I looked at it again. “And what was?”
He hesitated, still gripping it tightly. “You didn’t look inside it?”
I looked up into his huge blue eyes. “How could I? You came charging up before I had a chance to do anything with it.”
He was holding on to it like it was a lifeline and he couldn’t let go. And yet, something in him was urging him to share this information. I’d thought at first it would be foolhardy to imagine he hadn’t done something to whatever he’d found there. I knew he had some sort of crush or fixation or something on Sandy, so it stood to reason that he would want to protect her and if there was anything incriminating in any way, he might destroy it. Or give it to her. Or something.
But I was beginning to think he hadn’t done any of that. Which made me wonder if what he’d found was possibly completely benign. That would be disappointing.
“So what’s inside?” I said impatiently. “Come on. I think you owe me the truth here.”
“Maybe.” His hand tightened on the purse. “You’re trying to prove Carlo is innocent. Right?”
I nodded.
“And in order to do that, it would be helpful to you to be able to bring up evidence that might seem incriminating to someone else. Right?”
I nodded again. I thought he was starting to hand it to me, and I reached out, but he pulled it back quickly.
“Why were you up there searching for something buried anyway?” he asked me bluntly. “What made you go up there?”
I wanted to see what was in that purse and I didn’t have time to make up any phony stories at this point. I launched right into the truth.
“I saw Sandy climbing around in a way that looked suspicious. I decided to go up and see what she was doing up there.”
I sort of expected anger from him, but instead, he nodded calmly. “Yes, I saw her too. So when I saw you and Jill going up there, I had a feeling I knew what you were after. And I wanted to protect Sandy from…”
He hesitated and I looked at him. “From what?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want her to look guilty when I know she’s not. But I decided stealing this wallet the way I did would only make her look more guilty, at least in your eyes. So I decided to come to you and show you.”
“Okay,” I said, “Let’s see it.”
He opened it up, holding it a bit away as if afraid I might grab it and run. Inside there seemed to be a small stack of translucent cellophane envelopes, the sort that postage stamps sometimes come in. As I watched, he pulled out one of them and flipped it open. Inside was a powdered substance that looked a bit like tiny flower seeds.
“What is that?” I asked, trying to move closer, which only made him move back to keep his distance and his confidence.
“Dried leaves of the Judus plant.” He held up the envelope so that I could see the word “Judus” printed in the corner. “Have you heard of it?”
“No.” I looked up at him. “Tell me.”
He shrugged. “It’s a relative of Belladonna. In large enough doses, it induces pain and vomiting and death within minutes. No time to call for help.”
That took my breath away, even though I’d been expecting something of the kind. But nothing was simple and nothing was for sure. There were so many ramifications here.
“You knew that, or you looked it up?” I asked him.
“I looked it up.”
Oh boy. So many strings. “So now a record of you looking it up will be on your computer. Right?”
He stared at me. “Why would anyone be looking for things like that on my computer?”
“Why not? There’s been a murder. They’ll be looking at everything.”
He swore softly. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that himself. Did he think that because his father owned the restaurant, he himself was beyond suspicion?
Think again, kiddo.
“So what does this all mean?”
“Nothing, I think.”
“What was Sandy doing with little envelopes of poison?”
His face contorted with a spasm that looked like psychic pain. “She’s a sweet, crazy kid, you know? She believes in doing good works and good causes and standing up for what’s right.”
“Really? And what does she think is right that needs standing up for right now?”
He drew in a heavy breath and grimaced. “I don’t know. She’s been heavy into environmental activism lately. But she doesn’t mean any harm. I just think she’s one of those kids who can get caught up in things that have consequences they don’t expect. You know what I mean?”
I nodded slowly. “I think I do. I don’t know Sandy very well but from what I’ve seen of her, I think I can understand where you’re going with this.”
“She didn’t kill Marguerite. I had more reason to want that woman out of the way than she did. Believe me, she didn’t kill her.”
I had a feeling he was right. But then, who did?
“I still don’t get the connection here. Sandy is a rabid environmentalist. She’s trying to do good in the world. So she needs a deadly poison? What on earth for?”
He avoided my gaze. “I really don’t know,” he said, and I was pretty sure he was lying. “But all the envelopes are still full and most of them sealed, and there’s a receipt along with them. Ten envelopes.” He held it up. “And that’s what we have here. So you see….”
“This might not be her only stash,” I pointed out.
“But this is the only stash she was trying to hide from police investigation,” he pointed out.
“That we know of.”
“Okay.”
He was edging away and I could tell he was ready to go. I made one more attempt at getting something I could use.
“Jeremy, tell me this. Why did you need to take that coffee mug with lipstick on it to get DNA testing?”
“I…uh…”
He was speechless and I was pretty sure I knew why. Sandy had brought him coffee and doughnuts this morning. The perfect opportunity. That had to be her lipstick I saw on the mug he was preserving in his kitchen. Why did he want her DNA? What did he suspect her of?
“Was it Sandy’s?” I said.
His head jerked back. “How did you know that? Who told you?”
