The Fragile Flower

by Kerry J Charles

  She yanked it out and glanced at the time. Nearly noon. The phone had stopped ringing. While she stared at it, the voicemail signal popped on. She pressed it.

  Nick. “Dulcie, call me. It isn’t good news.”

  She quickly hit the Return Call button. “What happened?” she asked.

  “Inconclusive. They found quinine, and it was more than he’d have from a few tonic waters, but they can’t conclude that it brought about his heart failure.”

  “Well, what else could have caused it? Seriously, he didn’t have a heart condition. Do people suddenly drop from heart failure? I don’t think so,” Dulcie said, exasperated.

  “Uh, actually they do,” Nick said quietly. “But that’s irrelevant. I’ve had a crew over at the storage place all morning, but Linda hasn’t gone there yet. We don’t know where she is. Dammit, I know she killed him!”

  “You just can’t prove it.” Dulcie stated the obvious. “Sorry, I guess you knew that already.”

  “That’s okay. I know you’re frustrated too. At this point, without a confession, I can’t do anything.”

  ‘A confession!’ thought Dulcie. “Nick, I have to go. Keep me posted.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted.

  Dulcie began pacing the room. ‘It has to be Isabel,’ she thought. Isabel was the only one who could pull out the details. She would have to provoke Linda somehow. Isabel would have to make her angry. It would be the only way to make Linda say anything.

  Dulcie shoved the bureau away from the door. ‘I have to stop doing this,’ she thought. She yanked at the doorknob before realizing that she had locked the door. “And now I’m losing my mind,” she said out loud.

  As she thumped down the stairs she heard Isabel rummaging in the kitchen. She looked up as Dulcie came in. “It isn’t exactly tea time, but I’ve made some anyway. Would you like a cup?”

  “Isabel, you have no idea. Absolutely!” It was then that she noticed Isabel was pouring from a beautifully painted ceramic teapot. “Is that yours?” she asked.

  “No,” Isabel said. “It’s yours. You didn’t have one, and I thought you should. It’s my thank you for making me feel safe here. I slipped out about an hour ago and got it at the shop down the street.”

  Dulcie instantly felt like an idiot for barricading her bedroom door. She knew that the ‘shop down the street’ was an expensive antiques store. “Well, thank you for such a beautiful gift. I’m glad I could help, although you shouldn’t have gone out.”

  “Yes, but that nice bobby was across the street. His partner walked down with me, and even carried it back. They were quite lovely toward me.” She sipped her tea.

  ‘Good looks and charm,’ thought Dulcie. ‘That’s all it takes.’ However, she realized that what she really needed to ask of Isabel was going to require a lot more than simply good looks or charm. “Isabel, I’ve just spoken with Nick. There’s a problem.”

  Isabel’s dark eyes widened but she said nothing.

  Dulcie continued. “The tests on Logan did show quinine but they can’t determine if that’s what killed him. At this point, the police have nothing on Linda.”

  Isabel shook her head so fiercely that her tea spilled from her cup. “No! They have to! I know she did it. I know she killed him!”

  “But, why Isabel? Why would she?”

  “There are so many possible reasons, I can’t say for sure.” She looked up at Dulcie pointedly. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, “and you’re right. I have to talk to her. I’m the only one that could make her confess.”

  Dulcie nodded. It was exactly what she was about to ask Isabel to do.

  “I’ll do it. I’m scared, but I’ll do it. She can’t get away with this. It’s the least I can do for Logan, after tricking him in the first place. It won’t take away my guilt, but I’ll know I did the right thing in the end.”

  Dulcie agreed. Then she realized how hungry she was. She reached into the refrigerator and found the rest of her fried rice. “Want some?” she asked Isabel.

  “I’m famished!” she replied.

  Dulcie pulled out two forks. She was about to dish the rice into bowls and put them in the microwave, but Isabel grabbed the carton from her. “Never mind that!” she said and dug her fork in. Dulcie laughed and did the same.

  #

  They leaned against the cold, metal folding door of the large storage locker opposite Linda’s. Nick, Adam Johnson, Dulcie, and Isabel along with several uniformed officers had been waiting for an hour. “What if she doesn’t come?” asked Dulcie.

