Murder by Yew [Edna Davies 01]

by Suzanne Young

  “There’s a fire in the living room.” Dee held a hand toward the door straight ahead. “Right through there. Go get warm while I hang this in the bathroom off the kitchen and brew up some nice, hot tea.”

  Edna walked into a large, rectangular room and felt the warmth of the blaze before she spotted the large fireplace to her left. Shivering, she went to stand on the hearth and set her bag to one side of the stones, where she hoped it would dry out a little.

  Rubbing her hands before the flames, she was beginning to warm up when she felt a tingling run up and down her spine, as though someone were watching her. She spun around. There was no one, but straight ahead, on the opposite wall of the long, expansive room, she saw the portrait of an elderly man staring back at her. From the style of his thick white hair and gray pinstriped suit, she assumed it was Dee’s late husband, Joel Tolkheim, Senior. He was seated in a brown leather chair, one hand on the armrest, the other on the cover of a book in his lap. Neither smiling nor frowning, Joel looked as if he were about to make a comment to the artist. She grimaced at the idea of a painting causing her unease. Her nerves must really be shot. She needed a good night’s rest, she thought as the heat from the fire began to make her feel drowsy.

  Relaxing slightly when she realized no one else was in the room, she put her hands behind her, palms to the blaze and studied her surroundings. The decor spoke of old money, warmth and comfort. Across the long wall opposite the door she had entered, heavy rose and cream drapes were pulled against the storm. She guessed that behind the curtains was a magnificent view of the Atlantic Ocean.

  Throughout the room, several groupings of tables, loveseats and chairs were arranged in small conversation areas, including one directly in front of her. To the right of Joel’s portrait, narrow, built-in, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves met to form the corner. The same leather recliner as in the picture stood in front of the books. Strange effect, thought Edna, having a painting of that corner hanging next to the real thing. Warmer now, she wandered around the room, looking at the knickknacks and potted plants on different tabletops and shelves.

  Having inspected the entire room, she was beginning to wonder what was taking Dee so long when her hostess bustled in through a door recessed in the paneling between the fireplace and the draperies. As Edna returned to the fire, Dee lowered herself onto a settee, placing a silver tray on the low coffee table before her.

  “I’ve made one of my special teas. You must tell me how you like it.” Dee grinned up at Edna as she lifted a white china teapot and began to pour.

  Edna moved to sit on an upholstered chair opposite her hostess, openly admiring the flowering mum plant on the small table at her elbow. “Your plants give the room a cozy feeling.” She was much too nervous to drink anything, but not knowing how to refuse gracefully, she took the cup and saucer Dee offered her. Playing with the delicate china, she turned the cup on its saucer, wondering if this would be another false lead. What if Dee and Tom hadn’t even looked at his schedule? What if they only continued to flirt? More to stall for a few more minutes than any desire for a drink, she started to raise the dainty cup to her lips when she was startled by the sound of a burning log falling apart. Sparks erupted from the fireplace onto the hearth.

  Dee leaped to her feet. “I’ll take care of it. Drink your tea.” Grabbing an iron poker and a small broom, she swept hot embers back into the fire and adjusted the log.

  With her stomach in knots, Edna felt she would choke if she tried to swallow. She didn’t know why, probably due to the desire not to displease her hostess, but while Dee's back was turned, Edna poured half her tea into the mum plant beside her. She had returned the cup to its saucer and was setting both on the table at her elbow by the time Dee turned around.

  Standing on the hearth, her back to the fire, Dee looked at the cup and smiled. “How do you like it?”

  Before Edna could think of an adequately noncommittal reply, a man stepped quietly from beside the fireplace. He must have come through the door Dee had used to bring in the tea tray. Edna wouldn’t have noticed him if she hadn’t been faced in that direction, and she must have jumped, because Dee turned to see what had startled her.

  Edna recognized him immediately. Thick curly hair and dark mustache, he was the man in the photograph on her daughter’s trial wall, the one who’d been sitting with Beverly Lewis and her brother at Quincy Market. Edna frowned, turning to Dee, uncertain. Had Dee been the fourth person at the table, the woman Starling described as wearing a floppy hat and dark glasses?

