Wrong Poison, page 16
And there was no way I could let this wait until tonight. None.
She was often at the library early before it opened. I could go over after drop-off and settle this.
Settle it how?
I didn’t want to think about that just yet. Nor did I want to think about bringing in Madge or Professor Munroe. Not until I absolutely had to go there.
Maybe there was still a way out. Maybe I could talk to Moira, find out what happened, and come up with some kind of plan based on that.
Professor Munroe had told me to resolve matters without unnecessary action after all.
The microwave beeped.
“Is that my breakfast?” Daniel asked.
I was still holding the container. I shoved it in the pocket of the barn jacket and tossed the jacket on a kitchen chair out of the way. The poison was at least six days old and had probably lost most of its potency. But it had been in a container all that time, and I didn’t know how that would affect things.
Better to take no chances.
Fortunately, Daniel didn’t ask why I washed my hands twice before I touched his plate.
Drop-off was pretty routine. Well, except for that container burning a hole in the pocket of my jacket.
Corinna and Brian looked as tired as I felt.
We all mumbled promises to meet at the social and waved the kids off to their day.
It had been a hard week for everyone.
Some harder than others…and it wasn’t getting easier from here.
When I got back to the car though, I got at least a little joy, an email from Al. I’d sent him pics of five different rings, all bands of various designs, from simple stones to wreaths of flowers.
THIS ONE, he’d captioned a pic of a really lovely ruby-and-gold band with an intricate beaded design.
Absolutely perfect! All good wishes! I replied.
Now it was up to me to make sure they had a chance to get their happy ending.
First, the library.
Moira’s car was in the lot alone.
Good. We’d want to do this in private.
The door was locked, but Moira was in the lobby, and she let me right in.
“Hey, Grace, what’s up?”
“Got a minute?” I asked, as neutrally as I could.
“Sure. Come over here.”
We walked over to the desk in the center of the circulation area. She had an office in the back of the building, but this one, out in the open, was her usual spot. I’ve never seen anyone else using it, and it was covered with the ordinary stuff of a normal day. Some books, mail, a padded lunchbox. A cup of coffee.
She watched me while we sat. Moira’s no fool. She knew something was coming here.
Might as well just do it.
In it to win it.
I took a breath. I hated this. It’s one thing to take out predators who’ve spent most of their time on this earth destroying innocent lives. It’s another thing entirely to ask a good friend if she’s done murder.
Yeah, I know. Irony alert.
Finally, I just did the obvious thing. I took the plastic container out of my jacket pocket and put it on the desk.
The blood drained from Moira’s face, and her eyes widened. For one horrible instant, I thought she stopped breathing. “What...”
“I could ask you the same."
“What do you…” she started.
“I know enough. I know you made this from the recipe in the Book. What I can’t figure out is why…or how you thought you’d get away with it.”
A sigh. “I didn’t, really. I’ve spent the last week expecting the cops to come after me.”
“They won’t,” I said. “The death case is closed.”
“I know that after last night. But there’s still someone who had the book with the untraceable poison recipe. I’m worried what they might do.”
“That’s not an unreasonable concern.”
“Do you think they’ll come after me?”
“Well, they are. In a manner of speaking.”
She met my gaze. A little frightened, a lot disappointed. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I admitted. “The less you know, the better chance we have to get out of this.”
“We do?”
“Maybe. Tell me what happened.”
Moira took a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was wobbly. “She wanted to cut the budget in half. I would have had to fire Corinna, and even then…”
I put my hand on her arm, and she met my gaze, her eyes a little damp.
“I need this job.”
“I know. So you saw a recipe for untraceable poison, and you thought you’d try it?”
“Made sense at the time. I was looking at the book while I was cataloging things, and the recipe was right there on the flyleaf. Winch had been all over me just a few minutes before, and I thought ‘Hey, why not?’ It was all stuff I had around the house or could buy at the Super Duper. And what if it actually worked? What if I could really take her out and save the library. And Mom, of course.”
“Right.”
“Mom’s Medicare doesn’t cover the full cost of the home. If I lose my job, she’s going to have to go somewhere that accepts what Medicare and Medicaid will pay. I’m not ashamed to admit I would have killed to spare her from one of those places.”
I knew plenty of sandwich-generation folks who’d do the same. My grandmother had spent her last years with dementia in the only home my mother could afford. I remembered the smell. Care had to be better now, but still. I nodded. “Anyone who’s been there would understand.”
“They would.” Another ragged breath, and a bitter little laugh. “But I couldn’t do it.”
“What?” My turn to stare.
“I brought it. I was going to put it on the financial report she’d demanded…nice piece of irony, right?”
“Right.” I wasn’t really sure it would have worked. We don’t usually transfer it from objects.
