Arsenic in the Azaleas

by Dale Mayer

  A quiet silence followed as Nan contemplated… something. Doreen had trouble deciphering the look on her grandmother’s face. But she waited.

  Nan said in a gentle voice, “My dear, I’ve already lived well over twice as long as you have. I’ve had lots of wants taken care of, but now the only thing that matters is making sure your needs are met. I have very few needs in this world.”

  There was such a sad element attached to that statement. Doreen tried to understand, but it was hard. She settled back and picked up her tea and took a sip. The tea was wonderful, full-bodied, and it was just the perfect drinking temperature. She cupped her hands around the teacup to absorb some of the warmth. “This tea is lovely.”

  Nan agreed. “It is. I’ve been enjoying it.”

  After that they shared little conversation as Doreen contemplated her grandmother’s words. She took a deep breath. “Nan, because I found so much stuff hidden all around in your clothing and drawers, I made sure I did a thorough search of the room—cleaning it out, you know?”

  Nan nodded and waited.

  “I even flipped the mattresses.”

  Nan stared at her in amazement. “Oh, my goodness. I wouldn’t even be strong enough to do that.”

  And Doreen sat there with that truth staring at her. Of course Nan wouldn’t. Even thirty years ago she wouldn’t have been able to. Nan was tiny. Doreen doubted Nan could pick up twenty pounds. A man could have handled the mattress, most likely, but that would not be an easy feat for Nan.

  Doreen shook her head. “I didn’t think of that before.”

  Nan leaned forward. “Think of what, my dear?”

  Doreen settled back and smiled. “I found a brown 9x12 envelope taped to the bottom of the box spring.”

  “Oh my, this is getting interesting. What was in it?”

  Doreen explained about the contents, including the white powder and the newspaper article and the pictures of the dead man from thirty years ago. She studied her grandmother’s face intently, looking for any sign of foreknowledge of the package. But Doreen saw nothing but sheer astonishment in Nan’s expression.

  “What a delightful mystery.” She shook her head. “And in my spare bedroom.” She sat back with her tea, staring at it for a long moment. Almost as if looking down the tunnel of time and seeing if it would give her the answers she needed. Then she looked up and said, “I wish I had seen the pictures of the man.”

  “Oh,” Doreen said. She quickly pulled her phone from her pocket. “I didn’t even tell Mack I did this.” She lowered her voice to a hushed tone. “It just seemed important that I remembered the dead man’s face.” She found the photograph of the man and held it up for Nan to see. “I took a picture of the picture.”

  “Oh, dear, that sounds very complicated.” Nan reached for Doreen’s phone and brought it closer, pulling the glasses off her head and putting them on her nose to peer at the picture intently. “He almost looks familiar.” She lifted her gaze apologetically. “I know my memory isn’t quite the way it used to be, but I can’t remember ever seeing this man in my house.”

  Doreen nodded. What could she say? “The thing is, Nan, it was definitely taken at your house. These pictures were of the spare room, with the same curtains, the same wallpaper and the same dresser.”

  Nan stared at her in surprise, her mouth forming an O. She turned her attention back to the picture. “I just don’t understand how that could be.”

  “Did you go away on a holiday thirty years ago? Were you visiting a friend? Did you let somebody stay in your house for a little while?”

  Nonplussed, Nan continued to stare at Doreen. “All of that is possible. But it was thirty years ago, so I really can’t be sure of when.”

  Doreen patted Nan’s hand. She didn’t want to upset her grandmother. “If you do remember, let me know. Just be aware that Mack is likely to come by with questions.”

  “Mack?”

  “Corporal Mack Moreau. He’s the officer investigating the case.” Under Nan’s prying gaze, Doreen could feel the heat rising up her neck. She shook her head. “No.” She made sure to use a strong, firm voice. “There’s nothing between us.”

  Nan nodded slowly, but her gaze twinkled. “Of course not.” She settled back and took another sip of her tea. But a smile played around the corner of her lips. “He’s a good man. I know his mother. Interesting history there.” Then she sealed her lips and went quiet.

