"What are you hiding?"
She made a little hiccupy sound. "Nothing! I just don't want James to get in trouble. He was furious when he talked to Philip, but he wouldn't actually hurt him. He's not that kind of guy."
"When did it start?" I asked. "Between you and Philip?"
She sighed. Sniffled. Reached into her desk drawer and took out a tissue and blew into it. "James and I were having problems before I even started working here. Then I met Philip, and it was, like, zing! I can't describe it. He was sexy and kind and so confident, like he believed he could do anything. It was irresistible."
Ew.
"I would have left James for him. I told him that. But he said he wouldn't be responsible for breaking up my marriage. I don't know how James found out-maybe because I talked about Philip sometimes at home. But James is always thinking that other men are interested in me-kind of the jealous type, you know what I mean?"
Speechless, I nodded. Swallowed. "Are you leaving James now?" I finally managed to ask.
She looked horrified. "Of course not. I'd be alone then. I don't want to be alone."
"Ah," I said as noncommittally as I could manage. I felt slightly nauseated. "What if James was the one who poisoned Philip?"
"That's ridiculous. Huh uh. It was an accident. Ruth is wrong. They were her beets, and no one did anything to Philip. It was just a horrible, awful accident. I mean, come on, who would use botulism to kill someone?" Her voice had gained strength the longer she protested. "Besides, James is a straightforward kind of guy, not some weird sneak poisoner."
"Did you love Philip? Don't you want to know what really happened?"
"I know what happened," she insisted.
"He was going to get a restraining order. And no matter how many times you say otherwise, Ruth didn't can the beets that killed him. Someone orchestrated his death, and he knew who it was." I paused, searching her face. "And I think you know who it was, too."
Her head swung back and forth. "No. No, it couldn't be my husband. James was out gathering field data in New Mexico for two weeks, and he only got home the afternoon of the preserves exchange. Even if you were right about someone murdering Philip, and you're not, he couldn't have had anything to do with it."
She stood, grabbed her bag out from under the desk, and began backing toward the door.
I held out my hand. "Maryjake, wait."
"I've heard enough of this." She turned and fled.
It would be easy enough to find out if James was indeed out of town until right before Philip died, but he was still at the top of my list. After all, he could have given Philip those beets before he left.
Right? I sat and toyed with a pen and tried to think of a way to trap him, ignoring the little voice in the back of my head that said James was probably innocent.
Jude came out of the newly furnished game room with a screwdriver in his hands. He looked at me, then down at the tool as if it were a strange insect. He wasn't exactly the rough and ready type.
"Where's Maryjake?" he asked.
"She had to go."
"Gosh darn it! Now I don't have anyone to cover the phones. Can you...?"
"Nope. Sorry." I had way too much work to do at home, and besides, I wanted to get back and see how Barr had recovered from his dizzy spell earlier. Never mind figuring out how to check James' alibi.
"What about Meghan?"
"She's got clients all day," I said.
He threw the screwdriver in a corner, leaving a gouge in the wall. He came over to the phone and started punching in numbers, presumably forwarding the Heaven House calls to his cell phone. "I guess I have to do everything myself in this place."
"I'm sorry I can't help you out right now," I said.
"What did you say to Maryjake that made her leave?"
"Nothing," I lied. "She said she had some things to do, is all." Like go warn her husband that he was a murder suspect.
He took a deep breath and seemed to get himself under control. "I'm sure she'll be back soon. She's very responsible."
"Uh huh," I agreed, gathering my coat up.
"Say, is that offer of your pickup still good?"
"Sure"
"How about tomorrow morning?"
I did some mental juggling. "How long do you think it'll take?"
"Couple hours"
"Just the two of us?"
He shuffled his feet. "I'll get some other people to help. Kelly should be free. And maybe Bette"
"What about the Chase brothers?" I asked.
"I'd have to pay them," he said. "I was hoping to get over here on the cheap. Besides, I don't have much stuff, I really don't."
