Hemlock for the Holidays

by Paula Darnell

  The beagle wiggled impatiently. He wanted to get down, but the neighbor man held onto him. Despite his firm grip, the dog managed to lurch toward the countertop.

  “Watch out, Jack!” his wife warned.

  “Let's wait outside,” Jack said.

  “The police officer said to wait here,” his wife protested, but she followed him.

  We heard voices and a door closing.

  From the numerous crumbs remaining on the plate, I surmised that Eric must have eaten several carrot bars. Whatever the quantity, it had evidently been enough to be lethal. I shuddered to think that Carmen and the two band members could have suffered the same fate as Eric, had they'd eaten more carrot bars.

  “Well, well, well. Who have we here? If it isn't the Bobbsey twins,” a gruff voice said.

  I could tell by the startled, yet resigned, expression on Susan's face that she was experiencing a déjà-vu moment. For that matter, so was I. Susan and I had been together when we'd discovered a body several months earlier, and Lieutenant Belmont, the same detective, had investigated the case. He'd treated us both like suspects and had even arrested Susan, so I knew she would have preferred to avoid seeing the lieutenant, but the grouchy detective and I had come to a sort of grudging truce after an uneasy collaboration on a murder case in September. I hadn't encountered the lieutenant since, and I was surprised to see him back at work, because he'd just had heart bypass surgery at the time.

  I ignored his sarcastic remark and pointed to the plate sitting on the island's countertop. “Look at that. He must have eaten more than one of those carrot bars,” I observed.

  “Still playing Nancy Drew, are we, Mrs. Trent?”

  “Haven't you heard of the food poisoning at the high school yesterday?”

  “Don't be ridiculous. Of course, I know about it. What are you two doing here, anyway?”

  Susan took a deep breath before explaining that Eric had invited her to come to the house because he wanted to show her something but that he hadn't told her what it was.

  “Why were you here?” Lieutenant Belmont asked me bluntly.

  “I came along for the ride, literally. My car wouldn't start, and Susan and I were going out to dinner, so she picked me up, and here we are.”

  “Enough,” the lieutenant held up his hand, much like a traffic cop signaling a driver to stop. All of a sudden, he sounded quite weary. “You can come down to the station tomorrow and give your statement to Sergeant Martinez.”

  “Are you feeling all right, lieutenant?” I asked. “I'm surprised to see you back at work so soon.”

  “I'm fine,” he snapped, before relenting slightly. “There's only so much TV a man can watch. I came back to work last week. Now, you two go home. I've got work to do.”

  Without hesitation, we exited Eric's house by the front door.

  “It figures he would be the one to investigate,” Susan groused.

  “You probably won't have to see him again. He told us Dave Martinez would be taking our statements. You know, Dawn's husband.” Dawn, a clay artist, was a member of the Roadrunner.

  “Oh, right. Dave's a nice guy. Too bad he has to work with Belmont.”

  “They actually get along pretty well. I think Dave's the only cop at the police station who's sort of a buddy of the lieutenant. I know Dave and Dawn kept tabs on him the whole time he was recovering from surgery. I think maybe the lieutenant got in too much of a hurry to return to work. He looks pale to me.”

  “You're way more charitable toward him than I am. I'll never forgive him for putting me in jail.”

  “I know it was terrible.” Even though I'd observed a few cracks in his gruff exterior, I couldn't blame Susan a bit for feeling as she did. Her arrest had been completely unjustified, and even though it had happened many months ago, it wasn't something she'd ever be likely to forget, especially since she'd had to stay overnight in the county jail.

  A small crowd of neighbors had gathered across the street, joined by the couple with the beagle. Next door, to the left, a family of five watched the scene from their porch while, on the other side, a woman had pulled her curtains aside to catch the action at Eric's place.

  The coroner's van was parked in front of Susan's car, and a couple of police cruisers were in back of it. The patrol officer who'd arrived first on the scene was standing next to one of the cruisers, talking to another cop. As a red Mustang zipped past, pulled into Eric's driveway, and screeched to a sudden halt, we all watched to see who had arrived.

