Poisoned (The Alex Harris Mystery Series)

by Elaine Macko

  “The letters! Alex, you did it. What do they say?” Chantal asked even though I hadn’t taken them out of their envelopes. They were very definitely old, and yellowed, and very worn.

  “I’m worried about fingerprints. Maybe I shouldn’t open them. I wish I had gloves.”

  “Mrs. Platz keeps a box of those disposable ones under the kitchen sink, will that do?”

  “Sure,” I said as Chantal headed out the door. “Get two pair.”

  A few minutes later Chantal came back with two pair of thin plastic gloves. They looked like the kind I used when I highlighted my hair. We put them on and Chantal gingerly picked up one envelope and removed the paper. She read it carefully, slowly, speaking very softly.

  Strasbourg, le 7 Novembre 1837

  Cher Lucien,

  Quand tu liras ces lignes...

  “Chantal, can you translate?” I asked trying not to sound impatient.

  “Huh? Oh, sorry, Alex. Yes, let’s see. It’s dated 1837 and it’s from Strasbourg. That’s in France. It’s from...” Chantal scanned the two pages. “Here it is. It’s from someone named Joseph Jaeger. I remember that name from the stuff I typed up, but I don’t really remember the connection. Okay. It says:

  Dear Lucien, by now I am sure that you have gone through with your plans. I cannot, in all honesty, say that I agree with the actions that you found necessary to take, but you know that what you have told me shall go no further.”

  Chantal stopped reading for a moment and I asked what was wrong. “Nothing. It’s just that the ink is a bit faded and there’s a tiny hole in the paper. I’m trying to figure out the missing words by the next sentence. She mumbled in French for a few more seconds and then continued.

  “I fear that what has brought you to this conclusion is greed. It is what I have always feared the most for you for I have known you all your life, and have always been aware of your ambitions and needs, which I dare say are great. I never thought you capable of murder and it saddens me. No, I must be honest, it disgusts me to think that it is so. The fact that the blood is not on your hands does not diminish the truth of what you have done.

  You have nothing to fear from me, cousin. I will carry your sin to my grave. I wish that I did not know this side of you but I believe deep down it was always there and because I loved you, I turned a blind eye. You felt it necessary to confess to me, for that is what it was, a confession, and though I cannot say I am happy you told me, I understand the need that led you to unburden yourself, if only to me. Perhaps your charity to the widow Thiry will erase some of your sins in the eyes of God. I don’t know, but I can only pray that it will. Sadly, I feel that I must sever all ties with you. To carry your sins is one burden I will endure because we are family, but to condone your actions by continuing our relationship would not serve either one of us well.

  I will carry you always in my heart, dear Lucien.

  “It’s signed Joseph.”

  “What the heck does all this mean?” I stood up and walked around the bed to peer over Chantal’s shoulder. “Obviously someone is dead, but who? What does this all have to do with Bradley?” I asked, getting a sick feeling that instead of solving a crime we may have just opened up a whole new can of worms.

  “There’s two more letters,” said Chantal. “Let’s see if they help.” She took one of the letters from an envelope and looked up at me. “This one’s in English and it’s dated December 15, 1836.

  Paul, I trust everything is ready and the terms that we agreed upon are still satisfactory. Maudlin fool that I am, I think it best to wait until after Christmas. Let Raymond have one more feast with his family. I do not want to know the details and I see no reason for us to ever meet again. The money will be waiting for you in the agreed location after it is done. Do not let me down! I know too much of your past for you to cross me. It would be very unwise.

  Lucien”

  I put my hand to my heart. “Jesus! This Lucien sounds horrible. This sounds more like gangsters in the 1920s than businessmen in the 1800s.”

  Chantal put her chin in her hand. “If I remember correctly, Lucien is the first of Mrs. Brissart’s ancestors to come to America.”

  “We need a copy of the family history.” I jumped off the bed and headed for the door.

  “We still have another letter to read and this other thing.” Chantal held up the deed.

