Gone crazy, p.6
Gone Crazy, page 6
“You’re going to make me guess. Okay. I give up. Who?”
“Marilyn Beauregard.” Petey leaned back, the chair creaking out another protest. “She has the legal right to request an autopsy because she was named in the advance health directive Phoebe Sheehan signed back in November.”
“I thought the health directive purpose was to appoint someone to make decisions if you were incapacitated and couldn’t make them for yourself. Am I wrong?”
“You don’t get more incapacitated than dead.”
“Good point.” Rory scratched his ear, grimaced. “So, what prompted Marilyn to request an autopsy?”
Petey grinned. “Toxic alkaloids.”
Rory whistled. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“My guess is she didn’t either.”
Rory reared back, steepling his fingers on his chest. “So, talk to me about alkaloids.”
“How much time do you have?”
He grinned. “Give me the short elementary school version.”
“Alkaloids are organic compounds that have been used as medications and calming agents for centuries. Some are harmless, others not so much. Most are stimulants, but their use in pharmaceuticals is well-known: antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, local anesthetic, hypnotic.”
“Don’t tell me she took some medicine that didn’t go down well.”
“Many plant species produce the compound. It can be found in flowering plant leaves, stems, roots, or even fruits. Alkaloids are in everyday foods you eat and drinks you ingest. Coffee? Caffeine is an alkaloid, as are opium and morphine.”
“So, a bad cup of java.”
“There’s also strychnine, quinine, and nicotine. Alkaloids in pure form are colorless and odorless. Quite often with a bitter taste. And there’s cocaine, the narcotic drug which has the opposite effect from morphine. It produces a euphoric, hyper-aroused state that can lead to ventricular fibrillation and death.”
“You’re saying Phoebe Sheehan overdosed on cocaine?”
“Not quite. I’m trying to give you some background, what it is and what it can do.”
Rory took out his notebook while Petey continued, “Some alkaloids are illicit drugs, and some are poisonous. But others are just addictive stimulants we humans knowingly partake in: smoking, double mocha lattes, tomatoes.” He cocked his head. “Flowering plants commonly grown in Winterset include a dozen opportunities for a would-be killer. Harvest enough poisonous alkaloid and you can mix a lethal cocktail for our Ms. Sheehan.”
“Then it was poisoning?”
“Yup. The questions that remain are what and when. I’ll start the autopsy this afternoon. The blood tests taken at the hospital last night indicated the toxin. I’ll let you know when I isolate the culprit.”
“Like you said, ‘poisoned from what and when.’ I’ll wait to see if I can add the who.”
After Petey left, Rory contemplated toxins. What and where? He’d need to discover the answers. According to Petey, there were a hundred everyday plants that could supply the alkaloid used to render Phoebe nauseous, unconscious, and ultimately dead. Rory checked his watch and found it was just after lunchtime. He felt a need to check on the Sheehan mansion and Nina, the dog sitter.
Knowing that just dropping in wouldn’t be productive, he remembered Esther and Nina had hit it off. Esther would be at home doing her bookkeeping chores. He wondered if he should take her along. Who was he kidding? Anyone would have a better chance talking to the girl than a middle-aged police detective whose normal communication mode was interrogation. He decided to pick the bookkeeper up.
Together, they enjoyed a comfortable drive to the mansion. It was a sunny day, and although the temperature hovered in the lower forties, there was no wind. Just coming into February, he was glad for the break between winter snows. December and January had been mild, but too much time indoors made him antsy for a walk in the country. Most years, there was a blizzard in February or March just when he wanted to come out of hibernation. The storms always made him feel like a bear and helped the season drag on forever.
Before they reached the mansion, he told her about the break-in at Hutchinson’s. When he finished, she said, “Tom is a prickly guy. Always ready to lend you a hand, but quick to remind you he did so.”
“I wondered if someone is trying to make his life miserable. The thefts are odd.”
“In what way?”
“Too small. Almost designed to inconvenience Tom and not lucrative for the criminal. Take last week’s crime—all or mostly power tools. Items that will bring in a price at a swap meet. Stuff you can sell from your car trunk or online. Pieces not easily traced. It feels like kids. The replacement cost for the hardware store’s back door is almost more than the merchandise lost. And to hear him tell it, just one more nail in his coffin.”