  Although I'd never met them, I recognized the pair immediately as Eric's nephew Josh and his girlfriend Kayla.

  “What's wrong?” Josh shouted to the policeman.

  Without waiting for an answer, Josh grabbed Kayla's hand and pulled her toward the front door, but the policeman moved quickly to block their entrance.

  “Sorry, sir. You can't go in there.”

  “This is my uncle's house. I want to see him now!” Josh demanded, his voice raised in agitation.

  “I can't let you do that, sir. Now, if you'll just wait over there, by your car, I'll let the detective know you're here, and you can speak to him.”

  “Detective? What's going on? Where's my uncle?”

  “Come on, Josh,” Kayla urged. She tugged at his arm, but he refused to budge.

  “I'm not going anywhere until I find out what's happened,” Josh declared.

  Then he noticed the next-door neighbor watching him from behind her curtain. “What are you looking at?” he yelled. “You witch!” She disappeared from view as the curtain fell back into place.

  “Josh,” Susan called, beckoning him to come over to where we were standing, next to her car.

  “Ms. Carpenter.” On seeing Susan, Josh took it down a notch. “Do you know why the cops are here?”

  “Yes, I do, Josh. It's your Uncle Eric. We found him on the floor in the den a little while ago. I'm so sorry to tell you, but Eric's dead.”

  “No way!” Josh protested. “That can't be. He was fine when we stopped by last night after the fair.”

  “You didn't happen to bring him anything from the fair, did you?”

  “I did,” Kayla said. “He loves carrot bars, and I saw some cute ones at the Pioneers' booth right when we were on our way out. I picked up a few for him.”

  Kayla noticed that Susan and I exchanged an ah-ha look.

  “What? Did I do something wrong?”

  Chapter 10

  “There's no way you could have known,” I explained, “but, according to the health department, decorated carrot bars from the fair caused food poisoning. Three people who ate them were taken to the hospital yesterday.”

  Kayla's face crumpled, and she burst into tears. “I killed Josh's uncle,” she wailed.

  Josh pulled her into his arms and tried to comfort her.

  “It wasn't your fault,” he said. “But it sure is somebody's fault. I want to know who made those carrot bars and how they ended up at the fair!”

  “That's exactly what we want to know, too.” Lieutenant Belmont had come outside to investigate the commotion.

  He looked at Susan and me with disapproval. “I thought you two would be long gone by now. Get out of here. Scoot!”

  Although I didn't appreciate his tone or his patronizing attitude, we complied, leaving Josh and Kayla to deal with the lieutenant's questions.

  It wasn't until I went to bed, snuggling under my fluffy comforter, with Laddie stretched out across my feet and Mona Lisa curled up on her pillow next to me, that I realized both Susan and I had completely forgotten about using her jumper cables to try to start my SUV. I made a mental note to call the auto club in the morning before falling to sleep and dreaming about carrot bars decorated with a black skull and crossbones contrasting with garish carrot-orange frosting. Not nearly the sweet dreams of sugarplums that I'd had a few days before.

  When I woke up the next morning, I had a headache. Laddie sensed my distress and anxiously leaned in close to me while Mona Lisa, oblivious,
meowed loudly, demanding I serve her breakfast.

  I reassured Laddie with a hug and some soothing words, put on my robe, and accompanied my crew to the kitchen. I put the kettle on to boil before I dished out breakfast at opposite ends of the kitchen for my furry companions. After drinking a couple of cups of strong black breakfast tea, I felt my headache begin to dissipate.

  I turned on my cell phone, which I always switched off at night to avoid being awakened by a chiming notification, and saw that Belle had texted me after I'd gone to bed, leaving me the message that she and Dennis had opted to stay overnight in Prescott but would be back by noon today. I decided to wait until they returned to tell Belle about the shocking news of Eric's death, caused by the poisoned dessert bars.

  I hadn't forgotten that the lieutenant had directed me to go to the police station to make a witness statement, but before I could drive anywhere, I needed to get my SUV started. After calling the auto club and learning that it would be a forty-five-minute wait until someone from their local contracted garage showed up, I hurriedly dressed and took Laddie for a quick walk in the neighborhood.

