“Would you mind stopping at the front desk on our way out?” Edna said as they waited for the elevator. “I want to check on a friend.” Then, realizing Peppa probably knew him, she added, “Tom Greene.”
Peppa frowned. “What’s the matter with Tom?”
“I don’t really know. He was brought in late yesterday, apparently in a coma.”
A fortyish-looking woman sat behind the chest-high counter in the hospital’s foyer. “Well, if it isn’t Peppa.” She stood and smiled broadly as the two women approached.
“Lydia?” Peppa leaned her arms on the counter. “Why, Lydia Bradford. I didn’t know you worked here. Thought you commuted to the Kent.”
“Traffic to Warwick is becoming unbearable.” Lydia grimaced before her smile returned. “Been here almost six months now. What’re you up to these days?”
“No good, as usual.” They laughed, and Peppa turned to Edna. “Lydia was another of my regular Saturday story hour children. Lydia, this is my friend, Edna Davies. You may know her husband, Dr. Albert Davies.”
“Oh, of course. He made rounds at Kent County Hospital when I worked there.” Lydia clasped her hands in front of her chest and rolled her eyes. “He was wonderful. Patients and staff alike were all sorry to hear he’d decided to retire. It’s so nice to meet you.” Her smile faded as she looked from Peppa to Edna and back. “What brings you ladies here today? Nothing serious, I hope.”
“Nothing wrong with us,” Peppa said. “We’d like to know about Tom Greene though. How’s he doing?”
The receptionist looked down at her computer monitor and mumbled, “Okay.”
Edna brightened with hope. “Is he out of the coma?” she asked anxiously.
The woman behind the desk began straightening pencils beside the phone. “I can’t really give out that sort of patient information,” she said, still not looking at them.
Edna’s heart sunk. From the way Lydia was behaving, she knew at once the news was bad. The receptionist hadn’t even given them the pat as-well-as-can-be-expected answer.
“Lydia,” Peppa’s voice was soft, but her tone was one of authority. “Your family and the Greenes have been friends for as long as I can remember, so I know you’re keeping a close watch on his condition. We aren’t asking for the medical details. We only want to know if he’s out of the coma. Surely you can tell us that much.”
Lydia’s eyes filled with tears. She pulled a tissue from a pocket of her skirt and looked around furtively before answering in a low voice. “He died last night. They’ve taken his body to Providence for autopsy.” She controlled her grief with visible effort.
Peppa looked puzzled. “Why are they doing an autopsy?”
“Standard procedure for any sudden or inexplicable death,” Edna cut in, repeating something she’d learned from Albert many years ago. She said the words almost mechanically as the image of Tom’s handsome face insinuated itself into her head. Even as she spoke, she was trying to get her mind around the receptionist’s words. Tom dead? Then, feeling as if she were suffocating, she turned from the desk and headed for the hospital entrance. She needed air.
Peppa caught up with her at the edge of the parking lot, and they rode in silence back to the shopping mall where Edna had left her car. This time, Peppa drove more sedately. When they reached the salon, Edna was amazed to realize that only four hours had elapsed since she’d had her hair done. It felt like an eternity.
She didn’t remember driving away from the mall, so absorbed was she in thinking about Tom, how he’d looked, how he’d acted. His kindness. The sparkle in his eyes and the gentle way he had with his grandson. Not until she neared her driveway and saw the sign in the Sharp’s yard was her attention distracted.
For Sale. Why are they selling their home? she wondered, thinking it was barely more than twenty-four hours ago Aleda had been taken away by the police. Had the Sharps been planning to sell the house, or had this something to do with her arrest? Edna was saddened. She didn’t know the Sharps well, but she liked them. She didn’t want to lose them as neighbors. As Edna got out of the car, she made a mental note to ask Mary what she knew about the situation. Her other neighbor certainly had a finger on the community’s pulse.
Entering her own house, Edna searched for something to do to take her mind off Tom and the problems of the family across the street, but the place was spotless, the laundry was done, and the beds were made. She hadn’t had lunch, but the thought of eating made her nauseous, and she didn’t feel like working in the garden. That would keep her hands busy but not her mind.