His stomach dropped. Coffin. Great, he had referenced death. But then, he didn’t suppose she had forgotten. Esther watched the scenery pass. What was she thinking? He didn’t know.
Finally, she said, “That’s interesting. Do you suspect local kids? A prank not a crime?”
“Oh, they were crimes all right. Just not the kind committed by hardened criminals.”
“And we’re going to talk to Nina because….” She let it drift away. Then, in his peripheral vision, he saw her upper body turn to face him. “Nina is a suspect in this crime?”
“I want to get a feel for the living arrangement out there. And something Tom Hutchinson said this morning made me think about Perry Benson. He was a part-time gardener for Phoebe Sheehan, and that means Nina and Perry know each other. I’d like to understand the dynamics in their relationship.”
“Marilyn knows all the parties. Why don’t you talk to her?”
“She has a unique interpretation on relationships. And I’d like to reserve hearing Marilyn’s opinion until I’ve collected some facts myself.”
He wondered if Esther knew about the autopsy. And if she did what she thought about the request.
“I talked to Marilyn this morning,” she said softly, offering an apology. “She feels responsible after the trust Phoebe placed in her, medical POA and all. I guess you know she asked for an autopsy?”
He slid his hands to the eleven and one positions on the steering wheel and tapped a thoughtful rhythm with his thumbs. Esther had an uncanny knack for reading his mind.
“Marilyn told me Phoebe was in stellar condition for a woman her age,” she said. “It didn’t seem natural for her to die so suddenly. Then she said if there were family to consult, they would surely request an autopsy, so she thought she should. Not that she suspected foul play, just that it was prudent.”
He decided not to share what he’d learned from Petey about the poison. However, Marilyn would do that soon enough, and he did want the older woman’s take on that development.
They drove in silence for another mile before Esther said, “It’s odd to think we made this trip out County Line Road only last night. I wonder what happens to the literary guild’s prize now?”
He didn’t know and wasn’t concerned about the award unless poison was used to narrow the poet laureate competition pool. His mind went down a rabbit hole, and they road on in silence. His mind ticking, he recalled his impression from the night before and the awards ceremony. Lillie arguing with Phoebe and later leaving in a huff. Perry Benson coming in late and leaving early. Phoebe nauseous even before the festivities got underway. He wondered, where had everyone been while he hobnobbed with the literary royalty?
Chapter Nine
Nina and Rosco were on the lawn when Rory pulled the city car into the drive. She called the dog to her, then clipped a lead to his collar just as Rory parked.
Stepping from the vehicle, he called, “I see you made it home safely.” He rounded the car to hold the door open for Esther. “We’re here to offer condolences. I’ve brought Miss Mullins to keep me in line. You know how we older, brash policemen can be.” He gave Esther a full wattage smile and then swung his gaze back to the younger woman. “Just a few questions.”
Esther blushed, then said to Nina, “I am sorry for your loss.”
Rory removed his fedora, fingering the brim. “Miss Sheehan’s death was sudden and unexpected.”
Nina didn’t react. He wasn’t sure whether he expected her to or not. She was dressed casually in jeans and sweatshirt under a short-cropped coat and with her hands buried deep in the coat pockets. A beaded sack hung from a long diagonal strap across her body. She showed no signs of grief. Well, people reacted differently to death; he knew that. Hollow-eyed and weepy wouldn’t be in her character. He wondered what would happen to the girl now that Phoebe was gone. And what the older woman had meant to her.
Then, knowing Esther would be more tactful in dealing with Nina, he changed the subject. “This is a beautiful property. Would it be insensitive if I looked around?”
Waving the sentiment aside, Nina let the beagle off the leash. She couldn’t very well refuse to let him look around. Rosco growled, which didn’t make sense since his tail was going nine-to-ninety. Rory stepped over and gave the dog’s ears a tussle. “Friendly guy.”
