by Diane Capri
Next I tried Tyler Montgomery and Ackerman Biosystems. Nothing came up linking them together. I scrolled through ten pages and found nothing helpful. I clicked on the images just to be thorough. I scrolled through a few staff photos. None featured Tyler. Then, way down on the page, I spotted a grainy picture inside a lab of some kind that must’ve been located in one of the Ackerman buildings. Taken three years ago, there were four people in lab coats doing science-like things. Two older men, a woman, and in the background scowling, looking like a creepy evil genius right out of central casting, was Tyler Montgomery.
So he had worked for Ackerman at one point, just as I’d suspected. Now that I’d made the connection, I wondered if he quit or got fired or whether he still worked there. And if any of that related to whatever he was working on with Brittany and why the two bioengineers were here at the hotel.
I took out my cell phone and punched in the number for Ackerman Biosystems. I got an automated answering system giving me a list of options that seemed to go on forever. I pressed nine for personnel and waited.
“Good afternoon, this is Fatima. How may I help you today?”
“Hello Fatima, this is”—my gaze landed on the floral arrangement on my table—“Rose calling from the Park, ah, Flower Company. I’m inquiring about one of your former employees, Tyler Montgomery. He’s applied here for a position, and we need to confirm his dates of employment, etcetera.”
“Tyler Montgomery?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, please just give me a minute.”
“Thank you.” I could hear the click-clack of typing on a keyboard. Fatima must’ve had long nails.
After a few moments, she came back. “I’m sorry. We’ve never had an employee by that name working here.”
“Are you sure? Would’ve been a couple of years back. He worked in one of the labs.”
There was more typing and then a long pause. “I’m sorry. What did you say your name was again, and where are you calling from? I have a supervisor on hold for you.”
I disconnected. Something was fishy there. Clearly, Tyler had worked there at one time—and maybe still did. I had photographic evidence staring me right in the face from my laptop screen. Had he been eliminated from the employee database? What on earth for? I wouldn’t learn anything more on the phone.
An hour later, and the promise of a bottle of very expensive whisky to Nancy on the cleaning crew, I stood in the bioengineers’ hotel suite. I brought some towels with me and two fuzzy bathrobes, which were stacked on the bed, in case they returned before I could do my search and get out.
I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, but that didn’t stop me from opening every drawer in the dresser. There were no clothes there or anything else. They were only staying two days, so maybe not enough time to unpack, I guessed. I checked the closet for their suitcases. I found one, pulled it out, and plopped it onto the bed.
I unzipped it and quickly went through it, finding nothing of interest, except for a paperback book in German. I took it out and flipped through it. A business card fell out. I picked it up and saw it was for June’s Blooms with the address of the shop and phone number. On the back was June’s handwritten address.
I put the card back in the book and returned it to the suitcase. I then went through every pocket of every shirt and pair of pants in the case. In one pair of pants, I found another business card. Nature Path Pharmaceuticals with an address in Germany. I slipped the card into my pocket and then put the suitcase back where I’d found it.
I was closing the closet door when I heard the scraping of a key card at the door. Sometimes people didn’t get the card into the slot properly on first try, lucky for me. I grabbed the towels and robes and went into the bathroom, carefully pulling the door almost, but not quite, closed.
I heard the door open and two sets of footsteps. The door closed with a snick, and two men continued speaking German. I had no idea what they were saying, but I did hear the name “Tyler” at least twice.
I slid my phone from my pocket and hit my voice recorder app. I held the phone toward the crack in the doorway, hoping I could catch some of the conversation. After another two minutes, I realized that I had to blow my cover or risk being discovered, which would have been beyond awkward. If I revealed myself now, they might believe I was in the room to deliver robes and towels.
I dropped my phone into my pocket and left it recording. I made noises as if I was organizing things and hummed a little tune while I worked. Then I opened the bathroom door and walked out into the room. I gasped, and my hand flew to my throat as I pretended to be startled by their presence.
