8 The Witch Who Saw a Murder

by Emma Belmont

  For a few moments, the sheriff and nurse exchanged words. Then they trotted over to Alfred and Minako. Maris followed behind. Although Alfred stood, Minako remained sitting.

  “Is she all right?” he asked.

  “What happened to her?” Minako said.

  Jill wasn’t looking at them though. She was looking at their picnic. On the blanket were two Japanese bento boxes, which presumably belonged to the Pages, and an unopened box of pizza. But Jill was pointing to the other food. “Is that what Joy was eating?”

  Minako stared at the bag of tortilla chips, an unlabelled jar of salsa, and a half-eaten tuna salad sandwich.

  “Yes,” Alfred said.

  “That was her lunch,” Minako added.

  Jill looked from one to the other of them. “Have either of you had any of her food?”

  Though still sitting on her knees, Minako inched away from it. “No,” she said, her voice trembling. “We…”

  “Brought our own,” Alfred said.

  As Jill carefully removed her gloves, and tossed them to the blanket, Mac stepped forward. “I’m going to need you to go with Jill to the medical clinic. She’s going to ask you some questions.” He surveyed the blanket. “You’re going to have to leave everything. Forensics is on the way to collect it.”

  “Forensics?” Alfred said, helping his wife up.

  “Why does forensics need our food?” Minako said.

  Jill helped her to stand as well, taking her by the elbow. “I hope I’m wrong, but Joy may be suffering from some type of neurotoxin poisoning. It could have come from the food.”

  “Oh no,” Minako said. “Will she be all right?”

  Jill had already started leading them to the clinic. “I’ll call the emergency room in Cheeseman Village as soon as we’re through.”

  As the threesome made their way across the grass, muffled conversations started up in their trail.

  Maris leaned close to Mac. “How is Joy?”

  He shook his head, took his gloves off inside out, and tossed them next to Jill’s. “She’s dead,” he said quietly.

  3

  As the forensics crew bagged and tagged everything, including the Page’s blanket, they chatted with Mac as Maris stood by. Senior Investigator Lucille Trahan and her young assistant, Sefina Kealoha, were dressed in the usual white biohazard suits, masks, and gloves. But with the thought of a neurotoxin possibly being present, the outfits seemed particularly apt.

  “If I was to hazard a guess,” Lucille was saying, as she put the bagged sandwich in a plastic box, “I’d say botulinum toxin.”

  “Really,” Mac said, notepad in hand, now entirely in sheriff mode. “I thought that took days.”

  The heavyset older woman, shrugged. “It’d depend on the dose. It can be as little as a few hours.”

  Sefina brought over the chips and salsa and deposited them in the box. Just then, Max came up beside Maris. She glanced at his worried face and saw him staring at the pizza box, which had been placed in a large plastic bag.

  “Would any of these foods have been particularly suspect?” the sheriff asked.

  Lucille pointed at the sandwich. “My bet would be on the tuna. Clostridium botulinum loves seafood.”

  Max gasped a little. “My pizza today was seafood.”

  Sefina looked up at him. “Do you used canned fish?”

  Max shook his head vigorously. “Never. Only fresh from the pier and Captain Duff.”

  The young woman’s dark eyes smiled at him. “Then it wasn’t the pizza.”

  Lucille nodded. “The bacteria is virtually everywhere around us, but it thrives in low oxygen where it produces the toxin that actually kills people. Just one microgram is lethal.” She gazed from Max to Maris and finally the sheriff. “That’s one-millionth of a gram.”

  “Whoa,” Maris said.

  “Davvero?” Max whispered. “Really?”

  “Whatever is carrying it,” Lucille said to Mac, “that was good thinking to stop the other people here from eating.”

  He nodded at the medical clinic. “We can thank Jill Maxwell for that. She’s with the Pages now, making sure they’re all right.”

