03 Murder by Mishap

  In the silence that followed their exit, Edna wondered if the rosary really had slipped Stephen’s mind, before mentally chiding herself. Was her imagination working overtime? Why would he want to hide a string of prayer beads from the police?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two hours later, Edna was sitting in a rocking chair beside the brick fireplace in Peg’s library. She was re-reading Louisa May Alcott’s “Little Women” she’d found in one of the built-in bookshelves. Peg was asleep on a sofa facing the same hearth across an antique cobbler’s bench that served as a coffee table. She was huddled beneath a hand-knitted green and gold afghan, her snores so soft as to be barely audible. The fire had not been lighted, the room being warm enough. Edna was feeling drowsy and her eye lids were beginning to droop when the doorbell rang.

  Peg woke with a start. “Whaaa ...” she mumbled, looking around as if trying to figure out where she was.

  “Stay put,” Edna said, getting to her feet. “I’ll go.”

  She opened the door to Detective Ruthers and, when he asked for Mrs. Bishop, Edna showed him to the library. Peg was sitting up by the time they entered the room. She’d folded the afghan and draped it over the back of the couch. She didn’t rise at the detective’s greeting, but motioned him to the overstuffed chair opposite Edna’s rocker.

  “We found the source of the poison,” he said, once they were seated and he’d refused the offer of tea or coffee. “The beads of your housekeeper’s rosary are known as lucky beans or rosary peas. According to the lab techs, they are very toxic, and apparently, Ms. Hoxie ate one.”

  Peg gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. Edna nodded, a thought that had been hovering at the back of her mind jarred loose by the news. “I read about rosary peas in Mrs. Rabichek’s journals,” she said, referring to the notebooks that her house’s former owner had left to her. “The poison is abrin, as I recall.” She frowned. “But symptoms don’t usually show up for a day or more. Are you saying she was poisoned prior to yesterday?”

  “Partially true,” he said. “The medical examiner thinks some of the poison had already been absorbed through her skin by her fingering the beads. The outer shell usually protects against that, but holes drilled to allow the seeds to be strung together plus the constant rubbing eroded the shell, exposing her to the poison.”

  “Could enough poison be absorbed that way to cause so sudden a reaction,” Edna asked, still dubious. “Wouldn’t she have had symptoms before yesterday?”

  The detective raised his eyebrows at Edna. “You know a lot about this poison.”

  She didn’t know if he expected an answer or not, so she kept quiet.

  Several seconds passed during which he studied her face before he turned back to Peg. “The M.E. says enough of this abrin had gotten into her system through her skin that when she ate a whole seed, the effects created a severe enough reaction to bring on her heart attack.” He kept his eyes on Peg’s when he said, “I assume you knew she had a weak heart.”

  Peg nodded. “She had rheumatic fever as a child.”

  “We’re continuing our investigation, but we haven’t entirely ruled out the possibility that it may have been suicide.”

  “No,” Peg gasped, jerking herself up to glare at Ruthers. “You are mistaken. Virginia would never have taken her own life. She was a devout Catholic.” Frowning, she added, “Besides which she had no reason to take her own life.”

  “Mrs. Bishop,” the detective said patiently, “we’re pretty sure a seed was deliberately cut from the necklace, so either she did it herself or someone else did.”

  “Breaking the shell made the poison lethal because of her heart condition,” Edna said. She hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but she couldn’t hold back the dreadful thought.

  “Exactly,” Ruthers said, flicking a glance in her direction, but he seemed alert to every nuance in Peg’s face. “The findings of the autopsy are unmistakable. The seed was cut. It did not accidentally fall into Ms. Hoxie’s food.” He fidgeted with a set of car keys in his fingers, finally looking away from the shock and denial on Peg’s face.

  She turned incredulous eyes to Edna who gave a short shake of her head and a slight nod in Ruthers’s direction. She hoped Peg would get the message that any objection or further discussion would do no good. Apparently, she did get the message, because she stood abruptly and held out a hand to the detective.

