Lethal Dose of Love (24 page)

“What on earth is going on this morning?” Helen asked.

“I think there’s something in the water,” Payton said, completely serious. Head throbbing, she dashed outside. Rounding the front of the house, she felt herself being wrenched backwards. Her captor was a tall man wearing the tan uniform of the New York State Police. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Her reply was cut short when Helen pounded the officer on the arm. “Let her go, you bully.”

Sergeant Espinoza stepped up, took hold of Helen’s arms and yanked her away from the officer. “We want to talk to you.”

“Not now,” Payton jerked from the officer’s grasp.

“Now!”

Payton didn’t stop, didn’t even turn.

“Follow her,” the sergeant shouted.

Somehow Helen already had the car running and the door open. Payton leaped inside. The Buick’s tires squealed on the pavement. She raced directly to Claire’s house. Her car wasn’t there. It wasn’t at Mamie’s. And it wasn’t at the library.

Payton was suddenly sweating and trembling all over. She clenched her hands in her lap and ordered herself to concentrate on finding poor Claire. Sorrow could make a perfectly stable person do the most abnormal things. She leaned forward, pressing the seat belt strap tight, looking down driveways on the right side of the road while Helen did likewise on the left.

“Where could she have gone?” Helen inched the car past the shops, even though they could both see Claire’s car wasn’t there. Helen turned into the marina driveway and stopped. Behind them, the police car jerked to a halt as if surprised by their actions.

Claire wasn’t at the marina either. “Where did she go?” Helen backed as far as she could, avoiding the officer’s car, turned and went back up the hill. The shadow-car did likewise.

As they passed Payton’s shop, Payton hollered, “Stop!”

Helen slammed her foot to the floor, pitching Payton forward against the restraint. “Sorry.”

“She went behind the café.”

Helen drew up to the curb. Payton and Helen flew out of the car and cupped their hands to peek in the café windows. “There’s no one in there,” Helen announced.

“Let’s go around back.”

They ran down the alley to the left of the building and stopped at the corner. Claire’s car was running and the driver’s side door stood open.

A tiny metallic squeak brought Payton’s eyes up to the top of a flight of wooden steps. A white, raised panel door waffled back and forth in the breeze.

“That’s the door to the kitchen,” Helen explained.

Payton went up first. Her stomach was in a twist, not from fear but worry for Claire. The officer was nowhere to be seen. Payton almost told Helen to go back and get him.

She poked her head in the kitchen. The place was cold as a tomb. A large cast iron stove filled most of the right-hand wall, vents and blowers above it. Directly ahead, all the cupboard doors stood open. On the left, the refrigerator was ajar and empty. A long counter with shelves both above and below, was clean and bare except for an enormous knife rack. One wooden handled knife was missing.

A scratching sound came from the dining room.

Payton made no sound crossing the gleaming white-tiled floor. She inched her face up to the round goldfish bowl type window. Claire stood in the middle of the room, amid the round metal tables. Each table had a pair of chairs tipped upside down on top.

Claire clutched a white apron to her chest. Her hands wrung it in a long rope shape, twisting it tighter and tighter, the string ties dangling to the floor. She turned in a complete circle, looking at everything, and nothing. Her back was to Payton right now, but they knew she was crying. Her body heaved and jerked as she struggled to catch a breath between sobs.

Helen’s arm touched Payton’s as she peered through the second round window. “What do we do?” Helen whispered.

“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s best to let her get it out of her system, whatever it is.” Then Payton remembered the knife missing from the rack on the counter. “Uh-oh.”

Helen squinted for a moment. She shook her head. “What’s wrong?”

Had Claire carried the large french knife into the dining room? Nothing on the tables. Nothing tucked in her waistband. Perhaps the utensil was in the dishwasher or something. There was nothing to indicate Claire had it. Payton fortified herself with a breath and pushed the door open.

Claire turned.

Payton stopped. She couldn’t see the knife. That didn’t mean that if Payton rushed to Claire, it wouldn’t be jammed between her ribs. For what reason Payton couldn’t imagine, but Claire wasn’t acting like a woman in possession of all her senses.

Whatever Payton expected, it certainly wasn’t for Claire to crumple to the floor in a heap. Payton and Helen did the best they could to lift her and wrap her in a protective embrace. Claire sobbed even harder now. Intense gasps and snorts racked her thin frame.

Payton put her left arm around Claire’s back, her right arm on top of Claire’s hands, clutching Sean’s apron. Helen’s right arm gripped Claire’s waist. Her left hand lay on Claire’s knee. They leaned their heads on each other. There they sat, an ungainly statue, mourning the loss of someone nobody had liked.

Payton felt more than saw the officer arrive. A change in air pressure. A fuller feeling in the air space, perhaps. Didn’t matter. If they needed help, he was there.

Helen looked up from where she’d been leaning her head against Claire’s. “Get out.” And he obeyed.

Behind them, the door to the vacant shop opened. “Oh my,” Mamie said. Then rushing feet. She stopped in front of the women and dropped to her knees. “Is someone hurt? Should I get help?”

“No,” Payton said softly.

With Mamie’s help, they eased Claire to her feet and out into the passenger seat of her car. “I’ll take her home and get her to bed,” Mamie offered.

“She’s in shock,” Helen said.

“Do you think she should be treated?” Payton asked.

Mamie started the car. “I’ll stay with her.”

“I hope she’s all right,” Payton said as they drove away.

“Claire just needs rest. I’ll go back up to lock the door.”

The officer, standing near the corner, approached Payton. “You will come with me now.”

“I’m going back. But I’ll ride with Helen.”

Helen slammed the upstairs door, making Payton jump. “I’ll have to get a new lock. Claire broke the other one.”

