Arsenic in the Azaleas

by Dale Mayer

  She again washed her hands and walked over to the coffeemaker and pulled two cups from the cupboard above it. She waited until it finished brewing, then poured one. Mack could pour his when he got here.

  She sat down heavily at the table and stared at the envelope. It wasn’t like it would reach out and bite her. But Thaddeus was correct—or almost correct about it being murder in the garden—but was it also murder in the house? And how could that be? That envelope had upset everyone. She stared at it. It was just an envelope. What could it possibly contain? And why did it bother her so much?

  Still, she never had been a coward in her life. She reached for it and quickly dumped the contents onto the table.

  Photographs. Taken in the upstairs bedroom from the looks of the wallpaper. Photographs of a dead man. She shook her head. No. There was no way to prove he was dead. He looked dead, but… he could have been sleeping. If he were dead, there should have been blood, lots of it. Right?

  She slowly picked up a picture and stared at the tiny details. Was it really Nan’s upstairs spare bedroom? Could she prove that? She turned it over to see a date from thirty years ago. “What the heck? Has this photo been under the bed all this time? Why would Nan do that?” Then it hit her. What if Nan had nothing to do with it? How long had Nan lived here?

  Doreen frowned, thinking back. Nan had lived in this house for all of Doreen’s life, she thought, but it was hard to remember. She picked up the next picture, a similar shot—same man, same bed, slightly different angle. It showed a wider view of the dresser and the closet. Enough to confirm it was Nan’s upstairs spare bedroom.

  She picked up the envelope, and something was in the bottom. She gave it a bit of a shake upside down. A crumpled piece of newspaper fell out. She opened it up to find a 1988 article on a missing man, Jeremy Feldspar. The headline stated, “Man Accused of Murdering His Mother with Arsenic Now Missing Himself.”

  Doreen sat back and stared. “Arsenic and a dead man. Like both the arsenic and the dead man found in the garden.” She shook her head. “This can’t be a coincidence.”

  Mugs barked then he stood on his back legs and put his front paws on her legs. Given his earlier reaction, she placed the newspaper clipping on the table and gave him a hug and a cuddle.

  “It’s okay, Mugs. It’s okay. I’m not sure what this is all about, but we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  Thaddeus hopped up on the table and walked across it toward the items there. The bird stared at them with one eye. Then the feathers along the back of his neck ruffled upward.

  Not sure what the bird was up to, Doreen quickly repackaged everything into the envelope. As she put the crumpled newspaper page inside, she noticed an odd residue on her fingers. She inspected it closer and froze at the fine white dusting. Her mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario.

  The trouble was, she had no reason to think that way except for the headline on the newspaper clipping and the arsenic bottle she’d found in the back garden.

  Just what the heck was going on? And why hadn’t Nan spoken about any of this? Granted Doreen would’ve been five years old at the time and living with her parents. Still, a murder in your grandmother’s guest room would make for an interesting topic to tell many years afterward.

  Yet Doreen had never heard anything about a dead man being found in Nan’s spare bedroom.

  Two dead bodies on Nan’s property? Granted, they were thirty years apart, but it did beg the question—were these two cases related? Doreen shook her head, confused and unnerved by her recent findings. She rose, walked to the kitchen sink and carefully washed her hands right up to her elbows several times.

  As she finished, the doorbell rang. Thank heavens. That should be Mack. She rushed to the front door and opened it. Her hand went to her chest. “Oh, thank God, you’re here!”

  Midway over the threshold, he froze and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  She took several deep breaths. “You better come in while I explain.” She led him to the kitchen where she quickly poured him a coffee. “Sit.”

  He sat down heavily, his brows creased in the middle. “What’s this all about?”

  She sat down opposite him and pointed at the envelope. “I found this cleaning out Nan’s things in the spare bedroom upstairs.”

  She launched into an explanation of her day, about the fur coats and the clothing, of Nan’s habit of leaving money everywhere. She pointed at the bowl on the table, full of money and things. But as she spoke faster and faster, she could see the confusion on his face.

