Tainted Teacup

by Michelle Busby

  “My man?” She smiled just a little. She didn’t say “not my man” this time.

  “Charles?”

  “Slipped off when we came in. I tried to give chase, but my bad knee won’t let me run very well.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Charlie had already found them. He had broken into Beverly’s desk drawer. Henry caught him in the act. In the struggle, the bag broke, and pills spilled everywhere. Then Charlie ran away out the back of his office.”

  “Got him,” she said with the tiniest trace of a chuckle.

  “Not yet. He’s still hiding somewhere. I figure he’s the one came in yer shop and tried to kill you. I’m so glad I got there in time to scare him off, although who would ever be scared of a 1.70-meter man weighing 10 stone, I don’t know.”

  “Stupid metric system,” she whispered before closing her aching eyes.

  When she next opened them, the man holding her hand was not Finbar; it was Earl Petry.

  “I kept my promise. I didn’t investigate,” she said.

  “I know. Mr. Holmes told me. And you still got hurt. Lord, but you’re a stubborn woman, Tommie Watson,” he said gruffly, but Tommie could hear the softness underneath.

  “Charles?”

  “We caught him not far from here. He’s locked up. We found all sorts of illegal prescription drugs from Mexico in his office and at his house. He won’t be walking around for a good while.”

  “Linda?”

  “We’ll interrogate her to see how much she knew. It could be jail for her if she was in cahoots with him.”

  “Henry?”

  “Doing fine. He finally stood up to someone.”

  “Earl?”

  “Right where he needs to be.”

  “Thanks for sharing,” she said.

  “Thanks for living,” he replied.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tommie Watson spent the rest of that night on Camelia Street—sleeping in Finbar’s guest bedroom. Because she had a concussion, he was vigilant, staying up all night to watch her. He gently roused her every hour, asking if she knew her name and where she was. After the sixth time, she told him she was the Queen of Hearts and she was going to cut off his head if he didn’t stop. He laughed and told her she was mad. She told him he didn’t know the half of it.

  She slept off and on throughout the night and part of the next day. Finbar darkened the room and regularly applied a cool, moist cloth to the place where she had been struck. He kept the dogs quiet, letting them romp around outside as long as they wanted. Earl called several times and talked to Holmes, who assured him Tommie was being well looked after.

  By Saturday afternoon, Tommie was ready to leave the guest room. Finbar helped her onto the sofa and brought her a cup of the herbal tea blend she had made him with plenty of her Honey-Honey. He gently massaged her neck and shoulders and found a station on the cable television network that played her favorite soothing new age music.

  That night, whether it was the tea, the head injury, or the constant care, she slept soundly. When she woke the next day, she was starving.

  “Would you like a toast and butter with marmalade, missus?” Finbar asked.

  “Yes, I’d love that for starters, but then I want some real food,” she answered.

  Finbar laughed. “And what would her Majesty desire for breakfast?”

  “Fried spuds and black pudding.”

  “I think yer head was harder than the thing what hit it, Thomasina. But sure, if that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll eat. Drink yer tea, lass, and have yer toast. Breakfast’ll be ready in just a minute.”

  He brought her a tray and insisted she stay on the sofa. When she argued that she was a messy eater, he laid a dish towel over her chest. He took his on a tray at his easy chair, and the two of them ate silently, savoring the food and the quiet comfort of their growing friendship. When they finished, the dogs got the scraps and he put the plates in to soak.

  “Finbar, did they figure out what was used to club me?” she asked.

  “They did, missus. It was yer marble grinder from yer counter. It made a right bloody dent in yer hard head.”

  “Well, crap. I had just cleaned it, too.”

  “Thomasina, it’s lucky it wasn’t delivered with more force. It could’ve crushed yer skull. Had Charlie not seen me coming, he might’ve hit you a lot more. Bloody rotter.”

  “But you were there, and he’s caught, and that’s that.”

  Tommie shifted positions. The movement made her feel dizzy and a little sick to her stomach. Finbar saw her eyes roll, and her face became pale.

