A Geek Girl's Guide to Arsenic (12 page)

I finally caught on. Heat rose in my cheeks. These were naughty poses. Jake would hate them. I flipped back the length of my pilgrim skirt to reveal the line of lace above my knee.

Snap!

“Good Grief.” Jake was back on his feet. “This place is bananas.” He headed for the clubhouse.

Tennille winked as I passed her. “I’ll email the shots to you.”

“Thanks!”

Jake waved a hand overhead, without looking back. “I can see you’re fine. I have to go.”

“Where?” I jogged to catch up. “Can you stop, please? Your legs are like twice as long as mine.”

“Work. I have more folks to interview at the Craft Faire.”

“Do you need any help? Have you considered the apothecary?”

He puffed air.

“Hey.” I whacked one of his hands as they swung at his sides. “Stop walking.”

Jake froze. “I’m considering every angle. You aren’t. You promised.”

“I did not.”

He glared, probably expecting a pinkie oath from me. A pledge of my fealty to his will. Fat chance. His phone rang and he pressed it to his ear.

I stepped closer, listening to the deep tenor rattling across the line.

“
Kent Logan
,
from the medical examiner’s office...confirmation on cause of death...
”

Jake narrowed his eyes and turned his back to me. “Just a moment.” He took several long strides away before telling the man on the other end to go on.

I tiptoe-jogged behind him.

“
...Poison.
Belladonna.
”

“Thank you.” Jake stuffed his phone into his pocket and turned so quickly he almost stepped on me.

“I heard that. We should go check it out. The apothecary would know all about belladonna.”

“What the—?” He tossed his arms open to balance himself as he avoided my toes. “That was a private conversation. I walked away to take the call. Wasn’t that clear for you?”

I waved to Fifi, who’d stayed behind to talk with Tennille. “Can you meet me in the office Monday at nine? I have to leave now. Official police business.”

Jake groaned. “What are you talking about?”

Fifi prowled forward. “Will I see you again?”

“Uh.”
Didn’t I say Monday?

She stopped at my side and touched a button on Jake’s shirt with one bright pink nail. “Deputy US Marshal Archer?”

Jake gave a slow reptilian blink.

Ah geez. “We’ve got to go.” I pushed him toward his giant truck. “See you Monday, Fifi.”

Jake opened his passenger door and smiled. “I think she likes me.”

I climbed inside. “Just drive. You’d better bring me back for my car this time. Last time you lied and left me at the Faire.”

“I told you I was sorry about that.” He shut my door and dodged around the hood to climb behind the wheel. “Besides, Nate took you home. It’s not like I left you there alone.”

A retort about manners and idiocy came to mind, but I squelched it. “Odds are the apothecary can get her hands on belladonna without any trouble. Nate suggested the same thing this morning, and I blew him off. I should be used to him being right.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and typed
belladonna
in a search engine.

“You’re forgetting she’s not a real apothecary. It’s all make believe, Hester.”

“That’s exactly what I told Nate, but the fact someone used belladonna and not rat poison makes me think it’s someone in the mindset of another time.”

“Or someone trying to point the finger away from themselves.”

“Did they finish testing the hand cream and wassail? Our company should be cleared now, right? There isn’t any belladonna in anything we make, products and hot beverages included.”

“He’s faxing me the full report.”

“I want a copy.” I scrolled through the site of natural poisons. “This says belladonna is also known as deadly nightshade, and the name literally means ‘beautiful lady.’ Well, that’s creepy. It’s also known as the devil’s herb, witches berry and love apple. Gross. Symptoms include dilated pupils, hallucinations, confusion and agitation.”

Jake blew down the road toward the highway at seven miles above the speed limit, ignoring my rapid-fire questions on the toxicology reports and their relevance to my company. “How did you get in here?” He motioned to my phone. “Put that away.”

“Maybe you’ve had a dose of belladonna. You asked me to come with you.”

He shook his head and muttered something unintelligible.

I beamed. “Time to visit the apothecary.”

Chapter Fourteen

Grandma was on a chair near our rented gypsy wagons demonstrating the pore-shrinking powers of her Lemon Refresher Splash when we got to the Faire. Mom wandered aimlessly around a space devoid of customers while Dad whittled a knotted tree branch into a smaller knotted branch.

Bree and Tom fussed with the product displays. He was dressed as a knight. She was still a harlot.

“Hey, you!” Bree waved Jake and me closer. “When will our booth be back? I think these wagons are confusing customers. We always have a booth.”