“Now,” the officer said.

Payton eyed the young man, too small, in Payton’s mind, to be a policeman, a defender of the wronged, fighter for the right. She wondered what he’d do if she suddenly popped him in the balls and bolted across the parking lot and into the line of trees behind it.

“Now.” He made his voice deeper, putting her in mind of the wrestlers Cameron used to watch on television, men who never talked in their own voices.

It was a short drive to her house, but today the trip passed as though in some sort of science-fiction time warp.

Chapter 29

At Payton’s, the sergeant waited at the patio table in the herb garden. He gestured for her to sit across from him. Sun beat down, heating the metal past bearability. He laid the ever-present notebook on the table. Payton waited for the questions to begin.

He looked at her, pen ready, brown eyes somber. Those eyes didn’t fool her. She’d been taken in by the “I’m-your-Daddy” routine once already. “Ms. Winters,” he began, and Payton felt suddenly quite lonely. “Can you tell me any reason why Mr. Green might have wanted Sean Adams dead?”

“I didn’t have an answer the first time you asked, and I don’t have one now.”

“All right. Tell me what you did last Tuesday during the day.”

“I went to the shop early to phone in a plant order. I dusted and did some bookwork. On the way I picked up a cup of coffee at the Galley
.
I moved the ficus plants outside, turned on the patio sprinklers and watered the plants inside the shop. Just before putting the Open sign in the window, I went to the bathroom.”

Espinoza frowned at her overly detailed description but didn’t say anything. “A lot of people come in during the day?”

“Only everyone who’d read a newspaper or listened to the news.”

“Any local people?”

This was where she was supposed to throw her townspeople to the wolves. Yes, so-and-so was here. Yes, she talked about the murder. No, she didn’t mention wanting Sean dead, but she was carrying a hundred pound bag of arsenic and an Internet printout of how to murder Sean.

“Felicia stopped in. She wanted to know what I was bringing to the potluck before the race. I told her I’d bring a salad. After lunch there was a dress rehearsal for the race and we all went there.”

“Dress rehearsal?”

“Yes. It’s when we take the boats along the course to familiarize ourselves with the route. I sailed with Helen and Carter.”

“Not in your own boat?”

“I don’t own one. I’ve been thinking of buying
Zephyr
.”

He gave a slow nod and took notes. “What about Sean Adams?”

“Sean’s partner was unavailable. He sailed alone.”

“This can be done?”

“Not easily. But remember, it was only to familiarize ourselves with the route.”

“Who else was at this dress rehearsal?”

Payton counted on her fingers. “Helen and Carter. Sylvie and her partner—I don’t know her name. Amanda and Edward. Brighton and Aden. That’s it, I think. After rehearsal we all went back to work.”

“Who took care of the shop while you were gone?”

“I left a note on the door telling everyone to come watch. Most shop owners do that.”

“And next?”

She thought a moment. “Mamie came for the keys to the house. She was meeting Mr. Arenheim here. Then MaryAnn came looking for a job.”

“That right.”

Payton didn’t say the words that wanted to come from her mouth: “Yeah, that’s what I said.” She didn’t want to piss off this man. If the door got opened, the skeletons in her closet would tumble to the floor.

“Did you hire her?”

“Yes.”

“Was she qualified to work in a flower shop?”

“You don’t exactly have to be a rocket scientist to sell plants. She’s hard working and came with good references in working with people. That was enough for me.”

“What happened next?”

“I gave her a plant book so she could familiarize herself with some of the most common plants. Then Claire and I remembered the
Wanderlust
meeting.”

“So you went to the meeting. Did you close the shop?”

“I left MaryAnn in charge. It was slow. I was only going to be a couple of minutes away. It seemed like a good time to break her in.”

“Where was the meeting?”

“Helen’s. She wanted to show off her new breakfast room.”

“Who else was there?”

“The usual members. Amanda and Edward. Sylvie French. Claire and Mamie.”

“Do Mr. Green and Mr. Adams attend?”

She shook her head. “Aden calls them ‘a group established for the betterment of Sackets Harbor’s gossip.’”

“Was there any talk about Mr. Adams?”

She tried but couldn’t remember. And told him so.

“Where is Mr. Green right now?”

“Uzbekistan, I think. I’ve tried reaching him but keep getting a message that his number is out of service. That’s all I can tell you.” She started to rise expecting him to flip shut his precious notebook and get the hell out off her property.

But he didn’t. He turned to a fresh page and wrote
Payton Winters—continued
at the top in letters so big she could read them upside down across the table. “All right, will you get me the telephone numbers of the people you said you spoke to the night before the murders?”

“What possible reason would I have for—”

“If…
if
Aden didn’t kill Sean, who do you think might have reason to?”

“Like I said before, I’ve only been in Sackets Harbor a few months. Since I’ve been here, I’ve heard rumors about things Sean’s done to people.”

“Tell me some of them.”

She put her hands on the sides of her head, her hair drifting between her fingers and falling down to cover her face. This little movement gave her some needed privacy. Time to think. Just what had she heard? Helen had been forthcoming with a lot of stuff about the town and its goings-on through the years. How much of her chitchat was anything more than idle gossip? Should Payton tell this man and let him sort through it? Was it her problem? Helen had an admitted soft spot for Sean and would probably have glossed over a lot of his behaviors. That meant he’d most likely done worse things than she reported.

What did Payton know firsthand? That he beat up MaryAnn.

Was it her business to repeat any of it?

“Ms. Winters, would you be willing to give us a sample of your DNA?”

Payton pushed her hair behind her ears and lifted her head to stare at him. This was unbelievable. She shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”

“Okay. Now, think back to
two
days before the murder, to Monday, and tell me what you did.”