Poisoned (The Alex Harris Mystery Series)

  “What about her? She has a daughter with two teenagers to support and Marsha told me that she could really use the money.”

  “I said as much to her and she accused me of accusing her daughter of murder. Said she was going to call the captain and have me fired.” John laughed.

  “I’m very surprised that June is not presenting a united front along with May.”

  “I got the same thing from May, if you can believe that. When money is involved old ties are quickly forgotten.”

  “It seems their together act is just that, an act. I think either one would turn on the other if the circumstances were right. Which it seems they’re already doing.”

  I thought about my visit with May. The way the woman handled the repairman, making him account for every nut and bolt, did not give credence to her usual portrayal of a wilted flower.

  John finished putting the plates on the table and then leaned against the counter eating a piece of cheese that hadn’t made it onto the pizza. “They really seem to hate Mrs. Brissart.”

  “Do they really hate her? That’s a strong word,” I asked wondering if John knew about Charles, and if I should tell him.

  “Yes, I think they do, though in truth, it might be more jealousy than anything else. Mrs. Brissart was clearly Daddy’s favorite. After all, he gave her the house and surrounding land.

  I stood in front of the oven, lost in my thoughts for a moment. “Too bad May and June don’t have a rose garden filled with lots of bugs in need of a quick spray. Something like that might contain cyanide, wouldn’t it?”

  “Roses. Why do you ask about roses? And how do you know neither one of them has a rose garden?” John looked at me with an expression that I thought better suited to an interrogation of say, Charles Manson. I never gave John enough credit, poor guy. He was, after all, a cop. Of course he could see through my pathetic tiptoeing around.

  I coughed hoping for a bit more time to think of a good lie. “Oh, the heck with it. I know Steven is into them, roses, and Trish said—”

  “Alex! When did you speak with Trish?”

  I opened the oven and took out the pizza hoping John wouldn’t think of getting too mad at a woman with a hot pizza in her hands. “Well, she wanted to apply at the agency so I took an application over to her.”

  “And this was when?”

  “This morning.”

  “Sunday. Hmmm. Since when do you go delivering applications on a Sunday? Don’t answer.” John put up his left hand and counted to ten. “Okay, I’m calm. So what about the roses? Not that I am condoning your playing detective.”

  “Well, it seems that Steven— Here, let’s take this into the living room.” I took the plates off the small kitchen table and handed them to John then walked into the living room with the pizza. After I had placed bubbling pieces on our plates, I continued. “Where was I? Yeah, right. Steven. Well, it seems he likes roses. A lot. They’re his hobby and he takes very good care of them. Sprays them a lot. Sprinkles stuff on them to keep them from getting these little bugs. Hmmm, this is really good if I do say so myself.” I wiped a piece of goat cheese from my chin and took a sip of wine.

  “And did you just happen to see what it is that he sprays and sprinkles?”

  “Well, no. I didn’t. And Trish didn’t mention anything either.”

  “Where was Steven when you were interrogating Trish?”

  “He wasn’t there. Trish said he went to play tennis. And I wasn’t interrogating. I told you, I brought her an application.” I licked a bit of sauce off my finger. “I mentioned seeing her father at my club and she said no way would he change clubs. So either she doesn’t know her father gambles and may be having financial difficulties or Ann at the club was mistaken.” I cut another small piece of the pizza and put it on my plate. I love homemade pizza.

  “So what do we know so far?” I began again. “All the suspects were in the house and there’s really no reason to suspect anyone outside of the family, right?” John nodded his agreement with a mouth full of pesto sauce. “Okay, so we have May and June, both of whom wanted that land sold and could easily go out to the shed or look for something under their own sinks. Maybe we should find out if they have problems with rats. And May has a blender. I’m not sure about June.”

  “Ah, yes. I almost forgot,” John said. “I assume you know neither women has a rose garden because you went to visit them as well. Don’t tell me you took them a job application, too.”