  Finally he held up a hand. “Stop.”

  She gasped for air, realizing she was barely coherent. She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m just really unnerved.”

  “I can see that,” he said. “What does any of that have to do with this envelope?”

  She took a deep breath. “Because I found so much odd stuff as I went through everything, and, when I flipped the mattress and the box spring, I saw this.” And she held up the envelope for him to see.

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “I know. But I wanted to make sure I checked everything,” she emphasized. “And taped to the bottom of the box spring was that envelope.” She watched as enlightenment whispered into his eyes.

  He gazed at the envelope, put down his coffee cup, and said, “What’s in it?”

  “I think you better check,” she said quietly. “I’m really hoping it’s not what I think it is.”

  He shot her a look as he donned a pair of plastic gloves, reached for the envelope and pulled out the pictures.

  That was a much smarter way to retrieve the contents, unlike how she’d just upended it, making a mess. And she noticed a fine dusting of white everywhere. She stood, dampened a paper towel and came back, wiping the table, then used a dry paper towel afterward. “I don’t know what this powder is, but it’s from the envelope.” She sat and stared at him. “Say something.” Why wasn’t he saying anything?

  He stared at her, then focused on the pictures again. “You know what room this is?”

  She nodded, her breath shaky as she answered in a low voice, “Yes, the one I was cleaning upstairs.”

  He nodded slowly. He reached for the brown envelope again and found the crumpled newspaper article inside. He studied that, looked at the man in the photograph and said, “You know something? I think I remember this case.” He tapped the newspaper article with his gloved finger. “I certainly remember that headline as the case is one we went over in my training.”

  “The thing is, as soon as I saw the word arsenic in the newspaper article and the pictures of the dead body, I thought of the dead body in the backyard and the empty bottle of arsenic I found in the garden.”

  He nodded. “Obviously the mind makes a kind of a connection, but we have to be careful not to assume anything.”

  “How can I not assume?” she cried out. “It’s obvious this guy’s dead in the picture. If it’s the same guy as in the picture, he supposedly killed his own mother with arsenic. And I’ve got a dead man and a bottle of arsenic in my own garden.” And she pointed her hand to the table. “And here is more white powder. I’m terrified that’s arsenic.”

  He froze, staring at the white powder in the envelope. “And you could be right.” He got up slowly. “Do you have a vacuum?” He pulled out his cell phone and carefully took pictures of the table, envelope and the floor surrounding where they stood.

  She shook her head. “No. I can wipe it up though.” Very carefully they moved everything off the table, and she came back with more wet paper towels that she could then throw away. They cleaned up all the powder on the table. She glanced over at Thaddeus. “Thaddeus, go away. You need to get away from this white powder.”

  He looked at her and said, “Murder in the house. Murder in the house.”

  “He really has a flair for the dramatic, doesn’t he?” Mack asked.

  When they finally had it all cleaned up, she turned to him in distress and asked
, “Do you think the animals got any?”

  “They look clean to me. They’re all doing fine. Arsenic is a fast-acting poison, although it can be used for long-term slow killing, as small amounts of it accumulates over time. It’s one of the favorite methods of wives getting rid of their husbands.”

  She stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

  He shook his head. “Poison is very much a woman’s tool. I know several cases where the wives slowly poisoned their husbands with arsenic in their lunches. It’s supposedly tasteless and slowly builds up in the body to a point that eventually kills them.”

  “That’s horrible.” For good measure, she grabbed yet more paper towels, slightly dampened them, and wiped the table again, taking careful note of the cracks and indentations in the table. Then she dropped to her hands and knees on the floor and scrubbed away.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s fine now,” Mack said.

  “Pretty sure isn’t good enough.” But finally even she had to admit there couldn’t be more on any of the surfaces here. “Can you get that powder analyzed?”