  “Thomasina, you need to stay here a few more days. It’s no bother. Myself and the dogs love you being here.”

  Tommie protested, at first, but he told her he felt it was his responsibility to watch over her in case her head injury proved to be more serious than what the doctors said. Tommie knew it wasn’t about the head injury; he secretly felt guilty for leaving her alone that day. She could see it in the way he looked at her from the corner of his eye and his constant attention to her needs.

  Monday was President’s Day, and though Tommie had some great ideas for President-themed tea blends, Finbar and Earl both encouraged her to wait, so she decided to rest for another couple of weeks before she tried reopening her shop. Besides, her head was still so tender that she was unable to lie on her back, and the constant swapping from side to side made her irritable. She didn’t want to inflict that frame of mind on her customers.

  Finbar didn’t take drop-ins at his home, but he was more than willing to let people bring cards and food baskets to the door for Tommie. She had a few phone calls from Don Lareby and the sisters to check on her, and Sarah Beth had called several times and dropped off a big basket of cheese, crackers, and chocolates. She even got a picnic hamper of baked goods from the Trinity LCO and a sweet card. Henry visited Finbar one evening, and the two of them played poker and drank Guinness while Tommie napped on the sofa.

  The week after her attack, when Tommie was ready to go back to her side of the duplex, Finbar asked her to stay two more days at his place. She was still suffering from headaches and double vision. Not having the strength or the inclination to refuse, she stayed. He told her that he would have her duplex unit cleaned and spiffed up for her return, and that was fine with Tommie.

  On Wednesday the 20th, Tommie felt like she had imposed long enough. She was ready to go home. Finbar walked her over to the kitchen door and held it open for her. One step inside, and she almost lost consciousness again.

  “What have you done?” she asked.

  “I told you I would fix up yer home, missus. I hope you like it,” he said, trying to hide a big smile.

  Tommie couldn’t believe the change. The uneven brown painted concrete floor had been covered with beautiful, grey-toned tongue and groove wood planks that matched the newly painted dove-grey walls. The ugly outdated ceiling tiles were covered with smooth white plaster, and the lighting throughout the space consisted of industrial wood and metal fixtures, reflecting Tommie’s eclectic style. Each room had a matching ceiling fan, which proved to be both decorative and functional. He had even replaced her lumpy worn living room loveseat with a loveseat and chaise combination set in a gun metal grey nubby fabric similar to his brown sofa. Tommie’s favorite improvements, though, were the locking doggie doors out of the kitchen and bedroom into the fenced-in back yard. It was a home that Tommie had dreamed of, so much like her cottage in the woods that it made her heart ache.

  “How did you know what I’d like?” she asked.

  “I know you, missus,” he said, “and you have scores of pictures of yer cottage on yer phone. I couldn’t help but look at them while you slept. And before you wonder, I’ve moved yer herbs and potion making things to the little shed under the carpark, and I put in metal shelves and an air conditioner to keep them cool and dry. Welcome home, Thomasina Watson. Welcome home, Zed and Red.”

  Tommie threw her arms around his n
eck and cried, and Finbar cried a little, too. When she pulled back, he gave her one more surprise. It was an envelope with her name printed on the front in his tidy handwriting.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Well, seeing as I’m yer landlord, I wanted to give you a new arrangement with my rental terms. All you need to do is sign it, if you please, just at the bottom.”

  Tommie opened it with trembling fingers. It was a simple document of only a few lines of writing and a signature line. It read: Tenancy Agreement between Thomasina Watson and Finbar Holmes. On this 20th day of February 2019, Unit A of the duplex at 3095 Camelia Street, Floribunda, Florida, owned by Mr. Finbar Holmes, is hereby leased indefinitely to Ms. Thomasina Watson for an open-ended period of time at a fixed rental price of $10 per month.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Friday, March 1, 2019 was the grand re-opening of Watson’s Reme-Teas. Tommie could hardly believe the crowd of people standing outside waiting for her to let them in. So much had happened in the month since she received that disappointing phone call from Beverly Cantrell that it was hard to keep it all straight.