  Several minutes after we returned, the mechanic showed up. After I explained that the car wouldn't start, he hooked up a battery tester to diagnose the problem.

  “Deader than a door nail,” he announced cheerfully.

  I felt far from cheerful myself at this not-exactly-unexpected news.

  “I can replace it for you. A new battery comes with a three-year warranty.”

  “OK. How much?” I asked, not that it mattered. I needed a battery and, although I might save some money if I asked Dennis to drive me to the auto parts store when he got off work and help me install it, I didn't want to wait.

  After the mechanic told me what the damages came to, I reluctantly handed over my credit card, and, when he'd finished installing the new battery and my car started as soon as I turned my key in the ignition, I decided it was worth it.

  I could go to the police station, make my statement, and shop for groceries on the way home, all before noon.

  Sergeant Martinez was standing at the counter in the reception area, talking to a couple of other uniformed officers when I arrived at the station.

  “Hi, Amanda. Let's go back to the conference room.” He grabbed a clipboard, and we went down the hall. I'd been in the drab interrogation room before, but this room was different. It actually looked more like a conference room in a business office, with a large rectangular table dominating the space, rather than a prison cell.

  He sat across from me and handed me the clipboard. “Just write down everything that happened last night, starting from the time you arrived at Eric Thompson's house. I'll type it up for you to sign, and you can be on your way. If Bill has any questions, I'm sure he'll be in touch.”

  “I'm sure he will.”

  Dave laughed as I rolled my eyes. At Dave's wife's request, I'd visited the grumpy lieutenant when he was in the hospital a few months back, and we all knew what an irascible character he was. To my knowledge, Dawn and Dave Martinez were the only friends Lieutenant Belmont had in the world.

  “I'm surprised he's back at work already,” I told Dave. “I thought he looked a little pale last night.”

  “Yeah, he's probably pushing it to come back this soon. He jumped the gun a little, most likely. When the chief found out he hadn't cleared it with his doctor, he insisted on written medical approval. That's why Bill isn't here this morning. He's at the doc's right now.”

  “Well, I hope it goes all right for him. He wasn't too cooperative while he was in the hospital, as I recall.”

  “You know Bill. He's stubborn, but if his doctor doesn't give him the all-clear, he won't have a choice. He'll be back on medical leave for a while, and that won't improve his mood any.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “Well, I'd better get back to the desk. Just bring me your statement when you're done.”

  As soon as Dave left, I began writing. I concentrated so that I wouldn't leave out any details. Dave had left the door ajar, and I could hear voices in the hallway a few times as people walked past, but it wasn't until a cell phone rang and I heard the chief answer it, right outside the conference room, that I set my pen down and paid attention.

  “What's that you say? The poison's called coniine? I've never heard of it,” He paused. “You're sure? Well, I'll be. This is a weird one.”

  He moved away from the door, his voice fading, as he continued with his phone conversation, until I heard a door close.

  I reached into my bag, pulled out my cell phone, and searched for the word he'd mentioned. A dictionary definition popped up, and one word in it set off alarm bells immediately: “hemlock,” the poison that killed the Greek philosopher Socrates! Other than that well-known case, I'd never heard of anyone who'd been poisoned with hemlock, but surely the chief had been talking to somebody at the health department or maybe the lab. I knew it had to relate to the case at hand.

  Returning to my phone, I searched for cases of hemlock poisoning. A few reports mentioned that people had mistaken a hemlock root for a wild carrot. None of those incidents had happened in Arizona, as far as I could tell, but I did find out that both poison hemlock and water hemlock grew in Arizona. In fact, poison hemlock, if eaten, was one of the most toxic plants in the state.

  “All set?”

  I was so startled I dropped my phone. As it clattered on the tabletop, I smiled at Dave, trying to conceal my embarrassment at being caught fiddling with my phone when I should have been finishing my statement. “Just about. It shouldn't be more than a couple more minutes.”

  “OK,” he said, easing into the chair opposite me. “Take your time.”

