Poisoned (The Alex Harris Mystery Series) (23 page)

“Mrs. Estenfelder, please, I must warn you of your rights.” John’s voice sounded strong and authoritative but showed no signs of getting through to the woman.

“I’m well aware of my rights, young man. I don’t need a lawyer. I did it, but being that no one was hurt, I’ll just be taking my things and leaving.” May started to get up from the hard, wooden chair.

“It doesn’t work like that, Mrs. Estenfelder. You tried to kill someone. Now sit down.”

May would not be deterred. “Well, I didn’t, did I? Now, if you’ll just tell me where my purse is, I’ll be on my way.”

John sighed with exasperation. “Why don’t you take a few minutes to call your lawyer.”

May, in spite of a show of bravado, began to see the light because just then two policemen walked by the window. In between them was a filthy Neanderthal, handcuffed hands behind him and a sinister leer on his face.

May took a gulp of air. “Well, if you think it best, Detective Van der Burg, maybe I will just take a moment.”

“Come in! I finally meet the two people responsible for helping me put that son of mine through college.” Mr Reiser extended his hand to me. “Did he tell you he’s almost done? My wife and I are thrilled. Now we can save up for that trip around the world we’ve always talked about.” Mr. Reiser chuckled. He was tall and good-looking—much like his son, though not quite as thin.

“Mr. Reiser, Ian explained a little about your firm to me over the phone and you talked with my sister, but could you tell us a bit of the background of Reiser and White Consultants? How long have you been in business?” I asked.

Mr. Reiser sat back in his chair in the small office and crossed his arms in front of him. “I worked for my old firm for over sixteen years, and my partner, Bill White, was with his company for about ten. I’m a casualty of downsizing, and Bill just wanted to make a change. We came together about fourteen months ago and it’s been going well. Which is why we need some additional help. We’ve got a new contract on top of a few others contracts we started working on several months ago, and we’re just about ready to sign for another.”

“These are all for software packages?” Sam asked.

“Yes, that’s right. So far, that’s all we’ve been dealing in. We’re doing work for large and small companies alike. The novelty of what we’re doing is that we carry the telemarketing concept one step further. Whereas in the past, large corporations would contract the initial telemarketing out to specialty firms, they weren’t contracting the initial sales contact out as well and that’s where we come in.

“What we need for this new contract are two salespeople with substantial contacts within large organizations. These would probably be people who, because of downsizing within their own organization, have found themselves out of a job.”

“Would they have to have a vast knowledge of the software industry or a programming background?” I asked.

“No. Not at all. We need salespeople, first and foremost, and, as I said, people with good contacts. We’ve already been given leads by the manufacturer, and now we go in and do demos and wrap the whole thing up. But more contacts never hurt. In addition to this latest job, we should, in the next two weeks, be signing a deal with another software firm. This time it’s a document imaging and cloud storage package. Do you have any knowledge of these programs?”

”Not much,” I admitted. “Just the cloud storage on my iPad.”

“As your own firm grows and generates more paper, you may want to consider something like this.” Mr. Reiser said.

Documents. I let my mind wander, something I did with increasing frequency of late, as Mr. Reiser explained the virtues of a paperless society to Sam. After I got home last night, I cuddled in bed with Bradley’s family history again. And again I found nothing. Both Mrs. Brissart and Kendra mentioned Bradley wanted to discuss the history, but had never found the time. What did he want to know? Was it important? Probably just some little tidbit the young man found fascinating. And besides, Bradley was most likely not the intended victim so what may or may not have been in the history really didn’t mean anything. I had only been concerned about it as a means of getting Mrs. Brissart off the hook. But John seemed to be giving up on this theory and concentrating his efforts on more viable suspects. Still, I found myself curious about the whole history.

“It’s staggering,” Mr. Reiser continued, bringing me back to the present. “Invoices, memos, faxes, and letters. Not to mention employee files, which alone can account for a small forest. Email has taken a bite out of paper usage, but not as much as you would think.”

“I think you’ll find our proposal outlines exactly what you have in mind,” Sam said, as she handed Mr. Reiser the proposal we had put together yesterday.

