by Leslie Caine
hour or even two for my personal project without falling
behind.
Audrey called on my cell phone at half past eleven
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 117
with a cheering suggestion. "You should drop by to see
Jeremy Greene during lunch and tell him about the design ideas we were discussing last night. He came by the
house a couple of hours ago and said he'd get right to
work."
"This is a small project, Audrey. You don't really need
an architect," I told her for the third time.
"Oh, I know. I realize you could do this for me. But I'd
really like to get the chance to know Mr. Greene a little
better." (This was the second time she'd given me this explanation; the first time she'd offered me the lame excuse
that I was "too busy," which wasn't the case.) "And,
frankly, I'm surprised you're not jumping at the chance
to have him around here yourself."
"Why would I want a murder suspect hanging around
my house?" In my peripheral vision, I saw Sullivan pivot
from his drawing and gape at me. "The reasonable question is why do you want one nearby? Plus, the man's being sued for malpractice."
"Irregardless, I want to help you smoke out the murderer."
"So you're spending money on an architect who's a
possible murder suspect just because you're curious to
see if he's stupid enough to say something incriminating?"
"Something like that, yes. My insurance man just
promised me a generous check, so I can afford Mr.
Greene's services. One of the best things about being
wealthy and single is that nobody can tell me what to do
with my own money."
"Point taken. But I hope you'll get a discount if he
winds up finishing the job from the Crestview jail while
serving a life sentence for murder."
118 L e s l i e C a i n e
"I'll see if he'll put that clause in our contract. Take
care, dear, and I'll talk to you later."
I said good-bye and hung up. Sullivan was still staring
at me. "Audrey hired an architect?"
"Yes. A tree branch crashed through our kitchen roof
last night, so she decided to expand."
"And to 'Go Greene' with an e on the end?" ("Go
Greene" was Jeremy's advertising slogan.)
"Exactly. I tried to talk her out of it, but she's stubborn." But then again, as the look of concern on Steve's
face reminded me, so was I. Prideful, as well. Maybe I'd
rushed to the wrong conclusion yesterday about his seeing someone else. In any case, I couldn't very well expect
Sullivan to wear his heart on his sleeve for me while I was
keeping mine locked away in a vault. "And, by the way, I
want this murder to be solved, too. Because I care about
you."
Our gazes met as Sullivan seemed on the verge of saying something, but then he turned back to his computer
screen.
Margot Troy was sitting on Jeremy's desk with Jeremy
standing right beside her when I arrived at his office a few
minutes after noon. He straightened his collar as he sat
down in his chair. It was all too obvious that I'd interrupted an embrace. "Hello, Jeremy. Hi, Margot."
"Erin!" she exclaimed, atypically happily. "What are
you doing here?"
"Audrey hired Jeremy to work on some passive solar
lighting for our kitchen. I wanted to discuss some ideas
with him."
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 119
"Oh, what fun!" Margot said. "What's she thinking
about doing? A full remodel?"
"No, just repairing some major damage from last
night's storm, and adding a sitting area. She insists she
doesn't want to increase my workload by having me design it myself."
"I wonder if she's considering building a solarium,"
Margot said. "That might be really nice. She can grow
her own spices and even some vegetables."
I grinned. "That's precisely what Audrey and I decided
we wanted to do last night. We'll put a second kitchen
table out there."
"Wonderful! Are you going to attach a glass ceiling
and walls to--"
Jeremy cleared his throat, obviously not appreciating
her discussing design ideas with his de facto client.
Margot took the hint and said, "Well, must hop." She
collected her purse and donned her coat. "See you later,
hon." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and left.
"So what's up, Erin?" Jeremy asked, gesturing for me
to sit in the same chair as I'd taken the last time. He
scratched at some stubble. Perhaps he was trying to grow
a beard to compensate for his weak chin.
"I drew some quick sketches for Audrey's new kitchen.
She asked me to show them to you."
"Fine. I'll take a look." He didn't mask his irritation
very well.
"Thanks for humoring me."
He caught my cold gaze, and at least had the decency
to blush a little. "You know how it goes. Too much input
from the home owners can really screw up my plans."
"Audrey and I are the ones who'll be living with the
120 L e s l i e C a i n e
final results. That's why it's important to take our opinions into consideration."
He peered at me. "Did you show these drawings to
Audrey?"
"I described them to her, and she approves."
He frowned and slowly pushed back from his light
table. "Well, then, I guess I should look at them right
now."
"Only if you actually want this job."
"Ouch."
So much for Walter's assertion that my bones were
never mean. "Sorry. I'm a bit stressed," I said.
"Still worrying about Richard Thayers?" he asked.