  I cut my eyes to him and said haughtily, “No, I did not. But in June’s case it might not be such a bad idea. I think she could use the money.”

  “So what’s this about a blender?”

  “Well, it seems May has a blender. And it’s been used recently,” I said brightly.

  “I have a blender,” John countered, “and I used it two nights ago to make a fruit shake. What does that tell you about me?”

  “That you’re self sufficient and can take care of yourself.” I placed a greasy kiss on his cheek.

  “Seriously, Alex, what is all this about May having a blender?”

  “I managed to get a look at it and did see something suspicious in that rubber thingy around the base, but I couldn’t tell whether or not it was Jequirity bean goo or not.”

  “So that’s what all this is about. And how exactly— No. Don’t tell me,” John put up his hands. “I do not want to know how you managed to take the woman’s blender apart. Some things are better left unsaid.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Who else have you been bothering?”

  “Did you know June and Mrs. Brissart have had a feud going on for fifty years over some man named Charles? Seems Mrs. Brissart stole him from June and June’s never forgiven her. And when Charles died, his sister wrote to June telling her how much Charles had still loved her?”

  “No, I didn’t know any of this,” John said with a look that was either annoyance or embarrassment. I couldn’t tell. “How did you find all this out? Please tell me you’re not reading their mail.”

  “No. Marsha brought it up and I asked several people to verify it.” I smiled sweetly.

  “Like who?” This time John’s voice was full of annoyance. I could definitely tell the difference.

  “Well, like Trish, and May and June. And May actually threw me out, she was so mad,” I said with pride.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve had time to talk with anyone else since last I saw you?” John asked with sarcasm. “Which, by the way, was this morning.”

  “I do have a business to run, John, but I did manage to talk with April and Larry. Not what they pretend to be at all,” I said indignantly.

  “Maybe you should just stick to running your business. I hear you do it quite well.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  John shook his head. “So go ahead, tell me. Were they at Trish’s?”

  “Well, no. But they live close. Relatively close. So I stopped off there.”

  “With job applications, I suppose, in case his newest invention doesn’t fly?”

  “Rotate. Actually, I wanted to see one of his inventions. I’m thinking about redoing my closets. I could really use some space in there. And he’s got this nifty little—”

  “Okay, Jessica Fletcher, what did you find out?” John poured some more wine and took a sip, a hint of a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his lips.

  “Nothing really, except April, despite the happy act, doesn’t seem to be all that thrilled to be living with Larry. She feels cheated he’s never amounted to much, at least his inventions haven’t which is probably the same thing.”

  John heaved a heavy sigh and pulled a few pillows off the sofa. “I don’t know. I am baffled, I’ll admit. Unless one of them spills the beans, no pun intended, we may never know which one or ones are guilty. We’ve got officers out looking at all the places where one might be able to find a selection of poisons, and we’re doing background checks on everyone.”

  “Oh! I almost forgot. Kendra sto
pped by my office tonight. She quit her job and is leaving town. Did you know this?”

  “Well, no. I did not,” John said and suddenly he looked so tired.

  “Aren’t you concerned? She could be a murderer.”

  “Not really. I’ve interviewed her extensively. And also her family and friends and co-workers. She didn’t kill him,” John said nonchalantly. He undid his tie and kicked off his shoes. I started to get up to clean the mess when he reached for me. “Now, come here and I’ll tell you all about my inspiration for that pumpkin over there.”

  Any amorous notions John hoped to pursue were quickly dashed by the ringing of the phone.

  “Hello,” I said into the receiver and passed the phone to John.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “Who was that?” I asked as I watched my romantic evening fly out the window.

  “The station. They’ve arrested May.”

  Of course I insisted on going with him and to my delight May asked that I sit with her during this ordeal. John argued, but when May refused to talk unless I, a friendly face, as she currently described me, could be present, John relented. Who was I to refuse?

