by Leigh Hearon
“You’ve ruined everything!” she shrieked.
Without thinking, Annie slapped her. Tabitha slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor, sobbing.
Annie quickly untied the young man’s hands. She shook Tabitha for the key to the chain, and she handed it over, her hands trembling.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
The boy shook his head before answering.
“Days. It seems like forever.”
“Well, you’re safe now.”
She pulled out her cell phone and once more pushed redial.
“Everything’s under control. Tabitha’s here, along with a waiter who’s been missing for a few days. We’re at the west-side barn, in the old stall.”
Annie listened intently for a minute, then smiled.
“Easy. There’s a big, beautiful Hanoverian grazing on the hill right above us. Tell Lucy her boy’s a hero.”
Chapter Twenty-five
SUNDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 15
“You should have seen Douglas’s face when he drove in,” Liz told Annie. “He ran all the way to the stables from the parking lot and nearly collapsed when he got there. I actually thought he might have gone into paralytic shock.”
They were talking on the patio, waiting for cocktail hour to officially begin. Annie had just emerged from a long conversation with Detective Wollcott. To her extreme satisfaction, he had told her Deputy Collins had retrieved a thermos from the dumbwaiter that contained Judge Bennett’s special blend of Lady Grey tea. That pretty much put the lid on Tabitha’s perfidy in her book, and she was rewarding herself for her perspicacity now by serenely floating on her back in the pool. Marcus, who had been prescient enough to bring his swim trunks, was splashing the water beside her to make her come out and play. It wasn’t working.
“But how could Douglas have known that Nicole had been poisoned? You said he showed up about ten minutes after we found her.”
“That’s the funny part. He didn’t. He was just afraid he’d missed Nicole’s ride and had been anticipating her fury.”
Patricia finished the story.
“So, when one of the medics pulled him aside, and said, ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid your fiancé was unable to ride today, she’s suffering the ill effects of poison,’ he just gasped, ‘Oh, thank God!’”
Annie started to laugh and discovered she had inhaled a large amount of water. She stood up, coughing and laughing at the same time, while Marcus gently patted her on the back.
Liz next gave Annie the full medical update. Three ambulances had come and gone since Annie had returned from what Marcus was calling “Mr. Toad’s wild ride.” The first ambulance had taken Nicole, who, thanks to the activated charcoal, had managed to rid herself of most of the poison. The medics assured her fiancé that she would make a full recovery.
“Did anyone think to take photos?” Annie inquired innocently. Marcus promptly dunked her.
The second ambulance had taken the waiter to the local hospital for observation. He was dehydrated and extremely hungry, but aside from being scared out of his wits by Tabitha’s attempt to poison him, also was going to be all right. He was young and strong, and Annie suspected he’d be back on the job by tomorrow. Chef Gustav was overcome with joy when he was told the waiter had been found. At the moment, he was busy concocting a special broth for the young man, as well as the waiter’s favorite desserts.
The third ambulance had transported Tabitha to the local hospital as well, but her destination was the psychiatric ward. Detective Wollcott had officially placed her under arrest for the murders of Betsy Gilchrist and Jean Bennett and the attempted murders of Nicole Anne Forrester and the waiter, whose name she learned was Eric Sumner. But she would be housed in the psych unit for quite some time while her mental status was evaluated and, with luck, stabilized. Annie doubted Tabitha would ever be declared competent to stand trial. But perhaps with the right medications, she would regain some semblance of sanity. Perhaps.
Annie was enjoying the calm of the pool and the blessed silence within the house. She hadn’t realized how much adrenaline she’d used up until now, and lazily went over the final events of Tabitha’s capture in her mind.
Once Deputy Collins and his men had taken over the crime scene at the shack, Annie had again mounted Prince, using a stump this time, and gently jogged him back to Darby Farms. Miraculously, the dressage show was still going on. It was hard to fathom that even after all the recent mayhem, there were still fourteen riders on the day sheet who were determined to ride, and ride they did. One of them was in the dressage court when she walked in on Prince, so she dismounted and quietly walked the Hanoverian back to the stables and into Lucy’s waiting arms.