Mr. Reiser looked over the papers and nodded positively. “Ian speaks very highly of your firm. He’s made a lot of contacts himself at the various companies he’s been sent to, and if he doesn’t come on board with us, I doubt he’ll have a problem finding something. I’d like him to come work with me for a while if for no other reason than to pay me back for all his years of schooling!” Mr. Reiser threw his head back and gave a good laugh. I could see where Ian got his charm.

Sam and I left with a promise from Mr. Reiser that he would review our proposal and get with us as soon as possible.

“Do you think he’s getting bids from that new agency?” Sam asked as we made our way back to the car.

I shrugged inside my new leopard-skin sweater. “I doubt it. I hope not. Besides, Ian recommended us to his father and he didn’t mention the other agency when we spoke.”

We drove back to our office. I told Sam I needed to go to the Brissart home. I knew Chantal would have everything under control, but I just wanted to check and make sure everything was okay. Besides, something Kendra mentioned yesterday about Bradley and the family history had crept into my sleep during the night. I wasn’t sure why it should stir anything in me, but it did and it wouldn’t hurt to check.

There were two cars in the Brissart driveway—one, Chantal’s, and the other I didn’t recognize—just as long as it didn’t belong to one of the family. I had no desire to deal with any of them today. Mrs. Brissart seemed so, well…normal, and the rest were candidates for dysfunctional poster family of the year. I felt lucky; my whole family was normal. Well, there was Cousin Stanley. And grandpa. And of course Meme.

I rang the bell and in a few seconds Mrs. Brissart answered.

“Good morning, Mrs. Brissart. I’m sorry I didn’t call first but I wanted to stop by and see how you were getting on.”

“Nonsense. No need for apologies, Alex. You’re always welcome. Come in. I’ll have Virginia make us some tea.” She held the door open and I entered into the large hallway. “Let me take your jacket.” Mrs. Brissart walked down the long hallway calling to Mrs. Platz.

“Alex. I thought I heard your voice.” Chantal strode into the living room and took a seat next to me.

“Mrs. Brissart went to get tea. So how’s it going? She seems in better spirits.”

“She is. For the moment. She gets very depressed, though, at the drop of a hat. And the arrest of May last night kind of threw her into a tizzy. Though I think she’s rather amused by it in the light of day. I don’t know the facts of the arrest. Has John spoken to you?”

“Actually, I was there,” I said. “The station called just as we were, umm, finishing up dinner, so I went along.”

“Did you get a chance to talk with May?” Chantal asked, in complete awe of me having an inside track.

“She actually asked me to sit in while they questioned her, but then John had to go insisting she have a lawyer present, and that put an end to that.” I rolled my eyes heavenward. “I left and went home and he never called. So he must have been with her all night.”

Chantal shook her head. “I personally don’t know how they’re all coping. Maybe this trip will help them.”

“Trip?”

“Yes. Kenneth and Lillian are driving down to Virginia to stay with Lillian’s family. Kenneth and Lillian and Stuart took the car into town to have it serviced and to get some breakfast. I think Kenneth and his wife want to spend some time with their son. I know Mrs. Brissart hoped he would go to Virginia with them, but I don’t think he will. They should be back shortly.” Chantal pushed an errant piece of hair from her face. “Mrs. Platz is going to stay with her sister in Hartford for a few days and Mrs. Brissart is going with her—just to get away from this house. Which reminds me, Alex. Mrs. Brissart said it wasn’t necessary for me to come in the rest of the week but she’d still like to pay me. I told her no, but she insisted.”

“Yes, it is necessary, Chantal. I don’t know what I would have done without you. And you, too, Alex,” Mrs. Brissart said.

She held a large tray holding a teakettle, several cups, and an assortment of tea bags. I jumped up, took it from her frail hands and set it on the coffee table.

“Alex, could you make sure you bill me for the entire week?”

I nodded, knowing it would do no good to argue.

Always Prepared paired Chantal with Mrs. Brissart last year. When it turned into a permanent relationship, I suggested that perhaps Mrs. Brissart would just like to pay Chantal herself thus avoiding the fees of the agency, but Mrs. Brissart liked the arrangement just as it was, and Always Prepared remained Chantal’s actual employer. I suspected Mrs. Brissart liked helping out young companies and this was her way of helping us.