  Maris glanced around the plaza. About half of the picnickers had left. Bear and Cookie were still on their blanket, quietly having the meal that Cookie had prepared. Since they’d all come in one car, they were waiting for her. But as her gaze swept the rest of the plaza, she noticed Rudy Schmid, the owner of Superior Hardware, and a woman his age with him.

  “The owner of the hardware store and Joy had just had an argument,” Maris reminded Mac. “I thought she was so angry that she was shaking. But now I’m thinking it might have been the result of the botulism.”

  As Mac followed her gaze, his face soured. “I’ve dealt with Mr. Schmid before. But he’s within his rights to refuse service to whoever he wants.”

  “Refuse service?” Maris asked, her brows knitting together. “Like to Joy? You think that’s why she was mad?”

  “I expect so,” Mac said, putting away the notebook. “He refuses service to all women. I’m pretty sure that he’s a misogynist.”

  Maris recalled what Cookie had said. “I see,” she muttered. “But who is that woman with him?”

  “Heather Schmid,” the Italian chef answered. “I ran into her on the sidewalk, quite literally.”

  “His wife,” Mac added and then sighed. “I’m going to have a word with him.”

  Jill was returning with Alfred and Minako and Mac paused. As they approached, he gave them a smile. “Everything good, I hope?”

  “Completely asymptomatic,” Jill answered. “In fact, they’re in excellent health.”

  “Good,” the sheriff said, turning to them. “I’ll find you at your store. I assume you’re going back there.”

  They’d both been staring at the forensics team, folding up the blanket. “Uh, yes,” Alfred finally said.

  “The store is open,” Minako told the sheriff.

  “Fine,” Mac said. “I’ll see you there later.” He indicated the Schmids. “I’ll be talking with Mr. Schmid first.”

  When the sheriff had left, Alfred put his arm around Minako’s shoulders, but addressed Maris. “Jill called the hospital in Cheeseman Village. Joy was pronounced dead on arrival.”

  Maris gave them both a pained looked. “I’m so sorry.”

  Max clutched his hands to his chest. “No, mi amici. So terrible.” He watched as the forensics team began to pack up. “How fragile life is.” He looked back to Minako and Alfred. “Please call on me if there is anything I can do.”

  Although Max departed, Maris stayed with the Pages. As though they were trying to hold on to the last of their friend, they silently watched the forensics team put away their unused evidence bags. In the background, however, Maris couldn’t help but overhear Mac and Rudy Schmid only several feet behind her.

  “Yeah, I told her to leave,” Rudy was saying. “She had no business shopping for a plumber’s wrench. I doubt she could even lift one.”

  “What time was this?” Mac said.

  “Right at opening,” the owner replied. “Seven this morning.”

  There was a pause, probably as the sheriff made a note. “And why did she have no business shopping for a plumber’s wrench?”

  Rudy made a rude and dismissive sound. “Because those are for plumbers.”

  “Would you sell one to me?” Mac asked.

  “Why, you do your own plumbing?” Rudy retorted.

  Maris’s brows drew together and she nearly turned around to look. It wasn’t often people took that tone with the sheriff.

  “It’s none of your business what I’d do with a wrench,” Mac said calmly. “Now, would you sell one to me?”

  There was an uncomfortable pause that made Maris smirk. Finally, Rudy said, “Sure. Why not. It’s your money to waste.”

  “So you asked Ms. Castro to leave the premises,” the sheriff said. “What happened then?”

  Rudy snorted. “She p
itched a little hissy fit and left.”

  For a few moments, there was silence. The forensics teams had finished packing up and had begun to take the materials they’d collected to the van.

  “I can’t believe this,” Minako whispered.

  “She was so full of life,” Alfred agreed. Together, they heaved a heavy sigh.

  The two forensics investigators returned for their tool boxes. They picked them up and Sefina took hers to the van, while Lucille went over to Mac. As the Pages turned to watch her, so did Maris.

  “That’s it for us, Sheriff,” the Senior Investigator said. “If there’s nothing else you need, we’ll head back to the lab.”

  Mac nodded to her. “Thank you, Lucille. I’ll be in touch.”

