Lethal Dose of Love (26 page)

Sergeant Espinoza hesitated only a second before picking it up with his fingertips. “I’ll need to take this to headquarters.”

“I’ll box it so it won’t bite you.”

When Payton returned carrying the plant, most of Espinoza’s team had gone. “I’ll need a list of people who bought these, and your supplier’s name.”

“I’ll get it, but there’s something you might be overlooking. One: someone could conceivably come in and have stolen parts of the plant. Two: this plant grows wild in the woods. It enjoys shady spots with lots of water. Like on the edge of a marsh. There must be dozens of areas like that around here.”

“How many leaves would someone need? What would they do with them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me about MaryAnn Adams. How did she come to ask for a job?”

“She’s been trying to save money so she can afford to move out of the house she and Sean shared. I assume you know they were getting a divorce. She wanted a job that paid more than the Galley,” Payton lied. Let the sergeant find out the real reason for himself: that she’d left because of someone Sean had been dating at the restaurant.

“She hasn’t been back to the house in Chaumont since he died.”

“Do you blame her? Sergeant, you can’t be thinking she killed Sean.”

“Don’t you feel it’s a little suspicious that the day before her husband dies, she comes to work in a shop that contains poisonous plants?”

“I suppose someone in your position might look at it that way.” Damn, had MaryAnn come there for that purpose? No way. The woman suffered Sean’s abuse for years. She was just about to move out of his life. Why would she suddenly decide to kill?

Maybe, faced with the reality of her departure, Sean wouldn’t let her go. MaryAnn represented his failure in their marriage. Failure was one thing he didn’t handle easily. Payton glanced at the sergeant and saw in his eyes he knew what she’d just been thinking.

“I understood she moved out of their house Wednesday night,” Payton said.

“Telling, don’t you think?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

“Where is she?”

“She told me she got a motel room but didn’t say where.”

“We’ve checked all the surrounding motels and she’s not in any of them. When is she scheduled to work next?”

“Today, but she’s been in shock. I’m not sure she’ll show up. I told her not to worry about it.”

“Tell me about your husband’s murder.”

Payton’s breath went out of her as though she’d been struck from behind. Her head spun and she grabbed for something solid, which ended up being the sergeant’s arm. He lowered her to the stool. When her vision cleared, she said, “No. I will not talk about that.”

Chapter 31

“If everyone will sit down, we’ll get started.”

Five metal folding chairs were arranged in a semi-circle in front of Mamie’s stool. Her easel, holding a tall pad of paper, faced the empty chairs. Payton, Helen, Felicia and Amanda chatted near the refreshment table in the
Artpost
while waiting for the class to start. Helen stood uncharacteristically to one side. Her face was pale. She held her keys in her left hand and rattled them in an unconscious gesture. Payton took them from her fingers and dropped them into her oversized handbag, receiving an appreciative look from Felicia who slid the bag under the middle chair.

“We’ll start as soon as Sylvie arrives.”

“Claire’s not coming?”

“I don’t think so. She hates painting. Besides, she just not—lately she’s just not right.”

“I don’t think Sylvie is either,” Helen said.

“Coming…or quite right?” asked Felicia. No one responded.

“Yesterday Sylvie told me she would be here,” Mamie said.

“We had a-a confrontation.” Helen sat heavily in the end chair. Her knuckles were white against her black, white and tan flowered dress. “I didn’t have time to bake anything for our get-together so I stopped at the supermarket on the way here. I was trying to decide between the pastry and the cookies when Sylvie came up beside me. I said hello. She looked at me, her face turned red and she started shouting at me. Shouting! She said I was the l-lowest form of scum on this earth and I should be ashamed of myself. She said I should c-crawl in a hole and die.”

A chorus of “nos” and “whats!” came from the women.

“Did she say what was wrong?” Felicia asked.

“I haven’t spoken to her since the day of the race.” Helen’s round body trembled. Amanda poured her a paper cup of water. “Everyone in the place was listening. It was terrible. The manager came over and told us to take it outside like we were some sort of street brawlers.”