Yeah
,
that was the problem
. I smiled. “I’m working on it. I’d like to get an exact replica of the old booth and that means getting my hands on the original specs. The builder’s been busy, but he’s coming when he can.”

She huffed and grumbled. “We need our booth back.”

Tom shook Jake’s hand. “Back for business or pleasure?”

“Business.”

Tom beamed. “Putting Mia’s IQ to work for you?”

Jake barked a laugh. “No. I don’t even know how she ended up coming with me. One minute we’re arguing over a B&E and the next minute she’s spouting theories on my case and we’re halfway here.”

“That sounds about right. How are her theories?”

Jake slid his eyes my way and frowned. “Not terrible.”

Tom grabbed Bree into a bear hug. “Connors women are crazy smart.” He kissed the top of her head.

Bree snuggled against her husband. She lifted an accusatory finger in my direction. “What are you wearing? Where’s your Guinevere costume?”

“This is my Pioneer Days costume. I’m here on marshal business. I’ll change into one of my Guinevere gowns and come back later.”

She scrutinized me. “Any particular reason you chose Hester Prynne, a sexual deviant? You know what Freud would say.”

“That my sister’s obsessed with sex?”

“Says my doppelganger.”

I grabbed Jake’s sleeve. “We should go, so I can get back here and help out. I’m sure Bree’s needed at the brothel soon.”

He followed without further prodding. “Where’s Gwen?”

“With their manny, Linus. A manny is a guy nanny.”

“I know what a manny is. What do you think of Linus?”

“He’s okay. A drama major, so a little flaky. Draws pictures on their sidewalk with chalk and sings show tunes. Gwen loves him.”

“You want me to run a background check on him?”

I puffed air. “Like I didn’t do that the minute Bree introduced him.”

“Right. Sorry your family business is taking such a hit. I’m going to get this wrapped up soon and clear your company name.”

“I know.” If not him, then me for sure. I tilted my chin to absorb the sun’s warm rays. The thermostat on Jake’s dash had said seventy-one, more than Ohio could ask for so close to Thanksgiving.

We turned in unison down the path to the apothecary shop. The sign on the door hadn’t moved. Closed.

I shaded my eyes from the sun with one hand and squinted at Jake. “Well, she’s either in mourning or she’s made a run for Canada.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

An army of kids ran past us whacking a ball with sticks and screaming.

Jake’s phone rang.

I got busy. First, I walked to the soap shop next door and asked about the apothecary.

I asked the same question to several vendors pushing carts and four with shops nearby. No one had seen her since Wednesday. All complained a pair of men came by earlier asking about John.

Jake loitered outside the candlemaker, still on the phone.

I bobbed in front of him until he paid attention. “No one has seen the apothecary since John died.” What could that mean? Where was she? Who was she?

He covered the bottom of his phone with one hand. “I’m on the phone.”

Obviously.
Try as I might, I couldn’t picture her face. Melanie was a redhead, and Adele had coal-black hair. John didn’t have a type. I chewed the edge of my thumbnail.

I tapped my foot to an approaching minstrel band and swung my skirt in time. The musicians were all in kilts, though only one had bagpipes. Grandma loved men in kilts. She called them her weakness, and it was true. Clicking kilted men ads had given her laptop more than one virus, and guess who had to fix that problem?

Jake disconnected his call.

“Finally. What’d you learn?”

“Not much. You want to go back to work?” He moved in the direction of the parking lot.

“Not really. No one’s seen the apothecary since Wednesday. Don’t you think that’s worth looking into?”

“I can take you to your place so you can change and grab Stella.”

“Fine, but then we should stop by her house. Did you get her name? Why can’t I remember her? I thought I knew everyone here.”

Jake kept moving. “Her name’s Agatha Bellsbury.”

“Well, that sounds like a fake name.”

We climbed into Jake’s woolly mammoth-size truck and polluted a serious strip of ozone up I-77 North.

I fingered a stack of country music CDs on the visor. “That trip was a bust.”

“Most trips are. That’s how it works. One thing leads to another until you get where you’re going.”

My intuition perked. “Hey. Where are you going?”

“I’m taking you back where I found you.”

“And then where are you going?”

He concentrated on the road, glancing into his rearview mirror in regular intervals. “Work.”

We rode in silence the rest of the way to Horseshoe Falls.

Bernie winked as we passed through the guard gate.