  Alfred looked down at his wife. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her. “I guess we’d better get back…”

  She nodded, and wiped her eyes. “…to the store.”

  He tried to give Maris a smile, not quite succeeding. “Thanks for your help, Maris.”

  Minako nodded as she sniffed. “Yes, thank you.”

  Maris smiled and patted her lightly on the back. “I haven’t done a thing, but I’ll check on you both later.”

  As they made their way back across the plaza, Mac had apparently finished with Rudy and his wife, and joined the Pages as they headed to their store.

  Rudy and his wife sat back down on their blanket. Maris could see that Max had given them a pizza, but the box looked unopened. Instead, it looked like they were having fried chicken, mashed potatoes and rolls. As she turned away from them, Maris realized she hadn’t had lunch but now she’d lost her appetite.

  4

  Maris arrived back at the blanket to find Max standing with Bear and Cookie. The blanket had been folded, and lay neatly on top of the picnic basket, with the pizza box on top. The Italian chef’s gaze darted from the medical clinic to Inklings and then the pizzeria, and then back to the medical clinic.

  “The grand opening is just days away now,” he was saying to Cookie. He tugged nervously on his cauliflower ear. “To have my food associated with a deadly event is a disaster.”

  Maris joined them. “The forensics team is going to sort this out quickly,” she assured him. “It’s most certainly a public health risk.”

  “Of course, of course,” he said, though he sounded far from convinced.

  “Max,” Cookie said, “your food had nothing to do with that poor woman’s death. We all had your wonderful pizza—and enjoyed it I might add—and there’s not a single sign that anyone is feeling poorly.”

  Bear pointed down at the closed pizza box. “We saved you a piece, Maris.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you, Bear. I’ll have it later. For the moment, I seem to have lost my appetite.”

  Max threw his hands in the air. “This is exactly what I am talking about. Even if it is not my food, now everyone is a bit suspicious of everything. Everyone will remember what happened here today. Is anyone going to come to a restaurant opening here?”

  “Of course they will,” Maris assured him. “I know I’m looking forward to it.”

  Max smiled at her, tilting his head. “Ah Bella, of course you would say this. We are friends.”

  Cookie grinned at him. “Well we’re not, and I am most definitely looking forward to Pizza del Popolo’s grand opening.”

  Bear nodded. “Me too.”

  Max had to laugh a little, easing the tension lines in his forehead. He took them all in with a smile. “Ah mi amici, my friends. Truly, you lift my heart.”

  “We’ll do more than that,” Maris declared. “I’m happy to help you in any way that I can. Just say the word.”

  “Same here,” Cookie said. “Your wonderful food deserves the best grand opening that can be. I’m with Maris. If there’s anything that I can do to help, please call.”

  Bear grinned a little. “Me too.”

  Max beamed at them and extended his arms. “With such support, how can I fail?”

  5

  Late afternoon sun poured into the optics house as Maris and Bear climbed the last steps up to it. For a big man, Maris was astonished at how easily he seemed to trot up the spiral staircase, bouncing from one step to the next. Not wanting to fall behind, she’d pushed herself to do the same, and was panting hard for her effort. She was excited to learn about maintaining the lighthouse, but that didn’t translate to suddenly being in shape—or twenty years younger.

  “Phew!” she exhaled as she came to a stop on the metal platform. “I think you must have…” She took in a deep breath. “…set a new speed record.” She blew it out as she wiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead. “It’s got to be a new…” She paused for a gulp of air. “…personal best for me.”

  “You can go slower,” he said. “I don’t mind waiting.”

  “Bear,” she said smiling, as she tried to get her breathing under control, “I don’t imagine there’s anything you’d mind.”

  He lightly combed his fingers through his beard, apparently thinking. Finally he nodded. “Not much.”