Annie wasn’t sure who Lucy was in awe of the most—her horse or Annie. In her eyes, both had saved the day, not to mention the town from the bad guys. Annie had tried to deflect Lucy’s unending praise by heaping it instead upon her horse.
“Prince was the real hero today. Did you see the way he took that fence? You might think about renaming him Snowman,” she told her. Lucy looked as if she might seriously consider her suggestion.
The gong for cocktail hour sounded, and Annie reluctantly got out of the pool. The only silver lining, she thought, was that neither Gwendolyn nor Nicole would be in attendance at this ritual gathering. Gwendolyn had been pulled over by a deputy shortly after she’d made her own dash off the Darby farm. She’d been asked to park and lock her Porsche and step into the back of the deputy’s patrol vehicle. According to Detective Wollcott, Gwendolyn was not particularly cooperative, and it was only until the deputy politely told her he would arrest her for obstruction of justice that she sullenly got in the backseat and put on her seat belt. After Tabitha’s arrest, Detective Wollcott had given Gwendolyn permission to leave once more, but Annie had missed seeing her departure. Liz had told her she’d had Jorge bring down her bags and ordered the barn manager to see to her horse’s transport back to the Bay Area. Any talk about riding and perhaps acquiring Victory had been abandoned.
“Just as well,” Patricia had told her. “I’d already decided that was one sale that simply could not go through.”
Annie had wholeheartedly agreed.
* * *
Hollis and Miriam made sure that conversation during both the cocktail hour and following dinner was light, bordering on the frivolous, and with no mention of Tabitha or her arrest. Joining them was Phyllis Hobert, the judge who had stepped in, her scribe, and Brianna, whose volunteers had convinced her that they could wrap things up just fine without her. Hollis informed the group that Douglas Kenyan, who had intended to join them, was now at Nicole’s side at the local hospital, and he had been assured that Nicole would be fine. This opened the door for everyone to relive the highlights of the day that they wanted to remember.
Patricia was ecstatic about the serious interest two women had shown that afternoon in Beau Geste and Victory. Picante was spoken for, Miriam had informed her, and arched eyebrows from Hollis or no, the decision was final.
“I really think both horse and rider pairings will be excellent,” she told Marcus over dinner. “And if you don’t object, I’d like to stay on a day or two to see the sales go through.”
“By all means,” Marcus said. “And try to convince Annie to stay, as well. I have to return to work tomorrow and won’t be around to keep her out of trouble. Ouch!”
Annie had kicked him under the table. And as much as she had enjoyed the Darbys’ kind hospitality, she had no intention of changing her airline ticket, which put her on a plane tomorrow morning. She missed her animals, all of them, and it was time to return home.
“I hope you’re right about these horses.” Harriett was still dubious about their futures in competitive dressage. “If they don’t have the movement, temperament, and conformation for the work, these women will be disappointed.”
“I believe the women are convinced on all counts,” Patricia said politely. “And you rode
Picante this afternoon. Don’t you think he and Miriam will make a perfect pair?”
“You have promised to school us,” Miriam gently added.
“He is a horse with a lot of potential,” Harriett grudgingly admitted. “But you’ll have to work hard, Miriam.”
“Harriett, is there any other way to work?” Miriam’s sweetly spoken reply apparently did not warrant a response.
All the riders around the table were more than content with their test scores, and Lucy was over the moon with hers. It seemed even she couldn’t quite believe what she had pulled off, and naturally, credited Annie’s impromptu pep talk as the source of her success in the ring. This was more than a bit embarrassing to Annie, who knew that without Melissa’s patient, thorough coaching, Lucy never would have ridden as well as she had. If Annie had played any part in this, it was only to give Lucy a nudge to realize and act on all she’d learned. Annie intended to make sure Melissa knew how she felt about Lucy’s fulsome praise, although the trainer did not seem at all upset about Lucy’s lopsided division of credit.