"Yes. I'd like to know that the killer will be brought to
justice sooner, rather than later."
He unfurled my drawings and looked at the first one.
"Nope. You've got this ceiling too high. That's going to
trap the hot air and warm the room like nobody's business."
"That's why there's a ceiling fan in the next drawing."
"Really?" He chuckled. "A designer who doesn't
cringe at ceiling fans? What's next? Futons?" I had no response, and a moment later he said, "The cabinets look
good."
"Thanks."
He rolled the plans back up. "I can work with this. I'll
get back to you both next week, and we'll go over my initial ideas."
"Thanks, Jeremy." I glanced over at a blueprint spread
on his desk. It was of Burke's house. "Are you doing some
more work for Burke?"
A flash of panic registered in his eyes. "No. I was just
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 121
going over them with an eye for what I can adopt in my
current projects."
"So there are no problems with his foundation or anything?"
"Why do you ask?"
"No reason."
"The foundation's fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I've
got to prepare for an appointment at one. See you later,
Erin."
Later that day, I stewed over Jeremy's reaction as I
drove to Burke's house for an appointment to discuss his
sunroom. Maybe my paranoia had kicked into high gear
prematurely, but I was now very worried t
hat whatever
went wrong in the design of Richard's foundation had
also gone wrong with Burke's.
I needed to take a look down there for myself. There
was no sense in alarming Burke unless it was clear that
something was amiss.
Burke said he'd already reviewed my drawings for his
solarium, and he approved the changes before we'd even
had the chance to sit down, or even to leave his small but
tasteful foyer. Sullivan and I had played up the rustic
French country charm in this entrance. Sunny yellow
paint warmed the plaster walls, and we'd designed a pair
of arched sculpture nooks into the thick straw-bale construction on either side of the front door. The gold-hued
slate floor added to the charm in the space, which served
as a wonderful welcome to Burke's quaint, comfortable
home. We'd emphasized a homey, kick-off-your-shoesand-stay-awhile atmosphere throughout the home. The
entire house now had the feel of an unpretentious and
122 L e s l i e C a i n e
cozy old-world cottage that Sullivan and I--and Burke--
utterly adored.
I gestured toward the glass inner door and asked, "Do
you mind if I take a quick look in your basement before I
go?"
"No, but why?"
"Just curious. Jeremy happened to be looking at your
blueprints when I stopped into his office to talk about
someone else's house."
"Why would that--" He broke off as the doorbell
rang.
To my surprise, it was Asia at the door. She beamed
ominously at us. Skulking behind her was Darren
Campesio. Asia said, "Good day, Burke. And Erin."
"Hi, Asia," Burke said warily. His gaze shifted to
Darren. "Darren," he muttered with a nod.
Darren held up a palm and said, "I got no idea why
I'm here. Asia dragged me over, claiming she didn't want
to have to repeat herself."
"May we come in?" she asked. She hoisted a big shopping bag to chin level. "I brought some visual aids with
me."
"Visual aids?" Burke asked as he gestured for her to
come in.
"Yes," she said matter-of-factly. I stepped back as Asia
and Darren entered the close quarters. "I thought you'd
be interested in seeing my plans for my new exterior decorating."
"Exterior decorating? I . . . don't follow."
She stationed herself in a corner of the small foyer,
turned, and set down the bag by her feet. Eyeing Burke
with a malicious grin, she said, "I've got some inventive
home-improvement ideas that I'm going to install be-P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 123
tween the trees and the fence that divides our properties.
I've drawn a sketch of their precise locations." She thrust
the sheet of paper at Burke, and I peered over his shoulder at what resembled a child's treasure map. "Wherever
you see little X's behind all of my evergreens, there will
be one of these." She removed a pink plastic flamingo
from her sack. "People are always sticking such things in
their front lawns, but that would be too respectful of your
rights. I'll hang my flamingos from the tree branches. If I
were to put them in the ground, you could simply replace the split-rail with a cedar picket fence, which
would block your view of them completely. We can't
have that, now, can we?"
"You're out of your mind!" Darren said with a laugh.
"No wonder you're named after a third-world continent!"
Burke and I both gave Darren a long look, though Asia
ignored his offensive and inane comment. "Asia, be reasonable," Burke pleaded. "I'd remove the windmill if I
could, but that would be the least green thing I could
possibly do--ordering a whole batch of customized materials for a big construction project and then scrapping
them."
As if he'd never spoken, Asia continued, "This way,
with my pink flamingos wired into place on the tree
branches, they will forever grace your property, looking
down at you from above the fence. And furthermore, I'm
stocking the pond with carp."
