Pushing Up Rhubarb (A Millsferry Mystery Book 1)

by Diana Saco

  “I don’t think she did know it would kill her,” I said. “Look at Scarlet Peebles’ autopsy report. She couldn’t rule it a homicide because the dosage was low enough that it shouldn’t have killed Monica. Except that she only had the one kidney. She probably just expected to get sick from it.”

  “What about the poison?” Mason asked. “Are you now saying you think it’s Monica in this video from the farmers’ market?”

  “Yes, I am,” I said.

  “This puts us in the ironic position of now needing proof that it wasn’t Maxi at the farmers’ market on the twelfth,” he observed. “And can we show Monica was there?”

  “Al, would you pull up the cellphone tower records for Monica?” I asked. “We only reviewed the July 20 data. Let’s see where Monica was on July 12.”

  As Al brought up the report on the big screen, I checked my own laptop for results on the toll-pass search I’d been running.

  “I got a hit on Maxi’s transponder,” I announced. “Maxi’s car was tagged taking exit 8 to Amherst at 10:33 a.m. on July 12. Doesn’t exactly prove it was her, but it supports what her assistant told us.”

  “What about Monica’s whereabouts on the twelfth?” Mason asked.

  “Here are the cell tower records for July 12,” Al said. “I plotted the times and towers on the map on the right there. She was definitely at the farmers’ market in the mornin’, from 11:02 a.m. to 11:34 a.m.”

  “Well, that’s too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence,” Mason said.

  “Ya think?” I said, using one of Al’s catch phrases.

  Mason smiled. “Okay, what about Monica’s motive? Why would she go through all this?”

  “To discredit me,” Chloe said with finality. “To make it look as though I didn’t know what I was doing. She practically said as much.”

  “When?” Mason asked.

  “On the morning of the bake-off. She insinuated that I hadn’t washed the rhubarb.”

  “Did anyone hear her?” Mason continued.

  “One of the coordinators. It was when we were arguing about the booth assignments.”

  “A crack about your cooking skills is a long way from proving that she poisoned the rhubarb. Fortunately, we don’t have to prove anything. We just have to give the jury a chunk of reasonable doubt to chew on.”

  I chuckled at Mason’s food metaphor.

  He winked and took it a little further. “But they’re going to choke and cough it back up unless we make it easier to swallow. Could she have gotten to your rhubarb without your noticing?”

  “Probably,” Chloe replied. “As I mentioned in my interview with Bruno, I bought the rhubarb Thursday morning before the contest and was called away to an appointment in the afternoon. She could have gotten into the house then.”

  “And didn’t you say that the client never showed up?” I asked.

  “Yes, that’s right. Do you think she could have arranged that meeting to get me out of the house?” Chloe asked.

  “We’re gonna have to check that out,” Al suggested. “Find some evidence there. Somethin’ showin’ that Monica knew about rhubarb leaves being dangerous, at least.”

  I immediately thought about the cooking diaries I’d been skimming during my illegal entry into the Munch residence. I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything about them and mentally kicked myself for possibly tainting the one piece of evidence that could at least suggest Monica did it. I couldn’t even mention overhearing Maxi saying that Monica had asked her about organic pesticides, which might have led to a discussion about boiling rhubarb leaves.

  “Maybe that couillon husband of hers can tell us somethin’,” Al continued.

  I decided to see if I could steer the conversation in the direction of the journals. “The sheriff’s office may still have some of Monica’s belongings in evidence,” I began. “The last time I spoke with Bruno, he mentioned that Marvin Munch hadn’t picked up her things yet.”

  “What could you possibly hope to find? A confession?” Chloe asked dubiously.

  “Not quite that,” I said. “But don’t forget that according to our new theory, Monica wasn’t expecting to die. So she might well have had something in her possession that hints at what she was planning. Research. Records. A diary maybe,” I said suggestively, hoping that would nudge Al into remembering the cooking journals at the Munch house.

  “Ya know, Monica had this aunt that left her some journals. Ya think maybe we should have a look at them?”

