by Sonia Parin
Faith looked around the café. “I don’t see any other tourists. Should we hunt them down?”
“Do I need to put a leash on you?” Abby checked her cell phone and winced. “Mom’s been sending me text messages. I actually forgot about her.” Abby checked the wi-fi at the café and connected her mom.
“As I said, social media,” her mom said.
“Hi, Mom.”
“You girls need to do your research. Most of the tourists have private accounts but a couple of them have public ones and they’ve shared their gardening club photos. Linda and Cynthia are cottage garden enthusiasts and they both planted Foxgloves last summer. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions because anyone in the group might have harvested the plant for their nefarious purposes.”
Abby and Faith stared at each other, their eyes not blinking.
“Nefarious,” Faith mouthed.
“Alice excels at growing herbs,” her mom continued. “Do you know what that means?”
“Not really.” Abby didn’t even try to figure it out.
“She knows how to dry herbs. One of the gardeners posted a photo of Alice in her garden shed with bunches of herbs hanging off the ceiling. I daresay, she knows the process inside and out. That makes her a likely candidate for your suspect list.”
“I’ll mention it to Joshua but I know he’ll want to find hard evidence of Alice’s abilities. As well as motive. Why would she want to kill Bert? He’d bailed her out.”
“You worry too much about motive,” her mom said. “I’m willing to bet anything the killer has a feeble excuse for committing the crime. Also, you’ve been concentrating on the women. What if it’s one of the men, jealous because of all the attention Bert got or because he won all that money. It’s enough for someone to think something isn’t fair for them to go and do something drastic like commit murder.”
“Your mom has a point. We haven’t spent any time thinking about the men. Why’s that?”
Abby didn’t need to look down at the cell phone to see her mom looking at her with a lifted eyebrow. “Interesting question. I guess this is all about assuming men are more likely to bludgeon someone to death than…” Abby sat back. “Commit to a lengthy process of slowly poisoning someone,” she finished. “The person responsible took their time. For all we know, they might have been giving Bert small doses of digitalis over a long time.” That could be confirmed by his medical records and the lab report. If he had been complaining of fatigue for a while, then her theory would fall into place.
“Going by the posts online,” her mom said, “They all live within a few miles of each other and keep in regular touch. In fact, they take turns to host weekly get-togethers.”
“Okay. So, we’re probably looking for someone who used to see Bert every day.” Abby tried to picture one of the women offering Bert a cupcake laced with digitalis…
“His daughter,” Faith said.
Yes, quite possibly, Abby thought. Denise Lowe had run his household. She would have had access to his medication, but that had already been tested. “There’s still the question of how the killer managed to sneak the deadly digitalis into Bert.”
Chapter Nine
While Faith went to the office to print out more photos for their crime collage, Abby tried to coax Doyle into walking around the block but with every step he took he cast a longing look over his shoulder. “All right, I’ll put you out of your misery, but I swear, if you gain weight, you’re going on a diet.”
At the pub, Abby removed his tartan coat and watched Doyle scurry toward his spot by the fireplace. “Don’t go wandering off,” she teased, “I’m taking your coat upstairs.” She sniffed it. “Either your coat needs a wash or it’s bath time for you.” Doyle curled up into a tight ball. “Hey, you like your pampering time. Katherine makes you smell lovely.”
Rushing up the stairs, she swerved in time to avoid colliding with a man coming down. Abby didn’t remember seeing him at the pub. He carried a suitcase and looked to be in a bad mood.
“Watch where you’re going,” a familiar voice snapped.
Abby looked up and straight into an angry face.
Denise Lowe.
The man with the suitcase had to be the husband, Abby thought.
Goodbye and good riddance. She continued on her way. As she strode by Bert’s room, she noticed the door had been left ajar. Before she could change her mind, Abby drew out her second cell phone and went in to take some more photos so she could have before and after shots of the room.
Out of curiosity, she checked to see if Denise Lowe had helped herself to the complimentary soap and shampoo.