I shook my head. “Nobody. I just made the connections and went with it. Why?”
“Why what?
“Why do you want to get her DNA tested?”
“That’s none of your business,” he said softly, sensibly, and I had to concur.
“Okay then, who killed Marguerite? Take a stab at it. Who would you guess?”
He shrugged.
“No, really. Just make a wild guess. Doesn’t matter if you have no facts. Just blurt it out.”
He shook his head.
“Sandy?” I tried.
“Oh please.”
“Your father?”
“Not a chance.”
“Carlo?”
He shrugged again.
“Gwen?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ve known Gwen just about all my life,” he said. “She’s gotten pretty wacky lately, but she’s no killer.”
“How about Paolo? The sous chef who quit in anger?”
“No one knows where he is.”
“I’ll bet someone knows.”
“Well, I don’t.”
I looked at him wistfully.
“Jeremy, you’re so sure about everybody else. How about you?”
“Me?” He looked shocked, then laughed. “Now you’re getting a little desperate. How about Billy Joe Kramer?”
I blinked. “Did he even know Marguerite?”
“Oh yeah. The land Billy Joe’s vineyards grow on was once Rancho Valdez, Marguerite’s family property. She always talked about how the Kramers cheated them out of their land. No one ever paid much attention, but she could get pretty worked up about it if you bought her a drink or two.”
“Wow. Interesting.”
And it really was. Rancho V
aldez, huh? My mind went back to the large map of the area as it had been in the early 20th century that hung in the office at the restaurant. I’d assumed Nigel had put it up. I realized now it was probably Marguerite who owned it.
He took advantage of my surprise to send me a quick wave and sprint to his car. I watched him drive off just in time to see Roy drive up. It was like musical men around here.
Chapter 12
“Who was that?” Roy asked as he sauntered toward where I stood watching Jeremy leave.
“Oh, just some guy I know,” I said, playing brat again. I felt sort of like a brat around him today. We were definitely working at cross-purposes.
“Some guy you know named Jeremy Champaine?” Roy said dryly.
“Could be.” Still, I smiled. He tried to look stern, but he couldn’t keep it up and in a few seconds, he was smiling back.
“And what can I do for you?” I said.
“You want a list?”
“No thanks.”
“Just a little list. Number one is, be nice to me.”
That shocked me. “How am I not nice to you?”
“I don’t know.” He wasn’t smiling anymore. “There’s just something in the mood between us.” He made a face. “I miss you.”
I didn’t know what to say. He was right. We were on a path to something that didn’t feel comfortable, but did feel inevitable. I didn’t like it either.
“Hey,” I said, reaching out and taking his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight.”
“Me either.” Leaning forward, he kissed me softly and I kissed him back. It just lasted a few seconds, but it still didn’t feel like it used to. We both knew it.
He drew back. “Anyway, I came because I thought you’d like to know the latest. The lab has pinned down the poison that killed Marguerite.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s a plant called Judus. Dried, it’s made into a powder that can be used as a rat poison.”
“Well, what do you know?”
He looked up at me with that tough guy wince, as though he knew how this would be received. “Here’s something even more interesting. We found some in Carlo’s kitchen.”
Oh, I didn’t like to hear that. Still, it wasn’t all that surprising. “Stands to reason. He was probably killing rats.”
“No doubt.” He waited a long second or two, as if waiting for me to say something else. But I didn’t, so he went on. “But guess what else. We found that damn stuff in practically every house in that compound.” He threw out his arms in a careless shrug. “Were they all killing rats?”
That made me catch my breath. “Maybe.” Wow. This could be a break for us. “Hey, that means this could possibly have been accidental.”
“Oh, you think Carlo just accidentally used Judus powder instead of sugar in the tiramisu? Just reached out for something powdery and got the wrong thing into the bowl?” He scoffed. “I don’t think so, Mele. Stretches credulity a little far, don’t you think?”
He had a point, but I had a client. “Anything is possible,” I said blithely. “Is that it?”
He hesitated. “Not really. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Shoot,” I said gamely, even though I knew I wasn’t going to like this.
“I just got word that an investigator will be coming down later in the week to look into my background. He might be asking questions of all those close to me.” He gave me his crooked grin. “And that just happens to include you.”
“Is this for that job in the big city?”
He hesitated. “Maybe.”
“Okay. I’ll only say the nicest things about you,” I said, though my heart was feeling a little heavy.
“Great, I’d appreciate that. Only if it’s the truth of course.” He hesitated again. “But listen, Mele. Don’t tell him anything about your friendly ghosts or your Aunty Jane. Okay?”
“Oh.” That startled me. “Of course not. Why would I bring that up? We wouldn’t want him thinking you’re dating a complete nut case. Don’t worry. I’ll be very circumspect.”
What the heck! When had I ever embarrassed him before?
“I knew you would, but I just thought I’d say something about it. Hey, thanks.”
He looked vastly relieved. What did he think, that I was going to get all gung-ho about it? I was getting a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. He had so little faith in me—and he seemed to know so little about the real me. Why had I let my affection for him grow over time when all signs pointed to danger? Funny world, huh?