I fidgeted with my skirt as Jake maneuvered around piles of road apples left by horses and knots of distracted residents ogling the festivities. “Can you take me to my condo?”

“Sure.”

“And can you walk me up? I get nervous sometimes after what happened over the summer.” I averted my face when he turned to analyze me.

He escorted me, silently, into my apartment and did a thorough run-through of each room, checking for boogeymen.

I did a costume change quick enough to impress Katy Perry’s handlers and waited by the door.

He startled when he found me. “What?” He looked around. “When did you change?”

“Just now.” I huffed, out of breath.

“Here?” He pointed to the living room.

“No. Behind the kitchen island. My Guinevere gown was on a hanger in the front closet. Are you ready to go?”

Recognition dawn on his face. “To work? Without you? Yes, I am.”

“Okeydokey.” I gathered my things and jumped in the elevator behind him. The sweeping material of my ice-blue gown clung unapologetically to my body. Why hadn’t I chosen one of the more casual A-line options? I forced my chin up and promised myself to get back into running when the weather improved, or to donate this dress to a worthy cause in the morning.

He moved away from me in the small space. “You’re not coming with me.”

“Or maybe you want me to tag along.”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, then. I’ll just walk you to your truck.”

“What are you up to?” He shifted his stance and rested long fingers on his shiny marshal star.

“What do you mean?”

The doors parted, and we split ways, each toward our own vehicle.

I waved goodbye as I beeped Stella unlocked. “Have fun at work.”

He trailed me with his gaze, unspeaking.

I pretended to talk on my phone until he pulled out of the parking lot. He watched me in his rearview mirror as I followed him through the community and the guard gate, then onto the highway, off at an exit I’d never used before and down a street I didn’t know.

My phone crowed on the seat beside me. Jake’s face lit the screen.

“Hello?”

“Stop following me.”

I huffed. “I’m not. Jeez. You’re so paranoid.”

He hung up.

I parked behind him along the curb outside a turn-of-the-century saltbox home.

He climbed the steps to the front door, without a look in my direction. He rang the bell.

I drove a ChapStick around my lips and waited behind the wheel.

Jake peeped in the front windows and tried the doorknob. He went around the side of the house, doing the same. The side door opened under his touch, and he drew his sidearm.

I hefted my skirts and hauled tail to meet him inside the door. I stopped short, knocked half-silly by the pungent sent of dead flowers. “Ugh. I know this smell.”

Jake motioned for me to be quiet and wait outside.

I shook my head. Negative.

He frowned.

I motioned him ahead.

He made a mean face and crept into the house. “Miss Bellsbury? I’m a United States Marshal.” He put one silent boot in front of the other, swinging his gun left and right inside each doorway.

“It’s hot in here,” I whispered. “And it smells like dead plants and something else.”

He swore and holstered his gun.

I peeked around his ribs while he dialed his phone.

Agatha Bellsbury was facedown in her salad, surrounded by dead plants and open books. “Now we know what the other smell is.” I dug a pair of gloves from my pockets and paged through the books, careful not to look at Agatha. If I looked, I’d have another attack, be overcome with memories of Baxter, and probably throw up, ruining the crime scene.

Jake contacted the medical examiner and his team while I nosed around.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Don’t touch anything.”

I produced another pair of gloves. “Here.”

“Do I want to know why you have plastic gloves on you?”

“You didn’t have any when John died, so I brought these in case we needed them. All these books are on poisonous plants. I think that salad is the murder weapon.”

“You think she read about poisonous plants and then killed herself with them?”

“Maybe. If she killed John, it could’ve been a murder-suicide, or good old-fashioned guilt.” I hefted an open book in one hand and a wilted bundle of something resembling parsley in the other. “Look at this. Is this hemlock?”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any evidence baggies in your costume.”

“Sorry.”

He poked through the kitchen and uncapped the blender for a sniff. “Ah. Puke. This smoothie could’ve done the job.”

Everything about her home was normal, except the body. She had family photographs on her refrigerator and open cereal boxes on the counter. My tummy squirmed.

I snapped a few pictures with my phone.

“Hey. Stop that.”

I put my phone away. “I’d better go before your team gets here and thinks you’re unprofessional for bringing me along.” I slid past him and took the short path out the back door to Stella.

Jake called after me. “You’d better delete those pictures.”

“Will do.” I waved overhead as I drove away.

John also had a smoothie before dying, and I didn’t believe in coincidence.