"Okay then. Get some folks together, and we'll get you resettled tomorrow in the a.m. Say, ten o'clock?"
"Thanks, Sophie Mae"
"Sure. See you later." I raised my hand in farewell.
On the way home I wondered why he hadn't said anything about calling Ruth to come answer the phones. If he knew she was in the hospital he would have told me, wouldn't he? Then again, he hadn't told us Philip was dead that night at the preserves exchange. Didn't want to upset morale, he'd said. And he knew about my stalker, so maybe he hadn't wanted to scare me. Probably best not to put too much stock in his omission.
But still.
TWENTY-FOUR
BARR HAD TAKEN A quick nap but was awake again when I got home. I filled him in on my encounter with Maryjake. Now that it was done and over, he didn't seem quite so upset with me for wanting to talk with her in the first place. Funny how that worked out.
While I was gone, Kelly had dropped by with the letter James had written Philip. Thinking back, he must have been in Philip's office shortly before I let myself into HH with Meghan's key that night. He was the one who'd left the light on. Scared the flip out of me, finding that light on. Probably left the door to Philip's apartment unlocked, too. Didn't say much for Kelly's attention to detail, but he still seemed like a good-enough guy.
I bent over the page and puzzled over James' awkward scrawl. Luckily, it was more of a note than a letter, so there wasn't much to decipher.
Philip,
You don't love Maryjake, and you'll hurt her if you keep this up. She deserves better than a fly by night playboy who waves a bunch of cash around and then moves on to new meat.
Stay away from my wife.
The missive wasn't signed, but there was no question who'd written it. It wasn't half as angry as either Ann or Mandy's emails had been. Instead it struck me as almost poignant.
"I expected something more..."
"Fire and brimstone?" Barr asked.
"Exactly. This hardly seems like a threat at all."
"Hard to tell," he said, all noncommittal.
"Not that that proves James innocent."
"No." Barr was still thinking about it, and until he was done, I wouldn't get much more of an opinion than that.
Returning the note, I told him I had some work to do. He settled in on the sofa to do a little telephonic maneuvering of his own. Having something to do seemed to give him more energy, and I left him happily punching numbers into the cordless handset.
Downstairs, I started on the air fresheners. When I originally experimented with the formulation for them, I used half-pint canning jars because the rubber-rimmed lids sealed the scent in so nicely and kept them from drying. Since beginning to market them, however, I'd discovered a supply of pretty blue jars with chrome lids that worked just as well and looked nicer on a table or shelf.
The fresheners were basically essential oils suspended in a simple gel created with plain old gelatin. As they dried, they released the scent into the air, exactly like commercial gel air fresheners do, except mine contained aromatherapy blends: a bright wake-up scent with peppermint, tea tree oil, and eucalyptus for the officealso great for beside the bed if you had a cold. For the bedroom, ei
ther clove and cinnamon if the customer was looking for something sensual, or lavender, chamomile, and orange if they were looking for a good night's sleep. Those three were my biggest sellers, but I also had a balsam fir scent nice for the living room as well as a blend with clary sage, lavender, and rose geranium.
I started water boiling and set up the jars to fill with the gel mixture. Then I began melting gelatin and adding scents and finally poured the fresheners, blend by blend. Then I started on a new batch. The intense bouquet of all those volatile essential oils filled my nose and brain. A sense of calm and focus settled over me as I mixed and poured, a cherished side benefit of my work.
As I finished the last of the order, a knock sounded on the door leading to the back yard. Luke stood with his hand up to the window glass, shading his eyes as he tried to peer inside. As usual, Seth stood behind and to one side of his brother.
I walked over and opened the door, smiling broadly. "Hello, boys. Would you like some money?"
Luke stepped eagerly inside. "Meghan called. Said you had a check."
"It's upstairs. We could've sent it, or dropped it by your house if you didn't want to wait."
"We're out and about. No trouble coming by to pick it up."