  “She’ll be here,” Isabel said. “I know her. This is next on her list.”

  Johnson’s phone buzzed. He looked at the text message that had come through. “She just drove in,” he said. “Let’s move.”

  They scattered to their positions. Isabel flattened herself into a niche made by the locker just beyond Linda’s. She waited, holding her breath, hoping that Linda wouldn’t see her. She wanted to check her microphone to make sure that it was still on, but didn’t dare. Nick had said it was fine, but Isabel knew she had only one chance.

  Hidden behind a stack of cardboard boxes, Dulcie could not see Isabel but she had an excellent view of the door of Linda’s locker. She strained to hear if someone was coming. At last, footsteps, muffled on the cement floor. She heard a squeaking sound, like a wheel. When Linda came into view, Dulcie saw that she was pulling a dolly behind her. Linda stopped in front of her locker and pulled out a key. She leaned over and unlocked the metal door, then heaved it up on its tracks. The locker was like a garage for a very small car.

  Linda switched on a light. Dulcie saw boxes. They looked like substantial crates used for shipping. Linda rolled the dolly into the locker and slid it under one of the boxes. Dulcie saw her lift a second box and was surprised at her strength. They looked heavy. As she turned to put it on top of the other, Isabel stepped into the doorway.

  “My goodness, what have we here?” she said with mock sincerity.

  Linda froze. Isabel took several steps into the locker, careful to keep at least one box between herself and Linda as Detective Black had instructed her.

  “No, don’t tell me. Let me guess. Charity for the poor? No, that wouldn’t be it. You’ve never been philanthropic. Hmmmm. Let me see. I know! You’re moving to America! No, that won’t do either. You’ve always said that you dislike the Yanks. Hmm.” She tapped her chin with a finger. “I’ve got it! You killed your brother, and now you’re going to sell all of his paintings here and run off with the money!” She tilted her head and smiled. “Linda, that’s brilliant! Except for one tiny flaw. You never informed me.” She stopped. And waited.

  Linda was still silent. ‘Damn!’ thought Isabel. ‘I have to get her talking! Why won’t she say anything?’

  “That’s fine, Linda. At least I know now. The trouble for you is that I have everything else. And now, I know everything else.” she glared at her sister-in-law, and said very quietly, “So you see, I’m in charge now.”

  Linda sneered. “You could never be in charge, you stupid bitch! All you did was wreck my plans. Our plans.”

  “The plan did not include killing my husband.”

  “He was your husband in name only! Besides, you were getting too close. I couldn’t let you start caring for him. That’s all I needed – to have him in my life for another thirty or forty years! He had to go.”

  “You knew he was an alcoholic. You were the one who kept him sober for years! You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist those gin and tonics. That’s how you did it, wasn’t it! He didn’t die of a heart attack! Not without your help, anyway!” Isabel shouted.

  “I thought you and I would be together! I thought you cared about me! We had plans!” shrieked Linda. “My only regret now is that I didn’t take you out, too!”

  The box moved so fast and hit her with such force that it knocked Isabel backwards out of the locker. She slammed against the metal door on the opposite side. She saw Linda hoisting another box,
poised to throw it at her. Isabel screamed.

  At the last moment, three uniformed police jumped forward and grabbed Linda.

  Isabel slid to the floor. Her heart was pounding. Dulcie ran to her. “I’m fine,” Isabel said. “Just a few bruises.” She winced as she tried to move, but then smiled up at Dulcie. “That was actually quite exciting!”

  Nick had been giving orders to the officers who were now putting handcuffs on Linda. He came over to Dulcie and Isabel. “Don’t move,” he said to Isabel. “I’ve got paramedics coming. I just want to make sure nothing is broken.

  Isabel nodded, then winced again. “Even if something is, it was worth it!” she said. “Did you hear everything?”

  “Loud and clear,” Nick said. “Loud and clear.”

  I don't say everything,

  but I paint everything.