  I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small bag of M&Ms. This was going to be better than watching a movie. I started to tear it open when John gave me the evil eye and I discreetly put the bag back in my pocket.

  “Mrs. Estenfelder, please, I must warn you of your rights.” John’s voice sounded strong and authoritative but showed no signs of getting through to the woman.

  “I’m well aware of my rights, young man. I don’t need a lawyer. I did it, but being that no one was hurt, I’ll just be taking my things and leaving.” May started to get up from the hard, wooden chair.

  “It doesn’t work like that, Mrs. Estenfelder. You tried to kill someone. Now sit down.”

  May would not be deterred. “Well, I didn’t, did I? Now, if you’ll just tell me where my purse is, I’ll be on my way.”

  John sighed with exasperation. “Why don’t you take a few minutes to call your lawyer.”

  May, in spite of a show of bravado, began to see the light because just then two policemen walked by the window. In between them was a filthy Neanderthal, handcuffed hands behind him and a sinister leer on his face.

  May took a gulp of air. “Well, if you think it best, Detective Van der Burg, maybe I will just take a moment.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Come in! I finally meet the two people responsible for helping me put that son of mine through college.” Mr Reiser extended his hand to me. “Did he tell you he’s almost done? My wife and I are thrilled. Now we can save up for that trip around the world we’ve always talked about.” Mr. Reiser chuckled. He was tall and good-looking—much like his son, though not quite as thin.

  “Mr. Reiser, Ian explained a little about your firm to me over the phone and you talked with my sister, but could you tell us a bit of the background of Reiser and White Consultants? How long have you been in business?” I asked.

  Mr. Reiser sat back in his chair in the small office and crossed his arms in front of him. “I worked for my old firm for over sixteen years, and my partner, Bill White, was with his company for about ten. I’m a casualty of downsizing, and Bill just wanted to make a change. We came together about fourteen months ago and it’s been going well. Which is why we need some additional help. We’ve got a new contract on top of a few others contracts we started working on several months ago, and we’re just about ready to sign for another.”

  “These are all for software packages?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, that’s right. So far, that’s all we’ve been dealing in. We’re doing work for large and small companies alike. The novelty of what we’re doing is that we carry the telemarketing concept one step further. Whereas in the past, large corporations would contract the initial telemarketing out to specialty firms, they weren’t contracting the initial sales contact out as well and that’s where we come in.

  “What we need for this new contract are two salespeople with substantial contacts within large organizations. These would probably be people who, because of downsizing within their own organization, have found themselves out of a job.”

  “Would they have to have a vast knowledge of the software industry or a programming background?” I asked.

  “No. Not at all. We need salespeople, first and foremost, and, as I said, people with good contacts. We’ve already been given leads by the manufacturer, and now we go in and do demos and wrap the whole thing up. But more contacts never hurt. In addition to this latest job, we should, in the next two weeks, be signing a deal with another software firm. This time it’s a document imaging and cloud storage package. Do you have any knowledge of these programs?”

  ”Not much,” I admitted. “Just the cloud storage on my iPad.”

  “As your own firm grows and generates more paper, you may want to consider something like this.” Mr. Reiser said.

  Documents. I let my mind wander, something I did with increasing frequency of late, as Mr. Reiser explained the virtues of a paperless society to Sam. After I got home last night, I cuddled in bed with Bradley’s family history again. And again I found nothing. Both Mrs. Brissart and Kendra mentioned Bradley wanted to discuss the history, but had never found the time. What did he want to know? Was it important? Probably just some little tidbit the young man found fascinating. And besides, Bradley was most likely not the intended victim so what may or may not have been in the history really didn’t mean anything. I had only been concerned about it as a means of getting Mrs. Brissart off the hook. But John seemed to be giving up on this theory and concentrating his efforts on more viable suspects. Still, I found myself curious about the whole history.