  “Bring them downstairs. With any luck, we might just be able to solve this whole thing.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Back in the study, it took a few minutes for Chantal to open up the system. While we waited I asked, “There’s something I don’t understand. If Lucien wrote this to this Paul person, then why was it with Lucien’s things? Or do we have Paul’s things or maybe even the papers of Joseph?”

  “I think this stuff probably belonged to Lucien. If Bradley found these letters in the house in Farmington, then they would have to have been Lucien’s. He’s the relation. Maybe he never mailed the letter to Paul,” Chantal said.

  “It has a stamp, though,” I said.

  “Okay, here we go.”

  I got another chair and pulled it up next to Chantal. We read the history as Chantal slowly scrolled down the screen. When we finished, I set back in my chair. “Wow. This guy Lucien is Mrs. Brissart’s great great grandfather, or maybe great great great grandfather. She said she knew most of the family history. I wonder if she knows this?” I asked.

  “I have no idea. But I’m still confused as to why someone would want to kill over this. I mean don’t we all have someone like this in our history? If you go back far enough, I’m sure just about everybody would find a Lucien or two.”

  “Yes, but to some people, family ties are everything. And if this got out, there might be hell to pay. The Brissart family and the Estenfelders and Dolivecks are all prominent names in this town. I’ll bet June and May would not want this sort of thing to get out.”

  Chantal looked at me, the full impact dawning on her face. “You mean you think May or June would kill over this?”

  “Well, May certainly tried, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. She did. She said June didn’t have a hand in it. But maybe June didn’t have a hand in the jequirity bean but she very well may have put the cyanide in the cookies.” Chantal squinted her eyes into tiny slits. “You know, I never liked her. I don’t particularly care for either of them, but June has always been more ruthless in my opinion.”

  “Well, don’t get an arrest warrant yet. We could be wrong.”

  “Hey, we’re forgetting the other letter.” Chantal said, returning to the subject at hand. She took the third letter off the table and unfolded the yellowed sheets. “This is in French again. It’s addressed to a Madame Thiry, and it’s dated January 12, 1837. It’s from Lucien.

  “My dearest Emilie, What can I possibly say to ease your sorrow over the death of Raymond? I know what he meant to you as I, also, felt very deeply about him. He was my friend and partner for many years and I will cherish my memories forever.”

  “I don’t believe this guy!” I slapped the small table with my hand. “He has the man killed, at least it seems that way, and now he’s writing to the widow.”

  Chantal had been silently reading while I ranted. “There’s more and it doesn’t get any better.”

  “As you know, all our assets were purchased under the Tontine agreement and thus, everything automatically reverts to me. My dear friend Raymond, though an excellent partner and friend, did not fare well when it came to personal investments, and other than your house, did not own anything himself. I would not sleep well at night if I did not honor him by providing for you and your children. I have therefore set up an account that will take care of your monthly needs and the education of your children. Please do not consider this charity. It is not! It is my duty as Raymond’s trusted friend, and I would consider it an honor to see that your needs are taken care of.

  There are a few business matters that unfortunately must be tended to.
I wish to burden you no more than what is absolutely necessary and I have, therefore, drawn up the proper papers for your signature. I have taken the liberty of contacting the bankers on your behalf, and, given your lack of English, have assured them that I will be at their disposal for whatever they need.

  Emilie, please be assured that I will take care of everything for you and your needs will not go unattended. I learned of something today that may ease your mind. The body of a man named Paul Jackson was found in the woods outside of town. The authorities found some money on him and an old watch that I kept at the office. I believe, as do they, that this is the man responsible for Raymond’s death. I can only conclude that he associated himself with people no better than he and that justice has been served.

  I remain,”

  “Blah, blah blah. What a wonderful guy this Lucien was.”

  “Chantal, he must have killed Paul Jackson. It’s too much of a coincidence that this man turns up dead shortly after the murder of Raymond. And that would explain why the letter to him from Lucien was back in Lucien’s possession.”