"All right. I'll just run and get it." I went up and grabbed the check off the corner of the kitchen counter and returned downstairs.
Seth had finally crossed the threshold and stood looking around wide-eyed. When I handed his brother the check, I heard him inhale deeply.
"Kind of strong in here, isn't it?" I asked, watching him.
"It's nice. Really nice."
Luke rolled his eyes. "C'mon. Let's get going."
Seth looked away, embarrassed.
"I think it's nice, too," I said. "You want one of these air fresheners?"
Luke gave a little laugh, not unfriendly at all, but certainly conveying the opinion that real men don't need no stinkin' air fresheners.
"Wait," I said. "Give me a chance."
I walked over to the table and grabbed one of the balsam firscented jars off the table. It had been one of the first I'd poured, and now it was gelling up nicely. I waved it under Seth's nose.
His eyes brightened, and his mouth turned up. "Smells like a pine tree. Only, you know, better. Luke, take a whiff."
I was pleased as punch to hear him say that. For one thing, he seemed so darn shy that getting him to say anything at all was a kind of victory, and for another, if I could get men interested in more of my products, I'd have a whole new marketing demographic.
Luke took a token sniff. "Nice. You ready?"
Seth held out the jar to me.
I shook my head. "Take it. You can always stick it behind the seat of your truck or something. At least it's better than those little cardboard thingies people hang from their rearview mirrors.
Seth gave Luke a look. "Yeah, lots nicer than those." He directed another small smile my way. "Thanks."
"No problem. Thanks for all the work on the chicken coop, you two. It looks great, and you did a fantastic job. Any reference you need, just have them call us; Meghan and I will be happy to vouch for you"
That put a big grin on Luke's face. "Glad to hear it. And don't think we won't take you up on the reference, either."
They were nice kids, I thought, as they closed the back door and headed off down the alley, Seth once again a few steps behind his older brother. He held the little blue pot of air freshener in front of him like a vase. I was sure they both missed their mother, but I couldn't help but wonder whether Seth missed her more.
I went to check out the chicken house, imagining how the hens would like it. Meghan and I had discussed it ad nauseam, and finally decided on a black-and-white barred Plymouth rock, a classic Rhode Island red, and two Araucana, or Easter egg chickens. The first two laid brown eggs, and the second two would lay light green or blue eggs.
I was half tempted to go buy the chicks that afternoon. The first eight to twelve weeks we'd keep them in the mudroom, so they'd be plenty warm. At the very least, I could set up the nursery for them.
The mudroom is where Barr found me, hanging a heat lamp from the bare beam above so it would shine directly down on the pen in the middle of the floor. The pen was a thirty-six-inch square box, cut down to eighteen inches tall, and overlaid with a wire lid created from the side of Brodie's old dog crate. The lid was removable for easy cleaning, would keep the girls in when they started thinking about running, jumping, and flying, and would support old towels as a roof to keep the temperature in the nineties while the chicks were still tiny. Three inches of fine pine shavings lined the floor, and the waterer and feeder sat up on bricks so they wouldn't get gunky.
He came and stood in the doorway, taking in my cobbledtogether chick nursery. "That'll work pretty well"
"You think so?" I could hear the worry in my voice as I surveyed my work. "Neither Meghan nor I have done this before, and I'd hate to kill the little things just because we do-or don't dosomething out of ignorance."
"We had chickens the whole time I was growing up. You'll be fine. They're not that tough to take care of."
Barr had grown up on a ranch in Wyoming, once a working cattle outfit, but for years now a dude ranch of the first order. Guests came to ride horses and work cattle, go fly fishing, hang out on the river, hike, camp, or cross-country ski in the winter.
"I'm grateful for any suggestions. Don't hold back because you don't want to hurt my feelings," I said.
He smiled. "Oh, don't worry, I'll speak up. If you're done with this little project here, though, why don't you come into the kitchen, have a cup of something, and I'll tell you what I've learned about James and Kelly so far."