  “Thank you for coming to tell me,” she said simply. “What do you require from us?”

  He pushed himself up from the chair and briefly took her hand. “I’d like you and your husband to come down to the station this afternoon and make formal statements as to what occurred here yesterday. We’ll be talking to everyone involved. We’ll also need to know which funeral home you’ll be using so we can have the body sent over to them.”

  “I’ll let you know after I’ve spoken with her sister,” Peg responded, seeming to drift away into stunned disbelief. When she sank back onto the sofa and covered her face with her hands, Edna showed Ruthers to the front door and shook his hand in farewell, thanking him again for his consideration in breaking the news personally. From the weary look in his eyes, she suspected notifying grieving family and friends was hard on the detective. She liked him the better for it.

  Returning to the library, she sat on the sofa next to Peg and put an arm around her friend’s shoulders in a brief hug.

  “I don’t believe it.” Peg straightened up and turned toward Edna, her face suffused with anger. “It has to have been an accident. Virginia would never have done such a thing and I can’t believe that anyone who was here yesterday could either.”

  Edna nodded absently, thinking for a minute. “Before Stephen took it out of my hand, I noticed a missing bead in one of the decades of the rosary. It slipped my mind until Detective Ruthers mentioned one had been cut from the string.” She glanced at Peg. “I saw the rosary on the kitchen table more than once, just this past week. Anyone in the kitchen would have had access to it.”

  “Certainly we all knew about the rosary and that Virginia left it lying around at times, but who would want to harm her? Who would even know the beads were poisonous?” Peg stood determinedly. “I don’t want to sit here speculating. I can’t believe that someone in my house yesterday would have cause to murder Virginia, and I will not believe it was suicide.” Without pausing for breath, she changed the subject. “If you brought boxes with you, I think I’ll go up and begin sorting and packing Virginia’s clothes. That’s one thing I can do without consulting her sister. Do you want to help?”

  “Of course,” Edna said, shaking herself out of thoughts that were beginning to turn in a direction she didn’t want to consider either. She’d deal with her newly-formed ideas later.

  The two women brought in the boxes from Edna’s car and carried them upstairs. On the way to Virginia’s rooms, Peg stopped in her second-floor office to grab masking tape and markers. They dropped the collapsed cardboard in a pile in the suite’s sitting room.

  It was the first time Edna had been in this part of the house. She looked around with interest, noticing a number of framed photos surrounding a jade plant on a table beneath the sole window which overlooked the backyard. Moving to the table, she picked up what looked to be a fairly recent picture of Virginia. Two women, arms around each other’s waists were standing behind a wheelchair on which sat an older woman. Edna recognized Renee and Cherisse as the other women in the photo.

  “When was this taken?” She held the frame out to Peg.

  Taking it, Peg held it to catch light from the window before handing it back. “Must have been when she visited the Froissards in Florida two or three years ago.”

  “Odd,” Edna said, almost to herself as she looked closer at the photo.

  “What’s odd?” Peg had begun to assemble one of the boxes.

  “Renee is wearing a red rosary that looks exactly like Virginia’s.”

  Peg stopped what she was doing to examine the picture again. “That?
??s right. Virginia came back from that trip with the rosary. Maybe they both have one. Oh, look, Cherisse is holding a jade plant. Do you suppose it’s this same one.” Peg indicated the bonsai on the table. “This picture was probably taken the day Virginia flew home. The plant and rosary might have been gifts from the Froissards.”

  Edna set the frame back on the table and looked at several other photos. One was of Virginia sitting beside a woman who was most likely her sister Janette. Another picture Edna thought must be Janette with her husband. A group shot, she figured to be Janette’s children and grandchildren.

  “Are you going to help or snoop?” Peg spoke with a touch of humor, breaking into Edna’s mental wanderings. Smiling, she set the family picture back on the table and joined Peg at her task.

  They constructed two boxes each and carried them through the bathroom into the bedroom. Most of Virginia’s clothes hung in a long, narrow closet behind sliding doors that made up most of one bedroom wall. A chest of drawers sat opposite, and above it hung a large rectangular mirror framed in the same maple finish as the dresser.