We were right back at odds again and he left without giving it another try to fix that. I shook thoughts of that away. I had other things demanding my attention.
It was after ten when Bebe finally got home from her growers’ meeting. I’d spent the last half hour trying to focus on this murder I was caught up in, going over clues, motives, likely suspects. In other words, the same old thing I’d been doing all day. So I was glad to see her headlights arrive behind the house.
“I brought you chocolate covered macadamia nuts,” she said happily, waving the bag at me. “Someone brought a huge bowl of them for the refreshment tray, so I grabbed a bunch. I put them in a little bag and shoved them into my purse and walked out, looking casual.”
“You’re such a great dead-pan scrounger,” I told her, taking the bag and catching a hint of that lovely chocolate smell. “You could walk out with the collection plate at a church service and no one would think to challenge you. You were born with innocence written all over that face.”
“My one talent,” she said smugly.
We both were enjoying the macadamias by now, and sighing with satisfaction.
“But wait,” she said, eyes widening as she remembered something. “I have news!”
“What kind of news?” I said, reaching for another candy with my greedy little fingers.
“Murder suspect news.”
I dropped the candy and stared at her. “No kidding? Give.”
She decided to tease me a little. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you’d rather hear it in the morning when your thought processes are sharper and.…”
My cry of distress seemed to startle her. “Okay, okay,” she said, laughing. “Take it easy. It’s probably not that big a deal anyway.”
“I don’t care how small it is,” I said through gritted teeth. “Tell me!”
“Okay.”
She sank into a chair at the kitchen table and I did the same.
“Billy Joe Kramer was at the meeting and he and I had a little talk.”
“Oh?” I didn’t think he was a suspect, but he had been kissing Sandy last night, hadn’t he? And pretty enthusiastically, too.
“Billy Joe and I get along really well. We have kind of an easy, friendly relationship.”
I glared at my adorable aunt. “Bebe, get to the point.”
“So I was ribbing him a bit about his feelings for Sandy.”
“He digs her. Right?”
She nodded. “Yes, I think so.”
She’d know so if she’d seen that kiss last night.
“So I teased him about that, then I told him he’d better watch out because Jeremy seemed to have an interest in her, too.”
“Uh huh.”
We both nodded at each other wisely.
“Okay, here’s the surprise. He laughed and said that didn’t bother him. Because—guess what? Sandy is Jeremy’s sister. They are sister and brother. And that’s all.”
To my surprise, that didn’t really shock me. There had been hints enough of how things might play out. Still, it didn’t quite ring true.
“It seems to be true. Different mothers, but both are children of Nigel. How do you like that?”
I was thinking, but my mind seemed to be caught in quicksand. “I’m not sure I believe it.”
She shrugged. “He told me that Sandy was quite adamant about it, but that Nigel won’t accept her. She’s working on convincing him that he needs to acknowledge her
as his own but it’s slow going.”
I shook my head. There was something out of line here. Something just didn’t seem right.
“So Nigel says it isn’t true?”
“Seems like. Or at least he won’t admit it. And Billy Joe said he was telling me all this in the strictest confidence. No one is supposed to know.”
“But Jeremy knows?”
She nodded. “Just Jeremy and Sandy and Nigel. At least, that was the impression he gave me.”
“Wow.” I told her about Jeremy’s lipstick-stained coffee mug. “So what do you think he wants a DNA test done for? Here I was thinking he suspected her of something to do with the murder, but if all this is true…”
Bebe shrugged. “Hard to know.”
I looked at her, searching her dark eyes for ideas. “I’m just getting more confused,” I said.
“So what do you think?” she asked me.
I swayed in my chair, just a bit overwhelmed. “I think,” I said at last, “that I need to find out more about Nigel. Maybe go down to his house and take a look around. Want to drive down to Malibu with me tomorrow?”
She smiled and winked at me. “Love to.”
It was a gorgeous day for a drive down the coast and we made the most of it, checking out Nigel’s restaurant, The Saucy Crab Shack in Santa Barbara, taking our mocha coffees out on the beach, listening to the waves and watching the pelicans fly by like squadrons just back from World War II.
Still, I was finding it hard to relax. I’d spent a sleepless night tossing and turning. I would fall asleep, then dream Dante was there and jerk myself awake, only to find nothing. I’d finally fall asleep again, but then I thought I heard Sami crying at the door. Even Aunty Jane puttered around in the background of my dreams, mostly shaking her finger at me and frowning. All the people I cared for who seemed to be missing for one reason or another. This was no way to live.
In the morning, Jill had called to let me know Carlo was due to be indicted this afternoon around three. That got my day off to a lousy start, and then Roy called to let me know someone from Carlo’s past had shown up to give some kind of ridiculous evidence that he’d tried to poison an old girl friend years before. That set up a conflict: should I stay and follow up on that, trying to find ways to discredit this new witness, or should I go ahead with my plan to find out more about Nigel Champaine?
Murder and the Secret Spring Page 10