  “Sorry, didn’t know you had company.” The newcomer spoke to Dee but his eyes remained fixed on Edna.

  What an odd thing to say, Edna thought. My car’s parked right out front. She didn’t say anything, however, but waited for an introduction.

  The man was turning to leave when Dee stopped him. Obviously, she had seen the look of recognition on Edna's face. Holding up a hand, she said, “It’s okay, Zach. You might as well stay. She’s already made the connection.” Picking up Edna’s half-empty teacup, she smiled. “Nothing to worry about, though. Come in and meet Edna Davies. Edna, this is my fiancé, Zachary Linden.” As she spoke, Dee bent to put the cup and saucer onto the silver tea tray.

  Zachary moved to stand beside Dee. He grinned down at Edna, but his eyes were cold and watchful. “Ma’am,” he said, nodding once.

  “How do you do?” Edna was at her most formal, inclining her head slightly. What was he doing here in Rhode Island in Dee’s house? Dee had just said they were engaged to be married. Did she know the police were watching him? Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, Edna started to rise. “I’m intruding. I should go.”

  “No. You should stay.” Dee put a hand on Edna’s shoulder and gently but firmly pushed her back into the chair. “Just a minute,” she said and took her fiancé by the sleeve, pulling him toward the door from which he had appeared so silently. She spoke in a voice too low for Edna to make out the words.

  As she watched the pair, Edna convinced herself that Dee was unaware of the man’s criminal activities. She would wait until he’d gone and let Dee know what Starling had told her about Charlie and the mime working undercover and how this man had been followed from the warehouse. Maybe he was here casing out the joint, she thought with a wry smile. The furniture’s obviously valuable.

  Once Zachary had left the room, Dee returned to the sofa. “Actually, Edna, I’m really delighted you stopped by today. I’ve a surprise for you. Zach’s gone to get it.”

  Eyebrows raised in question, Edna reached into a pocket of her slacks, searching for a tissue. It was a nervous habit, but she needed to do something with her hands while she thought of how to begin to tell Dee about her beloved. Instead of a hankie, though, her fingers found the piece of paper she had shoved there earlier. Maybe I should start with Dee’s own identity, she thought, taking an unsteady breath and removing the scrap from her pocket. Straightening out the crumpled sheet, she laid it on the table between them.

  “What’s this?” Dee frowned, looking from the sketch to Edna’s face and back again.

  “See for yourself.” Edna watched as Dee picked up the paper.

  “Why, it’s a drawing of me.” Dee looked both surprised and pleased. “Did you do this from memory?” Her delighted laughter faded as she looked at Edna’s face.

  Ignoring the question, Edna said, “You’re Daisy Farwell.”

  Dee’s smile was calculating, and after a brief pause, she replied. “I guess it doesn’t matter that you know. Yes, I’m Daisy Farwell—or I should say, I was. That was a long time ago.” She looked down at the paper in her hand, speaking the last words almost to herself.

  Edna thought of Dee and Tom standing side by side in her front yard. “Tom didn’t recognize you, did he?” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “Not at first.” Dee’s eyes narrowed as she looked up from the small portrait. “Even afterwards, it wasn’t my face he recognized, it was the ring.” She barked a short laugh. “He
was the only one who would know this ring besides Bobby.” She held up her right hand so Edna could see the sapphire stone on her ring finger. “Bobby’s mother’s,” she said by way of an explanation. “It was my wedding ring. Tom was Bobby’s best man, and Jenny was my maid of honor.”

  “Afterwards.” Edna was aware of that one word, standing out among the rest. “Afterwards, what? Are you saying he was here last Thursday … after he left my house?”

  “You guessed it.” The words were delivered in a sing-song manner, tauntingly.

  “Why didn’t you tell the police?”

  Dee shook her head and giggled. “Now, why do you think?”

  “Because you … “ Edna paused, then felt her stomach turn over as realization hit.

  “Poisoned him?” Dee completed the sentence, smiling menacingly. “Yes. You see, I couldn’t have him inviting Bobby back here, not with Joel Junior breathing down my neck, wanting to take back everything his daddy left me.”

