The Fragile Flower

by Kerry J Charles

  She switched to the Internet search page on her computer and typed in leg cramp medication. A few muscle relaxants were listed. Then she came across a reference to quinine. ‘That’s strange,’ thought Dulcie. ‘I always thought that was what they gave people in the old days for malaria.’ It indicated that in the US, the medication was no longer allowed to be prescribed for cramps, but was still available in the UK. ‘I wonder if that’s what she took,’ thought Dulcie.

  Quinine. Dulcie knew it was a very old remedy. She remembered Cassandra, the woman that she had spoken with in Bermuda. They had talked about the teas and potions of the old days. ‘Yet we use the same things even today,’ thought Dulcie.

  Quinine. It was used to flavor tonic water. Gin and tonic. Dulcie put down her tea and leaned forward. She typed in ‘quinine side effects.’ A list of various side effects appeared. There seemed to be many, everything from anxiety and behavior change to slurred speech similar to drunkenness. One more caught Dulcie’s eye: rapid or irregular heartbeat.

  Cassandra’s words now came back to her. “They call it Young Man’s Death.” She hadn’t been talking about quinine, though. Why would Dulcie remember those words in particular? She sat back in her chair again. Something was stirring in the back of her mind. What if… ?

  Dulcie grabbed her phone. She hoped that Nick was still awake.

  “Something else?” he said without any greeting.

  “Nick! Yes, possibly. Linda had noted something about a leg cramp medication. I don’t know what it was, but I just looked up possibilities. One that they still prescribe in the UK is quinine. It’s the same thing as in tonic water. One of the possible side effects can have an effect on the heart. What if someone put extra quinine in his drink? It’s bitter, but he may not have noticed if he’d already had a few. Or maybe they spaced it out over a few drinks? Could that have killed him?”

  “Interesting. Hang on, let me check the autopsy report again.”

  Dulcie heard papers rustling.

  “This lists his stomach contents, and gin and tonic are there, but no mention of quinine.”

  “Would they have looked for it specifically if they already knew he’d had tonic water?” Dulcie asked.

  “Good question. I don’t know.”

  “The other question is, who would have put it in his drink? It could have been Linda or Isabel.” Dulcie felt a chill run down her spine. Had Isabel killed her husband after all? Was the turpentine a front to throw them off course? Were she and Linda working together? Did Linda poison him herself? Or did he actually die of a heart attack?

  Nick was thinking the same things. “Dulcie, Isabel is still there, right?”

  “Yes,” Dulcie said hesitantly.

  “Does she know that you have Linda’s notebook?” Nick asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Dulcie said. She had left her laptop open earlier, however. And Isabel could have overheard her talking with Nick.

  “But you’re not sure,” Nick said.

  “No, I’m not sure.” Dulcie realized that she had begun shaking.

  “Dulcie, I want you to lock your bedroom door tonight. If you can’t lock it, barricade it with something. I’m also going to post someone outside your house. If you have any trouble, just scream as loud as you can and they’ll come running.”

  “Do you really think…?”

  “I don’t know what to think. But I just want you to be safe.”

  “Okay,” she whispered. “But now I’m scared.”

  “Just do everything you’d normally do. Chances are very good that I’m totally wrong here. Keep the phone by the bed and call any time, even in the middle of the night. Don’t hesitate.”

  “I won’t. Hesitate, that is. Thanks, Nick.”

  “Sure thing. You’ll be fine. Just be careful. Okay? Goodnight, Dulcie”

  “Night,” Dulcie answered feebly. She quickly got up and got herself ready for bed. She brought her laptop and phone with her. Once inside her bedroom, she locked the door and dragged the heavy wooden bureau as far as she could in front of it. She turned out the light. Before she got into bed, she looked out the window. A police car had pulled up across the street. That made her feel better.

  Tommy sat in the cruiser, staring at the townhouse on the opposite side of the street. He didn’t take his eyes off it. His partner in the seat next to him was snoring softly, an empty coffee cup in his hand. Tommy hadn’t had any coffee. The excitement of being sent on this “mission” as Detective Black had called it, was all that he needed to keep him awake for the rest of the night.