Liz, who’d received a score of 68, was thrilled at simply receiving a score that she felt enabled her to start showing first level. She and Patricia already were plotting when they would start work back on the Peninsula. Annie knew that thermal underwear and down vests would soon be part of their riding attire. One had to be a dedicated rider to ignore sleeting rain and cold, damp weather, even if the lesson was conducted inside a covered arena.
After dinner, the group dispersed. Amy and Lucy were heading back to Boston the next day and went off to pack. Their plane would leave just about the time the commercial transport came for their horses, although the latter would arrive in Boston two days later.
“Next time, let’s fly them, so we don’t have to be separated from them for so long,” Lucy told her friend.
Amy smiled. “Maybe. But let me finish out my year clerking and land a job with a law firm first. I promise to use all my signing money on Schumann.”
“Of course!” Lucy seemed astounded at the idea that it would be spent on anything else.
* * *
At eight o’clock, the front doorbell chimed, and Detective Wollcott was ushered in. Hollis had warned Annie of his impending visit, and that he intended to update them on the case. She was eager to hear everything the detective had to report. The issue of how Tabitha had managed to poison three, almost four people was largely answered in her own mind. But the issue of why she had done it still hung in the air, with a large question mark beside it.
Annie took Marcus with her as she joined Hollis and Miriam on the veranda. Detective Wollcott made no objection to Marcus’s presence. Before the informal meeting began, Hollis offered everyone a glass of brandy or cognac from his private stock, then, ignoring Miriam’s reproachful gaze, pulled out a box of cigars. Miriam and Annie declined, but Marcus and the detective seemed extraordinarily happy to accept one from the fragrant container.
When everyone was settled, all expectant eyes fell on the detective.
“I had a chance to go over Deputy Collins’s initial reports before I got here,” he told the group. “It seems Ms. Rawlins was eager to talk on her ride to the hospital.”
“Did Deputy Collins go with her?” Annie asked.
“Oh, yes. We weren’t going to let her out of police custody for one second. And as soon as the medics told us none of the poison had penetrated her system and she was compos mentis—well, at least enough to understand her Miranda rights—we read them to her.”
“And she waived them?”
“Completely. Even after Collins asked if she was sure she didn’t want an attorney present. She was happy to talk.”
No one said anything. If anyone thought it odd that Tabitha, a tax attorney, had waived her rights, they didn’t express their opinion. No one, it appeared, wanted to impede the flow of information about to come out of the detective’s mouth.
“I think she truly is legally insane,” he began. “A typical killer wouldn’t take what Ms. Rawlins saw as tangible reasons to kill another human being. But she told Collins that Judge Bennett had put a hex on her horse, and that convinced her the judge had to die.”
“What! She actually meant that when she said it?” Annie couldn’t believe it.
“That’s what she told Collins. She’d intended to kill her as soon as she learned the judge would be officiating, and since she’d stayed at your place before, Hollis, she managed to plot it out rather carefully beforehand.”
Hollis put a hand over his face. “We had no idea.”
“Of course you didn’t. No sane person would ever suspect that one of their houseguests would kill a competition judge, or anyone else, for that matter, for such an idiotic reason.”
“How did she know about the dumbwaiter?”
“She’d stayed in the room, the one Ms. Smythe occupied this time, before. She’d hoped she’d stay in it again, and had quite the quarrel with Ms. Smythe over it when she realized she’d been assigned one room over. Ms. Smythe wouldn’t budge, so Ms. Rawlins took it upon herself to steal the extra key. Apparently duplicates of all the room keys are hung in the pantry.”
“That’s right,” Miriam said. “Sometimes guests take food and drink up, and the kitchen staff have to retrieve it. And, of course, if guests choose to lock their doors, the maids have to have keys to be able to clean.”
“Tabitha also helped Chef Gustav out on at least one occasion,” Annie remembered. “And there might have been more times she was in the kitchen.”