  Though Bear turned to the fresnel lens, Maris paused for a moment to take in the view. The brilliant sunlight twinkled from the water below, as though each wave held its own star. A small boat skimmed through them, its billowed sail puffing out in front. The deepening blue hues of the crystal clear water stretched to the horizon, where bands of clouds streamed right and left. She could watch the changing sky and water for hours, but she’d come here with Bear for a job.

  As Maris turned to face him, she said, “Where do you want to start?”

  “At the bottom,” he replied. He pointed to the metal grate on which they stood. “All of the wrought iron needs to have the paint stripped and any rust removed. Then it can be repainted.”

  “How often is it needed?” she asked, crouching down when Bear did.

  He ran his fingers over the diamond pattern of the grating. “When it starts to peel or flake off.” He looked at his fingertips, which were clean. “If it’s just a little bit, then sometimes I only redo that spot.” He stood and touched the frame around one of the optics house’s many windows. “These too. All of the metal. You can’t let it rust.”

  Maris stood and nodded. “All right. No rust on the metal. Repaint when it starts to flake.”

  “Yes,” Bear said.

  She regarded the fresnel lens, and the metal that held all the pieces of glass in their complex arrangement. “What about this metal?”

  Bear shook his head. “It’s stainless steel. You never have to touch it, so you shouldn’t.”

  Maris blinked. “Oh. I had no idea.” Though she’d often patted the fresnel lens’s glass base, she couldn’t recall if she’d ever touched the steel.

  He pointed below it to the pedestal. “Inside are the ball bearings and the motor. Both have to be greased from time to time because they aren’t sealed. The access panel is in the back.”

  “Access panel?” she said, dumbfounded. She’d never seen such a thing.

  Bear walked around the lens to its other side. “Here.”

  Maris followed him and stared down at the curving metal door, painted the same black as the floor and window frames. A small padlock hung from the closed latch.

  “Good grief,” she said, staring at it. “I’ve never noticed it.” She glanced outside to the view of the attached B&B and the lands beyond. “I guess I’m always looking out.”

  “That’s mostly why people come up here,” he agreed.

  Maris shook her head. “Still, I can’t believe I missed it.” She was starting to see the Old Girl in a completely new light.

  “There’s an ambient light sensor outside that I check once a month,” Bear said, pointing back to the front of the optics house. “And we also have a backup generator down below that I run once a month, but I’ve never seen us lose electricity.”

  The sensor was what triggered the beam to come on when the light was low enough. She’d never wondered wh
ere it was located. The backup generator she had seen though.

  “Is that the red engine-looking thing on the first floor?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Her head was starting to swim with all the new information. “And we haven’t even got to the glass yet.”

  “We’re there now,” he said. He wiped a thick index finger on one of the panes. It left a clean trail in the light haze on the glass. “Inside and out, the storm panes have to be cleaned regularly. Otherwise the beam can’t go as far as it possibly can.”

  Maris nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “These should be cleaned tomorrow,” he said. He turned to the enormous egg-shaped glass and stainless steel structure. “The fresnel lens doesn’t need as much cleaning, but it’s for the same reason.”

  Maris regarded it. “To throw out as much light as possible.” It’s myriad pieces of glass were also all etched with fine concentric circles. “How do you clean it?”

  “With a soft microfiber cloth,” Bear said, “nothing more.” He glanced down at himself. “I’d show you now, but I’m not dressed for it.”

  She scowled at him. “Not dressed for it?”

  He quickly shook his head. “No belt buckles, or watches, or jewelry when touching the lens. Never.”

  “Oh wow,” she muttered. “Of course. You don’t want to accidentally scratch it.”

  Bear nodded and eyed the horizon. “I can show you how to clean it tomorrow.”

  As the sun slowly descended in the western sky, evening was approaching. Maris knew that Bear liked to be home before dark.

  “That sounds good,” she said. As they made their way back to the stairs, she said, “Do you get everything you need at Superior Hardware?”

  He waited at the door that led to the spiral staircase and stood aside. “Yes,” he said.

  She paused before proceeding through. “So you’ve known Rudy Schmid for some time?”