Lethal Dose of Love (25 page)

She’d taken inventory. Had lunch with Helen and Amanda. Did bookwork. Brought Aden’s gargantuan pile of newspapers in and put them on his counter. Oh God! She’d been in his house. No wonder Espinoza was acting so suspicious.

“Ms. Winters?”

“Oh, sorry. I was thinking.” She told him about the newspapers.

“You have a key to his house?”

“Not really.” The sergeant stopped writing and looked up. “Helen and Carter watch his house while he’s away. Helen loaned me the key to bring in the newspapers. Simple.” Again she stressed the word he disliked so much.

“Will you give me the names of the people you spoke to on the phone last Tuesday night?”

She shot him a wan smile. “You’re not going to like one of them.”

“Mr. Green?”

She nodded. “The other was my friend Marcy from back in Minneapolis.” She slid his notebook from under his arm and wrote Marcy’s phone number in the top margin. “I talked to her from around eight-fifteen to nine-thirty.”

“What time did you talk to Mr. Green?”

“Around ten.”

Espinoza’s eyebrows did an up and down thing.

“I know what you’re thinking. I told you the other day he was concerned about me—as a friend. He called to check on me.”

“What made him think you might be up?”

“He probably saw my lights on. You’ll have to ask him.”

“Would you do me a favor?” asked Mr. Friendly again. “Would you watch the tapes of the race and see if anything strikes you as odd?”

“Do you want me to do that now?”

“What if I leave the tapes and you can do it tonight instead of watching television.”

“I never watch television.”

“What do you do for entertainment?”

“I’m writing a memoir.”

He got up and slapped the cover of the notebook shut. He peered at her over the top edge. Why did she suddenly have the feeling he still hadn’t asked the one question he’d come about?

He called for shadow-officer to retrieve the tapes from the car, whispered something and came back to sit. They were silent until he returned with two DVDs and a small black plastic bag. He laid them on the table before the sergeant.

Espinoza opened the black bag and took out a white envelope with a black logo of some sort in the left hand corner. From this envelope, he removed a second envelope. It was also white, but with no logo. From this he took out a long handled swab, like a giant Q-tip. He brandished it toward her. “Open your mouth, please.”

She obeyed. He swabbed the vile object around inside her left cheek while she stifled her gag reflex. He placed the swab in the white envelope, wrote her name and vital statistics on it, then sealed and slipped it into the larger envelope. She folded her hands in her lap so he wouldn’t see they were trembling. He placed the envelope back in the black bag and laid it on the table.

When he sucked in a breath that filled both lungs—she could tell because his shirt strained at the buttons—she pictured them popping off like little bottle rockets and shooting all over her floor.

“What do you know about Mr. Adams’ financial status?”

“Nothing. The café appeared to be prosperous. I did hear him ask Helen to have pity on him and offer a really good deal on the rental of the empty store. I have no way of knowing that meant he was hard up for cash, concerned about costs, or a cheapskate.”

“Why did you move to Sackets Harbor?”

She’d known this question was coming but hadn’t prepared an answer. She also knew it was leading up to his most important query of the afternoon. Her silence must have gone on too long. He’d let out the breath, his shirtfront returned to its pristinely pressed status.

“To write. I wanted a small town. A quiet place.” She laughed. “A quiet place.”

“That didn’t really answer my question, did it?”

Now it was Payton’s turn to sigh. “I’m sure you’re aware that two years ago my husband was murdered. I came to…recover.”

“Ms. Winters, how many poisonous plants do you carry in your shop?”

Chapter 30

Payton’s telephone rang. She considered not answering, but the image of Aden appeared before her. Maybe he was calling to ask her to harbor him in her home. How would she respond? Did she feel sufficiently thankful for what he’d done for her? Did she want to have him around the rest of her life? That’s what it would be, two souls who knew too much about each other, clinging out of need rather than the love and devotion a relationship should embrace.

The next ring seemed more insistent. “Hello.”

“Hello, dear. I just called to see how you were.”

Helen had called for gossip, but right now Payton didn’t care. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“What are you doing?”

“Watching videos of the race.” Though she hadn’t been able to concentrate, visions of every poison plant from the shop kept floating onto the screen.

“Did the police badger you badly?”

“Nothing worse than before. Just more questions, like, what I did the two days leading up to the murder. Who did I talk to? Did I have any poisonous plants in the store.”

“What?”

“They didn’t say which one. And no, I didn’t ask.”

“So Sean
was
killed with a poisonous plant.”

“Helen, what if someone bought the murder weapon in my shop?”

“You’re not responsible for what people do with plants once they get them home.”

Payton couldn’t respond.

“Dear, if you owned a hardware store and someone bought a hammer to use as a murder weapon, you wouldn’t feel responsible, would you?”

Payton gave a nervous laugh. “Probably.”

Now Helen laughed too. “Well don’t.” Her voice turned pensive. “Who do you think did this?”

“I have no idea. It’s all I’ve been able to think of.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No thank you. I’m going to replay these videos and go to bed.”

Payton laid the cordless receiver on the desk. What if she had sold the plant that had killed Sean? Could plants really be used in that way? They could be used to make drugs that people smoked or injected into their veins, so probably it could be done. She’d known about poisonous plants, of course, to warn her customers as the law required. But she definitely hadn’t known any of them were
that
poisonous. She hadn’t thought “poisonous” in that context meant anything other than a tummy ache and diarrhea if your kitty chewed a leaf.

The sergeant’s voice boomed in her mind. “To whom have you sold poisonous plants?”