Nina slapped her thigh, and the beagle heeled. “If he likes you, he makes noise. Otherwise, he’s silent and watchful. So, it doesn’t pay to discount him just because he isn’t talking.”
“Pretty well trained.”
“If he wants to be. When he doesn’t want to, he digs in the flower beds.” She glanced at the arbor running from the front drive, along the house, and ending at the back lawn.
When he’d stopped on his way from Old Orchard the night before, she’d materialized from the arbor area. Looking now, he saw well-shaped evergreen bushes running its length. Or was it a pergola? What did he know about landscape structures? It looked nice but probably took substantial work. The flowerbeds waiting for winter’s end along the house’s brick front, were turned and mulched, and he imagined bedding plants filled the area in the spring. Maybe daffodils or tulips sprung when the season teased them from the frozen ground. But, for today, the beds looked hard and cold.
Esther said, “Someone has done great work with the grounds. It must be a full-time job.”
Nina gave her a gloomy look. “There’s a gardener.”
Rory waited for more; it wasn’t forthcoming. “Flower beds in the front, a trellised awning along this side”—he gestured with his head—“and what’s around the back requiring a groundskeeper?”
“Groundskeeper sounds old-fashioned, Detective.” Before he could respond, Nina continued. “Phoebe wasn’t up to mowing and mulching. Instead, she loved to plant in the spring, walked the gardens in the evenings, and clipped a bud now and then when they were in bloom. We kept an herb garden, but the lawn, grounds if you insist, are tended to by a paid laborer.”
“Perry Benson?”
She looked at him, black eyes flashing. Then, recovering quickly, she said, “Perry does the majority of heavy lifting, trimming, tilling, fertilizing. He’s here a couple days a week. Not on a regular schedule, but year-round to take the burden off Phoebe’s shoulders.” She and the beagle moved down the pathway under the arbor. “This way leads to the back gardens. Not much there in winter, but you can get a feel for the expanse and effort required.”
Esther and Rory followed. Gardens? More than one? He ran through Petey’s poisonous plant list: daffodils, tulips, foxglove, oleander, delphinium, morning glory, apple seed, tomato. He didn’t think he’d see any up and blooming and didn’t know if he’d recognize them if they were. But it didn’t hurt to look.
As they passed under the arbor, he noticed the hedge had been recently trimmed. Clippings lay under the spreading branches. Nina kicked the loose greenery off the pathway then stooped to pick up a branch. Rosco checked under the shrubs, then stopped, waiting for the detective to catch up.
Esther stepped forward and fell in line with Nina, asking, “Will you stay on here at the Sheehan place? Or is it too early to know what you’ll do?”
Rory didn’t hear her answer. However, he did notice the girl picked a leaf off each plant species as they passed. Nerves, he thought. Rosco kept up a constant doggy murmur-babble, deep-throated groans, and excited yips. Rory found it endearing and encouraged him by engaging in conversation. “Yes, I know what you mean, old boy.” Finally, they caught up with the women at the walkway end.
Nina slowed once they moved past the building. A soft rolling lawn lay to their right. “Native flowers are dormant in this meadow. Careful stewardship has kept it flourishing.” She waved to her left, where grasses lay on the dry earth, forming a layer to protect the flora below. “The taller reeds are allowed to dry in place in the fall and will naturally protect the young grasses that will come up in the spring. Other areas get covered with straw or wood chips. Pine needles if it’s warranted. It all looks rather sad right now but come April; it springs to life.”
Straight ahead, a pathway wound around some statuary and ended at a gazebo. Further behind stood a wooded area. It wasn’t much to look at, but even to his untrained botanical eye, the landscape looked promising.
“I guess it’s hard to appreciate in February.” Nina’s hands were back in her pockets. “But the gardens are lovely in the spring and summer. Mr. Michael Sheehan commissioned the gardens when he was in residence in the seventies. Those were the money years. Some fruit trees have peaked. Others are just coming into their full potential.”
Around the gazebo, red berried bushes colored the greenery. “Some plants are flourishing,” Rory said, indicating the bushes.
