Knowing her daughter conspired to spend as much time as she could with the police detective, Edna nearly laughed at Starling’s transparency. “Of course not,” she answered, although she knew a reply hadn’t been necessary. “What are you making us for breakfast?”
Starling choked on her coffee, as if she’d swallowed a too-hot mouthful, and Edna did laugh this time. She knew her daughter to be a willing and adequate cook, but since her children were grown and had homes of their own, Edna hardly ever asked one of them to cook in her kitchen. This morning, she’d been half joking with her youngest child, but said, “I’ll make popovers if you do the rest.”
“Yummm. My favorite breakfast treat,” Starling said, raising her eyebrows in delight. “I’ll make bacon and scrambled eggs to go with them.”
“And I think I also have some oranges to make fresh juice.”
Starling chuckled. “It sounds perfect. I’ll start the bacon. I bet the smell will stir Manda-Panda’s taste buds. She might even make it downstairs before Charlie gets here.”
As Starling began to turn toward the cupboard where the frying pans were stored, Edna put a restraining hand on her forearm. Leaning toward her daughter, she said in a low voice, “No talk of death, accidents or murder in front of Amanda, please. If Charlie wants to talk to me about Peppa’s situation, I’d appreciate it if you’d take your niece to Mary’s after breakfast.”
Starling nodded, all humor gone. “Good idea.” Five minutes later, when the doorbell rang, she hurried to greet Charlie. Edna moved to the stove to tend to Starling’s abandoned frying pan, certain that her daughter would pass the suggestion along to Charlie, as soon as “good morning’s” were out of the way.
The three adults barely had time to fill their coffee mugs before Amanda was heard talking to Benjamin in the hallway. When the youngster entered the kitchen with the cat slung over her shoulder, any chance of serious talk was forgotten for the next half hour.
After breakfast, when Starling suggested they visit the neighbor’s menagerie, Amanda gave no protest. Once aunt and niece headed off to Mary’s house, Edna refilled Charlie’s coffee mug. “Starling said you wanted to talk to me. I assume it’s about Peppa’s accident last night.”
“It is,” he said, taking a cell phone out of his jacket pocket. He studied the display, fiddled with the buttons, and finally handed it to Edna. “Can you identify this?”
Edna studied the photo for several seconds before looking at him with a frown. “It’s pretty crumpled, but I’d guess it’s a Christmas Rose. Lily Beck has some blooming in her garden.”
“Clem Peppafitch was clutching that one in his hand.”
Edna gave a slow nod. “He’s been working for Lily, living above her garage. Did you know that?”
“Not before this morning. John Forrester showed up at the scene. Knows all about the Becks.”
Edna was puzzled. “Who’s John Forrester?”
“Detective. Retired last year, but he listens to a police scanner and shows up whenever something interests him. He was the initial lead on the Haverstrum case a couple years back, so when he heard the call this morning, he drove over. He’s an okay guy. Doesn’t get in the way. Knows a lot about who’s who around town, so he’s usually more useful than interfering.”
She was still a little confused. “Okay, he knows about the Becks, but how did he happen to connect Clem to them?”
Charlie thought for a minute, as if the question had just occurred to him, too. Then rather than answer her, he asked one of his own. “Do you know when Clem started working for Lily Beck?”
“Sometime last fall, according to what Lily told me. Tuck says about six months. She ran into him last November when she was at Lily’s for a garden club meeting.”
Charlie lifted a hand, palm up. “There you have it. Forrester must have seen him there. I hear John’s been revisiting the Haverstrum case. He probably dropped by to talk to Lily and could have met Clem then.”
“Isn’t that some sort of harassment?” Edna mused. “Why would he be questionning Lily? Wasn’t that case closed?”
Charlie took a sip of coffee, delaying a moment before shrugging. “I heard it was, but I wasn’t here much at that time. Back then, I was spending most of my time tracking a burglary ring between here and Canada.”
“You said Forrester was the initial lead on the case. What does that mean?”
