Wrong Poison, page 9
With a little more grumbling, Corinna, Brian, and I went our separate ways.
I checked my phone as I reached the car. A new text from Madge:
Got a minute to swing by?
As it happened, I had 59 of them, since someone with More Important Things To Do had stuck me with the assessment forms.
Be right there.
I had just enough time on the drive to Madge’s to find one of my favorite 90’s songs on the radio and relax into the chorus before I parked.
One of the many problems with suburban mom life: you can spend your entire day in and out of the car and never really get a second to yourself.
Of course, that wasn’t the real issue here. But it was better to think about the small stuff right now.
Connery yowled at me as Madge let me in, clearly disappointed he wasn’t going to get to bully Scotchie today.
An unhappy cat was the least of our problems.
“I’m sure it’s not here,” Madge said, folding onto the couch. “It’s out there and somebody used our recipe to kill an innocent woman.”
“Not that innocent,” I reminded her.
Madge gave me a very serious glare. “By our standards, which are the only ones that matter here, she was innocent.”
“True enough.” I took a breath. “Okay. The good news here is nobody thinks the death was anything other than natural.”
“Well, there is that.”
“The item in the paper yesterday suggested funeral arrangements are set– calling hours Thursday and private service Friday -- which means probably no autopsy.”
“So we may be in the clear with the cops.”
“We may just be.”
“We’re still going to have to find out who did it,” Madge said. “And deal with them in some way.”
“Is there a specified way?”
“I don’t think there’s a rule for any of this.” She clenched her fists, unclenched, and rubbed her hands against her legs. “I’m not sure I want to find out.”
“Will the Mothers care how we settle it as long as we settle it?”
“I don’t think so. If we can assure Professor Munroe the Book has been found and destroyed and no one is planning to use the secrets in it, we’ll be fine.”
I nodded. Good. We still had a way out of this. If Moira or Corinna had done it, I could find a way to keep them quiet without resorting to something more serious.
I sure hoped so. It’s one thing to remove a vile predator. It’s another entirely to turn those skills on a friend.
“All right,” Madge said. “So, the Book has to be at the library.”
“Or somebody bought it.” I thought for a moment. “I didn’t see it in the piles we picked up Sunday, but that doesn’t mean much. I’ll get another look in the storage room as soon as I can. Probably tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“And at this point, I have no problem telling Moira something valuable got mixed in with the donations. I’ll say it was a family piece of yours.”
“Sounds good.” She nodded. “Do you think Moira or Corinna…”
“I really hope not.”
“But if not them, who?”
“If the Book was in the fair boxes, it could have been a lot of people. Ginny Pescatore volunteers at the library, Kryssie Farrar is around a lot– even Mr. Winch collects pulp paperbacks, so he might have had access.”
Madge’s face brightened a little. “Good money is on the husband?”
She’s been around retired cop Al too long.
“The spouse is always a good possibility. Even if we can’t figure out how it happened.” I shrugged. “But actually, I think better money is on Ginny.”
“Really? People don’t usually kill over politics.”
I just looked at her.
“Well, they didn’t use to anyhow.”
“And it’s not politics. It’s ego and power, which is everything in a small town.”
“Maybe money, too,” Madge said. “Isn’t the outlet mall thing in play again?”
“I’ve been hearing that.”
“All right.” She sat up a little straighter. “So we have some ideas.”
“We sure do.” I took a breath. “I have to go to town hall anyway this morning. Maybe I can pick up something.”
“Sounds good.”
Her phone made a twinkly noise.
“Al.” Despite everything, she smiled. “We’re going for a walk in the park.”
“Nice.”
The smile faded. “Maybe not so nice.”
“Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“I think he wants to marry me, and I’m not at all sure about that.”
“Really?” I asked. “Don’t you think that’s where you’ve been going all along?”
“I suppose. I’ve counseled any number of people about starting over after loss…but now it’s me, and I just don’t know.”
I met her gaze. “Do you think it’s because of everything going on right now?”
“Maybe.”
“So don’t make any decisions until we settle this. And enjoy the good stuff.”
She looked at me for a moment. “That is almost exactly what I would tell a client in this situation.”
“See how good you are? We will get through this.” I patted her arm.
“Failure is not an option.”
Madge’s tone echoed Professor Munroe’s words too.
We both knew if we didn’t resolve this, we probably wouldn’t have to worry about resolving anything ever again.
I didn’t know how it would happen.
It would look natural or accidental.
But it would almost certainly happen.
Not something either of us needed to dwell upon right now.
“Okay, then.” I managed a light tone. “We’ve got stuff to do. At least you get to go for a walk with your fella. I have to go to town hall.”
“Better you than me.” She had the same stiff-upper-lip smile as I did.
Outside, it was one of those perfect New England fall days. Clear blue skies, sun filtering through trees just starting to turn. The kind of day where it’s almost impossible to believe anything bad could happen.