  To send light into

  the darkness of men's hearts

  - such is the duty of the artist.

  ― Robert Schumann

  CHAPTER 10

  Dulcie slept very little. During the night she remembered Isabel’s terrible black eye. ‘She would never be in league with Linda if she had been hit like that,’ Dulcie thought. Comforted by this, she fell asleep, only to wake again an hour later immediately realizing that Logan could have given her the black and she had simply lied about it. The entire night went on in much the same manner. Every creak and noise in the house made her strain her ears, wondering if someone would try to open the door.

  By sunrise, Dulcie had had enough. She got up and looked out the window. The police car was still there. The house was silent. She shoved the bureau away from the door, trying to be as quiet as possible, then clicked the lock on the doorknob. Cautiously, she opened the door and peeked out.

  The first thing that she saw was Isabel’s room across the hall. The door was open. ‘Odd,’ thought Dulcie. ‘She isn’t an early riser. Maybe all the sleep she’s been getting has thrown her off schedule?’ Dulcie quietly stepped into the hallway and looked in the room.

  The bed was made. Everything was in place as it had been. But what slowly dawned on Dulcie was that none of Isabel’s things were in the room. She quickly went in and looked in the closet, opened bureau drawers, even looked under the bed. Nothing. She went into the bathroom. Isabel’s toilet kit was gone.

  Dulcie rushed downstairs. She ran into the kitchen, and there she saw the note.

  Dulcie,

  Thank you for everything. I’ve been a terrible burden. I know you mean well, but I feel that I have put you in danger and I cannot allow that to happen. Please do not try to contact me. I need to disappear so that she can never find me again.

  With kind regards,

  Isabel

  Dulcie grabbed her phone and at the same time flew out the door toward the police car. Tommy saw her coming and immediately elbowed his partner awake, then jumped out before she had even crossed the street. “What is it? What’s happened?” he shouted.

  “Did you see someone leave here? A woman? Small, dark hair…? Dulcie asked breathlessly as she reached him.

  “Yes, about an hour ago. She left quietly and walked up the street. I thought she was a roommate or something going to work. There was no disturbance, so I didn’t call in to the station…” Tommy looked worried. Now he thought he had done something wrong.

  “No, it’s fine. You had no need to call. You’re right, there was not disturbance and I’m fine. It’s okay.” Dulcie scurried across the quiet street again as Tommy slowly got back into the car.

  During the second ring Nick answered.

  “She’s run off again!” Dulcie exclaimed without letting him speak.

  “What?”

  “She left me a note! The policeman said she left about an hour ago!”

  “Let me talk to him,” Nick said.

  Dulcie went back to the sidewalk and motioned to Tommy. He looked like a dog with its tail between its legs as he came across the street. Dulcie handed him the phone. “It’s Detective Black,” she said.

  Now Tommy looked even worse. “Yes, sir?” Dulcie heard him say. As he listened, his back began to straighten. His eyes brightened. “Yes, sir! I’m on it, sir! Yes, I’ll check back in with you in half an hour, sir!”

  He hande
d the phone back and jumped in the car. His partner looked bewildered as they drove off.

  “Wow, what did you tell him?” Dulcie asked Nick.

  “He’s doing concentric circles, keeping a lookout for her. I’ll get others on it, too. Tommy’s good at staying up all night, but he’s not the brightest bulb in the chandelier.”

  Dulcie suddenly realized that she was standing in the street wearing her pajamas. She hurried back inside. “What else do you need from me?” she said.

  “I need to see that note. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he replied.

  “Okay, the coffee will be ready.” Dulcie put down the phone and looked down at herself. ‘No time for a shower. But I need to get cleaned up at least!’ she thought. She groaned thinking of how ridiculous she was being. Twenty minutes before she had been in fear for her life. Now she was worried about how she would look when Nick came over. “Funny how our priorities change so quickly,” she said out loud while scooping coffee into the machine and filling it with water. She hit the brew button and raced upstairs.