Charlie thought for a few seconds, frowning. “The day after Haverstrum’s body was found, John was sent to Washington for two weeks. I thought it strange at the time to pull him off a major investigation for training, but that’s what happened. Someone else took over. John never was part of the team again, even when he got back.”
“Don’t you think it’s even odder then that he’s looking into it now?”
Charlie shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Maybe because it was something he started but wasn’t able to finish. Sounds like he thinks it shouldn’t have been closed, or it might be his way of keeping busy these days.”
Edna thought about Rosie’s obvious frustration when she’d talked about the detective who seemed to be reopening her husband’s case. More than just a way to occupy himself, Edna thought. She realized the way Rosie talked, John Forrester was obsessed. Shaking her head as she remembered her own vulnerability when she’d been treated as a suspect, Edna decided it was useless to continue speculating about the old detective’s motives. She looked again at the Christmas Rose displayed on Charlie’s phone and returned to their earlier conversation. “Since Clem was living there and working for Lily, it’s a good bet this came from her garden. Is that what you came to find out this morning?”
Charlie nodded. “That and whatever else you might be able to tell me about the species. Is there something significant about the plant itself? I’m wondering why he was clutching it. It doesn’t seem like the sort of cut flower you’d bring to your lady love, not like a single red rose or something.” he said. The tight set to his jaw told Edna his remark was not meant as a joke.
She remained silent for a minute as she stared at the photo, not so much seeing the picture as trying to pull a vague detail from the back of her mind. “I know it’s poisonous.” She looked up to see Charlie watching her. “If I recall, there might be blisters around or inside his mouth.” Mentioning the symptoms brought another foggy image to her mind, but before she could grab hold of it, Charlie interrupted the thought, shaking his head.
“I didn’t notice anything like that. I think I would have if they’d been obvious. I’ll ask the medical examiner if I don’t see it in his report. We won’t get that for a few days yet, I’m afraid.” He paused briefly before going on. “Just how poisonous is this plant?”
Edna shrugged. She thought about Lettie’s comment that her grandmother made “medicine” from the plant, but decided not to mention it until Charlie could tell her about the M.E.’s conclusions. She didn’t want to muddy waters, if it weren’t relevant to the case. Aloud, she said, “I remember bits and pieces, but I need to refresh my memory. I want to look over Mrs. Rabichek’s journals again. How soon do you need to know?”
“Yesterday,” Charlie answered with a grim smile.
She studied the detective as she thought about what Tuck had told her and tried to put it together with what he was asking. “How did Clem die? I thought you arrested Peppa for running him over with her car, but you’re asking about the Christmas Rose. Are you thinking he might have been poisoned?”
“I’m not thinking anything at the moment. I’m just following up on whatever leaves a question in my mind. That flower in his hand, for instance …” Charlie paused to nod at the picture displayed on the phone she still held. “That is something we don’t usually find on a corpse.”
“So you don’t actually know if Peppa killed him or not?” Edna was mostly thinking aloud and didn’t like any of the implications, so far. “You’ve ruled out natural causes?”
Charlie shook his head and reached for his cell. “I didn?
??t say that. What I said was, we won’t know anything definite until we have the M.E.’s report.”
“What about Peppa? Is she under arrest or not?”
“There’s enough evidence, plus motive, to hold her, if they decide to. You know better than I do that Peppa held a lot of resentment against Clem. We’re all trying to give her the benefit of the doubt and, until the results of the autopsy are in, I’m looking into whatever else I can find, but I’m not the lead on this. Whether she’s booked or not isn’t my decision.” He held up the phone, redirecting her attention. “How much information do you think Mrs. Rabichek’s journals will have about it?”
Edna shrugged. “I’ll look and let you know.” Sensing he was ready to leave, and remembering her promise to Tuck, she said hurriedly, “How’s Peppa holding up?”
It was Charlie’s turn to shrug. “I haven’t spoken to her since last night when Detective King took her to the station for questioning, but I understand her lawyer was seeing the judge this morning. He’s asking to have her released. Says we don’t have enough evidence to hold her.” Charlie snorted a laugh. “What do you want to bet the judge is one of her Saturday morning story kids?”