Suddenly Amanda laughed, and then so did Felicia. Payton almost did too. The vision of Helen and Sylvie rolling on the supermarket floor, pulling hair and screaming obscenities amongst spilled oranges and cucumbers, was very vivid.

“I’m sure it didn’t help that I threw a tomato at her,” Helen admitted softly.

“What!”

“I couldn’t help it. I was so mortified she’d spoken to me that way. You all know me. I’ve always said that if any of you have a problem, just come to me so we can talk about it.”

“Helen,” said Mamie, the only one of the five able to maintain a totally serious air. “I can’t picture you throwing things.”

“Are you all forgetting that time at the Wanderlust meeting when Sean told everyone he was going to become a life insurance salesman?” Felicia said with a laugh. “She threw a blueberry scone at him saying what a terrible agent he’d make because he’d chase all the wives and he’d be the one to need the policies.”

The corners of Helen’s lips twitched.

“You really did that?” Payton asked.

“‘Fraid so,” Helen said.

“I always felt sorry for his poor mother,” Mamie said. “Having him late in life the way she did, and then having him turn out to be such a bad boy.”

“In what way was he bad?” Payton asked.

“He was always into something,” Mamie said. “Conning kids out of their lunch money and toys. He was arrested at least once for breaking and entering when he was about twelve.”

“Didn’t he also get arrested once for rape?” Felicia asked.

“Attempted,” said Helen. “It was that young Brice girl, Zoe.”

“Isn’t that the family who lived in my house?” Payton asked. “I thought Harry Brice only had one son.”

“No, there was a daughter too. She left town just after the trial. She’s never been back that I know of. The judge practically laughed the case out of court. She was a bit of a…”

“Tramp,” finished Amanda. “Where did she go? I mean, she couldn’t have been more than fifteen.”

“Sixteen, I think,” Helen said. “She went to live with relatives in Oregon. The family had been about to send her away anyhow. She’d been in a lot of trouble.”

“So Sean didn’t really rape her?”

“No. At least nobody thought so at the time.” Helen shifted in her chair and sighed. “I’m sure my escapade in the supermarket will make the front page of this week’s
Gazette
.” Some of Helen’s color had returned and she was seeing a little humor in the situation.

“I can see the headlines now,” Felicia said. “Helen Mortenson’s first pitch of the season is a strike.”

“What was she angry about?” Payton asked.

“That’s the thing. I have no idea.”

They finally got down to the lesson, but the air was heavy.

It wasn’t fifteen minutes before Payton wondered how Mamie could possibly be such a bad teacher. She was impatient almost to the point of being rude. At one point Helen shot raised eyebrows at both she and Felicia.

Mamie seemed nervous, glancing often at the clock. Several times Payton almost asked what was wrong. But Mamie was a naturally anxious person; this could be perfectly normal behavior.

Payton’s mind wandered as she worked on her painting of an herb garden. What had upset Sylvie to the point of making a scene? Could it have something to do with Sean’s death?

An hour later, Felicia and Amanda left carrying the new portfolios Mamie had provided. Payton snapped the art case shut and picked it up by the two narrow handles. “Is everything all right between you and Claire? You seem a bit out of sorts.”

“No. Yes. Oh, I don’t know. Claire’s been…strange since Sean’s death. So serious. And so—I don’t know—weird. Did you know she’s been out jogging?”

“What’s strange about that?”

“She always said it was a waste of time and wrecked your joints. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. And I don’t know what to do.”

Helen patted Mamie’s shoulder. “This whole thing’s hit her hard. I’ll stop and see her on my way home. I’ll tell her about my run-in with Sylvie. That should get her laughing again.”

“I’m glad to see you’re over it,” Payton said.

Helen shrugged. “Eventually I’ll find out what ticked her off. Till then, I’m not going to worry about it. There’re enough immediate things to keep my mind occupied.”

