“Why? The lady’s standing right there. Shouldn’t she know what rumors you’re spreading behind your back?”
He leaned over and opened the edge of the newspaper that Holly had wrapped the deadly flowers in. “Do you recognize this?” he asked Wendy. “They’re saying”—he pointed to Holly and Emma—“that this came from your exotic plant garden and has been used to poison two men.”
Wendy’s face became even more strained as she stared at the wilting plant inside the newspaper. She bit at the corner of her lip, so hard that a line of blood trickled down.
Holly began to cry and turned to stare out the window instead of watching the results of her betrayal. How could you have even had that thought, let alone voiced it?
Wendy advanced a step further into the room. Now that Aidan had stopped laying out the facts of their discussion, the room was otherwise silent.
“Why do you think that I poisoned my son-in-law?”
The question seemed aimed at Holly, and she was about to turn and give a fumbling answer when Emma spoke instead.
“Your family has always been at war with the Masters. Nobody could believe it when Sheila and Derek began dating. They were calling it Romeo and Juliet, and everyone’s spent the last year waiting for it to end in tragedy.”
“And you think I’d kill someone because I didn’t like his dad?”
Holly heard a strange note in Wendy’s voice and turned around. Along with the strain lines framing her face, Wendy now had the ghost of satisfaction lining her mouth, curving it into a tiny smile.
“I don’t know what you’re capable of,” Emma said. “I don’t know you at all, lady.”
A pause followed, so long that the air bulged with its possible meanings. The silence grew so loud, so oppressive, that Holly wished somebody would say something, anything, to break it.
Still, she kept her own lip buttoned. Holly had said too much for the time being.
“I did it.” When the confession came, Wendy’s voice was so small that Holly almost missed it. They were words that should have boomed out of a proud chest. Instead, they trickled from the corner of Wendy’s mouth like a thin line of drool.
“I did it. Arnold was an accident, but I poisoned Derek Masters. I painted the oleander toxin on the inside of the glass I knew he’d drink from.”
Wendy held out her thin wrists, pressed hard together, shaking. “You may as well arrest me and lock me up now. I did it.”
With those final words came a broad smile that sent a chill into Holly’s heart.
Chapter Fourteen
The storm came to an abrupt halt as soon as Wendy confessed her guilt. It was as though it had raged in protest at the terrible acts being committed. When they came to a timely end, it moved on to wail at another town.
It was Emma who remembered that the church would have a phone that worked. While Holly and Aidan kept a wary eye on Wendy, Emma fetched the minister and drove the short distance to bring help.
With Sergeant Matthewson in Christchurch, the station sent its on-call police constable in his stead. PC Mayhew seemed perfectly capable. Within a few short minutes at Inglewood Manor, he secured the prisoner and drove her back to Hanmer Springs to lock her in the cell.
“Should we wake Sheila up and tell her the good news?” Emma asked. Her voice had such an edge of tiredness to it that Holly feared she might collapse.
“I say we let her sleep it off,” she responded. “The bad news will be waiting for her when she wakes up, so she might as well get a good rest.”
As William came into the kitchen to fetch another bottle of wine for the continuing festivities, he met a glum ensemble.
“What’s up?” he asked, moving over to put his arm around Emma’s shoulders.
Holly and Crystal left them to it. The twist of pain in Holly’s stomach earlier had settled into a dull ache. She rubbed her abdomen as they walked outside to retrieve their vehicles.
“Going without saying goodbye, are you?” Aidan called out. He’d disappeared while the policeman was dealing with Wendy, but now stood on the gravel near the entrance, Elvira, and Esmerelda hanging about behind him.
“Goodbye,” Holly dutifully called out. “We’re heading home while the going’s good.”
“The forecast doesn’t show any further rain on the way,” Aidan said.
“It didn’t show this storm approaching, either.” Holly shifted her weight from foot to foot as she stood by her sedan door. What was the normal etiquette here? All Holly wanted was to get home.
“Hey,” a man said walking out of the front door. His trouser legs were stained with juice.
He grabbed at Elvira’s shoulder and spun her around. “You were seated at one of the rear tables with your friends, right? Care to tell me how all the wine glasses were filled up with juice and then turned upside-down? Look at me!”
He swept his hand across the stained pants leg, his lip curling in disgust.
“That was me,” Esmerelda said, stepping between Elvira and the man. “I was teaching the girls about the miracles of physics. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yeah, I have a problem. It’s called a dry-cleaning bill.”
Esmerelda gave a short bark of laughter. “Well, nobody told you to lift the glasses off the table, did they? If you tried to move them and made a mess, that’s not on my granddaughter or on me. All right?”
When he didn’t answer immediately, she shoved her face so close to the man’s that he took a step back, his shoulders softening in defeat. “Okay,” he said, raising his hands palms-out. “I just got a bit heated.”
Esmerelda pointed at the man’s right hand, clenched into a fist. “Yeah. And then you came out here and manhandled my granddaughter because of something that I did. I think you owe her an apology, don’t you?”
Holly’s eyebrows raised in admiration as Esmerelda continued her tongue-lashing. There was no doubt in her mind that the elderly woman hadn’t been involved in the prank. Still, she’d stepped in front of a violent man to protect Elvira.