  He nodded. “I’ll do that as soon as I leave here.” He held up the envelope. “Have you shown this to anybody else?”

  She shook her head. “No, I haven’t. I don’t know anybody else to show it to. And I knew you were coming, so it just made sense to give it to you anyway. I presume the man in the pictures is dead?”

  “He appears dead.” He studied the picture still in his hand. “But, with no visible injury, it’s hard to say.” He sighed. “You know Nan owned the house thirty years ago, right?”

  She stared at her hands and nodded. “I know that.” She raised her gaze to his. “But I also know there’s no way Nan killed anybody.”

  “What if he deserved killing?” he asked, his voice quiet, soft. “We’re all capable of killing if put in the right position to do so.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No,” she said softly. “Nan is the gentlest of women. She’d never kill anyone.” She studied Thaddeus, now relaxed at the far end of the table. “And would it make any sense at all to keep an envelope with incriminating photos and evidence like that in her own house?”

  “I’ve seen all kinds of strange things people do that don’t make any sense,” Mack said.

  Just then, in a weird, slow humming voice, Thaddeus said, “Murder is everywhere. Murder is everywhere.”

  Mack departed, business card in hand, soon afterward, leaving Doreen pale but composed by the kitchen table. She wasn’t exactly sure where on his suspect list Nan would fall, but Doreen knew her grandmother was the priority for her. No way would she talk to Nan on the phone about this. Doreen wanted to see her reaction, to watch her facial expression. Doreen needed to find out the truth.

  And hated the necessity of doing even that.

  But it was too late tonight for a visit. This would have to wait until the morning.

  Chapter 19

  Day 3, Friday

  The following morning she quickly made herself some toast and jam to go with her coffee. She walked out the door twenty minutes later.

  She wanted to get to Nan first thing. Leaving Goliath sitting on the front railing, completely disinterested in where they were walking, Doreen led the way to Nan’s retirement home apartment, Thaddeus riding on her shoulder and Mugs strolling at her side.

  With still a block to go, she grabbed her phone and called her grandmother. “Nan, you there?”

  “Of course I am, dear,” she said in a gentle tone full of exasperation. “Where else would I be?”

  “We’re walking toward you. We’re a couple minutes away,” Doreen said with a big smile. It was so hard to believe Nan would be mixed up in anything like murder. She just couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

  “Oh, that’s delightful. I just made a full pot of tea. I must’ve known company was coming.”

  Doreen laughed. “You’re a psychic now?”

  “Wouldn’t that be lovely if I were?”

  Doreen shook her head and ended the call, pocketing her phone. She wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of the photos. Nan’s life was so very different than Doreen’s had been. But anybody who had lived as many years as Nan had must see life from a whole different perspective.

  Just look at me. In the last six months, everything had changed for her. Imagine if she had survived what Nan had gone through. She’d been married a long time ago, had a son, only to have her husband die soon after. When Nan had married again, her second husband died as well. Then she had decided marriage wasn’t for her and had traveled the world. Sure, her son had been Doreen’s father. But her parents split up when Doreen was little, her father dying soon after. Yet Doreen’s mom had been friends with Nan before she had married Nan’s son, and their friendship had continued afterward for Doreen’s sake.

  Doreen, as a child, had spent a lot of time with Nan. Doreen’s mother wasn’t the maternal type but enjoyed living a single’s tennis-club life. She’d remarried twice since then and had distanced herself a little more each time from her motherhood role, but that was okay because Nan took over, being a true mother to Doreen. When Doreen had gone off on her own, she’d missed Nan.

  But, as Doreen had built a life with her husband, it became easier and easier for her to acclimate to her mother’s lifestyle. Her new life quickly filled with new people, new experiences—as her husband’s ever-increasing control of Doreen’s world worked to separate her from everything and everyone from her past, except for those things and people he knew and wanted in her life.

  She didn’t blame him entirely. She’d been young and naive and so wanting to please. But, over time, her previous life and the people in it had drifted farther away.