Paints. That was it. She had planned to sketch pictures of some of the plants and shrubs she would be using for her October presentation to Greenthumbs when she had been interrupted by Norm yesterday. She thought four pen-and-ink sketches with splashes of watercolor would be an attractive way to illustrate her talk and provide interesting visuals. Maybe some artwork would make up for whatever might be lacking in the content of her talk. After listening to Dee yesterday, Edna had more confidence in her ability to draw than in her knowledge of herbs and poisons.
Finding easel and paints at the back of the coat closet, she dragged them out to the patio. On the table beside her canvas stool, she laid her pencil box and a gardening book filled with large, colored photographs. “This will do nicely,” she told Benjamin, who was grooming himself in a nearby sunny spot on the flagstones.
Propping up the book on a metal stand, she turned pages until she found what she’d been looking for, lily-of-the-valley. Drawing the delicate blooms and oval leaves was soothing, and Edna finished her first sketch quickly. When that was done, she again flipped through the book until she spotted a sculpted yew tree. Placing the book back on its stand, she clipped a fresh sheet of paper to the easel and picked up a pen.
She paused as an image formed itself in her mind. Then, as she slashed some lines on the paper, a square-shaped face with a strong jaw began to appear. Her hand was quick with the nose and eyes. She had outlined an ear and was shading hair onto the forehead when she heard a sound behind her.
“Good likeness.”
Edna whipped around to see police detective Charlie Rogers standing a few feet away. His hands were clasped in front of his stomach, and his feet were spaced apart as he leaned slightly backwards and cocked his head to one side, studying the drawing of Tom Greene. She saw his hazel eyes drop to the book opened on the table before moving up to meet her gaze. At first, she was too startled to speak, then she didn’t know what to say. She wondered what he was doing there.
Their silent appraisal of each other was interrupted, to Edna’s relief, by a woman in a navy blue skirt and stark white blouse who materialized around the corner from the front of the house. Her blonde hair was boyishly cut and very attractive with her long, lean frame. Edna watched as she approached, then looked back at Charlie.
“Hope I didn’t startle you,” he said.
“Well, you did.” Feeling unreasonably nervous, she could feel her face turning red.
“I rang the bell, but I guess you didn’t hear it.” He didn’t bother to explain why he had come so quietly around to the back of the house. Instead, he extended a hand, palm up, toward the young woman. “This is Detective Peggy King.”
“Oh, yes. You’re the daughter of Helen Tucker’s friend. How do you do?” Edna looked from one to the other, still waiting for someone to explain their presence. A thought caused her hand to fly involuntarily to her mouth. “Is it Tuck? Is she worse?”
“No, ma’am,” Charlie said. He hesitated before nodding at the portrait she’d been working on. “We’re here to ask you a few questions about Tom Greene.”
Edna felt the flush return to her face as she realized she wasn’t supposed to know about Tom’s death. Would she get that nice receptionist into trouble? Only a patient’s physician was authorized to give out information. Hospital staff members could be fired for disobeying rules, especially those policies concerning privacy rights.
Just th
en, a gust of wind blew across the patio. Edna spun around to catch her easel as the gardening book toppled off the table. Looking up, she saw a mass of dark clouds moving in swiftly from the northeast.
With the officers’ help, she picked up her painting gear and hurried for the house. They hadn’t quite reached the back door when fat drops of rain began to fall. Benjamin was the first to scoot into the mudroom as the sound of thunder rolled across the sky.
Eight
In the kitchen, the two police detectives declined Edna’s offer of tea or coffee and asked that she sit down. Peggy took the chair beside her at the rectangular pine table, and Charlie sat opposite.
During the brief respite caused by the storm and the activity involved in getting her equipment in from the patio, Edna had been trying to figure out how she could get the police to tell her Tom was dead. She didn’t want to let slip—and she knew she would, sooner or later—that she knew about his death. She desperately wanted to stand, put a kettle on to boil and fill the teapot with a soothing herbal mint blend. Sitting here with nothing to do with her hands, she felt her nerves begin to fray. She must say something, but she didn’t want to betray Peppa’s friend.