Edna laughed too, but as with Charlie, there was appreciation but not a lot of humor in it. “I’ll call later today and see if there’s anything I can do for her.”
She saw Charlie to the door, extracting a promise from him that he’d keep her posted with whatever news he could reveal about the case, knowing he couldn’t say much about an ongoing investigation. In turn, she told him she’d look at Mrs. Rabichek’s journals as soon as possible and call him with whatever she found. As she closed the door, she wondered at the coincidence of another Beck being linked to a suspicious death. Could Clem’s fatality be, in any way, connected to that of Lily’s son-in-law? She shook her head to clear her mind. The thought is too absurd.
Chapter 10
Taking advantage of Starling and Amanda’s absence after Charlie’s departure, Edna went to her office and picked up the three volumes that comprised the journals Mrs. Rabichek had left when Edna and Albert purchased the house nearly two years before. Not remembering where she had found it before, she scanned the first book with no luck in finding any mention of the Christmas Rose. Two thirds of the way through the second tome, she found her reference.
To her surprise, the word that caught her eye first was buttercup. She read on, recalling more of the facts as she did so. Christmas Rose--a perennial flowering plant in the buttercup family Ranunculaceae. Dark, leathery, pedate leaves. Stems 9 to 12 inches tall. Large flat white flowers on short stems. Blooms from midwinter to early spring. Difficult to grow, Mrs. Rabichek had gone on to note. Prefers moist alkaline soil, rich in humus.
As was her custom, the elderly herbalist had noted medical uses in green ink. For the Christmas Rose, she had written old days: used to treat paralysis, gout, insanity. More recent: toothache, earache, indigestion.
Her color coding further consisted of warnings in red ink. Highly toxic. Not recommended for human use. Poisonous substance is ranunculin. Acrid taste. Causes burning of eyes, mouth and throat.
Antidotes would be listed in blue ink. There was no such entry for this section.
Not very pleasant, Edna thought, marking the page with a yellow sticky flag. She was about to pick up the phone to call Charlie with what she’d learned when she heard loud knocking on the front door. Followed by Benjamin, she went down the hall, wondering who would be calling, unannounced, at eleven o’clock on a Sunday morning.
Standing on the stoop was a stranger. He was a big man who looked to be about Edna’s own age. An inch or two over six feet, he had a heavy paunch and sagging jowls beneath a bulbous nose. He wore his iron-gray hair in a military buzz cut. Mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes.
Instantly wary, Edna kept the screen door shut, relieved when she glanced down and reassured herself that she had locked it earlier, after Charlie left. “Yes?” she said, when the man said nothing. He seemed to be waiting for her to push the screen door open. “May I help you?”
“I want a word with you,” he said. “May I come in?”
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“Name’s John Forrester. I want to talk to you.”
Edna instantly recognized the name of the retired detective Charlie had mentioned as the first lead on the Haverstrum investigation. Charlie had said he was a good guy. Perhaps it was Rosie’s reaction to the detective that made Edna reluctant to unlock the screen and allow Forrester to enter. “I’m busy at the moment. Tell me what you want.”
“You’ve been asking questions about the Gregory Haverstrum case.” He made the statement sound accusatory.
“Yes.” Edna didn’t follow her single-word response with “so what,” but she might as well have from the scowl on Forrester’s face.
“I’ve come to tell you to find something else to occupy your time. That investigation is none of your business.”
“I beg your pardon?” Edna was taken aback by the man’s abruptness.
“I think you heard me, Miz Davies. I said stop meddling.”
Edna felt her cheeks start to warm as her temper rose. She fought to sound reasonable. “I understand the case is closed. Why would you consider any questions I have as interfering?”
He answered her question with another of his own. “Why did you tell Rosie Haverstrum she doesn’t have to talk to me.”