“Yes, she had ample opportunity to take an empty thermos, which I understand are stored in the pantry. She told Collins that on Thursday, the day she and Ms. Litchfield helped the chef, she’d offered to go out to get something out of the garden. She swooped up the tea where it was baking in the sun, then hid the thermos in the dumbwaiter, where she could retrieve it whenever Gwendolyn was out of her room. Annie figured out how she’d heated the tea on Saturday, and the rest is, well, you know the outcome.”
Annie frowned slightly. “One thing I haven’t understood is why the dumbwaiter was resting on the same level as Lucy’s bedroom when Hollis and I found it, instead of her own.”
“Oh, that was just a bit of insurance. Ms. Rawlins said she deliberately left it there on Saturday, so that if anyone had discovered the dumbwaiter’s criminal use, it would look as if Lucy was the culprit.”
“Really!” Miriam was incensed. “That was a bit below the belt.”
“What was really below the belt was trying out her concoction on Betsy Gilchrist first,” the detective said drily. “Although quite frankly, any of you could have been the victim instead. The poison Ms. Rawlins put in the iced tea was just a test run, so to speak. She wanted to know how potent it was and if it really could cause a person’s death.”
That statement stunned everyone into a temporary silence.
“You mean she put the poison in a glass at random? And then waited to see who reacted to it?” Marcus seemed to find this difficult to take in.
“That’s about the size of it. Except one of the waiters saw her put something in the glass, and when she didn’t take it, offered it to her, thinking she’d just put in some kind of fake sweetener. She had to backtrack, and as we know, still managed to poison one of the iced-tea drinks, but she was concerned that the waiter who watched her might put two and two together after Mrs. Gilchrist’s death. That was Eric Sumner, the gentleman you discovered, Annie.”
“How did she manage to get him off the property and into that shack?” Annie had been wondering this ever since she saw the bedraggled waiter in the abandoned stall.
“Oh, the usual way. Feminine wiles. She started to show a romantic interest in the young man and suggested they go for a walk in the country, luring him there with a bottle of wine. Then she locked him inside and left him to his own devices, such as they were.”
“The poor fellow!” Miriam shook her head.
“Yes, she left him with only the bot
tle of wine, which didn’t do much to help his dehydrated state. She told Collins she intended to free him eventually, but what you saw, Annie, puts the lie to that.”
Annie remembered Tabitha’s voice, so sweet and alluring, as she tried to force the waiter to drink her poison.
“What was the poison?” Marcus asked.
“One of nature’s own. Convallaria majalis,” the detective said, drawing out each syllable, “commonly known as lily of the valley. It grows everywhere in this region, and the entire plant is quite toxic if ingested, from stem to flower. Reaction time is immediate, and the cause of death usually heart failure, although there are several unpleasant symptoms to live through before that occurs.”
“Oh my heavens,” Miriam said. “I grow it in my garden. We make sure there’s nothing like that in the horse pastures, of course, along with tansy ragwort and other noxious weeds, but I never imagined growing that pretty belled flower would cause the death of two people.”
“Don’t feel too bad, Mrs. Darby,” the detective consoled her. “We always think of nature as benevolent, but it has countless ways of poisoning us. It’s impossible to know them all.”
Just what Undersheriff Kim Williams had told her, Annie recalled.
“Did you ever really consider Chef Gustav a viable suspect?” she asked.
The detective shook his head.
“Not really. He had no motive to kill Judge Bennett. On the contrary—for years, he’d served her favorite food and beverages in this home with the sole intent of making her happy. And another staff member told us about the fuss he’d made over Mrs. Bennett’s tea not being picked up and discarding it to make another thermos.”
“I don’t suppose this same waitperson saw Tabitha come in and swap it out.” Annie wasn’t holding her breath.
“Unfortunately, no. As you’ve said, it was a very busy morning, and the only person in the kitchen who was getting undivided attention was the chef. Anyone who happened to wander in and get a thermos, or in this case, swap a thermos, was left alone and largely ignored. No, I thought all along it had to be one of the guests staying here. The problem was, which bloody one?”