  Now there was no need to let go. Doreen needed somebody. Nan needed somebody. And they were gravitating toward each other again.

  Reaching the corner of Rosemoor’s property, she could see Nan sitting in the little garden she had all to herself.

  Nan raised her gaze, caught sight of Doreen and waved.

  Mugs started to bark.

  “Yes, that’s Nan.” Doreen loved how Mugs had taken to Nan so well.

  Of course maybe it was a case that Nan’s animals had taken to Doreen, and so her animal had taken to Nan, understanding the loving bond between the two women. Somehow Doreen was already thinking of Thaddeus and Goliath as hers. And this was only the beginning of her third day here, and since her arrival, there had been nothing but chaos. Maybe the animals clung to the familiar face of the person who was in residence. Maybe they didn’t give a crap who was there as long as somebody was feeding them.

  How fickle animals were. She glanced at Mugs and wondered. “Mugs, if I were gone, would you just take to the next person?”

  He barked.

  She took that as a yes.

  She rolled her eyes, let him off the leash and watched as he ran toward Nan. She stood away from the table and bent to give him a big greeting.

  Once again Doreen crossed the grassy lawn, breaking one rule, and also knowing she wasn’t allowed to bring the animals here either. Yet she felt less criminal because she was doing something, for once, that was against the rules, yet was doing a lot of good for an eighty-something-year-old lady.

  Laughing at her granddaughter’s antics and with her arms out, Nan gave Doreen a hug.

  Doreen gently hugged her back, with Thaddeus taking the opportunity to shift from one shoulder to the other. Sitting down, Doreen watched as Mugs and Thaddeus claimed Nan’s loving attention.

  “Where’s Goliath?” Nan asked.

  “He was lazing on the porch railing when we left.”

  Nan nodded. “I’ll see him next time.”

  “What’s this? A new type of tea?” Doreen sniffed the air experimentally.

  “It’s brand-new. A friend of mine just came back from China and brought me some authentic Ceylon tea to try.”

  Doreen didn’t have the heart to tell her grandmother that the island named Ceylon was later
named Sri Lanka. And the black tea of Ceylon was now grown in India and China as well. But Doreen would appreciate the drink anyway.

  Nan poured two teacups full as Thaddeus looked on from her shoulder. “It’s lovely to see you again, dear. Has everything calmed down at the house now?”

  It was all she could do to hold back an unending stream of questions. “Oh, it’s calmed down somewhat,” she admitted. “But then something else came up.”

  “Oh, dear.” Nan stared at her in fascination. “I lived in that house for forty years, my dear, and I never had the kind of excitement you’re having.”

  Doreen studied her grandmother and smiled. She could use that opening. “I sorted through the spare bedroom yesterday. I already took a couple loads to the consignment store. Have another ready in the car now.”

  Nan clapped her hands in joy. “Aah, wonderful. It’d be nice to see some of the clothing go to good use.”

  “I also took a couple big bags to Goodwill,” she confessed. “Wendy wasn’t interested in those items.”

  Nan nodded. “That makes sense. I hope you checked the pockets before you sent everything out.” She shook her finger at Doreen. “Remember? I never could keep my pockets empty.”

  “That’s the truth. You could not keep your pockets empty. I found well over $300.00 in all those clothes. Not even counting the change yet.”

  Nan’s face froze for a moment, and then she burst out into joyful laughter. “Well, how lovely.” She chuckled again. “You needed money, so there it was. And who knew I had left so much behind.”

  Doreen instantly felt bad. She leaned forward. “I never thought to bring it to you. It is your money.”

  Nan lifted a hand and waved it at her. “I told you everything in the house is yours, my dear. I already have enough for my needs.”

  “And what about your wants?” Doreen asked softly. “Is there anything you want? You can’t spend your entire life only looking after your needs. Is there anything you want just because it’s pretty or makes you smile? What about a book from your favorite author? Or a new bedding set? How about a holiday?”