If her dad was still alive, Holly could imagine him sniffing and saying this was why today’s children never learned. For her own part, Esmerelda had just earned Holly’s respect. No matter that Elvira was probably in the wrong.
“I just want to head home and wash this day off of me,” Holly called out. “Then I want to call up and check on Derek. See if he’s doing okay.”
Aidan gave her a glum smile. “I suppose that’s goodbye then.” He turned and trudged a few steps toward his car.
“Oh, for goodness sake, you’re pathetic.” Elvira trotted to catch up with her older cousin and give him a slap on the bicep. “If you want to ask her out, just do it. We don’t need you sulking all the way home.”
Holly tilted her head to one side, but Aidan acted like he hadn’t heard. He just kept heading for his car. She shrugged, and Elvira twirled her finger around her ear and crossed her eyes.
The drive back to the township was slow. There were crews out directing the traffic where the worst of the damage had hit. Compared to some of the narrow squeezes the one-lane bridge that usually gave Holly the willies seemed as wide as a highway.
When she finally pulled the car to a stop alongside the house, Holly breathed a sigh of relief. For long minutes, she rested her head on the steering wheel fighting against an urge to cry.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Think of poor Derek and Sheila. Not to mention Wendy rotting in that police cell.
Holly rolled her eyes. Why on earth was her brain wasting time sympathizing with Wendy? The woman had murdered a man in cold blood today and come close to doing in another.
Holly got out of the car and walked to the back door. She needed to phone the hospital and see how Derek was doing. Hopefully, they’d let her know, even though she wasn’t family.
Family.
The word brought Holly to a dead stop. In all the excitement of getting Derek into the paramedic’s van had anybody thought to inform his father wh
at had happened?
She started to walk again, taking slow steps up the back porch and inside.
Surely, the police or the hospital would have made Brian Masters the first point of call. They wouldn’t have his son in their ward and leave him none the wiser.
Holly didn’t want the job of checking. She and Brian Masters didn’t get on at the best of times. Given that he still seemed to harbor resentment toward Crystal—even though her sister had nothing to do with his attempted murder—it would be a terrible position to put herself in. Still, the thought nagged.
What if nobody has done it? What if he’s in the dark?
When Crystal walked in a few minutes later, Holly had made up her mind. She swept straight out of the door past her sister. “I’m going down to the station to check in with the sergeant if he’s back. I won’t be long.”
Sergeant Matthewson shook his head when Holly walked through the door.
“What?” she asked, clasping her hands and leaning them on the counter. “I just wanted to check and see that someone informed Brian Masters about his son.”
Matthewson walked over and leaned forward on the counter, close to touching. “I’m sure that the hospital did that earlier. I left all the details with the triage nurse so they could make the arrangements.”
“And did they call?”
Matthewson shrugged. “I suppose you want me to contact them and find out.”
Holly took a step back and nodded, relieved. “Yes, please. I’ve been so worried thinking that he doesn’t know.”
“Okay. You know we’ll need to ask you some questions, as well. Do you have time right now?”
“I do,” Holly said with a smile. “Right after you call up the hospital to check.”
Sergeant Matthewson laughed as he pulled the phone close and started dialing. “Well-played.”
By the time he was halfway through the phone conversation, Holly had relaxed. It was clear just listening to his end that the hospital had indeed made contact with Derek’s father. Her worries could be put aside now. Once she finished here, Holly could finally relax.
The small room that the sergeant led her into was furnished with only a stark table and chairs. Looks about as comfortable as the dental nurse’s waiting room when I was a kid, Holly thought, looking around. Not that there were any bees or butterflies made from cotton pads and dental floss, though.
“Now, Wendy Tahoe has already told us that she confessed to you, Emma Whelps, and Aidan Heddle in the kitchen of Inglewood Manor. Is that right?”
Holly nodded, and when the sergeant jerked his head toward a flashing red light in the corner of the room, she loudly said, “Yes. That’s right.”
“Can you tell us exactly what her words were?”
At that, Holly pursed her lips and frowned. “Something like, I did it. I killed him.” She shook her head, “I can’t remember the exact order, but there was no doubt about what she was saying. I think she even specifically mentioned Arnold and Derek.” Holly tapped a finger on the table. “I’m not sure.”
“I’m going to run you through Mrs. Tahoe’s confession and see if it fits with what you remember of the day’s events. Just a few things that we’re checking on.”
Holly nodded and shifted in her seat. The chair was hardwood and metal. She really hoped that the few minutes Matthewson indicated didn’t stretch out any longer.
“First off, Wendy says that she distilled the poison out of the petals of an oleander plant.”
Holly nodded. “That’s right. I found the flowers in the bin in the bridal suite when I was changing. I didn’t know at the time what they were, or how dangerous. I moved them from the bedroom to the bathroom because they’d started to smell.”
Matthewson gave her a hard look, then noted down something on his pad. When Holly leaned forward to try to read it upside-down, he lifted it so she couldn’t.