"Carp? But . . . they'll eat the shrimp larvae that I'm going to raise in the spring! And they'll--"
"I'm putting them in my half of the pond." She put her
hands on her hips. "Which is my right. The same way
you put shrimp in your half of the pond."
"But my shrimp aren't going to eat your carp!"
124 L e s l i e C a i n e
"Rules of natural selectivity." She turned one of her
hands aloft and dipped slightly to that side. She looked
like the proverbial little teapot just waiting to be tipped
over and poured out. "As a big-deal environmentalist, I
would think you'd be all in favor of such a thing. You people do advocate letting nature take its natural course,
don't you?"
"At the moment, I'm more interested in not having
my food source get destroyed by you!"
"Oh, please. Food source? You showed me those
shrimp last spring. They're no bigger than insect larvae!
That's why they call them 'shrimps' to begin with."
Darren chuckled. "Asia doesn't like shrimp!"
Burke glared at him, and Asia quickly told Darren,
"Oh, don't worry. I have plans for your property border,
too. Big plans. Consider it payback for the my-windmillis-bigger-than-yours competition."
"But your view of the mountains isn't blocked by my
windmill! I'm on the east side!"
"Even so, I don't like the thought of my property being
flanked by your windmill, either. What if a big blast of
wind knocks over your tower, and it crashes into my
fence?"
"The weather moves from west to east! It's Burke's
windmill you've got to worry about crashing into your
house, not mine!"
"An earthquake, then. Regardless, you were the one
who started this whole ridiculous business of windmills
in the first place." She pulled out a white inflatable toy,
still in its bag. "Now, these inflatable Santas and snowmen are going to look a little out of place among my trees
year-round, but it is my property, after all. So I can do as I
please."
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 125
Burke and Darren were turning red. Burke kept fidgeting with his glasses, and I half expected him to rip them
off his face and chuck them at his neighbor's face.
"To top it all off, I've decided to get more with the
times, so I'm going to be using an iPod from now on
when I garden. That's going to become a necessity, because I'm taking up a second hobby. Along with raising
carp, I'll be collecting these!" She brought out a ghastly
violet-colored wind chime. "Since both of you have such
an interest in wind, I know how much you'll appreciate
being able to monitor the wind just by listening. I'm
thinking a hundred chimes should do the trick."
"Asia," Burke moaned, "this is a ridiculous overreaction."
"Oh, and I'm installing colored lights along our fence
line, Darren. It'll look just like Mardi Gras, year-round.
Won't that be nice? And, with all those wind chimes going at once, it'll sound like one, too." She turned to glare
at Burke. "And smell
like one, thanks to your stinky
shrimp hatchery. Unless my carp do the trick."
"I'm merely trying to develop personal food sources
from the pond."
"You make enough money to buy groceries!"
"That's not the point. It's about sustainability. About
not taking more than we put in."
She looked him over from head to toe. "You're a doctor. If you're that obsessive about maintaining our resources, why don't you reduce the earth's population by
letting your patients die?"
"I don't expect people like you to understand," he
growled.
"No, Dr. Stratton. Because people like me are sane!
Whereas you and that dead judge of yours are both
126 L e s l i e C a i n e
loony." She forced a smile. "You've got one week from today to take your windmills down, or my exterior decorating goes up. Good day, gentlemen. And Erin." She
gathered up her bag of goodies and left, leaving Burke
and Darren staring in stunned silence.
"Would carp really eat shrimp larvae?" I asked Burke.
"Probably." He sighed. "Maybe she's bluffing."
"She isn't," Darren replied. "She hates conservationists. Told me so herself. I spotted her lugging an orange
cooler toward the pond this morning. I asked what was in
it, and all she said was, 'You'll find out soon enough.'
Damn it, we have a right to put up windmills! We have to
stop her! Or at last retaliate!"
"How? She hates everything and everyone. It makes
her unflappable." Burke paused and added thoughtfully,
"Except . . . she does love flowers."
"Yeah, of course she does," Darren grumbled. "But
that's only because they're the only life form that doesn't
actively shrink from her presence."
Burke chuckled, and as the two men smiled at each
other, they seemed to share a moment of friendship.
Darren was the first one who looked away.
"There's another possible course of action," I said.
"Acknowledge her point and take down your windmills."
"I can't allow someone to bully me into giving up on
my plans," Burke retorted. "The windmill's already been
paid for."
"Mine, too. Plus mine's already fully installed. The
thing cost me a fortune. I'll get reimbursed twofold when
I win the contest, though."
"Unless I win," Burke said.
"That's never going to happen."
Burke snorted.
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 127
Darren shot him a furious glare, then opened the
door. "Never!" He slammed the door.
