The Perils of Peaches (Scents of Murder Book 3)

by Lynette Sowell

  “All right. He would get here by seven in the morning. He always made a pot of coffee first. I could never beat him here in time to do it.” She smiled at her own words. “He’d start seeing patients right away. No, he didn’t go brush his teeth between visits or anything. Always a hand washer, though.”

  “Gotta keep those bugs away.” Now it was my turn to smile.

  “He never packed his lunch. Not since Oat Grass opened a couple of years ago. I think he had that menu memorized. I know I wasn’t too keen on the place at first, but now, I can’t help but keep ordering from them. Because it’s what he would have done.” Eunice shook her head. “I ordered from the pizza place on Fridays sometimes, but he’d never have any of that. Always Oat Grass.”

  “Did anything change about that?”

  “No.”

  “But right after he died, the police found all those baby food jars in his trash can and you know, they wondered about the baby food at first. Did he ever say why he started eating it?”

  Eunice looked thoughtful for a moment. “He never said why he started eating the baby food, but I remember when he did. He pitched a fit when Oat Grass started messing up on the orders. I think Gloria was out for her surgery when that started happening. Then she came back, and I tell you, I thought I heard angels rejoicing. But that’s also when Dr. Bradley started eating the baby food. Said he needed an afternoon pick-me-up.”

  Dr. Gupta appeared in the kitchen doorway and I sat up straighter. “Ladies, good job today. I know my booth kept me very busy, so I’m sure yours did as well. Mrs. Hartley, I know we won’t be working together again, but I know we’ll see each other around town. And through Barkha.”

  The hair on my arms stood on end at his voice. I couldn’t get that threatening recording out of my mind. His voice had sounded so cold. Completely unlike the warm, polite and polished demeanor he had with us. What a mess, as Momma would say.

  “Thanks, Dr. Gupta,” was all I could squeeze out of my vocal cords.

  “I should get back to my office. Boxes to unpack, you know.”

  I wondered what alibi he gave to Jerry.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I had a few days’ breather while we finalized the contract from Purely Skin Care for Tennessee River Soaps. It was as if I could forget for a time what had happened. I think Ben was relieved when I stopped talking about the medical office and all the drama surrounding the changes there.

  Then Tuesday night, Jerry called. “I thought you’d like to know about that insulin vial. Harris learned who it belongs to.”

  “Really?”

  “A Margaret Stevens, who lives right here in Greenburg.”

  “I don’t recognize the name. But then, Bradley Medical has a lot of patients and that’s sort of a generic name.” I sat in the kitchen and watched Hannah hold onto the edge of her playpen, take one step, and flop down hard on her bottom. “Did you talk to her? Did she have an explanation for how it ended up in the parking lot?”

  “She claims she had an insulin vial go missing a few weeks ago. And when I mentioned to her where we found it, she couldn’t explain that either. Because she’s not a patient at Bradley Medical. She goes to a doctor in Corinth, Mississippi.”

  She had an insulin vial go missing. Maisey’s medicine had gone missing. Coincidence? “Jerry, thanks for letting me know. Can I let you go? I need to call my momma.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Inside of thirty seconds, I had Momma on the phone. “Momma, I need to ask you something really important. What’s Maisey’s last name?”

  “Are you okay? Your voice sounds all panicky. Why are you asking about Maisey?”

  “I can’t explain right now, but I need to know her last name.”

  “It’s Stevens.”

  “Is Maisey her real name, or is that a nickname?”

  “I think her real name is Margaret, but Maisey sounds prettier and younger, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose … thanks, Momma.”

  “No problem. Is something wrong with Maisey?”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. One more question. On Saturday at the health fair, did you say something about Maisey having a bottle of medicine go missing right before you met her?”

  “I did. That’s why I started helping her. I know her niece is sweet and all, but that whole mix-up with her medications wasn’t right.”

  We ended the call, and when I hung up the phone, my hands were shaking.