  ― Pablo Picasso

  CHAPTER 11

  The students of Logan Dumbarton’s Master Class in Abstract Painting sat in the studio of the Maine Museum of Art. Two weeks before, their easels had been set up, their brushes and paints ready, and they had all eagerly anticipated the arrival of the great artist himself.

  Today, they sat quietly with none of their materials. “Why are we here?” Mary finally whispered loudly. Everyone heard her. Her sister laughed nervously. “Do they think one of us killed Logan?”

  Kimberly was the only one who had any inkling that Tara might be correct. She did have a hunch that it wasn’t one of them, however.

  Dulcie came in to the room, followed by Detective Black and Isabel Dumbarton. Isabel’s left arm was in a sling.

  “Hi everyone.” Dulcie said. “Looks like a nice day to paint. Too bad we aren’t outside.” It was an attempt at humor. No one laughed.

  “I guess I’ll get right down to business. I want to apologize to all of you for the way this class turned out. I think that the words ‘complete and utter failure’ might describe it best. I have checks here for all of you to refund the tuition in full.”

  Bethany leaned forward. She was a different Bethany than the one everybody had seen before. She wore faded jeans, a bright orange peasant blouse, and silver hoop earrings. Her hair had been tinted with blonde highlights and it now had soft waves. “I for one can’t agree with your description of this class. For me, I’d call it a complete success.” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t have to.

  “I’d have to agree with Bethany,” said Bryce. “I did get quite a bit out of it.” He glanced over at Willow who smiled and looked away quickly. “But I’ll take the check anyway.” They all laughed.

  “That’s fine,” Dulcie said. “And along with reimbursement, I think we also owe you an explanation.” She glanced at Nick. He nodded.

  “Evidently, we were all pawns in a game that had been carefully constructed some time ago. I was the biggest dupe, however.” They looked at her curiously. “It seems that Linda Dumbarton was getting tired of living in the shadows and managing her brother’s career. She engineered the entire trip to Maine along with this class. It had been her suggestion from the start.” Dulcie paused. She had already decided not to mention Isabel’s relationship with Linda. It wasn’t necessary. Isabel would only come across as manipulative, at best.

  “Logan Dumbarton started many paintings, but finished very few. He was very critical of his own work.”

  “Not as critical as he was of ours,” Scott said.

  “That’s probably true,” replied Dulcie, “But the point is that he had many unfinished canvases that he abandoned in his gallery. Unfinished in his eyes, that is. To anyone else, they looked very complete. At some point, Linda realized this. She practiced signing his name exactly as he did. Then she began collecting them.

  “Linda took her time slipping them out of the studio. She boxed up only a few at a time. Then, she shipped them to Portland, where she arranged for them to be stored until she arrived. Her plan was to sell them in art galleries in the US.”

  “So I was right! I knew I had seen her!” Bryce said. He looked around at the others. “She came to the gallery where I work a few months ago. I didn’t realize it at first. Took me forever to place her when I saw her again at the class.”

  Dulcie continued. “Linda didn’t realize that, although Portland is a city, Maine is a small place. It’s hard to hide here. You’re bound to be noticed, eventually.

  Isabel stepped forward. “Could I tell them the next bit?” she asked in her soft British accent. Both Dulcie and Nick nodded. “I hadn’t known Logan for long before we married. I didn’t know his secrets. One of them was that he was an alcoholic. It was something that he kept to himself. Linda knew this, however. Shortly after our marriage, Linda began suggesting drinks to him. I didn’t think anything of it. But when he drank, he couldn’t stop. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. When he drank, he was also mean, rude, snide, bitter… everything that all of you were unfortunate enough to encounter. And for that I apologize.”

  “No apology needed,” said Kimberly warmly. “You clearly did all you could to alleviate the situation.” Heads bobbed up and down in agreement.

  “Linda suggested that we come to America. I hoped that it would be the interlude that we needed to get Logan to stop drinking. It wasn’t,” she added simply. “I became desperate. The night before he died, I put turpentine in his drink. It smelled like gin, so I thought that he wouldn’t notice, especially after he’d had several. I just wanted to make him sick, and hopefully that would keep him from drinking them any more.” She stopped, looked at the floor and swallowed hard several times.