She had!
She’d even taken the tea bags and coffee. “My goodness. She even took the towels.”
Abby was about to leave when she noticed a small basket lined with a plastic bag under the table. Had Joshua checked the trash?
He must have. Surely, he had…But, what if he’d missed something? She knew the room hadn’t been cleaned since Bert’s death...
Bending down, Abby saw something in the bottom of the basket. “Hello, what do we have here? The proof we need? A solid lead?” She reached for it, but before she could fish it out, everything went dark.
“She’s still breathing. Abby, can you hear me?”
“Check for gun wounds.”
“Why would I do that? Did you hear a gunshot?”
“No, but the killer might have had a silencer.”
“You’ve been watching too many cop shows.”
“She’s moaning. That has to be a good sign.”
“Yeah, keep talking and she’ll keep moaning.”
Too many voices, Abby thought. And why were they all yelling?
“She’s opening her eyes.”
Abby groaned.
“See what you’ve done now. She went from moaning to groaning.”
“The ambulance is on its way. Stay with us, Abby.”
“Where do you think she’s going to go? She’s limp.”
Abby felt her arm being lifted and released. It flopped and landed with a soft thud so she did the only thing she could do. She growled.
“Hello,” a deep but friendly voice said.
Abby tried to swallow. Her throat felt so dry… “Hi.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Who are you?” Abby asked. Her words sounded slurred. Had she fallen asleep? She opened her eyes but immediately closed them. “Ouch. Would you mind not pointing that light straight into my eyes?”
“Sorry. I have to check your reflexes. You had a nasty blow to your head. We’re going to play it safe and take you for a ride to the hospital.”
“Oh, no. No. No. I’m fine.” To prove it, she tried to sit up but the entire room moved right along with her. “Okay, that would be nice. I could do with a vacation. Oh, wait. I’ve just come back from one. Actually, I need to get to work. I have an article to write…”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
“There’s no need for you to worry about your mom finding out. I told her you have a serious case of the runs. So, you’re not feeling your best.” Faith plumped up Abby’s pillow. “There, that’s better.”
“Thank you, Faith. You’re a good nurse.”
“My parents wanted me to go into nursing but I’ve never been keen on wearing a uniform.”
“Hang on… You told my mom I have the what?”
“The runs.” Faith shrugged. “You know, diarrhea.”
“Huh?”
“I know. I was embarrassed for you, but I used that to our advantage. I told your mom you’d rather not talk about it. Anyhow, it didn’t surprise your mom. After all, you have been pigging out since you arrived.” Faith grinned. “I didn’t want her pointing an accusatory finger at Hannah’s food or Joyce’s café, so I told her all that food you’d been eating had taken its toll and backed you up a bit. That’s when you took matters into your own hands and self-medicated with laxatives. I told her you misread the instructions and ended up taking
too much. I threw in a slight case of dehydration, just to be safe, and voila. You’re in hospital and she is none the wiser.” Faith grinned. “As per our modus operandi, everyone’s been put on notice. There’s to be no mention of you being attacked and hit on the head.”
Abby tried to sit up. “How long have I been here?”
“Overnight. The doctor said you’re good to go so I brought you a change of clothes.”
Abby raked her fingers through her hair and winced. She had a serious bump on the back of her head. “What happened?”
“We’ve been trying to put the pieces together…”
“We?”
“Mitch, Markus and me. They were both first on the scene after Doyle alerted them. He’s such a good boy. Doyle jumped to his feet and started barking. When he got Markus’ attention, he took off up the stairs. So, technically, he found you first. Anyhow, when they reached the room, you were out for the count. Mitch thought you’d been shot, but Markus figured that couldn’t be the case because no one had heard a shot. At about the same time, I’d finished printing the photos so I made my way to your apartment and that’s when I came across Mitch and Markus arguing and discussing the fact that you’d gone from moaning to groaning and then onto growling. The ambulance arrived and here you are.”