  I hurriedly scribbled my last paragraph while he waited patiently for me to finish. I don't think he noticed, but my hand was shaking the whole time.

  Had someone innocently mistaken the poison roots for carrots, or had the poisonings been due to a far more sinister cause?

  Chapter 11

  By the time Dave had typed my statement and I'd signed it, the station buzzed with news about hemlock in the carrot bars. The chief had made no secret of the information he'd gleaned, and he told Dave to arrange for a press conference with a health department representative for later in the afternoon. Obviously, he thought that there was more upside than down to informing the public about the cause of Eric's death. I'd definitely have to watch the evening news to find out all the details, but I called Susan to give her a heads-up as soon as I left the station.

  “Hemlock? I don't understand how something like that could get into dessert bars.”

  I explained about the possibility of the poison hemlock plant's root being mistaken for an edible vegetable. Actually, that probably wasn't as far-fetched as it had seemed at first to me. Lots of people—well, maybe not lots, but many—foraged for wild plants, whether to take a cutting from a wild rose to grow in their own gardens or to gather fresh leafy greens to use in a salad.

  I'd done it several times myself, although it had been years since I'd hunted for morel mushrooms in the spring, back in Missouri. My parents had a knack for locating the sponge-like fungi, which my mom breaded and fried in butter with a little bit of olive oil. They were really yummy, I thought, with a touch of nostalgia for times past. Now that my parents were living in Florida, and I resided in Arizona, there'd be no more treks in the woods to hunt morels.

  Susan told me that she hadn't made her statement yet, so I clued her in that now might be a good time to take care of it since Lieutenant Belmont was at his doctor's office.

  “It'd be just my luck that he'd come back while I'm there, but I guess I might as well get it over with. I feel so depressed—first Natalie and then Eric. He was only forty-five. I know what a hard time he's had since Natalie died, but he should have had lots of years left, and they could have been good ones. Maybe he could have made a new life for himself. He acted almost like the old Eric when he came into the Roadrunner to see me the
day of the Christmas parade. Whatever he wanted to show me, he felt excited about it. I can't wrap my head around the fact that he's gone. Chip was shocked when I told him. He and Josh have been friends since grade school. I have a feeling Josh is going to need his friends more than ever in the next few weeks. Eric was the only close family Josh had left, and now he's gone, too.”

  “Poor Josh. I can't imagine what he must be feeling,” I said.

  “And then to show up when the coroner and police were there: it was such a shock.”

  “It was terrible. I feel sorry for Kayla, too. Here, she thought she was doing Eric a favor by bringing him dessert from the fair.”

  “I know. She shouldn't blame herself.” Susan sighed. “I guess I might as well get this over with. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the lieutenant doesn't come back to work while I'm at the station.”

  Poor Susan. She'd never forget the trauma of her arrest. Lieutenant Belmont had never apologized to her for his mistake, either. No wonder she didn't want to see him.

  After a stop at the supermarket, I headed home with a few supplies, including a new candy thermometer. My old one had let me down big time when I'd attempted to make penuche a few days earlier. I wanted to have some on hand because it was my dad's favorite, but because of the thermometer failure, I'd ended up with ingredients that I'd boiled until the so-called candy was as hard as a rock. I couldn't remove it from the pan, so I threw the whole unfortunate conglomeration in the garbage, pan and all. Needless to say, I was hoping for better results next time.

  As usual, my affable retriever greeted me enthusiastically at the kitchen door. Mona Lisa decided she wanted to join the club, too, and she brushed against my ankle, meowing until I scooped her up in my arms. Satisfied after a brief moment, she leaped to the top of her kitty tree, where she could keep her eye on Laddie and me.

  I put the groceries away, took Laddie outside for a game of fetch, then fixed a sandwich for lunch and distributed a couple of treats into Laddie's bowl. As soon as Mona Lisa saw my last maneuver, she jumped down, went straight to her bowl, and waited for her own treat. I obliged her, and she quickly swallowed it and returned to her perch, swatting at Laddie on the way. Luckily, he'd seen her coming and swung his head away before her paw connected with his nose.