  Nick cleared his throat. “Isabel thought she had poisoned Logan and killed him. She had not. His official cause of death was heart failure. It would have been an open and shut case, except that other facts were still there that didn’t seem to make sense. For example, Linda had lied on several occasions, but the lies seemed trivial and unnecessary. Our conclusion was that she was hiding something.”

  “So, no one killed Logan? He really died of a heart attack?” asked Tara.

  “Yes… and no,” answered Dulcie. “It seems that Linda was putting quinine in Logan’s gin and tonics. You might know that quinine is already in tonic water, which helped to mask the bitter test of the extra amount. It’s still prescribed in England for leg cramps, and Linda had it with her. One of the unfortunate side-effects of overdose is potential heart failure. Evidently the quinine can’t be linked to Logan’s heart attack conclusively, but at the very least, Linda attempted to murder him. Whether she succeeded or whether he simply died is for someone else to decide.”

  “So now that he’s dead,” Bryce began, then looked quickly at Isabel. “Oh, sorry, I don’t mean any disrespect. But, now that he’s gone, his paintings are worth a bundle!”

  “That’s what Linda was counting on, it seems,” said Nick.

  Everyone was silent for a moment. Dulcie stepped forward. “So, that appears to be the end of it,” she said as she handed out envelopes to each of them. “Thanks to all of you for suffering through this, and for your patience. I don’t think I’ll be scheduling a master class again for quite some time, but I hope to see everyone in the museum. Please come by my office and say hello when you visit us next.”

  The students stood and, chatting with each other, slowly filtered out of the room. The only one remaining was Kimberly. “Coffee?” she said to Dulcie. “Do you have time?”

  “Yes I do!” Dulcie answered. She had been trying to figure out a way to leave without having to speak with Nick again. He and Isabel were talking at the front of the room. “Isabel,” she interrupted. “I’m going to get a coffee with Kimberly. Can you get back to the house okay? You have the key, right?”

  Isabel nodded. “A walk in this nice, ocean air would be lovely. Then, a spot of tea, and I’ll plan my trip home. I think you’ll be glad to see the back of me,” she said.

  “Not at all. You’ve been a wonderful guest, in spite of your unfortunate choice in friends. Or spouse.” Dulcie smirked. “I�
�ll shut up now. See you later.” Dulcie glanced at Nick as she left the room. “Thanks for all your help, Detective,” she said bluntly.

  A stunned look crossed Nick’s face, but was replaced quickly by his more typical stoic expression.

  Kimberly sipped her coffee while sitting in Dulcie’s office. “It wasn’t quite what I expected, but it was the most fun I’ve had in a long time!” she said. “Oh dear! I suppose I shouldn’t say that. After all, that poor man did die!”

  Dulcie chuckled and said, “I know exactly what you mean. It was a complete disaster, but at least Isabel escaped from a very bad situation.”

  Kimberly gave Dulcie a sideways glance. “Is there perhaps more to that story than I know, or shouldn’t I ask?”

  Dulcie looked at the heavens for a moment then laughed. “All right! Yes, there’s more. It may or may not come out.”

  “My lips are sealed,” said Kimberly, sliding her fingers along them as though closing a zipper.

  “It seems that the marriage was a front to begin with. Linda and Isabel were the couple, not Logan and Isabel.”

  “Was Logan aware of this?” asked Kimberly, her eyes wide. “And how did they pull that off, unless Isabel is…”

  “Logan has been unable to, um, carry out the duties of a husband, shall we say, for years. He was simply infatuated with Isabel and wanted her as a companion. She and Linda initially thought it was a fine arrangement, but Isabel began feeling guilty once she realized that Logan was in love with her, and Linda was increasingly jealous.”

  “Ah yes,” Kimberly sighed. “The old love triangle rears it’s ugly head. Add greed and anger, stir, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster. But I am glad that Isabel was able to come out of it all right. I think that deep down, she has a good heart.”

  “I think you’re right,” Dulcie said.

  “Speaking of hearts, you know that policeman is in love with you.”