  Peg went to the closet and slid back the right-hand panel to reveal a neat row of blouses and everyday work dresses. “Let’s start with these.” She removed several dresses along with the hangers and turned to lay them on the bed. “I want to pack similar things together. This box will be for blouses and shirts,” she announced, setting a box on the floor between them.

  “Good idea,” Edna agreed. “Why don’t you sort things out on the bed and I’ll fold and pack.”

  They worked companionably, speaking mainly to ask an opinion as to “which box” when Peg found a Christmas skirt of green velveteen and “should we make a rag pile” when Edna discovered a shirt with two buttons missing.

  After nearly an hour, the closet was almost empty. Peg had gone to the sitting room to fetch another box when Edna reached for a red and green plaid blazer. As she slid it off its hanger, the left lapel fell forward, weighted by something pinned to the underside. She had removed it and was studying it in the palm of her hand when Peg came back into the room.

  “Wha’cha got there?”

  “Isn’t this your mother’s brooch? The one I found in the garden the other day?”

  “It certainly is.” Peg frowned. “Where did you get it?”

  Edna showed her the jacket and explained how the brooch had been pinned beneath the lapel.

  Peg was stunned. “I put it away in my room. How could it have gotten onto Virginia’s jacket?”

  Edna turned the pin over to examine the back. “Did you have it repaired?”

  “No. Haven’t had time. I stuffed it under the bras in my lingerie drawer.” Peg looked sheepish. “It’s one place I’m pretty sure Stephen would never think to look.”

  Edna couldn’t help chuckling at her friend’s confession, but she sobered quickly. “The brooch I found in the garden had a bent clasp. Remember? That’s why we thought it had fallen off your mother’s blouse and been lost in the rose garden.”

  “You’re right.” Peg’s brow creased in confusion. “Maybe Virginia had it repaired, but I can’t imagine her rummaging through my things. I’ll go check my drawer.”

  Returning moments later, she displayed a circular pin of diamonds, sapphires and rubies in her open palm. “You were right about the backing. This one’s damaged. But two pins, exactly alike? What’s going on?”

  She placed her hand next to Edna’s. In each woman’s palm lay an identical brooch. They looked at each other in stunned silence before Edna pushed aside some clothes and sat on the bed.

  Peg picked up the plaid jacket and slumped down beside Edna, folding the blazer on her lap. “What are you thinking?”

  Edna said nothing for a moment as she turned the brooch over and over in her hand, lost in thought. Her gaze moved to the pin that Peg held. “One of these must be a copy, but where did it come from?”

  “You mean, who made it?”

  Edna nodded. “And when?”

  “And how did it come to be in Virginia’s closet?” Peg added as she considered the jacket on her lap. “This blazer is pretty old. Do you suppose Virginia stole Mother’s brooch all those years ago and had a copy made?”

  “I doubt she would have had that kind of money. A good copy would be expensive,” Edna said. “Besides, why would she have it copied and then hide it away?”

  “But who ...” Peg didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence before Edna interrupted.

  “I think we should take these and pay a visit to Cherisse. She’s the only one who might be able to shed some light on this mystery.”

  “Do you think it was she who had a copy made?”

  Edna shook her head. “She wouldn’t have had that kind of money either, from what you’ve told me. If she had, she wouldn’t have needed to work as a maid. And, again, if she had a duplicate, why wouldn’t she have come forward with the copy and save herself from disgrace?”

  “Let’s go.” Peg stood and headed for the back stairs.

  Chapter Seventeen

  At the nursing home, Peg knocked softly on the half-opened door to Cherisse Froissard’s room before slowly pushing her way in. Edna followed to see Renee sitting next to her mother’s bed with a book in her lap. It looked like a Bible. As Edna moved farther into the room, she saw Guy seated on the opposite side of the bed, holding his mother’s hand. Cherisse lay propped on two pillows. She seemed to be asleep, but her eyes opened when Peg and Edna entered. She looked at them vaguely until recognition sparked some life into her face. Her lips moved as if she were about to greet them when Guy rose abruptly. Renee, sitting sideways to the door, turned her face to the wall, but not before Edna noticed her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

  Edna wondered with sudden panic if Cherisse were dying. Had she and Peg stumbled into an awkward moment?