We all know how that works.
My phone tweeted as I got in the car. Of course, that’s Michael’s ring.
“Tweety, I think there’s something wrong with Scotchie.”
I sat down in the car, not turning it on, my stomach tightening. “What?”
“When I took him for a walk just now, well, it was blue.”
“What was blue?”
“Um, you know. The poo.”
A man who had spent three full years as the backup diaper changer, including any number of poorly timed explosions, could have been expected to handle this a bit better. But he’d clearly gotten enough distance from the gross stuff that he’d lost the vocabulary a bit.
I laughed. Not just at his discomfort, but with relief.
“What’s funny about blue poo?” He sounded a bit hurt.
“What’s not funny about blue poo?” I asked. “Remember, he ate the poster paint?”
Michael let out a sigh. “That’s all?”
“Absolutely all. It’s non-toxic. Just kind of disconcerting.”
“Oh, yeah.”
If I thought blue poo was just-deserts for this stupid town hall errand he’d saddled me with, I kept my thoughts to myself.
CHAPTER 15
GET IN LINE
Madge’s house is a few blocks back from Main Street, and a few turns from the back street that winds behind the fire department and library, and ultimately to town hall. I’m not telling you this so you can make a map of Alcott. I’m telling you this because of what I saw when I passed the firehouse.
A familiar giant white SUV, and Kryssie. And a firefighter.
A great big firefighter.
Not the guy I’d seen Sunday.
I didn’t think it was anyone I knew, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure.
The “who” may have been open to question, but the “what” wasn’t.
It looked like something out of one of those trashy movies that used to air late at night on cable. Not that I’d ever watched them, of course.
Wow.
I was honestly amazed at the brazenness. Not to mention the logistics. While I’d seen it on TV (with my college girlfriends, okay?) I hadn’t thought actual real-life people did that.
Impressive.
And risky. Probably part of the fun, though.
This time of day, most of town is busy at work or school, and this end of the road is very quiet; it’s a residential area, and people coming to town hall usually turn in from the other end of the street.
But it was still pretty adventuresome of Kryssie and her friend to be out there in the parking lot. Clearly, adventure was part of the fun.
Well, then.
None of my damned business, I reminded myself.
Not that I minded the distraction. Or the delicious gossip.
As I turned into town hall, I couldn’t help giggling. Our perfect PTA princess had some very nasty habits indeed.
Not to mention much better balance than I had.
Like many New England towns, Alcott started out with a gorgeous 19th century town hall and added to it in the middle of the next century. In most communities, the additions are carefully thought out and harmonize as much as possible with the original building.
Not Alcott.
The addition is an impressively ugly blond brick box with an oddly-angled glass atrium thing joining it to the back of the old one. There’s a reception desk that always seems to be empty (budget cuts!) and signs pointing to the row of municipal offices crouching across the back of the gorgeous old building housing the council chamber and the town manager’s office.
It’s a depressing beige corridor most locals only visit when they have some kind of important errand, like registering to vote, or completing a mortgage re-fi…or turning in forms for the property tax re-assessment.
All of the offices look alike, and the signage isn’t great, so I inevitably get lost.
If you suggest I block the layout from my memory because I’m mad at Michael for leaving this mess to me, I’m not going to argue. There’s sure something going on.
This time, I was at least after nine so I was able to walk right in, which is not possible even at 8:59, because our town functionaries are very precise. Or something.
I remembered the tax office as being the first one on the left, so I stepped in there and right into a line of other people who had the same idea.
There is no time when you’re waiting in line.
I always find myself thinking of that old episode of a scary TV show where everybody thought they were in the waiting room for hell…only to find out it actually WAS hell. Pleasant line of thought, especially right now.
“Excuse me!” an officious little voice called.
I turned and saw a small woman with a lot of well-highlighted blonde hair, gazing at me with more annoyance than curiosity. “What are you waiting for?”
“Just to hand in the re-assessment forms,” I said with a friendly smile. I always try to be as nice as possible at times like this. A lot of folks are surly to town officials, and kindness usually eases the path.
“Well, you’re in the wrong place. This is the zoning office.”
Not with this one. Her tone was pained.
“Sorry.”
“Never mind.” She sighed dramatically. “We’re the first office in the row. It happens all the time. Next one down on the right.”
She pointed and something on her wrist caught the light.
Not just anything.
A bracelet that was either the one I’d found in the library lot, or its exact twin. The one Morton Winch had picked up later.
Well, then.
“Thanks,” I said, keeping my voice friendly and steady. “Sorry to make your day tougher. I know you folks work hard here.”
“We’re up to our eyeballs here in zoning. You have no idea.”
“Probably not with everything going on in town.”
“No kidding.” She sighed. The conversation was over.
But I’d gotten plenty.
“Thanks – really.”