Mamie locked the door. Payton refused rides home and walked, downtown instead of home. Dusk had descended. A pale gray-yellow light outlined the opposite shore of the lake, near Long Point. Payton crossed the street and let herself into her shop. An uncomfortable feeling lurked at the back of her mind. As she sat behind the counter, the feeling took shape in the form of a headache, carving a relentless path through her brain. She dug through her purse for a bottle of pain pills. As the ache marched from the nape of her neck up between her ears, her thoughts grew jumbled. There was something she should be remembering.

Almost in a trance, she locked the door, leaving the ficus plants on the sidewalk. She gave them “you’d better be there in the morning” glances and started up Main Street. Statistics said that traditionally women used poison as a murder weapon, but could she picture any of her friends actually doing so? There was obviously some animosity between Felicia and Sean. Was it enough to compel her to murder?

And Helen. She admitted being one of Sean’s advocates, chalking his exploits up to youthful exuberance. Was his last deed with the empty store enough to finally make her realize what a low-down snake he was? What about Helen’s husband, Carter? On the surface, he seemed easygoing and agreeable. He’d stayed out of Sean and Helen’s business dealings, but he could be sick of Helen sticking up for Sean all the time.

Using the empty shop as a motive, wasn’t it possible Mamie killed him? She wanted the contract with Miles Arenheim more than anything in the world. Even though Payton offered her home, had Mamie been unable to let go of the emotion?

Amanda said if Edward found out what she’d paid for
Commodore
, he’d kill her. Would he be more likely to take his anger out on Sean? If Claire had a motive it totally escaped Payton. Claire was far too levelheaded to let Sean talk her into buying paintings she didn’t want. She was too logical to let what he did to Mamie rule her emotions. She was the type to go out and find Mamie another venue. It’s said anyone can murder given the right set of circumstances but Payton just couldn’t picture Claire as a murderess.

Who else? Sylvie? Payton didn’t know anything much about her except what she’d been told: she was in her early sixties, had been divorced for quite some time and owned Sackets Harbor Real Estate. And that lately Sylvie was acting out of character. Payton had seen signs of the opinionated behavior for herself. Suddenly she had the urge to talk to the woman. Thankfully, seven-thirty wasn’t too late to make a social visit. She made tracks to Sylvie’s house.

Sylvie’s house was the same Victorian style as Claire’s but not in as good condition. Sylvie was either not a very successful real estate agent, or else she chose to do other things with her money. Maybe Payton could use real estate as an excuse for her visit. Another house? Sylvie wouldn’t believe that. And it was far too soon to be thinking about enlarging the shop. So, what to use as a reason for the visit? Simple, she’d come to patch things up between she and Helen. She pushed the ancient brass doorbell.

Sylvie opened the door only wide enough to peek outside. Seeing Payton, she pulled the door open about a foot. She was wearing a striped blouse and polyester slacks from the sixties. Swollen ankles stuck out between the hem and purple veined feet. “I suppose Helen sent you.”

“She has no idea I’m here,” Payton said.

“You should look for a new friend.”

Payton sucked in a breath and said, “Maybe I am.”

Perhaps it was just idle curiosity that made Sylvie step back and allow Payton to enter.

She had just enough time to determine she was in a hallway before the door slammed shut, throwing them into sudden and near-complete darkness that emoted the hallway into a long soundless cave. The still air enveloped Payton in a most distasteful scent: bitter and acerbic. The only light was a skinny rectangle around a door at the end of the hall. It did nothing more than mark the location of the next room.

Without speaking, Sylvie walked toward that elongated rectangle, her bare feet scuffing on what sounded like linoleum. Payton followed with her own shuffling steps, trying to recall, in her brief moment of sight, whether she’d seen any furniture that would trip her up. Holding her breath against the odor, Payton took a few halting steps and came up short when a sharp object jabbed into her left hip. Feathering her fingers over the flat surface, she decided she’d bumped into a table. She moved around it, one hand rubbing the sore hip, the other probing for more obstructions.