“But I couldn’t do it.” She shook her head. “I was the only one on the desk, so it was safe enough. I had the report and the container on my desk with the recipe open…and there was some kind of circulation crisis. I don’t even remember what.”
“Okay.” That much made sense. I’ve been there when someone decides they need an inter-library loan of books on crochet in Victorian Britain, or the book club wants to reserve eighteen copies of the new erotic thriller. Moira can get drawn away for a long time.
“And while I was dealing with that, I realized I’m not a killer. Just not the kind of person who could really do that. I’m not sure what sort of sickness, or moral flaw, somebody needs to do it, but I don’t have it.”
“Yeah?” I asked, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. It would not help to point out sometimes it isn’t a moral flaw, but a mission from an Archangel.
“Yeah. Just knew I couldn’t live with it if I did.”
Better to keep silent. Anything I said could have been incriminating, or insulting, or just plain wrong in so many ways. She continued speaking.
“Oh, you wouldn’t understand. You’d never think about killing someone just to save your job.”
“Moira,” I said quietly, “you’d be surprised what someone might be capable of doing if they had to.”
She held my gaze for a long moment.
“Oh.”
“Why don’t you tell me what happened next.”
“Well, when I turned back to the desk, the container was gone. The Book was still there and the financial report, but not the container.”
“Gone?”
“Gone.”
“So someone just grabbed it off your desk– while it was sitting there next to the recipe?”
“That’s what happened. I know how it sounds, but it’s really what happened.”
I raised a hand to my forehead, trying to massage away the start of yet another headache. “This is actively nuts.”
“I’m aware of that.” She sighed. “I was terrified. I closed the book and ransacked my desk, but the thing was gone. Somebody took it. And since I’d been dumb enough to leave the book open…”
“They knew exactly what it was and how to use it.”
“Yep.”
“Do you know who was in the library that day?”
“Well, after all that, I looked around. I couldn’t just run up to folks asking if they’d stolen my poison, you know.”
“Probably not.”
“But Ginny was there, and Al, and George Germain. And Morton Winch too. I mean, it could have been anyone.”
“And that’s where you left it?”
She glared at me. “What was I going to do? Announce on the PA ‘the Circulation Desk is missing some undetectable poison’?”
“Probably not. Didn’t you suspect something when she dropped dead?”
“I didn’t suspect. I was pretty sure.” A tear oozed out of one eye, and she dashed it away. “It was too much of a coincidence.”
“And…”
“And I wasn’t going to go to the cops and tell them I made the poison.” She took a breath. “But it’s still my fault. I’m an accessory.”
“Not in any legal sense,” I assured her, even if the law was the last thing she needed to worry about. “If someone takes something out of your possession– and having it on your desk means it is in your possession– then uses it for evil purpose, it is not your fault. If you actively give them the poison knowing they will probably use it to kill, that’s different.”
“That’s not what I did.”
“No.”
“So I’m not legally liable for it?”
“First of all,” I reminded her, “as far as the law is concerned, Mrs. Winch died of natural causes, and since she’s been cremated, there is no way to prove otherwise.”
Moira nodded. “Okay.”
“So there’s not going to be any legal liability. You can stop worrying about that.”
“That helps.”
“Good.” I gave her an encouraging smile. “But as far as the ethics of the thing go, you didn’t deliberately walk away from the desk with the idea that someone would pick up the poison and use it, so you’re also clear there.”
Another nod. A deep breath. “This is really over then?”
“It’s on its way to being over, at least for you.”
“What does that mean?”
I took a breath, still processing and trying to figure out where to go from here.
She pointed to the container. “Why do you have it?”
“I found it in the trash at the library after the fair.”
Moira nodded, studied me. We’ve been friends for a while, and she knew me well enough to know there was more. The next question wasn’t really a surprise:
“How are you in this?”
Long pause. I thought about it. She knew about the Book, but she wasn’t going to run out and tell the world. And she didn’t know anything else. Not about the sisterhood or what we did with that Book. No guilty knowledge to eliminate.
There really might be a safe way forward for her.
I still had to figure out who got the poison and used it…but I might at least be able to keep Moira out of this.
That’s a win.
“I can’t tell you that,” I said. “If I do, you’ll be in a lot bigger trouble than you are now.”
She just looked at me for a moment. Assessing me. Absorbing the realization the friend she’d always considered a normal decent person like her could actually be someone else entirely. “Okay.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said. “I’m going to figure out the rest of this.”
“What am I going to do?”
“Absolutely nothing. You’re going to go on from here as if we never had this conversation.”
“Grace, you don’t have to…”
“Moira.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” I took a breath. “The best thing you can do is forget you ever saw the Book. And definitely everything after that.”
“Are you speaking as a lawyer?” she asked.
“That’ll do.” I chose my next words with care. “I am speaking as a friend who has your best interests and safety at heart.