Payton had a sudden urge for a tall, strong drink with a ton of ice cubes. She crossed the living room to the cabinet where Mamie’s little statuary dotted the shelves now instead of her hand-painted Mexican dinnerware. Payton’s favorite of the figurines was the little brass whale: tail flexed, poised for his next dive, she could feel the awesome power of the animal. She brushed two fingers down its satiny spine and along the outstretched fluke.

The liquor was locked in the bottom of the cabinet, away from prying fingers. She sorted through the mostly full bottles and selected the small one at the back. Frangelico. It had been Cameron’s favorite bedtime drink. Not something that was usually to her taste. For a long time, she cradled the bottle against her chest. She took a crystal glass and went to the kitchen, ignoring the tears blurring her vision.

As she passed the cellar door, she opened it and peered into the darkness of the stairwell. Harry Brice had fallen to his death here. Aden must have suffered a serious guilt trip on discovering the body, wishing he’d been home days earlier to have perhaps saved him.

She put the bottle and glass on the counter and dialed Aden’s cell phone. Several clicks and weird noises were followed by ringing, and more ringing. Then the automated operator began her spiel about Aden’s number being out of service. Maybe it was just as simple as him leaving his phone charger at home.

If that were the case, why hadn’t he called on a regular phone?

By moonlight, she poured a couple of ounces of the smooth brown liquid and took it to the patio. The breeze chilled the tears on her cheeks. Golden stars sparkled in an ebony sky. A few lights shone in the harbor below. Conversational voices wafted between the trees. Fireflies flickered inches above her lawn that needed mowing. Aden wouldn’t be doing it for her. Not any more. He’d spend his time stamping out license plates in the penitentiary. Would she go visit him? She shivered at the thought but decided she probably would. But wait! Aden hadn’t bought a poisonous plant. He hadn’t bought
any
plants.

Why use a plant as a murder weapon instead of a knife or gun? Why take a chance the poison wouldn’t work, or might kill someone else? Which it had.

Was a similar sergeant questioning Frank’s friends and relatives as diligently as Espinoza was working the Sackets Harbor residents?

What species was the killer plant? Payton wished her plant book were here instead of at the shop. She thought about going down to get it; she’d even taken her jacket from the closet when an awful thought hit with the physicality of a club. What if the killer purposely used a plant from her shop in order to incriminate her?

She hung up the jacket, went to the kitchen for a larger glass, filled it to the brim and went to boot up her computer. But Payton didn’t open the book file. She clicked on the internet and after some searching, found botanical.com, a site featuring poisonous plants. It had a frightening list that in the end didn’t help Payton determine what plant it might have been. There were so many that could kill. The site also said that most plant poisons were indefinable after death. That was probably why Espinoza wanted her to pinpoint the plants she’d sold—to narrow down the possibilities.

****

7 a.m. The doorbell rang. Payton was already up but still wearing beat-up velour sweats. Sergeant Espinoza stood on the stoop.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” She backed to let him in, shut the door, returned to the kitchen, slid onto the stool and went back to eating breakfast. She could feel him standing in the doorway behind her. “Pour yourself some coffee. Mugs are just above the machine.”

He obeyed and then sat across the table, pushing the cup forward and laying that irritating notebook before him.

“I assume this isn’t a social call. Did you find Aden?”

After a couple of long beats, Espinoza said, “I have a warrant to search your shop. I wanted to get to it early so you can still open on time.”

“That was very considerate of you.” His expression said she hadn’t been able to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “Are you looking for poisonous plants?”

“Mostly.”

“What makes you think the plant came from my shop?”

“We’re checking nurseries too, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Not really.” She stood up. “I’ll be dressed in a minute.”

****

Payton watched out the window of the sergeant’s car. She was pretty sure a curtain moved in Helen’s upstairs window and stifled a wave. Two carloads of officers in unmarked cars sat in the parking lot beside the building. She let the men in and went to sit behind the counter, surprised not to be the least bit nervous. She took out the sales book while the men pawed through her store.

Espinoza approached. “You mentioned a book on poisonous plants. Could I see it?”

“I don’t have a book on poisonous plants. I have several on ‘regular’ plants and it tells which ones are poisonous in the blurb describing each one.” She produced it from under the counter.

“You could save time if you told me which ones to look for.”

She grinned and reached into her backpack on the floor behind her stool. “I made a list last night.” Seeing his raised eyebrows she explained, “After you asked about poison plants I was curious.” She handed him the list. “I got these off a site called botanical.com.”

He read out loud, “Larkspur, poinsettia, lily of the valley, hydrangea, monkshood, buttercup, oleander, Star of Bethlehem, and several varieties of lily. Do you sell any of these here?”

“In stock I have lily of the valley, the monkshood and hydrangea. I had one Star of Bethlehem—sold it the other day. I just ordered more. If I were you, I’d check the monkshood first. Apparently the entire plant is poisonous, even the root. Lily of the valley is too, but to a far lesser degree. The active chemical ingredient in monkshood is aconite and it’s highly toxic. One fiftieth of a grain will kill a sparrow in a few seconds. A tenth of a grain can kill a rabbit in five minutes.”

A slow hiss of air escaped between the sergeant’s teeth as he scribbled.

“One problem,” she continued. “Over the past ten years, scientists have discovered the medicinal properties of aconite. Cold pills, ointments and tinctures now contain some. Last night I wondered whether it was possible to make a poisonous mixture from one of the medicines.”

Espinoza made notes. “You said you do have monkshood here in the store?” He shadowed her out to the patio.

She pointed at the plant sitting innocently in the center of the wicker table. “This is
aconitum napellus
. Apparently this variety is the most toxic.”