  Charles Williams had been indicted for buying and distributing the illegal drugs from Mexico. He was set to be tried the following month and faced the maximum sentence allowed by the State of Florida. He confessed to the drug deals but refused to admit to the murders of Coral Beadwell and Beverly Cantrell. In fact, he adamantly denied having any involvement in their deaths. As the evidence against him was largely circumstantial, and without a confession of guilt, the indictment on those charges was pending a more extensive investigation. He also denied the assault and battery charges related to his fight with Henry Erving, as well as the attack on Tommie Watson.

  Linda Beadwell was not found to be complicit in the conspiracy to distribute illegal drugs. She claimed she knew nothing about Charles Williams’ side business. The affair did come to light, however, and Thomas Beadwell promptly filed for divorce. He arranged to buy the Beadwell House, but his intention was for it to be turned into an historical museum of the Beadwell founding family. The commission for the sale was given to the now renamed Floribunda Real Property Company. Its new owners were a brother and two sisters: Don Lareby, Susan Clay, and Elaine Frank.

  Tommie had a talk with the Reverend Gerald Lamb of Trinity Episcopal Church. He wisely counseled the Ladies’ Charity Organization to alternate their monthly meetings between Brewster’s Coffee Shoppe and Watson’s Reme-Teas.

  Tommie was not well enough to attend the funeral of Coral Beadwell or the memorial observance for Beverly Cantrell. Finbar went and represented her at each service.

  Earl had phoned her several nights and even dropped by the house one afternoon during his shift. Tommie could tell she was still a “person of interest,” but Earl was known for taking his time about romances. She was perfectly fine with taking it slowly … at least, for the time being.

  Afraid that Charles had planted any more poison after he knocked Tommy unconscious, Earl had the crime scene technicians test small samples of all her exposed herbs and blends for contaminants. Finbar and Henry went one evening and recleaned every surface with alcohol and peroxide. They washed all the cups and knives and sanitized them in the dishwasher (which Finbar had replaced with a new model) to be certain they were safe for use.

  The morning of the grand opening, Sanderson Harper called Tommie on the phone.

  “Hey, Tommie. It’s Sandy. I’ve got some news for you regarding the causes of death for Coral and Beverly.”

  “Was it cyanide poisoning?” Tommie asked.

  “It was poisoning, but not exactly cyanide, although it presented like cyanide,” he drawled.

  “What are you saying, Sandy?”

  “Both Coral and Beverly died of torsades de pointes.”

  “Which is what?”

  “It’s an abnormal heart arrythmia which leads to instantaneous cardiac death.”

  “Heart attack?” She was surprised.

  “Not in the sense that one usually has a heart attack. The cardiac events were brought on due to the introduction of poisons into their systems.”

  “Did you just say poisons—as in plural? More than one poison?” she asked.

  “Yes, I did. Plural. Both women ingested the same combination of ingredients in considerable doses, but they metabolized them differently because of their underlying conditions and the medications each of them was taking. Do I need to dumb it down for you to make it easier to understand?”

  “Nope. I understand perfectly. Remember, I told you before that I had to take extensive training, which included learning medical jargon, physiology, and the specific herbal contraindications with traditional medications, so go on.”

  “Super. Love being able to talk shop with someone who knows what I’m saying. The official toxicology findings confirm that the poisons were a lethal combination of prescription medications—specifically fluoxetine, citalopram, haloperidol, and cimetidine. Those are the active ingredients in the non-generic meds known as Prozac, Celexa, Haldol, and Tagamet. They are normally legitimately prescribed separately for a number of illnesses or conditions.”

  “Hang on, let me write this down. OK. Go on.”

  “Fluoxetine is an anti-depressant that is also taken for obsessive compulsive disorder. Citalopram is a serotonin reuptake inhibitor, or SSRI, as well. It is commonly used for depression. Haloperidol is an antipsychotic prescribed for bipolar disorder, and cimetidine is a common over-the-counter drug taken for acid reflux. When combined and ingested in large doses, they mimic the symptoms of cyanide poisoning. In fact, Celexa and Tagamet actually contain trace amounts of sodium cyanide, potassium cyanide, hydrogen cyanide, and cyangen cyanide.”