I obeyed with alacrity.
Settled in at the table with a cup of Bewley's Irish tea for me and a cup of Earl Grey for him, he brought me up to speed.
"Kelly O'Connell is indeed who he says he is. Has a private investigator's license in New Jersey, and is well enough thought of by the authorities there."
A wave of relief washed over me. Meghan's bad luck with men might be turning after all. I hoped so. I really hoped so. I was even starting to like Kelly myself, after his frank admission the other night, and his obvious devotion to Meghan, even after such a short time.
"And James Dreggle? Did Owens find out anything about him?"
"Not Owens."
"You did ask him, didn't you? Or is the favor bank getting low? Can you ask Officer Dawson?"
"I could, but didn't. Just because I'm not on active duty at the moment doesn't mean I'm not still a cop, you know."
Being in the hospital and now housebound was making him cranky. I couldn't blame him. I'd be the same way.
"Of course," I said. "So you called his work?"
"I did. And his supervisor confirmed James Dreggle was out of the state for a couple weeks, in New Mexico doing some count or other-the supervisor kept calling it "ground truthing," but I finally gleaned it had something to do with finding out how many of a certain species of bird there were in a given area."
"Sounds tedious."
"He was with a team of two other people the whole time. They didn't return until the afternoon of the preserves exchange."
"Great" I took a noisy sip of tea. "He could have given the beets to Philip before he left, right? Then he'd have an alibi if there was any suspicion, and Philip would be out of commission and unable to cuckold him while he was on his business trip. Maybe he didn't even intend to kill him."
He looked doubtful. "It's possible."
I slumped in my chair. "But not very probable. He'd be leaving an awful lot to chance."
He nodded, thoughtful. "Yeah. Could have been a hopeful shot in the dark, I suppose."
I said, "Maryjake made a good point today. James is a pretty straightforward guy. Botulism poisoning is, well, anything but."
"And yet," Barr s
aid, "he's a scientist, and he'd know about botulism. And it's also possible that if Maryjake knew he did something to Philip in a, as you say, straightforward manner, it could so alienate her that he'd never be able to save his marriage."
"Yeah. Maybe. But how do you give a guy something to eat when he knows you hate him?"
"You make him think it's from your wife."
I pointed a finger at him. "Right. Well, maybe it happened that way. But if it did, unless we can actually trace the beets to him, there's no way we could prove it."
Barr sipped his tea and looked his rueful agreement at me.
"Hungry?" I asked.
"Oddly enough, I am a little."
"Why oddly?"
"Uh, did you see the huge plate of food you set in front of me this morning? And I ate every darn bite of it, too, after you abandoned me."
I was pleased to hear his appetite was returning. "That was hours ago. How about a sandwich?"
"Sounds good."
"Egg salad? Tuna?"
"Do you have any peanut butter?"
Did we ever. I bought the stuff in the industrial-sized container. I got up and sliced off a couple pieces of bread from the loaf on the counter. Almost time to make more, I noted, as we'd plowed through both loaves Meghan had made last Tuesday. Erin's lunches used up a lot of it. I reached for the raspberry freezer jam, then saw the apricot jelly from the preserves exchange that Meghan had been eating on her health muffin.
I turned to Barr, a jar in each hand. "Would you rather..." But I trailed off, looking at the lovely amber of the apricot.
"What?" he asked.
"Did you see all those jellies Jude brought to the preserves exchange? All backlit with the little white Christmas lights? There must have been five different kinds."
"I guess."
"No, really, do you remember?" I needed him to recall that scene the same way I did.
"I wasn't feeling so hot, if you'll recall." He squinched his forehead in concentration. "But, yeah, I think so. He had them set up next to Maryjake's stuff."
"Does Jude strike you as someone who'd make jelly?"
"Not so much. But I could see him in a kitchen more easily than, say, driving a backhoe."
Heaven Preserve Us: A Home Crafting Mystery (A Home Crafting Mystery) Page 17