  Hair brushed, teeth brushed, jeans and a polo shirt on in record time, she zipped down the stairs again just as Nick knocked on the door. As he came in, she could smell the soap that he used. ‘Must have just jumped out of the shower,’ she thought. ‘Men can do that. It isn’t fair.’ She gestured toward the coffee maker. “Help yourself,” she said and handed him Isabel’s note.

  Nick glanced at his watch. Quarter past six. “I have to call the doctor that signed off on the autopsy. We need another test done.” He went into the other room and Dulcie heard him talking on the phone.

  He had not even stopped for the coffee. She poured two cups, then joined him in the living room and handed him one. He looked at her gratefully while still talking. She heard him asking about quinine.

  When the conversation ended he took a large gulp of coffee, winced at how hot it was, then read the note. “It doesn’t really tell us anything,” he said. “She could really be frightened, or she could have gone somewhere to meet up with Linda. I put a surveillance team on Linda’s place after I talked with you last night. And I left a message with the doctor, but he needed me to call back with more information. This could get really interesting.”

  Dulcie nodded. “As far as I’m concerned, we passed ‘interesting’ a long time ago!” she said.

  “Can you show me the sections in Linda’s notebook where you found those things you told me about last night?”

  Dulcie nodded. She put down her coffee and turned to her desk. Then she remembered that her laptop was upstairs in the bedroom. “Oh, hang on a second. I brought it upstairs last night. I was paranoid that Isabel might get up, look at it, and see what I was up to.”

  “Rightly so,” Nick said.

  Dulcie hurried up the stairs. She tripped on a step and smacked her shin. Choking back a yelp and hoping Nick hadn’t noticed, she kept going. As she came back down she tried not to limp. She opened the laptop and handed it to him.

  “You okay?” he said without looking up at her. “You’ll have a bruise for sure.”

  Dulcie felt her face turning red. “Yes, I’m okay and yes, I will.”

  “I know you haven’t had much sleep.” This time he did look at her with concern in his eyes. “Sorry you’re part of all this. Once again.”

  Why did she feel as though she was melting every time he looked at her like that? It was really getting to be annoying. She tried to appear businesslike. “Here’s the reference to the leg cramp medication,” she said pointing to the computer screen. She reached over the keyboard, brushing his hand. Paging back through the images she stopped at one and said, “Here are those airport codes.”

  Nick nodded. “What made you think about quinine?”

  “I don’t really know. It was several things. I was curious about what she might take for leg cramps. Then I found out that quinine is still prescribed in the UK. That made me think of the old remedies for things, from centuries ago, which made me think of quinine as a cure for malaria, then as an ingredient in most tonic water.” Dulcie stopped, looking a bit confused. “My mind kind of went in a few directions.”

  “Well, we still don’t know for certain, but it’s worth checking.” Nick’s phone rang. “It’s the coroner,” he said looking at the number. He answered, then listened intently. “I’m not buying it. I think she forged the signature. … No, unfortunately I can’t get proof at the moment. The wife ran off. Again. … She’s there? Now? She just showed up now? You’re sure it’s Dumbarton’s wife? Make sure she stay’s put – get security on them please! I’ll be right down.”

  Nick tossed back the rest of his coffee and handed the cup to Dulcie. “Found Isabel. She’s at the morgue. Evidently she signed off on the cremation. I have to get over there, now!”

  “Wait! Can I come? I might be able to help with Isabel. She trusts me.”

  “Good idea. Come on!”

  They raced out of the house and jumped in Nick’s car. As he drove, Dulcie began speculating. “Maybe Isabel just wants to be done with all of this and go home. Maybe Linda intimidated her. Maybe she’s in league with Linda. Maybe…”

  They finally reached the morgue. Dulcie had never been in one before. She expected to see bodies lying out on tables. Instead, she stood in a waiting room that looked like any other doctor’s office. “Stay here for a minute, okay?” Nick said. It wasn’t a question.

