Pretty Poison (29 page)

“Exactly.”

“Let’s take a look at Ms. Stone’s phone calls. See if she had any personal or professional contact with your victim.” Ramsey took out his cell phone. “What was his name again?”

“Mark Warner. He was a senior executive vice president in Charlotte.”

Peggy didn’t like the way the conversation had changed. She thought it was a mistake to consider the two poisonings as a conspiracy against the bank. But she knew it was a mistake to try to pin both of them on Keeley.

She had to admit the woman in the video looked like her assistant, at least from the back. She could only hope they couldn’t find any record of Keeley being in Columbia that day. Not that it would take much to make the police feel they had a case against her. Keeley’s confession had seen to that.

Botanical:
Dianthus caryophyllus
Family:
Caryophyllaceae

The name comes from the Greek word
di
, meaning
of Zeus
, and
anthos,
meaning
a flower.
It was called
dianthus
by the Greek botanist Theopharastus, meaning divine flower. It is believed that carnations can tell fortunes. In Korea, three carnations are placed in a girl’s hair. If the bottom flower dies first, she will be miserable her entire life. If the top one dies first, her later years will be hard. Her younger years will be hard if the middle flower dies first.

THE NEWS HEADLINE in the
Charlotte Observer
on Monday morning told the city a judge had dismissed the charges against Joseph Cheever. He was released into his daughter’s custody. Local television news showed the father and daughter leaving the Mecklenburg County Jail hospital facility. Joe Cheever was in a wheelchair, said to be recovering from a stroke. His daughter was tearful and thanked the police for releasing her father.

Peggy watched on a small television set in the faculty lounge at Queens. She was glad for Mr. Cheever but apprehensive about Keeley. She knew the police from Columbia and Charlotte had worked through the weekend to prove her assistant murdered two people.

Obviously, the evidence wasn’t forthcoming. Or the police were taking their time, making sure they had the right person. It looked bad when they arrested someone only to find out it was the wrong person. They probably wouldn’t let it happen again in this case.

And that was why it was imperative she find out who
really
killed Mark and Molly. If she waited too long, the police would have a case difficult to dispute. She knew Al would do the best he could to find the truth. But the Charlotte police were desperate. Everyone from the mayor down was leaning on them. With the added involvement from South Carolina, they needed the right suspect fast.

By now, the police knew if there was a connection between the dead woman in Columbia and the dead man in Charlotte. Since they were still pursuing Keeley, she guessed they’d found one that involved her.

It wasn’t a large stretch of the imagination to link the two deaths. Once the method was discovered, just the fact that the dead woman worked for Bank of America made Peggy suspicious. Mark managed several affairs at once in his home office. It was possible he’d managed to conduct a few with women in other offices. The question for her seemed to be, why Molly? If Keeley or anyone else wanted to kill one of Mark’s women, why would it be Molly? The others were closer, simpler to kill.

Keeley called her early Sunday morning to tell her the police were searching the apartment she shared with another girl on campus. They confiscated every piece of glassware and two houseplants they found. Peggy advised her assistant to call Hunter Ollsen.

What needed to be done to create anemonin took equipment and specialized knowledge. Keeley didn’t have either. But who did? Besides herself, of course. She finished her blackberry tea and left the lounge to go to her classroom. She gave her freshman class a complex quiz requiring line drawings of plant parts. It took the entire hour and gave her plenty of time to think.

If she couldn’t find some clue that would lead to a search for a workplace or utensils to tie to the making of the poison, she was afraid the circumstantial evidence against Keeley could prove insurmountable.

The class bell rang, startling her from her thoughts. Unhappy faces piled papers on her desk as students grumbled while they left her class.

“That wasn’t fair, Dr. Lee,” one student protested. “I wasn’t ready.”

“We’ve been going over this material for six weeks,” Peggy responded. “If you don’t know it now, maybe you should do a little more studying.”

Gathering up the papers, she put everything into her backpack. The ride over made her knee a little sore but not too bad. It was good to be on the bike again. Taxis were fine for late nights or important meetings. If anything could spur her into getting the work done on the old Rolls, this was it. She hated being dependent on other people to take her places, though she was grateful so many were willing to help her.

She hadn’t heard from Steve since the night they’d stolen the body from the crematorium. She wasn’t surprised. Something like that would be hard enough to take with a person you knew well. She and Steve would probably never have that opportunity. Still, it was a pleasant experience being with him. In some ways, it gave her hope for the future.

“Hey, Peggy.”

She was surprised to see Al standing beside her desk. “Good morning. What brings you by?”

“I wanted to give you an update on our progress. I feel like I owe it to you since you brought the cases together.” He smiled at her and picked up her backpack. “Any place around here to get coffee?”

Peggy was a little suspicious that he’d take time away from the investigation to update her on anything, despite her help. When he mentioned coffee, she was immediately on guard. “Sure. We can have coffee in the cafeteria.”

They walked together through the halls in awkward silence. Students rushed by them, and announcements grated over the intercom. The aroma of lunch being prepared heralded the cafeteria before they came to the double doors.

Al filled his cup with coffee and waited for her to find a seat. “I’m glad I had a chance to talk with you about this. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here today.”

She pulled out a hard plastic chair and sat down at an empty table. “Al, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever known. You can stop feeling bad about whatever it is and tell me why you’re here.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t lying. I came by to talk to you about the case.”

She raised her eyebrow in question.