  “It’s staggering,” Mr. Reiser continued, bringing me back to the present. “Invoices, memos, faxes, and letters. Not to mention employee files, which alone can account for a small forest. Email has taken a bite out of paper usage, but not as much as you would think.”

  “I think you’ll find our proposal outlines exactly what you have in mind,” Sam said, as she handed Mr. Reiser the proposal we had put together yesterday.

  Mr. Reiser looked over the papers and nodded positively. “Ian speaks very highly of your firm. He’s made a lot of contacts himself at the various companies he’s been sent to, and if he doesn’t come on board with us, I doubt he’ll have a problem finding something. I’d like him to come work with me for a while if for no other reason than to pay me back for all his years of schooling!” Mr. Reiser threw his head back and gave a good laugh. I could see where Ian got his charm.

  Sam and I left with a promise from Mr. Reiser that he would review our proposal and get with us as soon as possible.

  “Do you think he’s getting bids from that new agency?” Sam asked as we made our way back to the car.

  I shrugged inside my new leopard-skin sweater. “I doubt it. I hope not. Besides, Ian recommended us to his father and he didn’t mention the other agency when we spoke.”

  We drove back to our office. I told Sam I needed to go to the Brissart home. I knew Chantal would have everything under control, but I just wanted to check and make sure everything was okay. Besides, something Kendra mentioned yesterday about Bradley and the family history had crept into my sleep during the night. I wasn’t sure why it should stir anything in me, but it did and it wouldn’t hurt to check.

  There were two cars in the Brissart driveway—one, Chantal’s, and the other I didn’t recognize—just as long as it didn’t belong to one of the family. I had no desire to deal with any of them today. Mrs. Brissart seemed so, well…normal, and the rest were candidates for dysfunctional poster family of the year. I felt lucky; my whole family was normal. Well, there was Cousin Stanley. And grandpa. And of course Meme.

  I rang the bell and in a few seconds Mrs. Brissart answered.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Brissart. I’m sorry I didn’t call first but I wanted to stop by and see how you were getting on.?
??

  “Nonsense. No need for apologies, Alex. You’re always welcome. Come in. I’ll have Virginia make us some tea.” She held the door open and I entered into the large hallway. “Let me take your jacket.” Mrs. Brissart walked down the long hallway calling to Mrs. Platz.

  “Alex. I thought I heard your voice.” Chantal strode into the living room and took a seat next to me.

  “Mrs. Brissart went to get tea. So how’s it going? She seems in better spirits.”

  “She is. For the moment. She gets very depressed, though, at the drop of a hat. And the arrest of May last night kind of threw her into a tizzy. Though I think she’s rather amused by it in the light of day. I don’t know the facts of the arrest. Has John spoken to you?”

  “Actually, I was there,” I said. “The station called just as we were, umm, finishing up dinner, so I went along.”

  “Did you get a chance to talk with May?” Chantal asked, in complete awe of me having an inside track.

  “She actually asked me to sit in while they questioned her, but then John had to go insisting she have a lawyer present, and that put an end to that.” I rolled my eyes heavenward. “I left and went home and he never called. So he must have been with her all night.”

  Chantal shook her head. “I personally don’t know how they’re all coping. Maybe this trip will help them.”

  “Trip?”

  “Yes. Kenneth and Lillian are driving down to Virginia to stay with Lillian’s family. Kenneth and Lillian and Stuart took the car into town to have it serviced and to get some breakfast. I think Kenneth and his wife want to spend some time with their son. I know Mrs. Brissart hoped he would go to Virginia with them, but I don’t think he will. They should be back shortly.” Chantal pushed an errant piece of hair from her face. “Mrs. Platz is going to stay with her sister in Hartford for a few days and Mrs. Brissart is going with her—just to get away from this house. Which reminds me, Alex. Mrs. Brissart said it wasn’t necessary for me to come in the rest of the week but she’d still like to pay me. I told her no, but she insisted.”