  I beamed proudly at Al. And then Mason rained on the little parade marching in my head.

  “I already subpoenaed Monica’s journals. Marvin said she didn’t keep any. See what you can find from the evidence we have so far. Let’s also recheck the police inventory for the things Monica had with her and see if anything jumps out at us now that we have this new perspective on the events.”

  “Are you worried that we missed somethin’, ya think?” Al asked.

  “Not worried. Just want to make sure we get all our ducks in a roaster,” Mason said, putting his usual culinary brand on an old expression. “Let’s be clear about our burden here,” he continued. “We’ll be asking the jury to consider the possibility that Monica poisoned the rhubarb and then accidentally killed herself by eating it. That makes her devious. But she’s also still a very real victim in this case. Is it believable she’d be that conniving and underhanded just to win a baking contest?”

  “I believe it,” Chloe chimed in. “I think you believe it, too, Mason. You remember what she was like. She lived for those contests. For the next blue ribbon. She was worse than a drug addict!”

  Mason put his hands up to slow Chloe down.

  “Loyal is going to have the family on the stand,” he said. “They will describe Monica as a selfless sister who gave up a kidney, and a wonderful, loving homemaker who lived for baking tasty treats for little boys and girls. If we try to tarnish an image like that, we’re the ones who are going to end up looking dirty.”

  “Then why don’t we let her do that?” I suggested. “Just show her video recordings? You know—the ones showing her winning one baking contest after another. All anyone has to do is watch one of those look-at-wonderful-me videos to know she did all that baking for the ribbons, not the kiddies.”

  Mason smiled. “I know the ones you mean. Yes, that would help begin to lay the foundation for our case.”

  “And we don’t have to get our own hands dirty in the process,” I added. “After all, no one likes to speak ill of the dead.”

  “Frankly, I don’t have a problem with that,” Chloe countered. “That woman’s shenanigans could land me in prison for life. And what about poor Randall? She could have killed him! I’d kill her myself now if she hadn’t already spared me the trouble!”

  “You have a right to your indignation, Chloe,” Mason said. “For your sake and for Mr. Kirkland’s. But indulge it only in our company. You mustn’t talk like that in public or in the courtroom. Understood?”

  “Of course, Mason. But after my acquittal, I reserve the right to bake an evil-zombie-troll-Monica cake with bright yellow marzipan eyes and wild, red and black hair.”

  “That would be in poor taste,” Mason said.

  “Yes, you’re right,” she said thoughtfully. “Butter-cream eyes would be much more delicious.”

  2. Potayto, Potahto

  The subject was rhubarb. In her 1925 cooking diary, Enid Westmore Moffit included a small section on that subject so her progeny could benefit from her knowledge of how to grow it, cook it, and eat it. On that last point, she added a short history of this odd vegetable that was meant to serve as a warning. She explained that a shortage of other greens during World War I led to the use of rhubarb leaves as a source of nutrition for American soldiers. The leaves were discovered to be poisonous when, in Enid’s own words, “several unfortunate doughboys succumbed.” She drew three small headstones to illustrate her point.

  This was the section of the diary that had been
dog-eared, which is why it caught my attention the night I broke into the Munch house. After Maxi found me lurking in the back yard, however, I completely forgot about it until after the team meeting on the following Monday. It was then that I remembered the photos I’d taken of those diary pages. I pored over the images later that evening, and what I found confirmed our latest theory.

  Unfortunately, we weren’t any closer to finding irrefutable evidence that Monica Munch was responsible for poisoning Chloe’s rhubarb. Bruno confirmed that he still had Monica’s handbag and other possessions in storage, but nothing in the inventory hinted at a possible smoking gun—no rhubarb leaves, private notes, little flask with a skull and crossbones. And I still couldn’t find any official way to get our hands on the cooking diaries without risking that they would get tossed as inadmissible evidence.