Finally, she broke the uncomfortable stillness. “How is Tom?” She looked first at Charlie, then at Peggy with what she hoped was an innocent expression. If she thought of him as still alive, maybe she could pull this off. Willing herself to sit quietly, she studied Peggy’s lovely blue eyes and hoped she appeared calm while her insides roiled and her nerves tingled. She waited for one of the detectives to answer. From her television shows, she knew that the police used silence as a means to goad suspects into babbling. Well, she was too smart for that ploy.
After several interminable moments, during which Edna’s resolve began to weaken, Charlie cleared his throat, drawing her attention from Peggy. “That’s a good picture you’ve done of him. Perfect likeness.”
Edna felt heat rise from her neck to her face. What was she supposed to say to this? She thought of the many portraits she’d done over the years to give to friends and family. Why not? “It’s a present,” she said, then added, “a present for his grandson.” Gaining confidence with this decision, she continued. “I’ve grown very fond of Danny, and I thought he might like a painting of his grandfather. They’re very close, you know.” She’d almost given herself away with that one, almost said, “They were very close.” Emotion created a lump in her throat as the last words threatened to overwhelm her. She stopped talking, afraid to say more.
Again the silence grew, and Edna turned her head slightly to look at Peggy. Something made her glance back at Charlie in time to see him give his partner a barely perceptible nod.
“You asked how Tom is,” Peggy said. She paused briefly. “I’m afraid the news is bad, Mrs. Davies.” The detective looked across at Charlie for a few seconds before returning her eyes to Edna’s again, her expression grim. “Tom Greene died last night.”
Edna widened her eyes, hoping she looked surprised, then lowered her head before she overplayed her hand. As she brought the image of Tom’s face to her mind, her earlier sadness returned, and she wasn’t acting anymore when she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Mrs. Davies?” Charlie said in a firm tone. She lifted her head, opening her eyes. “Tell me about your visit with Tom. I understand he was here yesterday?”
Wondering vaguely who the police had learned this information from, Edna told him about Tom’s unexpected visit the day before.
“What kind of mood was he in?” Charlie asked when Edna finished.
She thought of the myriad subjects they had talked about and Tom’s behavior during each—playful and teasing with Mary and her, worried and concerned about his daughter and grandson, bowled over by Dee. She focused her mind on the handyman’s face. “Nothing unusual. He’s … he was worried about his daughter’s leaving her husband and concerned about his grandson’s acceptance at a new school, but on the other hand, he was happy over the prospect of finding an old high school friend.”
“Did he have anything to eat or drink while he was here?” Charlie sounded casual, but she felt he was studying her intently.
“I served him some iced tea, and he ate a few of my homemade cookies.” Something in the policeman’s manner was making her uneasy. I wish Albert were here, she thought, gripping her hands in her lap.
“What kind of tea?”
“What?” Thinking of Albert, she had lost the thread of the conversation.
“Do you have any of the tea or cookies left?” Charlie asked.
“No.” Edna remembered throwing away the last of the tea. Then, “Yes. I mean …” Why am I feeling so jittery? I’ve done nothing wrong. Taking a deep breath, she began again. “Some of the cookies are left but none of the tea.”
The detective continued to prod. “Tell me about the tea. Was it loose, canned, tea bags?”
“Uh.” She flapped a hand over her shoulder toward a cluster of canisters on the counter. “I make my own tea.”
“Oh?” Charlie raised his thick brown eyebrows, and his gaze flicked to Peggy. “How do you do that?” He folded his hands on the table in front of him, leaning forward as if very interested in Edna’s answer.
“I’ll show you.” She got up and brought two tins back to the table. “These are my most recent blends.” Her palms felt clammy, and her stomach churned as she sat back down on the edge of her chair and explained how she had processed and dried the leaves.
“How long did Tom stay?” Charlie abruptly changed the subject.