  Not Gloria. I didn’t want to think it. Maisey’s niece, Gloria—the sweet young woman who took care of her aunt’s medications. The sweet woman who’d probably lost one of her earrings and a vial of insulin. The ideas bounced around in my brain and slid into place like tumblers in a lock. Gloria had access. Gloria had knowledge. And she sure had motive, regardless of what she said.

  The whole scenario played in my mind like a bad movie, and I couldn’t sleep that night with visions of Gloria creeping up behind Dr. Bradley’s desk and sticking him with a syringe full of insulin, then running for the office door. And in my dream, she saw me watching her and ran straight for me.

  Wednesday came, and Mommy’s Morning along with it. I paced the sales floor of Tennessee River Soaps while Hannah played in the carpeted enclosure. Her actions didn’t bring me the joy they usually did. I wanted to cancel, but didn’t see the point. Sadie and her mother were wedding dress shopping. Mia and Lizzie were at the lake with her parents. Then Maryann called and said that Zoë had a cold, so they wouldn’t be there. I wouldn’t take Gloria’s one outlet away from her. But how could I look her in the eye with my terrible suspicions? I wanted to be wrong, but I wanted to hear it straight from Gloria’s mouth that she had nothing to do with Dr. Bradley’s death.

  Jerry showed up at the store right after it opened. “We have a problem.”

  “What’s that? Is it something involving the case?”

  “No, it’s the lotion that I bought in that gift basket for Barkha. She thinks she’s allergic to it. The stuff made her break out.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Surely I wasn’t going to have a repeat of three years ago, when one of my customers had died from an allergic reaction.

  He shook his head. “We met for coffee this morning before she had to go to work, and from her hands to her elbows, she’s got all these red bumps covering her arms. She’s going to get a steroid shot. I told her I’d try to get her something else.”

  I sank onto the stool behind the register. “I’m so sorry. I’ll let you choose something else.”

  “Okay. I’ll get some of the mandarin glycerin bars she likes. And the scrub too.” Jerry clutched his stomach. “Hang on. I need to borrow your restroom for a moment.”

  “You know where it’s at.”

  He darted to the back room. I’d been ready to call him, to see if he’d come down and talk to Gloria when she arrived, but him showing up saved me a phone call.

  At which point, I saw Gloria’s Toyota pull into the parking lot. My heart thudded. I wanted to run to the back of the store, knock Jerry to the side, and throw up in the bathroom myself.

  Gloria breezed in with Jenna on her hip. “Looks like it’s just us this morning.”

  “Yes, sort of.” I smiled as she lowered Jenna into the play area to join Hannah. “Do you want some coffee, or juice? I have some coffeecake on my desk.”

  “No, I’m fine.” She glanced at Jerry’s truck in the parking lot. “Who else is here?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but the door to the restroom in the back opened. Gloria’s face froze.

  “Hello. You’re Andi’s brother-in-law, right? Chief of Police?” Gloria asked.

  “Guilty on both counts.” Jerry looked a little pale. “Jerry Hartley.”

  Oh, Jerry, please don’t say guilty. I found my voice. “Gloria. I need to talk to you, and I really, really want to be wrong about what I’m afraid of.”

  “Wh-what do you need to talk to me about?” She rubbed her arms as if the air conditioner
had just come on full blast.

  “Dr. Bradley. You wanted him to suffer. You made the salads at Oat Grass for Bradley Medical. And you delivered his lunches. And your aunt, Margaret aka Maisey Stevens, had some diabetic pills and a vial of insulin go missing. We know you helped in her care too.” I tried not to stammer.

  “So what if all those things happened? I don’t deny any of them.” Gloria sank onto a chair at the small table I’d set up earlier.

  “You’ve got a point.” I had to agree with her.

  “Andi, what are you talking about?” Jerry asked.

  “It could be nothing. I could be wrong. I want to be. But when I connect the dots, I draw a line and it points …” I raised my hands and placed them on the counter.

  Gloria looked me straight in the eye. “Tell me exactly where you think it points, Andi.”