  Unofficially, I learned that all the information Monica needed about the dangers of rhubarb leaves was documented right there in those journal pages. I dismissed the notion that Enid’s daughter Charity-Grace had folded the corner on the first page of the rhubarb entry. The words “oxalic acid” were written in the margins, and I was able to identify the handwriting as Monica’s. This proved not only that she had read about the dangers of rhubarb leaves, but also that she had done additional research to discover the underlying toxin. I wondered whether she would have come up with the idea to contaminate Chloe’s rhubarb on her own. Or did Enid’s little headstones bury that idea in Monica’s head?

  All of these thoughts were running through my head as Loyal began delivering his opening statement.

  “Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Loyal Bingham, and I’m the prosecutor in this matter. I want to start off on the right foot with you fine folks, so I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Like you, I don’t want to be here today.”

  The jury and several people in the court chuckled. Loyal was already winning them over.

  “I don’t like getting up early. Or having to put on business suits. Or trying to find parking downtown.”

  I knew at least two of those statements were lies. Loyal was a morning person. And except for when he was golfing, he always wore a tie and jacket.

  “But those are not the main reasons I’m unhappy to be here. The main reason is because I have to tell you something terrible. My job today is to lay before you a series of ugly facts so that justice can be served. Justice for Mr. Randall Kirkland, who thankfully is still with us, and for Ms. Monica Munch, who unfortunately is not. Part of what makes this such a horrible incident is that it took place during a yearly event that we have all come to enjoy. An event we felt safe at, where we could indulge our sweet tooth and expect, at worst, a tummy ache from eating too many cupcakes and cookies. The event in question is the Millsferry Annual Bake-Off, founded and hosted by Mr. Mason Tidwell, III, who just happens to be counsel for the defense.”

  I wanted to call “foul,” especially when I heard a few rumbles in the courtroom. By connecting Mason to the scene of the crime, Loyal cleverly made him look guilty by association. That was going to make it harder for Mason to gain the jury’s trust.

  “The prosecution will show that, earlier this year on the morning of July 20, at the Millsferry Annual Bake-Off, the defendant, Chloe Owens, poisoned a tray of her rhubarb dessert expecting that her nemesis, Monica Munch, would come by early and sneak a taste, as was her well-known habit. It was a devious plan, one that comes from years of rivalry. It all began innocently enough, as a little healthy competition between the defendant and Ms. Munch, a competition that became less friendly as both of them entered the same baking contests year in and year out. It was also an elaborate trap that depended on the defendant knowing her enemy’s routines and patterns. And it was a desperate act. Perhaps the defendant was tired of having Monica lord it over her, flaunting her ribbons and awards. Because Monica Munch, unfortunately for her, was not a graceful winner.

  “The tension between them was evident on the morning in question. Monica arrived at the Loop early to set up her booth and wound up taking the tent that had originally been assigned to the defendant. You will hear testimony that a heated exchange ensued between Monica and the defendant when the defendant arrived and saw that her booth was taken. It was witnessed by a contest coordinator who was eventually able to convince the defendant to use another booth. When the defendant got to her new tent, she immediately put out a tray of rhubarb tarts, even before she had set up the rest of her desserts and paraphernalia.

  “The prosecution will show that these rhubarb tarts are what poisoned and killed Monica Munch. The defendant left this tray out and then went back to her car to get the rest of her desserts and supplies. She was gone over twenty minutes. This timing is significant. The defendant had already been to Monica Munch’s booth and knew that Monica was almost done with her preparations. It was common knowledge that shortly after setting up and before the judges started making their rounds, Monica Munch would make the rounds herself to sample her competitors’ contest entries. This is what she did that fateful morning. The evidence will show that she ate one of the poisoned rhubarb tarts that the defendant had prepared and left out unattended. The prosecution will further show that when the defendant returned to her tent, she took that first tray of tarts and threw them all into the trash.”

  A wave of murmurs washed across the courtroom. Loyal’s narrative was believable. The facts to support his claims were there. Chloe did throw out that first set of rhubarb galettes, but it was because she thought someone had tampered with them.