  “Ladies,” Guy’s voice distracted Edna’s attention from Cherisse as he moved toward them with arms held away from his sides, herding them back toward the open door. “Mama is not receiving visitors this afternoon. Please.” He nodded toward the hall and followed them from the room, pulling the door shut behind him. “Come back another day. Today, she is tired, and my sister is not well.”

  “We have to talk to Cherisse,” Peg said. She would have moved around him, but he placed a hand on the door frame above the strikeplate. She would have to physically push him aside to reenter the room.

  “Talk to me. Maybe I can help,” he said, not moving. His expression was not unfriendly, but neither was it welcoming.

  Peg opened her palm to display the brooch she’d been holding in hopes of showing it to Cherisse. Edna pulled the other from her coat pocket and did the same, putting her hand beside Peg’s so Guy could see them both.

  “What ...” He broke off and looked from one face to the other, a quizzical expression on his face. He lowered his gaze to stare at the pins and seemed genuinely confused. “What sort of game are you playing?” His eyes sparked with anger, but strangely, his words held no conviction.

  Curious but hoping to assure him, Edna spoke. “This is no game. We were hoping your mother might be able to explain the presence of two identical brooches.”

  “I wouldn’t think so. What could she know about such a thing?” he said, staring at their hands. He brushed his own hand along the side of his head, smoothing his already neat, short-cropped gray hair.

  Before he could say more, the door opened a crack and Renee looked out at her brother. Seeing her more closely, Edna thought Renee’s eyes looked haunted.

  “What is it, Guy? What’s taking so long? Mama is calling for you.”

  “It’s all right. Tell her I’ll be in soon.”

  Without another word and having looked at neither Peg nor Edna, Renee stepped back and quietly closed the door.

  “Let’s go to the visitors lounge for a minute,” Guy suggested, directing them with an open palm. “It’s usually empty. We’ll be private there.”

  The small space was
actually a sunny alcove off the main corridor with several chairs positioned near wide windows that overlooked the manicured lawn two stories below. Afternoon sun warmed the room. Edna and Peg sat on a red vinyl settee that had no arms. Guy chose a wooden straight-backed chair. Seated sideways to them, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared at his folded hands for several seconds before speaking. As his words came, he sat up, as if they strengthened his spine.

  “We ...” he began, then gave a short cough and started again, turning to look into Peg’s eyes. “Renee and I didn’t know Mama had stolen your mother’s brooch until this week, after your visit. When you’d left, she kept repeating over and over, ‘It can’t be. It can’t be.’ She sent Renee home to find her satin jewelry case.” He squirmed on the chair as if trying to get comfortable on the hard surface. “When we gave her the case, her hands were trembling so badly, I had to help her with the zipper. I finally managed to get it open even while she kept pawing at it. I’ve never seen her so frantic.”

  He paused, not looking at Peg or Edna, but staring at his hands resting on his knees. After what seemed a very long minute, Edna was about to prod him to continue with his story when he sighed and raised his eyes to Peg. They held deep sadness. “Mama doesn’t have much expensive jewelry. What she does have has been in our family for generations, except for a pearl necklace Papa gave her on their wedding day. She dumped those heirlooms out on the bed as if they were costume junk and fumbled with the padded lining at the bottom of the cloth case. At one end, concealed in the seam, there’s an opening to a little compartment, a false bottom.” He looked at Peg earnestly now, holding his hands palms up as if pleading. “Believe me when I tell you that Renee and I were both stunned when Mama drew out your mother’s brooch. When you showed up with the one you had, she thought we’d found it and given it back to you.” He shook his head as if to clear an unpleasant image. “Did your father have another made? Is that what you showed us the other day?”