“She also says that she’d brought along special glasses for Derek to use. The poison was painted in a thin film inside them.”
“Inside one,” Holly corrected him.
“Sorry?”
“It was my fault.” Holly shifted in her chair again, an ache transferring from her bottom to her upper legs. “I picked out a glass from the box to fill with water because the champagne flutes already out had a sliced strawberry in the base.”
A sob erupted out of her chest, catching both Holly and the sergeant by surprise. “Sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “It’s the first time I’ve realized that if I’d just picked a different glass, Arnold would still be alive.”
Sergeant Matthewson nodded but as the pause lengthened he began to nudge her for more information.
“You said that only one glass was laced with poison?”
Again, Holly nodded. “It was marked with a bit of lipstick or something. Arnold wiped it away with his sleeve, but I think that must have been a pointer. The others were fine because Aidan drank some water out of one and he’s perfectly okay.”
“What happened to the original glass, do you know?”
This time, Holly shook her head, then winced. A headache was sweeping up her neck and over her scalp. The tenderness had increased until just that small movement was painful.
“Minister Woodfield and I tried to rope off the area out at the base of the stairs and the room they’d taken Arnold into. By the time we began that, the glass had already been taken away.”
“But it was there.”
“I don’t know.” Holly pursed her lips and put a hand up to her throbbing temple. “Arnold handed it back to me, but I lost track of it when he collapsed. I must have put it down somewhere, but I couldn’t find it later, and it hadn’t smashed. I presume someone took it, either to hide or just to clean away.”
“And Aidan Heddle drank from another of those glasses and was fine.”
Holly thought of Aidan gulping the water and then faking the sudden clutch to his throat. If he realized how close he came to death, she wondered if he’d find that act as funny.
“He drank it, and it was definitely from the same glasses. Aidan was proving to his cousin that the water wasn’t contaminated.”
“Okay. I’ll just—”
Sergeant Matthewson broke off, halfway through standing. He looked ridiculous, legs bent, butt off the chair. It was evident that he’d started to leave the room and then thought better of it. Holly stared at him, worried as the sergeant slowly sat down again.
“No. I’ll ask you the rest of the questions now and then check things out later.”
She nodded, wincing at the pain, then spotted that the sergeant hadn’t been informing her, he was talking to himself.
“Mrs. Tahoe extracted the toxin, painted it on the glasses, then stored the remainder of the plants she’d used upstairs.”
Holly opened her mouth to remind him of the bathroom suite, but the sergeant held up his hand.
“Just wait until I ask a question, please.”
Holly let her mouth close with an annoyed snap.
“She left the pile of spare flowers in the loft. Once she returned to Inglewood Manor and found out about the unfortunate incident with Arnold, Wendy says she threw the rest of the flowers out of the skylight.”
Holly’s eyes bulged as her mind frantically worked through all the reasons that statement was wrong. At a warning look from the sergeant, she kept her lip buttoned.
“She then went through to the kitchens and made sure that Derek, and only Derek, would receive another of the special glasses. Everybody was then in such a panic that she was able to take the glass and hide it back in the box. She rinsed all of them out to cover her tracks and was upset that the paramedic was so close because it meant that Derek survived.”
Finally, Holly could bear it no longer. “No, that’s a load of rubbish.”
Sergeant Matthewson sighed deeply and picked up his pen. “Which bit is wrong.”
It only took a few minutes to fill him in about the glasses, the timing and positioning of the flowers b
eing thrown away, the unmarked stairs leading to the loft and the skylight so stuck in place that it took two adults to bang it open.
“She’s covering for someone,” Holly stated when she reached the end. “I don’t know why, but Wendy’s lying about almost everything.”
Chapter Fifteen
After a brief discussion, Holly accompanied Sergeant Matthewson as he retraced a journey that she’d hoped never to make again.
At the church, Holly got out and went through where she’d seen the people that morning. With the timeframe set, that ruled in some suspects while ruling others out. Even though she felt like a gossip monger saying so, Holly also confided that she thought Emma had been visiting Minister Woodfield in his private rooms.
When they arrived at Inglewood Manor, Holly was glad to see a face she recognized almost as soon as they stepped through the door.
“Alex,” she called out, beckoning him along when his face registered surprise at the presence of the sergeant. From the reluctant footsteps toward them, Holly figured that the young man had brushed up against the law before.
“What time did you arrive here this morning?” Holly asked, earning herself a stern look from Sergeant Matthewson. She ignored him for the time being. If he wanted to lead the questioning, then he could speak up first.
“Just after six o’clock. I had to get here early to start the preparation. The bulk of the kitchen staff arrive at seven, so there’s got to be stuff ready and waiting to be cooked.”
“Who else was around at that time?”
For that, Holly earned herself a throat clearing, and she took a step back, jerking her head to show Matthewson he should move ahead of her.
“William had arrived and was just on his way out again. Jenkins, the gardener, was wandering around, muttering that they’d better not crush his tulip bulbs when they parked the cars.”
“Muttering to whom?”
Alex looked taken aback. “Just himself. He’s always been a bit like that.”
“Do you often work here?” the sergeant continued.
Strawberries and Suffering Page 12