  “I don’t understand. What does that have to do with a girlhood marriage?”

  “To a good Catholic boy?” Dee raised her eyebrows. “We may have been married in a hurry by a justice of the peace, but Bobby took his vows seriously.”

  “You mean, you’re still married to Bobby?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. Haven’t seen him in forty years. There might be a law that says we’re not, but I'm sure Junior would find a way to use the information against me.” She turned to look down the room at Joel Senior's portrait. “I was still wet behind the ears when I married Bobby. I should have made sure he was dead instead of just leaving him out in the desert.”

  Edna felt nauseous. This was more than she wanted to hear, but a morbid fascination kept her silent and glued to her seat.

  Dee talked on as if, once begun, she couldn’t stop. It was as though the images in her mind were coming out of her mouth. “We were going to California—Los Angeles, Hollywood. I’d finally be somebody. It wouldn’t be anything like here.”

  “You could have been someone here,” Edna protested. “You would have been taken in and cared for.”

  Dee looked at Edna, frowning, then laughed derisively. “So Mary must have told you about Mister Henry’s wanting to adopt me.” She said the title with sarcastic emphasis. “I should have known the idea would have come from her father. Those two men were quite a pair. Adopting me would have made it convenient for Mister Henry.” Again, the sarcasm. “He wouldn’t have had to leave his house to come sneaking into my bed.”

  Edna was shocked. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that the men in this town, husbands of the holier-than-thou society women, didn’t come looking only for Mama’s favors.”

  “Didn’t your mother stop them?”

  “She didn’t know. Sometimes she’d get drunk and pass out before her friend was sleepy. When that happened, most of the time, the guy would just leave. As I got older, some of the men would knock on my door to see if I was willing before they’d call it a night. Mister Henry was one of the few who persisted.”

  Edna put a hand over her mouth, horrified at the thought of what Dee had suffered as a child. Reaching out toward her, she said, “Why didn’t you tell your mother?”

  Dee shrugged and studied her nails. “She killed herself, you know.”

  Edna had thought she might be immune to any more shock, but she was wrong. “What? How …?” She could only stutter incoherently.

  “Oh, not on purpose. She wouldn’t have left me like that.” Dee raised her head to glare at Edna as if daring her to disagree. “She read somewhere about making tea from the bark and branches of a yew tree. Said she wouldn’t have another baby. Couldn’t afford it, for one thing. I don’t think she even wanted me, at least not before I was born.” She smiled like a little girl. “Mama used to say, ‘Don’t know what I’d do without you, Daisy. You’re my little flower, my life.”

  “Then all she wanted to do was to end a pregnancy?” Edna kept her tone soft. The story she was hearing was horrible. The injustice of it made her feel physically ill.

  “That’s what she meant to do, but that’s not what happened.” Unshed tears filled Dee’s eyes. “She made the damn stuff too strong.”

  “She probably had no way of knowing …”

  “Exactly. She didn’t have anybody to help her know.” Dee’s voice rose in anger. “She had to do everything herself ‘cause there was nobody else. Just like I’ve had to do for myself ever since.”

  “Why did you come back after all these years?”

  Dee let out another bitter laugh. “Pure coincidence, honey. Ain’t life a bitch? I met Joel in Texas. He was a friend of my third husband. When Floyd died, well, there was Joel offering me his big, strong shoulder.” She snorted. “He said he lived in New York, but then he brought me here to his family’s summer cottage for our honeymoon. He wanted to surprise me. Can you beat that?” Her laugh was harsh. “Boy, was I surprised. At first, I was scared someone would recognize me and tell him about my ma. Little by little, I realized nobody knew who I was. ‘Course, I’d had stuff done to my nose and eyes and chin, and I’m not nearly as skinny as I used to be.” At this, she gave a self-conscious grunt. “But still, I thought someone would see through all that. When nobody did, it became a game, a real joke on all these folks—until Tom recognized my old wedding ring.” She looked down at her finger. “Don’t know why I even kept the thing.”

  “But did you have to kill him?” Edna’s dismay at the futility of Tom’s death made her feel sick.

