Bindweed (16 page)

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Authors: Janis Harrison

BOOK: Bindweed
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Josh shrugged. “Here at the store I showed Toby how much clearer and more realistic the pictures are on a DVD. He was ready to update his equipment, but I told him that some of the movies he liked to watch hadn't been released on disc. Toby and I talked it over, and he made the decision to have two televisions. I went shopping again.”
“How much over the cost of the items did you pocket?”
Josh bristled. “I told Toby I needed something for my time. He understood that, and he paid up—willingly, I might add.”
“Let's talk about the fast food. How did that come about?”
“His mama was a strict woman. Toby had never tasted pizza or drunk a Coke in his life. I couldn't see the harm in treating him to some fat and cholesterol and a few empty calories.” Josh grinned. “I'll never forget the look on his face when he took his first bite of pizza. His eyes lit up, and he laughed out loud. He was hooked. From that moment on, he was a junk-food junkie.”
My tone was dry. “And you were only too happy to feed his addiction?”
Josh scowled. “You make it sound like I lured him onto drugs. What was the harm? He was happy.”
“And you made money?”
Josh shrugged. “Some.”
“How much did you charge him for a pizza?”
He hedged his answer. “It varied depending on which kind he wanted.”
I persisted. “How much did you charge him, Josh?”
He squirmed, but finally admitted, “Twice the price I paid plus delivery.”
I was shocked. “Good heavens. You're as bad as Abner.”
Josh's chin came up. “I don't see it that way.”
“Of course not. You were lining your own pockets.”
“It was business. Don't you have a delivery charge when you take flowers out of town? How much is your markup on the merchandise you sell?”
“That's beside the point.”
“No it isn't. Toby knew I was making money, but he didn't care. He wanted out of the protective bubble his mother had put him in. He wanted to experience what other people had. He only rented family movies. He would sit for hours and watch stories that had to do with a mother and a father and kids. He wanted to be part of that scene. I couldn't help him with that, but I could round out his life in other areas. His mother had drilled it into him never to set foot in a fast-food restaurant. She had drilled it into him never to watch television. Before she died, she made out nutritious menus, but it was the same old humdrum stuff he'd been eating all his life.”
Josh stopped and wiped a hand across his face. “Look, Bretta, I don't mean to pass judgment on Agnes. She probably meant well, but once she was gone, Toby needed more in his life. She expected him to be content to associate only with the people on her approved list. I wasn't on that list, but I brought something to Toby's life that none of the rest of you did.”
On this subject, Josh was more confident. He straightened his shoulders and met my gaze unflinchingly. “What do you think he did the last few years for Thanksgiving and Christmas? He was with me. My family is back East. Toby and I were alone, but together we were a family. He was like a brother to me.”
“But you took advantage of him.”
Josh's smile was sad. “That's your opinion. I don't see it that way, but more important, neither did Toby.”
“Who put the hornets in Toby's bedroom?”
“I don't know.”
“If you and Toby were as close as you say, surely he said something that would give you a clue.”
Josh shook his head. “I've thought and thought, but nothing comes to mind except those flowers that were chopped off in the garden. He told me you were coming to his house the next day. I was busy and blew him off. I was working the store alone. Two of my employees didn't show up. I told him I had more important worries than a bunch of missing flowers.”
“How did Toby take that?”
Josh's shoulders sagged. “He was hurt. He left without saying good-bye. Maybe if I'd spent time with him, I'd have learned more, but I didn't.” Josh breathed in deeply and let it out in a mournful sigh. “He might have confided in me, but I didn't give him the chance.”
“If he told you I was coming by his house the next day, then he must have come directly to your store after he left mine.”
“I suppose.”
“Do you know if that was his usual route?”
“I guess. He came by every day because he rented lots of movies. Do you think his route was important?”
“Mr. Barker says that on the day Toby died, Toby told him he had reversed his route. Do you know why he would do that?”
“Not really, unless he wanted to see someone who's usually last on his route.”
“Who would that be?”
Josh didn't hesitate. “That would be Yvonne. He always stopped off there before he went home.”
I didn't try to hide my disappointment. I'd hoped for another name—any name that would keep this line of inquiry open. But Josh's answer had stalled me. I already knew Toby had stopped by Yvonne's on the morning of the day he died. While waiting at the hospital for news of Toby's condition, Phillip had told us about the incident with the wet varnish. Yvonne said Phillip had yelled at Toby. I had no doubt that Phillip was capable of reprimanding Toby in a harsh manner. But where did the white worms fit in?