“Okay. So, what happened to me?” Abby frowned. “I think I just asked that.”
“Oh, well… We’re sure someone hit you on the head. Can you remember what you were doing in Bert’s room?”
“I… I must have had a reason for going in there.”
“The doctor mentioned you might suffer temporary amnesia or a feeling of disorientation.” Faith gave her a bright smile. “But it’ll all come back to you. I’m sure the moment you set foot inside the pub everything will look familiar and trigger something.”
What if it didn’t?
“At least we know the killer is still among us,” Faith said.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Come on, let’s get you dressed and out of here. Joshua is waiting for us outside. Brace yourself, I left him drumming his fingers on the steering wheel so he’s going to give you a lecture.”
“You need to keep hydrated, Abby.”
It took a moment for Abby to remember Faith had told her mom she had taken an overdose of laxatives. “Yes, Mom.”
“I don’t understand what you were so embarrassed about. It happens. I’m your mother. You should have told me.”
“I’ll remember that for next time, Mom.” If only she could remember what she’d been doing in Bert’s room. Had something caught her attention? She’d already had a look inside and had even taken photos. She glanced over at the wall to see if the pictures could trigger something in her mind. Maybe in time… but she didn’t have time.
“So, while you were otherwise occupied,” her mom said, “I did some more research. Let me check my notes. I’ll be back in a sec.”
As Abby waited for her mom to organize herself, she hugged Doyle against her and gave him a scratch under his chin. “You’re my hero.” Abby’s stomach grumbled. Sliding to the edge of the chair, she whispered, “I’m going downstairs to get some food.”
Faith shook her head. “Order in. Joshua couldn’t spare any officers. If you set foot outside the apartment, he’ll skin me alive. I’m under strict orders to keep you here. Consider yourself under house arrest.” Faith grinned. “For your own good.”
Abby looked around but didn’t see her cell phone anywhere. “Where did you put my cell?”
Faith signaled to the one on the coffee table.
“My other cell,” Abby mouthed.
Faith’s shoulder rose a notch. “I… I’m not sure.”
Abby used the landline to place an order for room service. When Mitch answered, she asked him if he’d seen her cell phone. When she’d walked into Bert’s room, she had been holding it in her hand and, since he’d come to her rescue, he might have seen it.
“Nope. How are you feeling this morning?” Mitch asked.
“Great. Can you ask Markus about my cell, please?” Abby rubbed the back of her head. It still felt tender. Had her assailant taken her cell? “Oh, and send up some food, please. A burger with the lot and some fries. Actually, lots of fries.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want? Considering your recent experience with the runs, you might want to take it easy and have a steak.”
If anything, Abby thought, the people of Eden knew how to play their designated roles to the hilt. “If I insist on a burger, will I get one?”
“Probably not. At The Gloriana, we make customer service our top priority and that includes looking after the welfare of our guests. Also, your mom called earlier to say you need to play it safe and have a steak.”
She ended the call and drew Faith aside, away from her mom’s hearing. “You’ll have to get me another cell phone.” Abby bit the edge of her lip. “My attacker must have taken it.”
“Why?” Faith asked.
“I have no idea. Let’s run through what we did before I came back to the pub.”
“We saw Alice.” Faith clicked her fingers. “You took a photo of her.” Rushing to the coffee table, Faith pulled a photo out of a stack and showed her. “You sent it to me so I could print it.”
Had Abby given someone reason to want to steal her cell phone?
Faith leaned in and whispered, “Your attacker must have taken the phone because he… or she either thought you had some sort of proof in your phone or they didn’t want you coming to and calling for help.”
“No, that can’t be it. If they wanted me out of the way, they would have hit me harder.” Abby’s eyes widened. Someone had tried to kill her or get her out of the way. She strode across the room toward the window. Had Alice noticed her taking a photo? What if she had? Alice had been standing on the sidewalk, talking to herself. “Can I see that photo again, please?” Alice had been standing beside a car. The words echoed in her mind. “When we crossed the street, that car took off.”