“Perry is amazing,” Nina said. “There are berry-producing holly trees that supply the bird population with enough food to see them through winter. There are other winter-fruiting shrubs.” She waved at a spruce row. “We cut the branches and covered the fireplace mantel. Phoebe liked to smell evergreen in the house.”
Were spruce and holly on Petey’s list? He watched as the women walked to the gazebo and back. He doubted Nina was alive in the seventies when the gardens were first created, so where did she get this information? His cell phone rang. Petey Moss.
“Hey, you should get out,” Rory said. “It’s a beautiful day.”
Rosco threw his head back and howled.
Petey wasted no time. “No evidence to support death by natural causes. I’m ruling this one a murder.”
“So, you can confirm poisoning? Nothing wrong with her heart?”
“Enough alkaloid toxin in her system to kill a horse. The time of death is definitely established from hospital protocol records.”
“How long would it take to work in the body? Could Phoebe have ingested the toxin in the afternoon, say hours before. Or is this a poison that works within minutes, and thus administered at the restaurant?”
Petey exhaled before he answered. “I’ll need the stomach content analysis before I can nail that down. But it’s conceivable that she ate before going to the restaurant. She might even have had a nibble after she arrived. It depends on the substance. Some take hours before the poison signs manifest. I’d guess we’re looking at hours, not minutes. How long were you at the restaurant before she collapsed?”
“Hours?” Rory tried to think through what he had witnessed. Before the bar argument, Phoebe tried to get a ginger ale to settle her stomach. Was she already feeling the toxic effects? Her dizziness in the awards hall. The fact that she appeared drunk. “Would alcohol play a part in this?”
“I doubt she felt like drinking if she already had poison in her system. She would have felt lousy. Might have been hallucinating.”
“When will you send the preliminary autopsy report to the station?”
“I’ll do it when we get off the phone. Murder warrants quick notification. I thought I’d give you a heads up.”
“Thanks.”
After they disconnected, Rory wondered how long it would take before hearing from Chief Mansfield. Since he was at the Sheehan property; he better take a serious look for the toxin. Or the source if nothing else, and interview Nina.
Chapter Ten
Nina and Esther went into the house, leaving Rory to wander the grounds with his new friend, Rosco. A six-foot high wrought iron fence circled the estate’s outside perimeter, ending at the brick pillars of the opening gate. There was no gatehouse and no barrier to prohibit entry. The carriage house used as a garage held a late model minivan. He recorded the license number but felt confident he’d find it belonged to the late owner. The house, the grounds, and the gardening shed all appeared to be well maintained. He wandered to the back door to the house and knocked. Esther let him in.
Using his intimate, friendly voice, he asked, “Is Nina doing all right?”
“She seems to be. Come on in; she’s put on a pot to boil water for tea.” He raised one brow and shoved his hat back. “Tea, not coffee? Are you sure it’s safe?”
She chuckled. “I’m sure you’ve had your caffeine allotment. Tea won’t hurt you.” Rosco scooted in, crossed the mud room’s tile floor, and disappeared into the house. “Just follow the dog.”
“Did you notice the girl picked up leaves and twigs, and who knows, poison berries?”
“Rory, keep your voice down. She’ll hear.”
He thought he was keeping his voice down. “I’m not sure I want a cup.”
She socked him on the arm. “Shhh.”
“Well, what do you think Nina’s doing with those leaves? Do I need to remove my shoes?”
Esther reentering the kitchen, or what he supposed was the kitchen, and stopped. “That won’t be necessary,” she said over her shoulder. “Come on in.”
He followed her, taking the single step up to enter the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway. It was a kitchen all right, refrigerator, stove, table, and cabinets and cupboards. But this kitchen’s counters were buried in paper-stacks: newspapers, file folders, spiral notebooks, binders, tablets. Every wall held either a cabinet or had a cupboard affixed. Metal filing cabinets were wedged under a wooden table in the center. The tabletop was scattered with papers, folders, and binders. A cooking island looked more like a library cart, overflowing with books. There was one chair shoved under the table. One path led from the door to the sink, sink to stove, stove to the refrigerator, and food pantry to table. Rosco followed his pathway through the banker’s boxes lining the floor to the doggy dishes by the sink.