“Oh my, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you had returned to your room.” I gave them a warm smile. I got two sets of frowns in return.
“What are you doing here?” Trent asked.
“I’m Andi Steele, the concierge. We met the other day?”
No response. Wow, tough crowd.
“I’m helping out with room service today. We’re short-handed. I was stocking your bathroom with fresh towels and clean robes. I hope you try them. They are so luxurious, just like a spa robe.”
They glanced at each other, probably trying to decide how much of my palaver they were going to swallow.
I kept up the running chatter on my way to the exit. “Speaking of the spa. Have you tried the massages there?”
Keith shook his head.
“So amazing. Tell you what, why don’t I hook you two up with a free thirty-minute massage?” I pulled out another business card from my pants pocket—thank goodness I always kept a stack of them on hand—and grabbed the pen from the desk nearby. I wrote down FREE MASSAGE on the back. I handed the card to the closest one. “Just take this to Carmen at the spa, and she will set you up.”
“Thank you,” Keith said, his German accent noticeably absent. He sounded like a regular American from Michigan again.
“I’ll just get out of your hair.” I walked to the door and opened it. “You gentlemen have a great day.”
I walked quickly down the corridor to the stairs and down to the lobby. I pulled out my phone and held it to my ear to listen to the recording. I turned up the volume. The sound was weak, but I could definitely hear German conversation in my ear. I had no idea what they’d been saying, but I knew the perfect person to translate for me. And while I was there, I’d get my favorite apple strudel.
Chapter 22
There were only a few customers enjoying the pastry at the Weiss Strudel House when I arrived. Lena Weiss waved at me when I came in, as she always did.
“Hello, hello, Andi.” Her voice was heavily accented and as delightful as her strudel. She came around the counter to give me a hug, shuffling her feet on the tiled floor.
I hugged her, inhaling the scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon she always carried with her. “How are you today, Mrs. Weiss?”
“Not too bad, dear. But my knees hurt, so I think it’s going to rain.”
I looked out the window at the bright sun in the blue sky. “It might. You never know.”
“I will get you your usual.” She shuffled behind the counter and opened the back of the display case to pluck out one fat delicious-looking apple strudel. “Any cherry for the boys?”
“No, not today.”
I usually bought cherry strudel for Reggie and JC down at the docks. I traded the pastries for information, but it was not their information I was in need of today.
Lena placed the pastry carefully into a little white paper bag and sat it on the counter for me. “Anything else, dear?”
“How’s your hearing?”
Ten minutes later, I was in the kitchen with Lena and Wilhelm, holding out my phone so they could listen to the German language recording. I pushed play. The voices were faint and a bit tinny.
“Give to me. I listen.” Frowning, Wilhelm took the phone from my hand. He held it up to his ear.
“One says, ‘We have been looking for Tyler for over twenty
-four hours. Maybe we won’t find him.’ The other says, ‘He’s here somewhere. He got to the greenhouse before we could. Also that annoying woman from the hotel is interfering with our business.’”
Oh, I didn’t like the sound of that. I was the annoying woman from the hotel. And he’d called me that even before he knew I’d snuck into their room. Which meant my actions had been justified, once again.
“The other then says, ‘We paid him and Brittany for the product. We have to find it and deliver it.’ Then the other says, ‘We need the formulas as well. Matthias will pay us double to recover that from Ackerman.’” Wilhelm handed the phone back to me. “The rest is you sweet-talking them.”
Taking the phone, I smiled. “Thank you so much. You’ve been a huge help.”
I left the bakery and sat in the golf cart for a moment while I used the search engine on my phone. I looked up Nature Path Pharmaceuticals, the name on the business card I’d taken from the hotel room suitcase. Nature Path was based in Munich, Germany, and specialized in naturopathic medicines. I flipped through pages of the website and found the page listing the board of directors. One of them was Matthias Richter, the guy those two guys were talking about when I taped their conversation.