  “It started when Jenna was born. You had complications during childbirth. You and your husband blamed Dr. Bradley. Then came the lawsuit. Then came your husband’s simmering anger. You already admitted he’d had a hard time dealing with what happened to Jenna. But I think you had your own anger, too, because late in May, you had a hysterectomy. And that meant”—I swallowed hard, and realized tears had spilled onto my cheeks—“that meant you could never, ever have another child. A healthy child. So one of Aunt Maisey’s insulin pill bottles disappeared and you started putting crushed-up insulin pills into Dr. Bradley’s salads. Then Dr. Bradley, bless his heart, started eating my baby food late in the afternoon when his blood sugar would take a nosedive.”

  “What a tale. Are you done yet?” Her blue eyes could have frozen ice, but her voice shook.

  “No, I’m not. So you took one of Aunt Maisey’s insulin vials and one of her syringes, slipped into Bradley Medical with the key you made—ironically, just like Terrance Higgins did. You waited inside Dr. Bradley’s bathroom closet. Late at night, long enough after his supper, you left that closet with the syringe in hand. Then you stuck him with enough insulin to kill him. Neat. Clean. Untraceable.”

  “You have no way to prove any of this.”

  “But I found your broken earring and the Greenburg PD has it. Both of them now.” I glanced at Jerry. “Then you probably got scared when you realized it was missing. So you stuck its match inside Eunice’s desk drawer when no one was looking. You’ve delivered plenty of lunches after Dr. Bradley’s death.”

  “This is very interesting,” Jerry said. “Mrs.?”

  “Treen. I’m Gloria Treen.”

  “Mrs. Treen, what do you have to say about this?”

  “Are you questioning me, officer? Do I need a lawyer?” They stared each other down as if in an Old West standoff.

  “Gloria, I’m just telling you what I see,” I said. “I’ve been wrong about people before. I’m sorry you hurt so badly that you wanted him to suffer too. Maybe you didn’t know it would kill him. Maybe you wanted him to just be sick. Insulin wears off after a while. But if it’s too much …”

  Now Gloria was the one dashing tears away from her eyes. “That still doesn’t prove anything. Like you said, it would be untraceable.”

  “But you’re used to giving your aunt shots, right? Did you put the syringe into his leg, or his neck, or his arm? Maybe it wouldn’t show up on autopsy where you stuck him. Or maybe it would. Jerry hasn’t made those results public for good reason.”

  “You’re right, maybe not.” Gloria sniffled. “But a needle stick on someone’s neck doesn’t prove anything.”

  “True, true. But there’s one last thing.”

  “What’s that?” She snatched a tissue from the box on the table.

  “The syringe. You needed to get rid of it fast. There’s a sharps container tucked just inside the first exam room door. You could have put the syringe in the container. And if you didn’t use gloves, your prints are all over that syringe. All Greenburg PD has to do is go pick up that container and find the right syringe. But what if Terrance Higgins showed up at the same time you stashed the syringe, so you ran for it and dropped that insulin vial in the parking lot?”

  Gloria glared at us. “I love my daughter and I’d do anything for her. She’ll never walk, probably never talk, at least not clear enough so anyone can understand her. She’ll ride that little bus to school for twelve years, and get shuffled to one of those classes—the ones where all the students wear diapers. And then what? I get her back again so I can care for her the next fifty years or so until I die? Couldn’t you think of what those thoughts must be like for me? And now I can never have children.”

  “Yes, I have thought of what life must be like for you. Very often.” I glanced to where the girls played and babbled.

  “So you understand why. You’re a mother.”

  “What are you saying, Gloria?” Jerry asked gently.

  “I need to call my husband. And a lawyer.”

  Within fifteen minutes, Victor Treen had come to the store and everyone had left Hannah and me alone in the store while they went to the police station. Gloria rode with Victor, her posture slumped against the window. All I could do was sit inside the play enclosure and let the tears flow as I held my baby girl to my heart. My life had changed forever when I gave birth to Hannah, and Ben had placed her in my arms for the first time. I knew if anyone tried to harm her, I’d shed blood to protect her. Would I kill for her? I didn’t want to think so. I prayed never to be put in a situation like that. But never for revenge.