  Doreen eyed her suspiciously but knew there was no point in pushing her grandmother. She could be stubborn when she wanted to be.

  Thaddeus took that moment to jump on the table. He studied the almond cookies that neither of the women had touched, looked over at Nan and said, “Cookie please. Cookie please.”

  Doreen gave a startled gasp. “How is it this bird has so many phrases in his vocabulary? He continues to amaze me.” She glanced at Nan. “Where did you get him from?”

  “An old friend brought him over one day years ago, hoping I’d take him in as he’d been abandoned. He had no details on his history, but Thaddeus chose to stay behind, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

  “Amazing,” Doreen said, eyeing Thaddeus in a different light. “He’s very smart.”

  Thaddeus gave a weird chirp and pecked at the closest cookie.

  “It’s not just that he has all these words,” Nan said gently, “but the way he puts them together so they make sense. Well, sometimes it’s downright freaky.”

  Chapter 20

  “Ladies?” Mack’s hard voice cut through their peaceful teatime only to be drowned out by Mugs’s sudden barking as he woke up from his nap. Goliath had accompanied Mack on this walk and ignored the dog and jumped into Nan’s lap.

  Doreen looked at Mack in surprise, but he ignored her to study Nan’s face.

  Doreen hurriedly stood and pulled up a spare chair. In a bright voice she said, “Join us.”

  He sat down in the very small chair, making her wince. He glanced at her, even as he scratched Mugs’s ear. In a droll voice, he said, “I’m sure it will hold my weight.”

  She flushed immediately. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  “Oh, what are you sorry for? Coming here to see Nan before I have a chance to question her?”

  “Why shouldn’t I be allowed to talk to her? It’s not like this has anything to do with the current murder at my place, and it’s not like Nan is a murder suspect,” Doreen said dismissively. She picked up her tea and took a sip. “Or is she?”

  He glared at her. “Every time I turn around in this case, I am tripping over you. If it isn’t at Lifelong Insurance, then it’s here at Nan’s.”

  Doreen straightened in outrage. “Well, I’m sure your investigative work entailed more than those two places. And obviously I have to check into anything that might involve Nan. And I did show you the things I found in Nan’s house.”

  “Dear, it’s okay.” Nan reached over and patted her wrist. “Don’t worry about it. Mack’s just a little upset that you got here before him.”

  “A little upset?” She glared at Nan. Mugs, sitting underneath the table, stood up on his back legs, his paws on her knee and growled at her tone. She patted his forehead. “It’s all right, Mugs. I’m fine.”

  “Is he a good guard dog?” Mack asked, a frown on his face as he studied the basset. “They were originally bred for hunting, I believe.”

  “I have no idea. The guard dog occasion hasn’t arisen yet,” she said. “He only just realized he could bark. My almost ex-husband frowned on Mugs making noise, so a dog trainer trained him not to bark. But now that it’s just us, he’s found his voice again.” She stroked his long silky ears and smiled at the bag-eyed dog. “Of course Goliath helps in that area too.”

  “Goliath can take care of himself, that’s for sure,” Nan said cheerfully. She looked at the teapot and poured another round of tea for all three of them. “Now Thaddeus, he’s a different story.”

  “And why did you not tell me more about Goliath and Thaddeus, Nan?�
�� Doreen asked. “It’s one thing to leave me an independent monster-size cat, happy to be inside and outside, but to leave me Thaddeus?”

  Nan’s laughter trailed across the garden, making both Mack and Doreen smile. “Like we were just saying, Thaddeus is a gem.”

  On cue Thaddeus jumped up and landed on Nan’s shoulder. In his soft crooning voice he said, “Thaddeus is here. Thaddeus is here.”

  And, in a moment of naked affection, the cat and the bird nestled in closer to Nan.

  Doreen stared at the two pets, then shook her head. “How is it you could leave them?”

  “I had little choice. Besides, Thaddeus is fickle, my dear. Right now he looks like he is my long-lost friend, and in truth, he is. But he could also be your long-lost friend in five minutes. And I can’t have pets here. Thaddeus will outlive me, possibly all of us, so I had to make provisions for him anyway.”

