video.

Except an attempted murder charge was not good enough. The judge let the woman out on bail when she practically had “flight risk” blazoned across her Dolce pantsuit. Her face didn’t betray a trace of concern. And why should she worry? By trial time, her lawyers would have the charge whittled down to jaywalking.

“That’s $28.37,” the clerk said, bagging the last of the groceries.

Kate handed over the stack of fives her neighbor had given her to pay for the items and continued reading:
A source close to Gilmore claims the incident involving Adams was a setup and that Gilmore was the victim of police entrapment.

“Ma’am.”

Kate reached for the two bags of groceries, her gaze still pinned to the article.

Someone tugged the bags back.

“What—?” She looked up into cool gray eyes.

“Ma’am, could you come with me, please?” The voice belonged to a security guard, according to what was embroidered on his crisply ironed shirt with chevrons on the shoulder.

“Me? Why?”

The line of customers behind her gawked, eyes rapt with morbid fascination. She recognized a couple of faces and felt her own cheeks heat. In a town this size, whatever was going on would be common knowledge by suppertime.

The pimple-faced cashier held one of the five-dollar bills she’d given him under a blue light and showed it to the six-foot brute who still had his hands on her groceries. “See? Counterfeit! All six of them.”

A collective gasp sounded behind her.

“Good work, kid.” The security guard released the bags to accept the evidence.

Kate gaped at the wad of bills. “My neighbor gave them to me to buy her groceries.”

The guard nodded, but he didn’t look like he believed her. “If you’ll follow me, ma’am”—he shot a pointed look to the oglers behind her—“we’ll sort this out at the manager’s office.”

“What should I do with the groceries?” the clerk asked.

The guard steered Kate toward the office. “Have a stocker put them back.”

“No.” Kate whirled around. “I need to take those to my neighbor. She’s elderly and not feeling well. She needs—”

“Okay.” The guard waved off the cashier, curled the newspaper into the top of one of the bags, and hoisted them off the counter. “Follow me.”

Fevered whispers rose in their wake.

The guard closed the office door behind them and set the grocery bags on the manager’s desk. Molly’s smile mocked Kate from the front page of the newspaper.

Suddenly, she had the sinking feeling
she
was the one being entrapped.

If this was another one of Molly’s schemes . . .

Kate dug around her purse for other cash, her credit card, something. She couldn’t let her sweet old neighbor take the fall for trying to pass off counterfeit bills. How had she even ended up with a wad of counterfeit cash?

Kate zipped closed her purse. She must’ve left her wallet on the bed when she’d switched purses this morning. Chewing on her bottom lip, she hesitantly eyed the guard. “Are you sure the bills are counterfeit? I mean, that cashier didn’t look old enough to know the difference.”

“No, ma’am. I don’t know for sure.” The guard positioned himself in front of the door, his expression impassive. “That’s why we’re waiting for the police to sort this out.”

“The police?” She swiped slick palms down the sides of her slacks. “Is that really necessary?” The police chief would relish the chance to haul her in again and vindicate his idiotic attempt to pin Daisy’s murder on her. “I mean, I can pay for the groceries . . . some other way. My neighbor will be worried.”

A loud rap sounded on the door.

The guard pushed open the door, and Detective Tom Parker strode into the room.

Her knees went weak with relief. She slumped into a chair.

He wore his usual suit and tie instead of a police uniform, which with any luck might stave off rumors of her being arrested. He gave her a warm smile, then glanced around the room. “Where’s your counterfeiter?” he asked the security guard.

The guard hitched his thumb in Kate’s direction.

“Miss Adams?” Tom sounded as flabbergasted as he looked. He returned his attention to her, and his face broke into a wickedly amused grin. “If you wanted to see me, you could have just called.”

“Thanks,” she deadpanned. “Next time I’ll keep that in mind.” She hoped she wasn’t going to regret putting off that second dinner date he’d been vying for. She’d been too afraid that he simply felt beholden because she’d been right about Daisy being murdered.

“You know this woman?” the security guard asked.

Tom chuckled. “Yes, she’s known to the police.”

The guard nodded, his expression smug.

“I was the victim of an attempted murder,” Kate blurted. “Not a criminal.” She knew Tom was just trying to make light of the situation to put her at ease. But he wasn’t helping.

The guard’s jaw dropped, and a smidgen of recognition lit his eyes.

Tom cleared his throat. “What do you have? I’m sure we can clear this up.”

The guard handed Tom the wad of bills. “I believe you’ll find these are counterfeit bills, sir. They failed our light test. She used them to pay for her groceries. When confronted for the fraud, she claimed she received them from her neighbor—a shut-in.”

Tom swung his attention back to her, one eyebrow raised.

“What kind of moron counterfeits five-dollar bills?” she demanded irritably. “If I wanted to defraud someone, I’d at least go for twenties. More likely fifties or hundreds!”

Amusement lit Tom’s eyes, but he held his mouth in a firm line. “You’re not helping your case,” he murmured.