  Ignoring Edna’s question, Dee seemed lost in a memory when she said, “He called me Daisy. Nobody’s called me that since I ran out on Bobby.” Her eyes refocused on Edna. “Tom even introduced me to his grandson as Daisy. I tell you, that boy can hear when he wants to.”

  Edna was still thinking about Tom and the useless waste of his life. “Why?” was the only word she could utter.

  Dee’s face twisted with hate. “He was going to spoil everything. I’d finally made it. I have money, and the holier-than-thou society is even going to welcome me into their inner circles as a member of Greenthumbs. Mama’s up there watching and laughing herself silly, I know she is. And Tom was going to take it all away.”

  Shifting nervously in her chair, Edna thought she had better ease this distraught woman back onto firmer ground. “But Tom was your friend, and Bobby … it sounds like he wanted to help you.”

  Dee’s laugh held no mirth. “Bobby was nothing more than my ticket out of here. That’s all men are, tickets to someplace else.” She tossed her head and frowned. “You ever been to the southwest? Arizona? New Mexico?”

  Edna shook her head.

  “You can go hours without seeing anyone. Once in a while, a car might go by, but there’s nothing out there.”

  “Is that where you left him?” Edna thought of Dee’s earlier comment, about leaving Bobby to die.

  “Yeah. Stupid, wasn’t it?” Dee shrugged. “After five days of driving, I was sick to death of him. You spend enough time in a car with someone, you get to know them real well. I knew before we hit the Mississippi that Bobby and I would never last.”

  “What about him? How did he feel?”

  “Bobby was too busy looking around him to know what was going on inside the car or inside my head. He didn’t have a clue that I was planning to leave him as soon as I got the chance. I was going to ditch him when we got to California.”

  “What happened?”

  “He got this notion in his head to go exploring. Wanted to go down a little nothing of a road. We had left Albuquerque and were out in the middle of nowhere, and he wants to go down some dirt track. Said he wanted to see where it went. I said ‘You’re crazy. The road goes nowhere,’ but he said it had to go somewhere, and he wanted to see. Well, here we were on this dusty old turnout, and pretty soon, he stopped the car and got out. Said he had to take a leak, he’d be right back.

  “I don’t know if he forgot them or what, but he left the keys
in the ignition. He never did that. When I saw them, it was like a voice talked to me. You know, a little voice inside my head told me to take off. This was my chance. Shouldn’t have married that jerk in the first place. Only reason I did was to get out of this town. I knew he’d marry me if I told him I was having his kid. Stupid jerk.”

  Edna felt the horror return as she listened to Dee’s story. “You just left him out on that deserted road, no food or water?”

  “Yep. I got behind the wheel, turned that car around and took off. I think he ran after me for a while, but heck, he couldn’t run as fast as I could drive. Left him in the dust. Should have run over him first, made sure he was dead.” She pouted. “I never figured he’d make it out of there alive.”

  “How do you know he did?”

  But Edna wasn’t to hear Dee’s answer because just then, Zach walked back into the room. Behind him was Shoes, Beverly Lewis’s missing brother.

  Twenty-One

  “Where’s the boy?” Dee leaped to her feet and turned on Shoes.

  Edna’s head was spinning. Here was Beverly’s brother, whom the police hadn’t been able to find. Here was Zach Linden, whom the police were watching, and Dee, who had just admitted to killing Tom Greene and maybe even his long-ago friend Bobby. What was going on?

  “He got away from me.” Shoes’s voice was high and whiny as he added quickly, “There’s too many places down there for him to hide in, and there’s not enough light. I can’t find him.”

  Still trying to sort out the strange relationships in her mind, Edna was slow to pick up on what they were saying. “Danny? Are you talking about Danny?” The words tumbled out as she pictured again the green van pulling away from Norm’s house. Then her attention focused on the three sets of eyes that had turned her way.

  “Here’s someone I bet could find him.” Dee motioned Edna forward. “Take her with you and go back and get that kid.”

  Thinking only of Danny, Edna moved quickly, following Shoes toward the door beside the fireplace. She almost didn’t notice Zach fall into step behind her, so concerned was she about Tom’s grandson.