  “What a scumbag.” Chantal never minced words.

  “What about those other papers, Chantal? Let’s have a look.”

  “This one looks like it’s some sort of land deed. You know, I think it’s for land in Farmington. I wonder if it’s the land where Mrs. Brissart has her house?”

  “And the other, what’s that?”

  “It’s a letter to the bank signed by Madame Thiry, and it’s in English. It basically says that she is turning over the property owned by Raymond to Lucien in payment for a personal loan that Lucien made to Raymond at one time.”

  “I didn’t think Raymond owned anything. That’s what it says in this letter that Lucien wrote to Emilie,” I said full of genuine puzzlement. “It’s in English, you say?”

  Chantal nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Lucien said he would handle everything because poor Emilie didn’t speak English. No doubt she couldn’t read it either. I bet the poor woman didn’t even know that Raymond owned some land. Supporting her for a while was the least he could do after he swindled her out of that land. And I’ll bet my share of Always Prepared that that land is the piece owned by Mrs. Brissart, May and June. Mrs. Brissart said something about it having ore deposits. What’s your bet that old Lucien wanted it and didn’t want to share the profits with Raymond?”

  “Okay, but why not just buy it from him outright?” Chantal asked. “He could certainly afford it.”

  “Maybe Raymond wouldn’t sell. We know from the history that Lucien was ruthless and greedy. His own cousin said it in the first letter you read. And who knows what else the two men were arguing over. They had been partners for quite some time, and I can tell you, I love my sister, but we don’t always see eye to eye on how the business should progress.”

  “Yes, but you wouldn’t kill her?”

  I gave it a thought then waved my hand. “No. Of course not. But there are many people who do that all the time.”

  “So what now?”

  “Now we call John and tell him we know why Bradley was killed. Someone did not want it known that that piece of land Mr. Smit wants so badly was not theirs to sell.”

  “You mean May and June?” Chantal asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Yes. I think the jequirity bean was just to throw the police off their scent. They probably put it in the Cherry Heering as a red herring. I’m sure they figured once May confessed to that and really laid on the I’m-sorry-I-never-meant-to-kill-her routine, that all eyes would be cast in a different direction. Oh!”

  “What?” Chantal asked.

  “I almost forgot. Remember after May was arrested, we were all here and John came by?”

  “Yes. What about it?”

  “Mrs. Brissart said she had talked with May on the phone Saturday morning.” Chantal gave me a so-what look. “Mrs. Brissart told May that she planned to go to the grocery to get the ingredients for the macaroons. May knew.”

  “And what May knows, June knows as well,” Chantal smiled.

  “Let’s not forget that they knew about Bradley doing the history,” I added. “And maybe May and June knew a bit more of what he might find out than Mrs. Brissart did.” I took a breath and checked my watch. “He must be back at the station by now.” I pulled out my cell and punched in John’s direct line at the station and got his voice mail. I could call his cell but when I started dating him, I told myself I would not bother him while he was on the job. Of course, this was different. I punched in his cell and it went directly to voice mail as well. I thought for a moment. “How about Detective Maroni?”

  “No, I’m sorry. He’s not available either. He got called out on something this afternoon and hasn’t returned,” the dispatcher told me.

  I told the woman on the other end to please have the first one who returned contact me immediately. I gave her my home telephone number and hung up.

  “What do we do with the papers?”

  “I’ll take them home with me. John should be coming over tonight. Oh, my God,” I said as I glanced at my watch again. “I’ve got to get home. Sam will be bringing the kids over in their costumes.”

  Chantal went into the kitchen and brought out a brown paper lunch bag and slipped in all the letters. “Are you sure you should take them? Maybe we should put them back where we found them.”

  “No. John will want to see them immediately. They’ll be fine. I’ll hide them as soon as I get home. You know, something just occurred to me.”

  “What’s that?” Chantal asked.