  “I’ve got you, so far. That’s very interesting. You said something about interacting with medications each victim was taking? Can you elaborate on that?

  “Yup. Coral Beadwell had been taking Biaxin for strep throat. Biaxin is a mycin drug, specifically clarithromycin. On top of that, her stomach contents reveal she had drunk grapefruit juice that morning, which decreases the activity of the enzymes that break down drugs and toxins. In combination with the already toxic drug cocktail, the onset of torsades de pointes in Coral occurred quickly.”

  “I thought Coral looked like she was having a heart attack,” Tommie commented.

  “She absolutely was. Good observation, cousin. Let me get to the next woman. All right, here we go. Beverly Cantrell had been prescribed levofloxacin, known commonly as Levaquin. It’s used as an antibiotic for sinusitis and urinary tract infections. Beverly had both. She had also been taking phentermine—an amphetamine used for weight loss—for a long period of time. That, plus the other drugs on an empty stomach and the addition of caffeine into her system caused her fatal cardiac event. She was dead when she hit the floor.”

  “Wow. What accounted for their red faces?”

  “The cyanides in the drugs plus the elevated blood pressure caused the flushing. Another good catch, Tommie.”

  “And are these drugs that are easily acquired?”

  “With the exception of the Tagamet, you need a prescription from a doctor for them.”

  “Did you find them in the pills Charles Williams got from Mexico?”

  “Yup. All but the Tagamet and the Levaquin. He had quite the cornucopia in his possession. And to think, I went to church with that man … and he was an elder, too. You never know, right?” Sandy said.

  “Nope. You never do. Thanks, Sandy. That clears up a lot for me. The fruit pits, rocks, and kernels were not really an issue, huh?”

  “Gotta cover all the bases. But it’s good information for you to keep in your back pocket, just in case. Right?”

  “Right. Thanks again, Sandy. Oh, hey! Are you coming to my reopening this afternoon?” she asked.

  “I will absolutely be there. I love what you’ve done with the shop. It almost makes me want to be a tea drinker … well, not really, but I do like your changes. See you,
” he said.

  Tommie hung up and checked her watch. Seeing it was already 9:30, she hurried to finish getting ready. She divided a can of Vienna Sausages for the dogs and checked her makeup and hair for the 10th time. Although it was a special occasion, she decided to stick with her usual work outfit of loose-fitting scrubs. The set she wore today was royal blue. They were freshly pressed, and the pants leg was wide enough to fit over the walking boot, making it less conspicuous. Thankfully, in another 2 ½ weeks she would finally be able to go without it.

  Tommie traipsed happily out the front door and approached the carport. She saw Finbar waiting beside the car, holding her door open. He was dressed in khaki slacks and a green plaid button-down collar shirt. A traditional Trinity tweed flat cap of tan Herringbone was perched on his head, making him the picture of an Irish gentleman.

  “How handsome you look, Finbar,” she remarked, sliding into the driver’s seat.

  “Thank you, missus. It’s a special occasion, so I thought I’d dress the part. Yer new outfit is quite stunning,” he quipped with a grin.

  They drove the few blocks into town and parked at the back of the shop. As soon as they entered, Sarah Beth appeared through the connecting door. She gave Tommie a big hug and greeted Finbar.

  “I am so glad to see you, Tommie. It hasn’t been the same without you on the other side. You look good. How’s the head?” she intoned.

  “Much better, Sarah Beth. Thanks for the chocolates, by the way. They worked better than anything else.”

  “Don’t they always?” Sarah Beth laughed and pulled the door between the shops closed.

  “Do you not have any customers, lad?” Finbar asked.

  “Not anymore. I closed up at 9:00 so I could be here to help Tommie with her reopening.”

  “You are the best, Sarah Beth,” Tommie said.

  “Ah, go on. How can you use me?” Sarah Beth asked.

  “Well, if you’d unpack those treats and set them out to look pretty on the marble top, that’d be a big help. The plexiglass sneeze guard over the counter will keep them from getting contaminated.”