Time to take this info to the sheriff.
Fortunately, Deputy Shawn was not manning the front when I came in. It was the pleasant Deputy Marshall with the cherub cheeks and big brown eyes.
“Good afternoon, Miss Steele. What can I do for you?”
“Is the sheriff in?”
“Yes, he is.”
He buzzed me through the half door, and I approached the sheriff’s office. The door was closed, but I did a quick, brisk knock, opened it, and walked in. I expected Sheriff Jackson to give me a frowny look and bark something stern. What I didn’t expect was Paige Weaver sitting on the edge of his desk, her long, thin legs clad in sheer hose under a form-fitting pencil skirt that every woman on earth would covet, laughing at something he’d just said.
I froze. “Ah, I’m sorry to intrude.”
The sheriff rose to his feet, clearing his throat. “You’re not intruding on anything.”
“We were just talking about old times,” Paige said as she dangled one shapely leg that suggested she worked out about two hours a day. I hadn’t worked out in…well, a long time.
“Should I come back?” I asked pointedly to the sheriff.
“No.” He gestured to the chair. “Now is good.”
Paige got off the desk and took the chair closest to the desk. I went around her and sat in the other chair. Sheriff Jackson re-seated himself in his desk chair, seemingly oblivious to the posturing occurring in front of him.
“What can I help you with, Andi?” he asked.
“How is June?”
“My client,” Paige piped up before the sheriff could, “is resting comfortably, considering the circumstances.”
“I have some evidence that I think will help to exonerate June.”
Paige’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard you were tenacious, but I had no idea.”
I ignored her, although I did want to know who she’d heard that from. My bet was on Sheriff Jackson, who was squirming in his chair. I could tell he was slightly uncomfortable. Served him right.
I gave them the rundown of what I’d learned about Tyler, Ackerman Biosystems, and the two Germans who were guests at the hotel pretending to be on vacation. Sheriff Jackson scribbled in his notebook as I talked. I played the recorded conversation from my phone and paraphrased what Wilhelm had translated.
“So, you’re thinking corporate espionage?” the sheriff asked.
I nodded. “Tyler once worked at Ackerman. I figure he stole proprietary research, maybe some formulas, and struck a deal with a German company to sell the info for new drugs.”
“Created from common flowers and plants known to be poisonous for decades?” Paige said with a skeptical look on her face. “How much money would anyone pay for that?”
“There are a lot of natural uses that can be derived from hemlock, and oleander and foxglove. More and more people are turning to natural remedies to treat all kinds of ailments.” I thought about Ginny’s consistent use of essential oils and vitamins to treat everything from blemishes to toe fungus to the flu. Naturopathic treatments were a billion-dollar industry. “Digoxin is a drug used by heart specialists for some heart conditions. It comes from the seeds of the foxglove plant. I suspect it’s what you found in the mortar in June’s house.”
The sheriff frowned as he slid a file from the side of his desk and opened it. His finger traced over some form.
“A massive dose of digoxin was found in Brittany’s system on the preliminary toxicology screen. Dose strong enough to kill her,” he said, still running his finger down the list. “Several other substances that the doc couldn’t identify yet, too.”
I winced. The evidence pointed so clearly to June. She simply couldn’t have killed Brittany. I didn’t believe it. I refused to believe it.
“Do you think the digoxin we found in June’s house was planted there by these German bioengineers?” the sheriff asked.
“They had her address, so it’s possible,” I said. “What does June say about it?”
“She said she’d never grind up foxglove seeds in her workroom like that. That digoxin is too dangerous to mess around with, without the proper equipment and ventilation,” Paige Weaver replied. “With long-term exposure, poisonous plants can be fatal. Mixing toxic plants together would be lunacy. June is too smart for that.”