She rolled her eyes.

He studied the currency in his hands. “These are counterfeit. Who gave them to you?”

“Verna Nagy, but she couldn’t have known either. Someone must have palmed them off on her.” Kate snatched the newspaper from the grocery bag and slapped it into Tom’s hand, Molly’s picture faceup. “Maybe
she’s
behind this.”

Tom scanned the headline, and the tick of his jaw muscle betrayed his self-reproach at failing to nail the case shut.

The guard shook his head. “I haven’t seen her in here.”

“You warned me that her lawyers might try to discredit my reputation,” Kate said to Tom, ignoring the guard’s commentary. “I don’t know how they got to Verna, but they must
have.” Kate paused to catch her breath and glanced out the office window toward the cash registers. “Or maybe they got to that teenage clerk.” She turned to the guard. “He’s new here, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but—”

She clasped Tom’s arm. “I was reading the paper as I handed him the money. For all I know he replaced the bills I gave him with counterfeit ones.”

“Right.” The guard snorted. “He just happened to have the exact denominations in counterfeit as you handed him.”

“No . . .” Hope surged in her heart. “He wouldn’t! If you search him or the register, maybe you’ll find more.”

Tom cast a skeptical look toward the cashier. “Wait here.” He returned the newspaper to the desk, then let himself out of the room. For a moment he hung back and watched the cashier check out a customer. After the customer headed to the exit, Tom showed the cashier his badge.

The teen nodded and opened the cash drawer.

Tom dug through the drawer, lifting removable parts. Now and again, he held a bill under the ultraviolet light. He said something to the teen, but the teen shook his head and turned out his empty pockets. Tom jotted something in his notepad, then stalked back to the office, grim-faced.

Kate’s chest tightened. Tom couldn’t possibly believe she’d counterfeit, but if the evidence condemned her, he couldn’t exactly ignore it. No matter how he felt about her.

Or didn’t feel, as the case may be.

“Thank you for your alertness,” he said to the guard. “I’ll take Miss Adams into my custody.”

Custody.
She tried to swallow but couldn’t choke down the disbelief balled in her throat.

“What should we do with these?” The guard motioned toward the groceries.

Tom reached for a bag. “We’ll deliver them to her neighbor. I want to talk to the woman.”

“They’re not paid for, sir.”

Tom pulled out his wallet and handed the guard a twenty and a ten. “Will this cover it?”

“Yes, I’ll get your change.”

“Thank you,” Kate whispered to Tom as the guard left the room.

“Don’t thank me yet. We’ve had a rash of counterfeit complaints over the last few weeks. The Gilmore reach may be long, but I doubt this counterfeit operation was a setup to destroy your reputation.”

“But you believe me? Don’t you? You know I wouldn’t knowingly pass counterfeit bills.”

“Do I?”

She knew he was teasing, but that didn’t stop a swell of tears.

“Hey. None of that.” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “
I
know you wouldn’t. But the chief heard the call.”

She sucked in a breath. “What will you tell him?”

“We’ve been trying to track leads on this problem for weeks. He’s not going to just let the fact you were caught red-handed go.”

“But if you tell him Verna Nagy gave me the money, he’ll haul her down to the police station. The woman is eighty years old. She’s got to be a victim here too.”

“Criminals come in all shapes and sizes, Kate. People are rarely what they seem. Who knows what your little old neighbor lady is hiding?”

“What do you mean it wasn’t the counterfeiter?” the police chief ranted.

Tom held the cell phone away from his ear. “It’s complicated.” More complicated than he needed. He’d just started to win back Kate’s trust. But whether she liked it or not, she
was
connected to the counterfeit investigation, however inadvertently, and he had to investigate. He just hoped she understood it wasn’t personal.

He pulled his car into Kate’s driveway. “I’m about to interview a possible suspect now. I’ll be in touch.” Tom disconnected before the chief could press for details.

The man would not be happy to hear that Kate Adams was back on their radar. The mayor had given him an earful after Kate’s theatrics jeopardized GPC Pharmaceuticals’s relocation to their sleepy town. It seemed he was more interested in expanding their tax base than protecting the citizens.

Tom waited for Kate to climb out of her yellow Volkswagen Beetle before climbing out of his car. Her tousled red hair didn’t look as fiery as usual, and her stooped shoulders betrayed her unhappiness at having to interrogate her elderly neighbor. He lifted the groceries from the trunk. “How do you want to handle this?”

Kate crossed her arms. “I don’t.” She lowered her arms. “Oh, Tom, she’s such a sweet old woman. There’s no way she knowingly duped me into passing counterfeit bills.”

He bit back his you’d-be-surprised-what-sweet-old-women-can-do remark. Cops were about the only people Kate was capable of thinking ill of. Not that he blamed her, after learning how she’d lost her father. “Okay, then we’ll
be upfront with her. Tell her what happened and see what she has to say.”