“I didn’t exactly put it like that, but she doesn’t, does she?” Edna said, confused as to why it would matter so much to this retired policeman. The case was closed and that should be the end of it, yet according to Rosie, John Forrester had begun to investigate again.
Edna took a step back in order to shut the door. She didn’t like this man. Charlie might think well of his former colleague, but she didn’t. The man was arrogant and bullying. No wonder Rosie got upset at the mere mention of the former detective.
As Edna closed the door, she heard him call out, “No more amateur detecting or two-bit advice to Rosie Haverstrum. I’m warning you.”
Heart racing, Edna stood with her back pressed against the door until she heard a car door slam and the sound of tires retreating around the broken shell driveway. She remained still for another minute or two, waiting for her heartbeat to slow. Looking down, she saw Benjamin staring at her. His head was tilted slightly and he seemed to be either curious or concerned or both. Whatever it was, she was distracted enough to relax a little and even smile as she bent to stroke his head. Her feeling of relief was quickly replaced by one of determination, as she headed to her office to call Charlie. Now, not only would she have information on the Christmas Rose, but she’d give him an earful about what she thought of his pal. She was standing by her desk, taking in deep breaths to calm herself further before reaching for the phone, when she heard Amanda’s voice calling from the kitchen.
“I’m in here, sweetie,” Edna called back, forcing John Forrester to the back of her mind. She would not let him spoil her last day’s visit with her granddaughter. She sat and swiveled her chair in time to greet Amanda as the girl came bounding into the office, face flushed. Edna guessed Amanda had run across the yard from the neighboring house.
“Mary says it sounds like the ghost is riding a horse,” the youngster said, flinging herself down onto the chair next to Edna’s desk.
Benjamin, most likely alerted by the girl’s voice, had vacated his favorite office chair seconds before Amanda sat. He ambled from the room with only the briefest, resentful glance over his shoulder, having deftly avoided being picked up by the youngster.
As Edna was enjoying these antics and taking in what Amanda had said, Starling appeared in the doorway and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, pushing her hands into the side pockets of her black woolen slacks.
“A horse?” Edna gave her daughter an amused, raised-eyebrow look while Amanda’s attention was on the disappearing cat.
“That’s right,” Starling returned. “Mary
’s been researching South County history, practically back to the first settlers. She’s now pretty certain that her rebel ghost must be reenacting Paul Revere’s ride. A Rhode Island version of the ride, if there ever was such a thing,” Starling added with a shrug. “She swears the noise sounds like hoof beats.”
“We learned about Paul Revere in school,” Amanda announced with some pride. “We’re studying King Philip’s War now.” She frowned, adding, “I don’t think ‘King Philip’ sounds much like an indian name.”
“His real name was Metacomet,” Edna explained. “The colonists just called him King Philip.”
“Why?” Amanda demanded.
“Probably because they couldn’t remember or pronounce his Wampanoag name.”
“I wouldn’t want strangers doing that to me,” Amanda said, wrinkling her brow.
Changing the subject, Edna asked, “Did you know that King Philip hid from the settlers in the Great Swamp?”
Amanda nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what my teacher said.”
“Do you know it’s not far from here?” Starling asked.
Amanda’s large brown eyes turned to her aunt as she slowly shook her head. “Where?”
“Know where Larkin Pond is?”
Amanda nodded. “That’s where I go to Girl Scout camp.”
Starling smiled at her niece. “That’s the place. The Great Swamp is just down the road from Camp Hoffman. Wanna go see it? Should be a nice day for a walk. The wind’s down and it’ll be warmer away from the ocean.”
The girl’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Can I take pictures to show my teacher?”
“You bet.”
Looking at the time on her computer screen, Edna broke in. “Let’s have lunch and then take a ride over there, shall we?”
“Good idea. I’m hungry,” Starling said. “How about you, Manda-Panda?”
The girl nodded, then looked skeptical. “What are we having?”
Edna laughed at her granddaughter’s suspicion and thought she might have had enough seafood. “How about tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches?” she said, mentioning one of her children’s favorite meals when they were young.