“Oh, it’s coming back to you,” Faith said. “That probably means you’re on the mend.”
“Yes, but… We assumed Alice had been talking to herself. What if she’d been talking to someone in the car?”
“When in doubt, better call Joshua.” As Faith pressed her cell to her ear, she squinted and tried to read the license plate. “Hello, detective. Abby wants to talk with you.”
Abby settled back down on the couch.
“What happened to you taking it easy?” Joshua asked. “You promised you would.”
“Someone hit me on the head. This is personal now, and they stole my cell phone. We’re thinking they might have wanted to get their hands on a photo I took. I’m having the last laugh because we have the photo. Can you run the plates for us?”
“Because…”
“Well, we think Alice might have been talking with someone. What if she had a clandestine rendezvous with a co-conspirator?”
“In the middle of town and in plain view of everyone?” Joshua asked and, knowing Abby would persevere, he added, “What’s the number?”
“I’ll get Faith to send you a copy of the photo. You might have to magnify the shot. I’ll talk to you later. My lunch is here.” Abby opened the door and smacked her lips.
Mitch strode in and set the tray on the table. Looking at the laptop, he mouthed, “Is it safe?”
“Yes, my mom’s organizing her notes, but we should still tread with care, so keep your voice down.”
“Have you made any headway?” Mitch asked.
Shaking her head, Abby said, “My cell is still missing and so is most of my memory of yesterday. Every time I think I’ve retrieved something, I second guess myself. I know I came into the pub so my mind automatically goes through what I normally do.”
“And what do you think that is?” Mitch asked.
“Make my way to the bar.” Doyle stretched and yawned. “Hang on. I took Doyle’s jacket off.” Then, she’d mad
e her way upstairs. “Hey. I nearly crashed into someone. A man. He had a suitcase.”
Mitch brushed his hand across his chin. “And?”
“And… I’ve never seen him before. Oh, I then saw Denise Lowe. She looked angry.” Abby pumped her fist in the air. “Yes. I remember feeling relieved because I thought we’d be seeing the last of her. Please tell me she’s gone for good.”
Mitch nodded. “She got the go-ahead from the police and came to clear out her dad’s belongings.”
“Did she come alone?”
“Her husband came with her.”
That must have been the man she’d seen.
“Eat up or your food will get cold.”
“Where’s my lunch?” Faith asked.
“Sorry,” Abby said around a mouthful of steak. “The blow to my head must have blocked out my manners. I only ordered for myself.”
“Blow to your head?” her mom asked. “What blow? Abby, have you been lying to me again?”
“Technically, you didn’t lie to your mom. I did,” Faith said. “And you have to admit, I came up with a rock-solid explanation.”
“Yes, how clumsy of me to have knocked my head when I bent down to retrieve Doyle’s coat from under the bed. Nice job thinking on your feet.” Abby knew she also had her mom’s neighbor to thank for the reprieve. She’d dropped in for a cup of coffee just as Abby’s mom had been about to launch into a full-scale reprimand for keeping the real facts hidden from her.
Abby skimmed through the notes her mom had sent her. She had been busy. “Bert’s son has money problems. He’s been declared bankrupt. That’s definitely motive for murder.” But he hadn’t been anywhere near Eden.
“How did she get that information?” Faith asked. “She’s all the way over in the States.”
“The wonders of the internet,” Abby mused. “She made a note of her thinking process and listed money as a main motivator for murder. She then found a database listing bankrupts. It’s called the BRS, which sounds like an acronym for a swear word. Anyhow, it searches the national personal insolvency index. That’s a permanent record of personal insolvencies in Australia. I guess this is the modern version of debtors’ prison.” Seeing Faith’s vacant expression, Abby went on to add, “In the 1800s, debtors’ prisons were a common way of dealing with unpaid debt.”