Josh glanced impatiently at his watch. “Look, I have things to do before I open.”
I told Josh good-bye and advised him that it would be in his best interests to have a candid chat with the sheriff about his business dealings with Toby. Josh didn't take to the idea. I didn't repeat my suggestion. I walked out of his storage room and crossed over to the flower shop.
When I stepped inside, I looked around. Everything was tidy. The vases were lined up on the shelf. Extra boxes of supplies were stacked within easy reach. Trash had been set out for pickup. This was the way a back room should look.
I stepped into the workroom, where all was quiet. Lois was fussing with a basket and Lew was hanging up the phone. “What's going on?” I asked.
Lew said, “I just took an order for a fall bouquet. They want it delivered later this afternoon.”
“Give the order to me,” I said. “I'll make it.” I glanced at Lois. “Thanks for opening up. I went by the hospital to talk to Sid and got sidetracked. I've got so much to tell you guys, I don't know where to begin.”
Lois said, “Before you get started, take a look at this.” She gestured to the basket. “I found it outside the back door. We must be doing something right. Some kind and thoughtful soul left us a thank-you gift. It's really neat. All sorts of stuff.” She held up a bottle. “This is an aloe lotion for dry, chapped hands. I can't wait to try it. My hands look and feel like sandpaper.”
A vision of Leona's abused skin flashed in my mind. I shouted, “Lois, put that bottle down. Drop it now!”
Startled by my harsh tone, Lois followed my command and dropped the bottle. It hit the edge of the basket, which tipped over, scattering the contents across the table. She frowned at me. “You scared me spitless. Look at what you made me do.”
She reached to set everything right, but I said, “Don't touch any of that stuff until Sid gets here.”
Lois drew back. “Why? What's going on?”
“I'll tell you in a minute. First wash your hands and use plenty of soap—our soap. You, too, Lew, if you touched that basket.”
Lew shook his head. “I looked, but I didn't handle any of it. I wasn't interested. There's shaving lotion among the items, but it isn't my brand.”
Lois went to the sink and lathered up. “I'm washing. Now will you tell us what's going on?”
“First I have to get Sid over here. I doubt there will be fingerprints,” I said as I moved to the phone. “In fact, I could be blowing this out of proportion, but I'm not taking any chances.”
Lew and Lois stared at me as if I was talking gibberish. From their standpoint, I probably wasn't making much sense. I could be wrong, but it was too much of a coincidence. Yesterday,
Leona had found a gift on her counter. Today, Lois had found a gift at our back door. Leona was fighting for her life. The paralleling of events would stop here if I had anything to do with it.
I put through the call to Sid. When he came on the line, all I said was, “Lois found a basket of toiletries at our back door. No card.” His response, “I'll be right there,” made me breathe easier. It was a pleasant change not to have to beg and plead before Sid took me seriously about one of my assumptions.
I hung up. “He's on his way,” I said, turning to find Lew and Lois watching me in wide-eyed wonderment.
Lew asked, “That's all you had to say and the sheriff is on his way over here?”
“He knows this basket could be important.”
Lois finished drying her hands and flung the paper towel in the trash. “It's a basket of goodies. Did I miss something?”
“Lots,” I said. I filled them in on my morning. After I'd described the condition of Leona's skin, Lois went back to the sink and lathered up again. Over her shoulder she asked, “What do you think was in that bottle of bubble bath?”
I shrugged. “Since Leona said she was highly allergic to poison ivy, I'm leaning in that direction.”
Lois looked at me. “How bad is
your
reaction when you come in contact with the vine?”
“I get a rash, some itching, but nothing like Leona.”
Lew snorted. “That's because you've never bathed in it. Imagine a tub full of hot water, and the air is warm and steamy. Your pores are wide open, primed and ready to absorb the emollients from the contents of the bottle you've just dumped into the water. If I remember right, Leona said the fragrance was freesia. So add the fact that the air was also sweetly perfumed. She wanted a relaxing bath, so she lingered”—he
paused and gave us a knowing look—“soaking and scrubbing her more sensitive areas as she reclined in the poisoned water.”
He'd conjured up a horrible picture. I rubbed my arms. An itch developed between my shoulder blades. I twitched, trying to make it go away. I told myself it was nerves, a case of sympathy prickles. It's like when someone talks about mites or lice or fleas. You immediately feel them crawling across your skin.
To take my mind off my phantom itching, I eyed the bottles on the table. The “gift” had been attractively presented in a wicker basket. The bottles were assorted sizes and had been nestled together with iridescent shredded cellophane. A bow, like the kind sold at discount stores, was stuck to the handle.