She’d already dismissed me, which was fine. I headed down to the correct office, dropped off the forms, and started back into the atrium.
Interesting.
Maybe interesting. The bracelet was pretty, but it wasn’t an uncommon style. Those little chains with elegant sparkly things hanging off them are big right now. It was always possible I was trying to focus on Morton Winch because I didn’t want it to be Moira or Corinna.
Both of whom still had the best opportunity to get that Book. And more, to make and apply the poison.
“Grace!” Ginny Pescatore was descending on me, marching down the hall from the old part of the building, wearing a beige blazer and carrying a couple of folders. The Important Woman in action.
“Hi, Ginny.”
She looked me over. Today it was a purple hoodie that dated back to my pregnancy with newer space-dye leggings that picked up the color. Comfortable, and not at all inappropriate for a stay-at-home mom day. But more than enough to get me a sneer.
“You’re going to change for tonight, right?” she asked. “You-”
“I was an assistant state’s attorney. I think I know how to dress for a town council meeting,” I reminded her.
An uncomfortable twitch. She didn’t like being reminded that I was a real person, not just somebody’s cute little mom.
“Well, fine. I’m sure it’s a big moment for you and Corinna. It’s a big moment for me, too– we want to do this right.”
“You want to do this right,” I echoed. Interesting she was seeing this as her big moment as much as (or more than?) Corinna’s and mine.
“Well, yes. It’s important to set the tone.”
“Important to remember Mrs. Winch also.”
The full two seconds of blank stare told me everything I needed to know about Ginny Pescatore. “Oh, of course. We need to keep her in mind.”
“Right, then.” I nodded to her. “I’ve got a lot of work to do this morning. One of my clients has a deadline for a proposal coming up.”
“I don’t want to keep you.” She patted my arm and gave me what I’m sure she thought was a sincere smile. “Have a good day. We’ll see you tonight.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Well, that was one productive stop.
I took the way home past the firehouse. The white SUV and the show were of course gone. That was something too.
I’m not an astrology person. I think I’m a Scorpio, but because my birthday is November 22nd, I might be a Sagittarius. Anyhow, despite my skepticism, I do think there’s something to the whole idea that the world aligns in weird ways every once in a while and strange things happen.
This morning had sure been a good illustration of that.
Things did not get materially better when I got home.
They did get bluer though.
A woof from the dining room greeted me when I arrived, and Scotchie loped to the door, clearly hoping for a walk. Which he would have gotten immediately if his mouth hadn’t been bright blue.
For a second, I was terrified.
“What did you do, Scotchie?” I asked.
He licked my hand and left a light slick of blue. Enough that I recognized the smell.
Poster paint. I ran into Daniel’s room, and sure enough, Scotchie had managed to nudge the paint jar onto the floor and get a taste.
Only the blue one.
“What’s with you and blue paint, big guy?” I asked, surveying the disaster. As Scotchie messes go, it was relatively minor. But still.
I made very serious eye contact with Scotchie.
“NO. Not for you.”
He let out a little whimper and hung his head.
“I just don’t want you to get sick, fella.” I scratched his head. “C’mon. I’ll get you some Fakin’ Bacon while I clean up.”
Scotchie rubbed his head against my leg, leaving a nice blue smudge on the leggings. Well, they– and I– are washable.
As I grabbed some orange cleaner and paper towels, I sighed. We were in for more blue poo.
Probably no better than I deserved, honestly.
CHAPTER 16
LADIES, TAKE A BOW
After that little run-in with Ginny at town hall, I was seriously tempted to show up at the council meeting in my Penn State Law sweatshirt. But I figured I should at least try to look like a grownup, so I got out the purple suede jacket and black pants I wear for parents’ nights. I didn’t know when Michael would be home with all the discovery-dumping, so I started water for pasta and chased Daniel into an early shower, figuring I’d have to bring him along.
Then, a surprise.
“When were you going to tell me?” Michael asked by way of greeting when he walked in just before six, arms behind his back. “Or were you going to let me read it in the Herald?”
“I-” I wasn’t sure where to go with this.
“The council secretary called the office to make sure I would be there tonight. You didn’t think I’d want to be there to applaud my wife?”
“No, but you’re in the middle of discovery and-”
“And you’re my wife, Tweety. And I’m proud of you. And there’s no way Daniel and I won’t be sitting there cheering you on tonight. Here.”
He was holding out a bouquet. Big pink roses like the ones I’d carried at our wedding.
“Oh.” I thought I might just burst into tears right there. I took the flowers. “Thank you.”
“I know I miss a lot, Tweety, but you don’t really think I’d want to miss this, do you?”
“I didn’t really think about it, Michael. I thought you were busy and…”
“C’mere.” He pulled me close, careful not to crush the flowers. “I miss a lot, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love and support you. And I want to be there tonight when you get some attention for a change.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He leaned in for a kiss.