  “Oh, dear Lord, I never wanted it to be Gloria. I wanted to be wrong about her. That’s why I didn’t look at her very closely. Any one of the others could have done it,” I murmured into Hannah’s silky-soft hair. The last few weeks had opened up a pile of secrets in Greenburg, while people had gone on their merry way and barely mourned the passing of a doctor they hardly knew.

  A vehicle entering the parking lot, so I stood and looked out the window. Not a customer. Ben. I should have turned the sign to closed.

  He burst through the front door. “Jerry called me.”

  And then he took Hannah and me into his arms and we made a tight little circle, just the three of us. He kissed my hair and my forehead and the end of my nose, then lastly, my lips. “I love you, Andromeda Hartley.”

  “I love you too.” More tears came, and I clung to him. “I feel terrible about what I did just now.”

  “Hush. Jerry told me she’s ready to talk once her lawyer arrives. Maybe hoping for a lighter sentence.”

  “I feel like I just took a momma away from her little girl.” Regardless of the fact that Gloria had sounded bitter about being sentenced, as it were, to care for her daughter for her entire life.

  “It sounds like they might have gotten around to questioning Gloria anyway, eventually, with that insulin bottle you told me about.”

  I leaned against him. “I need to close the store this morning. I need …”

  “We need to pack some snacks, and take Hannah to the park.”

  “Right now?”

  “Right now.” He released us and went to lock the front door, then turned out the lights. “Let’s get her diaper bag and go.”

  “Can we go in one vehicle?” I didn’t want to drive alone, in case I started crying again.

  “Wherever we go, Ands, I want you by my side.”

  That made me kiss him again, and thoughts of darkness fled.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  We were preparing to see a spectacle which no one in Greenburg, Tennessee, had ever seen, nor would ever see again: my brother-in-law, Greenburg Police Chief Jerry Hartley, riding a bedecked and spangled elephant down Main Street on the way to his wedding ceremony in Greenburg City Park.

  Barkha had given me, as matron of honor, first dibs on which color sari to wear for the wedding ceremony. My sari, a gorgeous ocean blue, had hints of green and yellow. Ben said he thought I should wear it around the house all the time after this.

  We waited at the decorated outdoor amphitheater at the park, the only place large enou
gh to fit a chunk of Greenburg’s population and one hundred of Barkha’s closest family members. That was after she’d pared the guest list in half, much to her parents’ consternation. Some of her relatives refused to come, and I couldn’t imagine the size of the celebration if they all had responded to the invitation.

  But we’d survived the wedding preparations, and here we were. A lot had happened in the past year while Jerry and Barkha’s romance had snowballed into an avalanche. Tushar had given up on Barkha and Greenburg, broken his contract with Franklin Bradley, and retreated to Atlanta. Franklin ended up closing the medical practice right after the new year began, and then headed off to Europe with his backpack.

  After Barkha and Jerry’s honeymoon to India, which would also involve some volunteer work at a Christian orphanage, Barkha planned to open a women’s health clinic in Greenburg. Her parents had come for visits every couple of months, during which visits Barkha bounced back and forth between battling her mother about wedding plans and sparring with her father over a business plan.

  As for Victor Treen, he was taking good care of his daughter while his wife awaited trial for Dr. Bradley’s murder. Eunice had lost her LVN license and pled guilty, now under house arrest for illegally obtaining and selling narcotics. She also faced charges for running Franklin’s car off the road.

  Ben, a firm believer in second chances, hired her at the restaurant, and she didn’t dye her hair anymore. I told her the rich silver color suited her and made her look mature and elegant. Evidently Jonas, Ben’s head cook, thought so too. They’d recently started having dinner together, at her place, of course. Justin Finley graduated from Greenburg High, but the colleges didn’t come calling offering football scholarships after all.

  “Are you nervous?” I asked Barkha as she paced inside the small tent where we hid until the ceremony started.

  Barkha nodded. This morning she looked like Indian royalty in her ivory sari embroidered with gold. The rented jewelry around her neck alone was probably worth more than my house. But she rubbed her hennaed and bejeweled hands together, then yawned.