  “Why did Bradley hide them? This isn’t his home. If someone knew about them and wanted them, they would search his house.”

  “Exactly. That’s why he hid them here.”

  “Oh, Chantal. Does this mean he knew he might be killed?” I couldn’t bear to think that Bradley felt threatened. He hadn’t seemed threatened when I met him. On the contrary, he seemed very upbeat and happy.

  “Maybe he just knew how valuable they were and didn’t want them getting tossed out with the trash or something when Mrs. Platz came in to clean,” Chantal offered with a shrug.

  “I guess so,” I said without much conviction.

  Chantal turned off the computer and went to get our coats from Bradley’s bedroom while I tried to call Sam. I got no answer and figured she was probably on her way to my house. Hopefully she would wait. I could call her on her cell but with the way she drove, I hated talking to her while she was driving—especially with the kids in the car.

  “Here we go,” Chantal said, returning with our coats.

  I put the papers into my purse and Chantal turned off the study lamps when a sound startled us.

  “Stuart! You scared the daylights out of us.”

  “Sorry, Chantal. I didn’t mean to.” Stuart stood in the hallway, his crooked smile playing at his lips.

  “Your grandmother’s not here. Can I help you with something?”

  “She’s with me.” Stuart said just as Mrs. Brissart walked up the steps.

  “Mrs. Brissart, we’ve been trying to call you,” Chantal gushed as she walked toward the older woman. “Mr. Kaminski was attacked last night.”

  “Yes, I know. Stuart called me. I asked him to come and get me.” Didn’t she have her own car? I asked myself silently. As if Mrs. Brissart could read my mind she added, “I left my car for Virginia.” She pointedly looked at me and I held my purse tighter.

  Chantal started to open her mouth, no doubt with the intention of telling Mrs. Brissart everything we discovered. I didn’t want her to say anything so I gave her a sharp jab in her back.

  She gave me a weird look and before she could open her mouth again, I looked at Mrs. Brissart and Stuart and said, “I just dropped by to pick Chantal up. Car problems. Well, Chantal, if you’re done for the day, we best get going.”

  “But Alex...” Chantal began.

  I raised my eyebrows and gave her a stern look. “Don’t you h
ave to get ready for Halloween?”

  “Huh? Oh! Yes, I guess I better.”

  We said our good-byes and left the house.

  “What was that all about, Alex? You’re acting very weird.”

  “I think I know who killed Bradley. I’ve got to get hold of John but I promise I’ll tell you everything later.”

  I dropped off a very bewildered Chantal and then headed home hoping I hadn’t missed my niece and nephew.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “Oh, thank goodness you waited. I was afraid you would leave before I got here.” I got out of my car and walked up the front walk. Sam and two costumed children sat on my porch. “You look wonderful!” I said to Kendall and Henry. The Power Ranger costume Henry wore looked terrific on him and Kendall’s Pocahontas attire looked just like the real thing.

  “Well, come on in and let’s see what I have for you.”

  “So where have you been? I worry about you. Thought maybe you found another body,” Sam said.

  “In a way, I have.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “In a minute. Let me get the candy and take some pictures.” I had my camera ready, having charged it the night before. Kendall and Henry eagerly posed for several pictures before looking in the brightly decorated brown bags I had handed them. “One each is from me and John and the other two are from Grandma and Grandpa.”

  “Mom, they didn’t forget!” Kendall yelled, peering into her bag and pulling out a solid chocolate witch from the best chocolate store in town.

  “Of course Grandma wouldn’t forget. She was very sorry she couldn’t be here. Speaking of which,” Sam turned to me after she took a piece of chocolate from Henry’s bag, “have you heard from our two world travelers?”

  “Yeah, I did, but the connection was pretty bad. All I got was that they are having a great time and are a bit jet lagged.” I turned my attention to Kendall and Henry. “Now listen you two, Mrs. Connolly across the street wants you to come by and show her your costumes. I’ll bet she’s got something good for you, too. Do you remember which house is hers?”