“I
did
. Not to update you exactly, but to ask for your help. I know you don’t work for the department, and I know Ms. Prinz is your friend. But we have to find out what happened to these people. You might be able to help us.”

“That’s all you had to say. But how will you know any information I give you isn’t biased? Even if I knew Keeley was guilty of something, I wouldn’t be likely to share it with you.”

“I know you better than that, Peggy. You want to know the truth as much as we do. Even if your friend is involved.”

She sighed and folded her hands around her cup of tea. “That’s true. But what can I tell you that you don’t already know?”

“First of all, what I’m going to tell you can’t be shared with anyone else. Not your friend or her lawyer. The information is part of the ongoing investigation. It has to stay confidential until we decide whether it will be used as part of the case.”

“All right,” she agreed.

“It looks like Warner and Molly Stone did have a thing going on. There were calls back and forth from both their homes and offices. Her husband told us she went out of town one weekend a month for business. Her supervisor told us the bank never scheduled those weekends. We have people still checking for receipts and confirmation that the two of them were away together, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Peggy wasn’t surprised. “The husband didn’t suspect?”

“No. At least he says he didn’t. The problem is, he’s already been questioned about the poisoning. The police in Columbia tore his home and office apart looking for proof that he made the poison and gave it to his wife. So far as they can tell, he’s clean.”

“So that leaves you with Keeley.”

He nodded as he swallowed his coffee. “Pretty much. We already know she was at the shop. She had opportunity to administer the poison, wait for it to work, then whack him in the head with the shovel.”

“Why bother?” she asked. “If she knew enough to poison him, she had to know he was going to die.”

“We figure it was a last-minute thing. It wasn’t enough that he was dying. Kind of the way a killer will continue shooting or stabbing a victim even after they’re dead. Rage. Frustration. Maybe the poison wasn’t hands-on enough for her. I’m not a shrink.”

“What do you want me to tell you?”

Al got to the point. “How long before Warner would’ve felt the effects of the poison?”

“It would all depend on the dosage. Probably an hour or so. A small amount would’ve taken longer and had less effect. A large dose would’ve taken him down right away.” She finished her tea and waited for him to write down the information. “Has the ME decided what the poison came in?”

“The last thing he ate was a Snickers bar washed down with a bunch of coffee. We’re not sure if both were poisoned or just one.”

“It seems to me with the time frame involved, the poison had to be given before he got to my shop. If he walked from his office to the Potting Shed, then collapsed after he spoke with Keeley, he probably ingested the poison at his office that night.”

“Or she gave it to him when she met him at your shop.”

Peggy disagreed. “If we believe Mr. Cheever, he went in right after Keeley ran out and found Mark on the floor. There was no blood yet. If she poisoned him, why wouldn’t she wait to be sure he was dead? Or hit him with the shovel when he was down? If you’re right, Al, and using the shovel was done in rage, she would’ve done it before she left.”

He stopped writing halfway through what she said and shook his head. “I think we have to assume Mr. Cheever was too drunk to notice whether or not Warner was bleeding.”

“Did the alcohol keep the blood from getting on his clothes and hands? You know yourself there was no blood on him. But he had to handle Mark to get his watch and wallet. There was no way for him to do it without picking up a few bloodstains.”

“I don’t know how it happened,” he admitted. “What I need you to tell me is what we’re looking for as far as creating the poison. Could she pop this stuff into the microwave? How complicated would it be?”

Peggy took his notebook and scribbled down a few ideas. “No, she couldn’t just pop it in the microwave. The temperature would have to be exact. She’d have to know what to do with it to obtain the pure anemonin from the protoanemonin. Anything less would’ve created drastic, immediate results. Not the kind found in Mark or Molly.”

“Does Ms. Prinz have that kind of knowledge, Peggy?” He fixed her with an intent stare like he was looking for anything that would give away her feelings.

“In my opinion, no. Not only that, she doesn’t have the right temperament. Look at all the famous poisonings. All of the perpetrators had something in common. They were sneaky, devious people. They wouldn’t have asked Mark to come to the Potting Shed for a showdown. But as you said, I’m not a shrink. That’s only my opinion.”

Al lumbered slowly to his feet. “Thanks, Peggy. I’ll let you know what we find out.”

“Was Mark’s body released to his wife again?”

“Yeah. He was cremated this morning. I read somewhere his memorial service is later today. Why?”

“I thought I might pay my respects.” She smiled at him. “There may be a few more of his conquests there. I’ll let you know if I see anyone suspicious.”

 

 

MARK WARNER’S MEMORIAL SERVICE was held in Myers Park Presbyterian Church. The crowd was so large, police officers had to direct traffic to allow visitors to park on the street. Van loads of flowers were deposited in the chapel until it was overflowing. The remainder were left in the adjacent cemetery and on the church steps.

Peggy was glad she rode her bike. It was easy to leave it at the bike rack near the entrance to the church. Her black suit was no less formal for wearing slacks that allowed her the freedom to pedal.

She pushed her black hat firmly down on her head and stuck a large pearl-headed hatpin in as she walked into the church. It was the same hat she wore to John’s funeral. She’d wanted to throw it away after it was over, but her mother’s thrifty upbringing wouldn’t let her.

The service began, and the talking ceased. At the front of the church was a large portrait of the dead man. His teak coffin was resplendent with large brass handles and covered with a maze of flowers. Friends whispered that Julie put Mark’s ashes in the more traditional coffin. She couldn’t stand the idea of an urn.