“Chantal tells me you’re off with Mrs. Platz for a few days.”

“Yes. That’s right. We all need a break from this place. While I’m gone, Mr. Kaminski is going to paint the room where they found Bradley and have new carpeting put in. Even so, I’ll never go in there again.”

“Are your son and daughter-in-law going back to London after they return from Virginia?”

“In about a month, yes. I think they’re actually looking forward to it. Lillian has been so withdrawn. I’m hoping her friends in London will be able to help her.” Mrs. Brissart reached for a spoon of sugar but her hand, shaking so badly, dropped the crystals onto the carpet. “I am trying so hard. We all are. But it’s not working. I’ve seen death before. You don’t get to be my age without watching family and friends pass away, but my grandson.” Mrs. Brissart put her head into her hands and wept softly as Chantal held the poor woman. She looked at me over Mrs. Brissart’s head; her own eyes had tears in them.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Brissart raised her tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry, girls. If you’ll excuse me.” Mrs. Brissart stood up and walked slowly down the hall, her shoulders bent forward.

I got down on my knees to wipe the sugar off the carpet using a napkin dampened with a bit of water from the kettle. “Chantal, do you know if Bradley told Mrs. Brissart anything about the family history before he died?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know exactly. Kendra stopped by my office yesterday. She’s going to New Hampshire for a while.”

“Yes. She told us. She came by here yesterday as well to say good-bye. I wasn’t scheduled to work, but I just wanted to check and see if Mrs. Brissart or Lillian needed anything.”

“Well, she said Bradley found out something interesting with regard to the family history. From what he said she thought it was something good, but he didn’t elaborate. All he said was he needed to do a bit more checking.”

“I don’t remember him telling Mrs. Brissart anything specific, though he could have when I wasn’t around. She hasn’t said anything. The stuff I typed for him didn’t seem to have anything special in it as far as family histories go.”

“Alex, you didn’t need to clean that up.” Mrs. Brissart came back into the living room having rinsed her face and combed her hair.

“There. It’s all done.” I got up from the floor. “Mrs. Brissart, I was just asking Chantal about the family history.”

“I haven’t given that a thought since Bradley died. I guess it’ll never get written up properly now.”

“Did Bradley say anything to you about finding something specific? You told John he wanted to talk and you never got a chance, but did he say anything at all?”

“Yes, that’s right,” added Chantal. “He did mention wanting to speak with you, Mrs. Brissart, but you asked if it could wait until later.”

Mrs. Brissart thought a moment. “That’s correct. He said it was fascinating or interesting or some such. I think he may have used the word
disturbing
. But I was right in the middle of baking those cookies. And that’s as far as we got, as I mentioned before. We never had another chance for him to elaborate. Or me to listen,” Mrs. Brissart added softly.

“Disturbing. Hmmm. I’m sure Kendra said he was happy about it,” I said feeling a bit perplexed.

I watched the old woman. She really did have lovely skin. I gazed into Mrs. Brissart’s crystal blue eyes, only slightly clouded from her recent crying spell. Could she have killed her grandson? Was John right? But if she did, why would she admit just now that Bradley found out something disturbing? Wouldn’t that be a tip-off? I didn’t have any answers.

“Well, I could certainly be wrong,” Mrs. Brissart added, “I’m not too well lately, as you’ve noticed. Now with all this nonsense about May...”

Just then the front bell rang. Mrs. Brissart got up to go answer it. meeting Mrs. Platz in the hall. “It’s okay, Virginia, I’ve got it.” Mrs. Platz joined her by the door anyway.

“Good morning, Mrs. Brissart, Mrs. Platz.” I recognized John’s voice. “May we come in?”

“Certainly, Detectives.” Mrs. Platz took the two coats and John and Jim followed Mrs. Brissart into the living room. “We were just having something to drink and talking.”

John said good morning to Chantal and gave my shoulder a soft pat. “Mrs. Brissart, I’m so sorry about your sister. I wanted to come by last night, but it got to be too late.”

“I’m sure my sister kept you quite busy. June called me in a complete uproar about police brutality, but I thought a bit would do both of them good.”

“John,” I said. “Exactly what happened? Did she confess?”