  “You will hear testimony that the dosage of oxalic acid in the rhubarb tarts wasn’t enough to kill a normal person. But Monica Munch was not a normal person. She was an exceptional woman who had only one kidney. She was not born that way, nor did she lose the second kidney to accident or disease. She had only one kidney because she lovingly donated her other kidney to save her twin sister’s life when they were still teenagers. This sacrifice proved costly for Monica Munch. The evidence will show that her single kidney wasn’t able to protect her from the onslaught of toxins she unwittingly ingested into her system.”

  I glanced at Maxi and noticed the devastated look on her face. She was realizing only then that Monica’s gift to her had come at a very dear price.

  “Within minutes of eating the poisoned rhubarb tart,” Loyal continued, “Monica Munch was dead.” He paused for effect.

  The courtroom was as quiet as a tomb. Even I was holding my breath to hear what came next. I was such a sucker for a good story. Despite the different set of explanations I knew to be true, I was finding Loyal’s version plausible. And worse—persuasive.

  “The low dosage of oxalic acid in the rhubarb tart suggests that the defendant didn’t intend to kill her nemesis. Only to cause her excruciating pain and discomfort. That is why, in the poisoning of Monica Munch, the charge against the defendant, Chloe Owens, is involuntary manslaughter. However, there was a second victim. That person is Randall Kirkland.

  “Mr. Kirkland’s own testimony will reveal that a week before the bake-off, he gave the defendant a container of oxalic acid thinking it was for an art project. This testimony was almost lost to us, as was poor Mr. Kirkland. Because the day after Monica Munch was killed—that very Sunday morning while her grieving husband was at church praying for his dearly departed wife—the defendant came by Mr. Kirkland’s house to give him a jar of homemade peach-rhubarb jam. What Mr. Kirkland didn’t know is that one of the ingredients in the jam was the very same toxic substance he had given the defendant the week before. When he ate the jam a few days later, he collapsed and slipped into a coma that lasted for thirteen days.

  “The evidence will show that the dosage of oxalic acid was higher in the jam that the defendant gave to Mr. Kirkland. Only luck and a strong constitution helped Randall Kirkland survive. This second poisoning was premeditated. And it was meant to kill. For these reasons, the second charge against the defendant is for the attempted first-degree murder of Randall Kirkl
and.”

  This time the murmurs were a virtual tidal wave, causing Judge Ota to bang his gavel and yell “Order in the court.”

  “Now, if you’re like me, you’re reluctant to believe anything like this could happen in Millsferry. You’ll look at the defendant and doubt that she could be capable of such crimes. Outwardly, she’s a beautiful woman with a disarming smile, who evidently enjoys baking delicious treats, too, just like Monica Munch did. But the similarities to the first victim end there. You will learn that the defendant has an odd sense of humor, which could explain why she’s a loner with few friends. She’s an unconventional children’s book illustrator—an artist with a penchant for drawing pictures depicting violent scenes to frighten little boys and girls.” Loyal paused, letting that last point sink in.

  “Now, I don’t hold that against her. We all have to earn a living. And you know what they say about lawyers,” he added jokingly, coaxing a few light laughs from his audience.

  “But no matter how much you may want to deny that the defendant committed these horrible acts in our own community, you can’t deny the facts. It is a fact that the defendant and Monica Munch were arch-rivals who competed in the same baking contests, in which Monica excelled over the defendant. It is a fact that the defendant obtained oxalic acid from Randall Kirkland and that her rhubarb was poisoned with a high concentration of that same toxin. It is a fact that Monica Munch—following a well-known pattern of tasting her competitors’ entries before every contest—died as a result of eating one of the defendant’s poisoned tarts. It is a fact that the defendant gave Randall Kirkland a jar of poisoned jam, which very nearly killed him.

  “We will show beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant, Chloe Owens, had the motive, means, and opportunity to commit the acts that led to the death of Monica Munch. We will also show beyond a reasonable doubt that, after killing Ms. Munch, the defendant attempted to murder Randall Kirkland, the only person who knew where she had gotten the poison that killed Monica Munch. This is what the facts will show.