“I don’t remember exactly, but he left before lunch.” She remembered thinking it strange that he’d left without saying goodbye, but she didn’t feel it was worth mentioning to the police. She waited for Charlie’s next question.
“Did he tell you where he was off to?”
Edna frowned, thinking back. “No, I don’t believe he mentioned any place in particular. No, wait. He did say he was going someplace down by the shore. A bar, I think, where college kids go.”
“Sting Ray’s?” Peggy asked.
“Yes, that was the name. He was going to drop off some bracelets.” She explained about Tom’s hobby.
“We understand that he was supposed to be working here all day.” Charlie spoke when Edna finished. He appeared uninterested in Tom’s arts and crafts.
Norm. She felt her temper rise. “I bet you heard that from Norm Wilkins, but it simply isn’t true. He knows perfectly well Tom wasn’t here yesterday afternoon when that overbearing …” Edna caught herself and took a deep breath. Why did she let the man get under her skin? She finished weakly, “when Norm came looking for him.” She looked defiantly at Charlie. “Did he bother to tell you that?”
The detective stared at her with an odd expression. He was making her feel like a criminal. Unbidden, a picture of Aleda Sharp being led to the patrol car popped into her head. At that moment, Edna knew the feeling of impotence her neighbor must have been suffering.
“Mrs. Davies.” Peggy King spoke, drawing her attention. “We believe you. We’re just trying to piece together Tom’s day. Please try to understand, we need to work through these discrepancies.”
Chastened, Edna took another deep breath. In a minute, she felt calmer and explained in a quieter voice. “Tom stopped by to drop off some screens he’d repaired for us. As far as I know, he hadn’t planned to be here at all yesterday. He might have mentioned something to my husband, but I’m certain Albert would have said something to me. I got the impression he was in the neighborhood and decided to bring the screens by.”
“But he stayed long enough for tea and cookies.” Charlie interrupted before Edna could say more.
“Yes, but he was here for no more than an hour.” Again, the thought of Tom leaving while she was in the shed came to Edna’s mind. She wondered how long he had remained talking to Dee while she herself had gone after the rue.
“Do you know how he might have gotten bits of twigs on himself?”
A
s the memory came back, Edna smiled and told Charlie and Peggy about Tom’s helping her clean up the debris around the yew trees when his grandson had plowed into him. She chuckled and the detectives smiled at her description of Tom having to convince Danny that he wasn’t hurt.
Her laughter died immediately when Charlie asked his next question. “Are you studying poisons, Mrs. Davies?”
Now who’s been talking? Edna felt her face flush, thinking Dee must have said something to them, or had it been Mary? After a brief hesitation during which she tried to imagine why Charlie had asked her this question, Edna explained about her garden club presentation and how she’d been in the process of sketching some of the plants she wanted to use when they had found her on the patio. Her face grew warmer when she remembered it was Tom’s face, not flowers, they had seen on the paper clipped to her easel.
“What did you do with the clippings from the trees?” Peggy asked.
“They’re out by the walk in those trash bags.” Edna waved her hand vaguely toward the front of the house. “Albert will take them to the dump when he gets home.”
“Would you mind if we take them?” the slender young officer asked.
“I suppose not, but what do you want them for?”
“We’d like our lab to run some tests. You know, cover all bases.” Charlie answered Edna’s question before Peggy could. “Would you mind giving me a sample of these teas, too?” he asked, pushing himself out of his chair.
Edna’s stomach felt increasingly queasy as she spooned samples from each tea canister into small paper bags and watched as Charlie labeled them. She was fairly certain now that Tom had somehow been poisoned. Did they think she might be responsible?
Her knees felt weak as she walked the detectives to the front door. The rain had stopped, but the afternoon was darkened by an ominous cloud cover. Peggy went off to pick up two of the large plastic bags while Charlie slid the tea samples into a pocket of his tweed jacket and turned to thank Edna for her cooperation. She gave him a half-hearted smile and was about to close the door when he raised a hand to stop her.
Murder by Yew Page 7