“What I don't understand,” said Lois, drying her hands once again, “is, how do you get poison ivy into a bottle?”
“We don't know that it was poison ivy,” said Lew.
Lois glared at him. “But
if
it was, how do you process it? The plant is very toxic. I've read that you shouldn't even burn it. If the smoke gets in your eyes or nasal passages, you've got some serious medical problems.”
Before Lew or I could offer an opinion, Sid blew in the front door. Behind him was one of his female deputies, Donna Meyer. Officer Meyer had been on staff with my husband. I was pleased to see her and offered her a warm greeting before turning to Sid.
He wasn't wasting any time. He came around the front counter to the worktable where he eyed the bottles, changing his positions so he could read labels without making contact.
“Body lotion. Shaving lotion. Hand cream. Bubble bath. These are all different scents from the one that was found in Leona's bathroom. Hers was called freesia. Whatever the hell that is.” He leaned closer. “These say they contain aloe.” He looked at me. “Isn't that the name of the plant that you slice a leaf off and apply the slimy edge to a sunburn?”
“That's right. It has medicinal properties. Makes your skin feel cool and—” I stopped, thought a second, then said,”What if these aloe products were chosen because they're known for soothing skin irritations?” I shook my head in disbelief.”It's almost as if this person is flaunting what was done to Leona.”
Sid made a face. “Forget the psychoanalysis. I have work to do. Deputy, get this stuff tagged and bagged. I want it out to Monroe on the double.”
“Monroe?” I said. “As in Bailey Monroe?”
“Yeah. I called him. I need the contents of these bottles and the one found in Leona's bathroom tested. I can transport everything to St. Louis, but I'd go on a waiting list. I don't have that kind of patience.”
I was amazed and just a tad proud that Sid had called on Bailey. Deputy Meyer finished with the bottles. She and Sid stepped over to the side of the room and had a quick chat. Deputy Meyer left, and Sid came back to the worktable.
I asked, “So what is Bailey going to do to help?”
“He's taking the evidence to St. Louis, where he has contacts. One of his high-powered friends has agreed to do a rush job.”
I grinned. “I'm impressed.”
Sid snorted. “Get over it. I want to know, who found this basket?”
Lois raised her hand. “That would be me.”
Sid said, “Give me a quick rundown, then I'll ask questions.”
Lois said, “Okay,” then launched into her story. “I found the basket at the back door this morning when I arrived for work. I carried it in. There wasn't a card, but I assumed it was a thank-you for some job we'd done. I brought it in here, put it on the table, and went up front to unlock the door. While I was turning on the lights, Lew arrived. I told him about the basket. He
glanced at it, and said the shaving lotion wasn't his brand. The phone rang. He answered it. I went back to the basket and picked up the hand lotion. I was reading the label when Bretta came in. I told her what I'd found. She screamed at me to drop the bottle. I did. It hit the rim of the basket and the whole thing fell over. She told me to leave it alone and to wash my hands. I've done so—twice. She called you. That's it.”
Sid stared at Lois for a long, drawn-out moment. Finally he said, “Good God, woman. Take a breath.”
Lois breathed in and out deeply. “Thanks,” she said. “I was feeling kind of light-headed.”
“I'm not surprised, rambling on and on like that.”
Lois frowned. “I wasn't rambling. I was doing like you asked. I was giving you a quick rundown.”
Sid nodded. “That's appreciated, but you did it so damned fast, I've got to stop and review what you said.”
“You want me to start over?” asked Lois.
“No,” grumbled Sid. “I think I've got it. The main point is that none of you has a clue as to who put that basket by the back door. Do I have that right?”
We nodded.
Sid turned to Lew. “You aren't holding out on me again, are you?”
Lew drew himself up and held his head high. “I know nothing more than what Lois has told you.”
“Good,” said Sid, and then he scowled. “Hell no. It's not good. It's damned frustrating.”
I said, “Before you came in, we were discussing how to get the poison out of the plant. Do you know how it's done?”
“According to Monroe's expert, the sap is extracted by using a cold press, which works just as the name implies. No heat is used in the process. Our perp simply ground away at the raw
plant fibers and strained the sap. We're assuming the toxin was added to the bottle of bubble bath. It's a nasty concoction when you add the fact that the recipient was highly susceptible.”
Sid's radio squawked to life. He stepped away from us and carried on a short conversation. When he came back to the table, his face was grim. “Forget what I said about that bottle being a nasty concoction. It was a deadly mix. Eight minutes ago, Leona Harper died.”

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