  Doreen leaned forward. “But you didn’t make provisions for him, Nan. You just left him and Goliath behind.”

  “Nonsense. You were arriving on a specific day. He and Goliath were fine until then as I went back and forth to feed them. And, if I had told you about them, you would have fretted over your delay.”

  Doreen sat back at that. Just because Nan was correct, it didn’t mean Doreen felt like hearing it. Neither did she like to see the quirk of Mack’s lips as he held back his smile.

  She glared at him. “Didn’t you have a reason for coming here?”

  He put down his teacup and proceeded to ask Nan the exact same questions that Doreen had.

  Nan laughed. “You really should hire Doreen as your assistant. You know that, don’t you? She already asked me those same things.”

  Still, Nan went over the answers she’d given Doreen earlier.

  Doreen was fascinated with the case. Quite a twist had been found here, and somehow Nan was involved. Doreen didn’t think Nan had anything to do with either murder, so there had to be somebody else. There was really no other explanation.

  Mack turned his attention to Doreen. “I had the powder analyzed. It was simple cornstarch. I suspect it was in the envelope to keep the photos from sticking together.”

  “Well… that mystery at least is solved. I’m glad it wasn’t poison,” she exclaimed. With a bright smile she finished the last of her tea and stood. She gave Nan a hug and kiss and said, “I’ll stop by in another day or two.” With Mugs at her side, Goliath at her feet, and Thaddeus now transferred to her shoulder, she turned to Mack. “I’m sure I’ll see you again, Mr. Moreau.”

  In a gruff voice, he said, “I told you to call me Mack.”

  She smiled. “So you did. Have a good day, Mack, Nan.” She walked away, hearing the two of them talking—and heard her name mentioned. Hopefully only good things were discussed because Doreen had been a laughingstock for a lot of people over the last few years. But she trusted Nan. She was the only other person in the world who cared what happened to Doreen, other than herself.

  Her mind was consumed with the pictures of the dead man as she walked back to her house slowly.

  A library was just around the corner—probably the only way to get the archives on the newspaper articles from thirty years ago—but she would have to leave Mugs, Goliath, and Thaddeus at home. She had the one article in mind, but that didn’t mean other papers would have carried the same story. What she really needed was more history on the death of the first man to die. And, for that, she should’ve asked Mack.

  She pulled out her phone, hit his contact number, and smiled, loving that he’d stayed to visit with Nan after grilling her. When he answered, she asked without preamble, “Did you get any information on the man in the pictures?”

  “I haven’t gone to the office yet. I’ll do that then.”

  She nodded and smiled at a neighbor, who gave her an odd look and hurried by. As Doreen approached her driveway, she spoke into her phone again. “Let me know what you find, please.”

  “It’s a police matter,” he said in exasperation. “I’m not checking in with you at every step.”

  “But it’s probably better if you do,” she said. “Otherwise I’ll have to get that information myself. And you don’t like me doing that.” She hung up, cutting him off mid-sputter, and pocketed her phone with a chuckle.

  Back at the house, the animals following her, she returned to the spare bedroom for another look around, seeing if she had possibly missed anything. She hadn’t even begun to search the walls. Was that an odd thing to consider?

  The walls were covered in wallpaper, but paneling appeared to be underneath as seen where the wallpaper had been torn. But how could she tell if something was hidden behind the actual walls? She guessed she wouldn’t unless she tore off all the paneling to find the studs beneath. She didn’t feel the need to do that. However, feeling foolish but unable to stop herself, she rapped on the nearest wall and continued around the room. It all sounded the same until she got to the closet. She studied the closet, stepped inside and looked around. In the ceiling was a trapdoor leading to the attic.

  It appeared to be added to the house as an afterthought. Just a small three-foot-square opening. From her first look, the cover was just propped there, to be pushed aside once she could reach that high. It wasn’t a full-fledged attic access with a pull-down door that had a fold-up ladder affixed to it.

  She stepped back out and stared around the room, walking out into the hallway and looking up. Every house had an attic, but wasn’t the attic door usually located somewhere in the middle of the house? Where the roof pitch was the highest? That way, someone could stand up inside the attic. Also tradesmen would have access to wiring, piping, ductwork and whatnot strung throughout the attic, amid all the stuff people stored up there too.