  Nick went through a door opposite the entrance. Dulcie waited. She heard nothing. She sat down. Grabbing a magazine, she flipped through without seeing any of the pages. She stood and began pacing the room.

  At last the door opened. Isabel came through with Nick. “What’s happening?” said Dulcie.

  “The doctor will be doing one last test to check for quinine in his system,” Nick said simply.

  “I know Linda had a prescription for it,” said Isabel. “I saw it with her things. When I asked her about it, she said that she had leg cramps, but I had never heard her complain of them before.” Isabel sat down heavily. She looked as though she had aged by twenty years in the past several days. “Detective Black just explained what quinine is. The doctor showed me a list of side effects. Confusion. Blurred vision. Heart problems. Logan seemed to experience all of these.” She looked up at both of them. “I believe he was poisoned. She poisoned him. But why? She knew his will had been changed. Why would she want to kill him?”

  They exchanged looks. No one had the answer.

  Suddenly, Nick remembered. The storage facility. Her earlier trip to Portland. Bryce’s report that he had seen her at the gallery. He turned to Isabel. “How many paintings did Logan typically complete in a year?”

  She tipped her head sideways, thinking. “Complete? Perhaps three, at the most.”

  Nick shook his head. “That doesn’t fit. Would he have any older works lying around that weren’t in galleries?”

  “No, Linda made sure that all of his completed works were hung as soon as possible,” Isabel replied.

  Dulcie realized what Nick was getting at. She had also remembered the storage company written in Linda’s notebook. “Isabel, how many works did Logan typically start, but not complete?”

  Now Isabel laughed. “I often teased him about that. I think he would start at least one a week, but usually would cast them aside. I never understood why he did not complete them. They always looked lovely to me, even as they were. He had dozens in his studio in London.”

  Dulcie heard Nick’s sharp intake of breath. He quickly pulled out his phone. “Johnson,” he said. “Get a team over to Holden’s Holdings. The sister may be there. I think she has a stash of Dumbarton’s paintings. Keep her there.” He paused for a moment, listening, then said, “Yeah, I just talked to Dr. Kraus. They’re having another look at the body,” he glanced over at Isabel, “Uh, I mean, Dumbarton.”

  He toyed with the phone after the call ended, trying to decide what to do next. “I think you two should go home. Get some rest. This could take a wh
ile,” he finally said.

  Dulcie eyed him pointedly. “Could I speak to you for a moment?” she nearly barked. “I’m sorry Isabel, excuse us please.” Dulcie pulled Nick into the hallway. “What the hell are you doing? Last night you insight terror, implying that Isabel might want to kill me, and now you tell me to bring her home again? Alone?”

  She was right, of course, but Nick trusted his instincts. He had been concerned the night before, but now he realized that Isabel had no part in any of it. It was entirely Linda’s doing. If only the quinine tests were positive, he would have her. “Look, Dulcie. I know I’m being unreasonable. Please just trust me. This is all Linda. Isabel is innocent. I’m sure of it. Please, trust me.”

  ‘Why?’ thought Dulcie, ‘because you’ve proven yourself to be worthy of it? I hardly think so.’ Her saner half relented, however. The more she thought about the events since Logan’s death, the more she agreed with him. “Fine,” she said at last.

  She looked like an insolent child. Nick nearly laughed, but felt more sympathy for her than anything else. Most likely she was exhausted, not to mention completely confused. “I’ll take you guys home,” he said.

  The drive was very quiet. When they reached Dulcie’s house she realized how tired she was. “Isabel, I have to get some sleep. Do you mind?”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” she said. “He will call us?” she asked, motioning toward Nick’s car as he drove away.

  “He will,” Dulcie replied. She went into her room and closed the door. She heard Isabel go into the guest room. Dulcie waited several moments, then she locked the door as quietly as possible and pulled the bureau in front of it. ‘No sense taking chances,’ she thought.

  Dulcie heard a buzzing sound in the distance. She was groggy. Somewhere in the haze she thought a bee was in her pocket. Then the mist in her mind began to clear. It was her phone.