I nodded. For once, the dragon lady and I were in full agreement. “I think Tyler and Brittany met through Tracy Hamlin, and together, Tyler and Brittany had been fiddling around with different plant species to make generic naturopathic drugs to sell to Nature Path Pharmaceuticals. Remember that both Tyler and Brittany had similar rashes on their hands. And I’m reasonably sure it was Tyler I caught stealing something from inside the greenhouse. They might have stored samples there, in addition to the paperwork for their formulas.”
“These two bioengineers arrived on the island after Brittany died.” Sheriff Jackson drummed his fingers on his desk. “Is there another player we’re missing?”
“Simon Gervais,” Paige and I said at the same time. She glared at me, and I glared right back.
“Simon knew Brittany’s business was in trouble. She was on the verge of bankruptcy, which would probably have put a serious dent in Simon’s lifestyle, too,” I said. “He had to have known Brittany was trying to save the business. Maybe she told him outright, got him involved.” My heartbeat picked up, and I leaned forward in the chair. I was definitely onto something. I could feel it. “When I saw Simon last night, he got spooked and ran. Someone had been watching us from the trees. I found a cigarette butt, still smoldering. And it had a strange odor to it. Not like American tobacco.”
“The Germans?” Sheriff Jackson asked.
“Could be.” I nodded, but I hadn’t found similar cigarettes or any of the usual smoker paraphernalia like lighters or matches in their room. And neither of them had smelled like smoke when they walked into their room or the time I’d talked to them in the café. I had a sensitive nose to these things.
The sheriff leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand through his hair. The stubble on his chin was dark, but I noticed a little gray peppered in there. He looked tired.
Like me, I imagined he hadn’t been sleeping well because of this case. It had to be hard on him to see June in a jail cell. He liked June as much as the rest of us did. He wouldn’t be happy to see her convicted. Just the opposite. He was dedicated to serving the village and the people in it.
“I’ll put a call in to Frank Nelson over in Frontenac City. Ask him to bring Tyler and Tracy in for questioning,” he said, as if he was making his own list of things to do in his head.
“What about the Germans?” I asked.
“I’ll go have a talk with them. What room are they in?”
“Room 312.”
>
Paige patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Well done, Andi. You made my job easy.”
“Well, whatever you may have heard from the gossip mill, I’m still a damn good lawyer.”
“I never put any stock in gossip,” she said, her eyes wide in mock surprise.
“Uh-huh.” I stood. “Can I see June?”
The sheriff’s “Of course” battled with Paige’s “No” in the room.
He stood and came around the desk. “I’ll take you.”
“Luke…” Paige warned.
“This is my station, Paige. My rules.”
She huffed but didn’t argue with him. She remained seated as the sheriff and I moved toward the door. He stopped and glanced at her. “You’ll have to wait out in the lobby.”
With one sharply defined eyebrow arched, she grabbed her purse from his desk and walked out of the office. A trail of expensive rose-scented perfume wafted behind her. I wrinkled my nose. I didn’t know what brand of perfume she was wearing, but it didn’t work on her at all.
I followed the sheriff down the back corridor of the station to the cells. There were two of them. One was larger, an open area with several benches and metal bars. This was typically the “drunk tank.” The other cell was a small room with a glass pane in the steel door. Inside was a bed, toilet, sink, and one steel guest chair. It was spartan but clean enough. There was a window over the bed to let in the natural light.
June was resting on the narrow bed when the sheriff unlocked the door. She sat up and smiled when she saw me. I went in and sat on the chair beside her bed. The sheriff closed the door on his way out, but he didn’t lock it. He’d probably be waiting just outside.
“Are they letting me go?” she asked. The eagerness in her voice stabbed me in the stomach.
“Soon, I hope.” I didn’t want to give her false expectations. I was positive that the information I’d given the sheriff, along with the follow-up he’d undertake, would exonerate June. But stuff like that could take time. Probably a few days at least, and maybe more, to sort it all out and get the judge to drop all charges and release her from custody.