  Back in the spare bedroom, she eyed the night table but didn’t think it would be tall enough for her purposes. Neither was a kitchen chair. Back downstairs, she found a big lantern flashlight. That would help. She clicked it on and off several times to make sure the battery worked. Then she located a small step stool. Its top riser was higher than the kitchen chair seat.

  She dragged the light and the stool upstairs into the spare bedroom’s closet. With the flashlight in hand, she slowly climbed up the step stool, setting aside the cover to the attic access. With her head and shoulders now popped through into the attic, she turned on the lantern light and slowly searched the space.

  Initially it looked empty until she circled completely around and found several boxes. Easily six to eight boxes were stacked between where she was and the outside wall.

  Once again, the hunt for treasure overtook her. Small sheets of plywood lay between the rafters to stop people from falling through as they got up here, but they would be a bit of a challenge to navigate. She would have to change clothes before she attempted that.

  She walked into her bedroom, quickly put on a pair of her capri length jeans, some tennis shoes and an old T-shirt, courtesy of Nan’s closet. Doreen suspected the attic would be full of spiderwebs.

  She moved the stepladder closer to the edge of the attic opening and slowly climbed up. Using her arms, she pulled herself into the attic, sitting at the opening, her legs dangling below, and looked around. The attic was empty except for the stack of boxes she had spied earlier. She suspected the contents would be stupid things, like broken Christmas ornaments.

  Carefully she crawled on the plywood sheets closer to the boxes. Two were stacked in front of her. She grabbed the bottom one and slowly tugged them both toward her.

  Surprisingly heavy, she kept pulling. She needed to know what was in all these boxes. Shaking them first to check for breakables inside, but hearing nothing like that, she then dropped the first two boxes into the closet next to the step stool.

  Joining the boxes on the closet floor, she inspected them in the light of the closet, finding no list of contents or other identification marked on any side of either box. She grabbed the corner of the tape sealing the top of the first box and pulled it off. The an
imals were curious too, as Mugs had joined her in the closet and milled around her feet, with Goliath on the bed glaring and an unusually quiet Thaddeus perched on the dresser.

  She pulled out what appeared to be men’s clothing. A charcoal gray suit. She shook her head. “Oh, Nan. Where the devil did these come from?”

  Doreen searched the pockets of the jacket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, almost proof that this was Nan’s work, packing up these clothes in this box. But Nan never would have worn these clothes, so who the heck did they belong to? Inside the breast pocket, Doreen pulled out a business card. The name matched the name in the newspaper article.

  Jeremy Feldspar.

  She glanced over at Thaddeus. “What’s the matter, Thaddeus? Don’t have anything to say now?” Normally at moments like this, he had some catchy phrase of doom and gloom. But even now, Thaddeus just stared at her and the clothes and remained silent.

  Somehow she found that even worse.

  Chapter 21

  For the life of her, Doreen couldn’t understand why men’s clothes were in Nan’s attic. Old clothes too. Of course Doreen’s mind associated these clothes with the dead man photographed in the spare bedroom. She couldn’t be sure.

  Doreen refused to believe Nan had anything to do with Jeremy’s death.

  Just then the doorbell rang. Doreen didn’t want anybody to see this stuff, so she closed the bedroom door as she headed downstairs to the front entryway. She opened it to find a middle-aged couple beaming at her. Both were slightly overweight, in their early fifties and dressed like twins with pumpkin-colored T-shirts and khaki pants. She gave a hesitant smile and said, “Hello. May I help you?”

  The woman grabbed Doreen’s hand. “We’re so delighted to meet you. And we’re so sorry you’ve had such a nasty event upon your arrival.”

  Doreen tried to pull her hand back, but the woman wouldn’t let it go. “Do I know you?”

  The man gave a hearty laugh. “We’re your neighbors to the right.” He motioned to the house next door. “We were away the last two days, so we missed a lot of the commotion. But, when we heard, we wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood.”