“Safety?”
“Safety.”
She looked from me to the container and back again. I didn’t know how much was getting through, but it was enough. A breath. A nod. “How will I know everything is okay?”
“For you, everything is okay as of now. As long as you don’t tell anyone about the Book or the poison, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Never?”
“Never.” I held her gaze. “So go on from here.”
“I’m safe?”
“You’re safe. As long as you never speak of this again to me or anyone. Anyone.”
“I’m not in the habit of running around confessing things.” She patted my hand. “Thank you, Grace.”
I managed a smile. “Don’t thank me yet.”
“What-”
I just looked at her.
“Right.” She nodded. “Can I wish you luck?”
“Sure. I’m going to need it.”
CHAPTER 27
IF IT’S NOT ONE THING…
Back in the car, I tried to think it through.
The good news is Moira was safe.
She wasn’t a gossipy person anyhow, and she clearly knew she was potentially in at least as much trouble as I was, even if she didn’t know everything in play. So I wouldn’t have to worry about her.
The problem was whoever picked up that poison.
They probably weren’t much of a threat to the sisterhood, honestly, since anyone who took the poison and left the Book wouldn’t have much in the way of useful, read dangerous, knowledge.
And they’d attribute anything they did know to Moira, not Madge or me, so as long as I got the Book back from Kryssie, we were in the clear. Mission accomplished, and sisterhood protected without any unnecessary taking of life.
Professor Munroe would be pleased.
Except there was still someone out there who had killed a person with our poison. A person who did not deserve it, however much she might have deserved other unpleasantness.
Professor Munroe might, or might not, care about that.
But I certainly did.
Which meant, despite everything else, I still had a killer to catch.
Who?
Good question.
Well, one mess at a time. Get the Book back tonight, destroy it, and then worry about the cleanup. Madge and Professor Munroe might have some thoughts on how to handle that, and I could seek their counsel later.
Once the Book was in our hands.
The end, I thought, might just be in sight.
Or at least the worst might be over.
Sometimes my naïveté amuses even me.
Back home, I decided the best thing I could do was get some work done.
I returned to the documents, trying to figure out what I was missing. I know prosecutors like to throw everything at a big case, but it wasn’t adding up. It looked to me like they were trying to get away with something no reasonable judge would allow.
Didn’t make sense at all.
But maybe I had missed something because I’d been upset about Moira. Even though I’m very good at compartmentalizing, that had been a pretty tough lift.
Coffee. Everything’s better with caffeine.
While the coffee brewed, I decided to switch projects for a bit and let whatever was bothering me about the documents work its way to the surface naturally.
I was up to the copy edit on the book proposal. Perfect. Copy editing uses a different part of the brain, and the heavy logical reasoning part of my mind might just relax enough to free some thoughts on the documents.
Fresh cup in hand, I was just opening the book proposal file when the phone rang.
Michael’s office.
“Grace, we have a problem.” Annie, his paralegal, sounded upset and scared, entirely different from her usual relaxed demeanor.
“What?”
“Michael’s been held in contempt.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding. Annie’s tone had really scared me. I knew enough about the world to know I could survive without Michael…and also to know I didn’t want to. “Okay. What happened?”
“It’s the corruption case. He got into it with Judge Burdette over something the prosecutors want to introduce. Not a hundred percent sure what. I think it was in the stuff you’ve got– the prior bad acts evidence they’re trying to get in.”
I was willing to bet I knew. He’d seen the same thing I had. But why get heated– and why challenge Judge Veronica Burns Burdette, the most formidable jurist on the New Haven bench? Not a good call.
The stress of the case was getting to him.
And it probably didn’t help we’d had a stupid fight last night. It’s never just one thing. It’s everything.
Michael doesn’t have a temper– until he does. I’ve only seen him really angry a few times and never in public. But with a case that was a stretch, and some questionable behavior from the prosecution…maybe.
“Where is he now?”
“Holding in a client room. Judge says she’ll send him to the lockup if he doesn’t apologize by the end of the day.”
I sighed. A contest of wills was not going to go well. Michael was not known for giving ground– and it was entirely possible Judge Burdette had never been wrong in her threescore and ten on this earth.
“He needs a lawyer, Grace, and more, he needs somebody to talk a little sense into him.”
“That he does,” I agreed.
“So you’ll come?”
“Of course. Give me an hour to put on my court suit and drive down there.”
“An hour’s good. He might cool off.”
“Oh, he won’t.” I didn’t need to encourage false hope. “But it might give him enough time to think about what a fine mess he’s gotten himself into.”
I hit end and checked the time. 11:45.
Fortunately, it was the day Brian had some help at the store. He could pick up Daniel along with Zoey. I dialed as I walked into the bedroom and rummaged in the back of my closet.
“Hey,” I said. “Got a little situation…”
