Black Beans & Vice (36 page)

"If this Kenneth fellow comes 'round here again, you need to
scare the tar outta him, son." Jackson's brows furrowed in anger.
"I'd best loan you my shotgun."

James shook his head. He had no intention of keeping a gun in
the house. "Thanks for the offer, Pop, but Lucy will deal with him."

"That is a comforting thought," Milla said and patted James
on the back. "You can have a nice, carefree summer now." Gathering her things together, she paused at the front door. "Oh, I almost forgot! A lovely woman stopped by with some herbal iced tea. She
said it would help with Eliot's cold, but that you might want to
taste it first to see if he'd find it too bitter."

"Roslyn Rhodes was here?"

Milla nodded. "Yes, that was her name. I told her Eliot seemed
right as rain and she said you'd probably given him some of her
products already and that the tea would be good for you too. She
said you must come in contact with all sorts of germs handling
those library books and this tea would help rev up your defenses."

Slightly bewildered by the healer's house call, James wished
Jackson and Milla goodnight and crawled into bed, too tired to
even open the fridge and investigate Roslyn's gift.

The next morning was Saturday. That meant cartoons, pajamas, coffee, and James' famous pancake faces. He got up before
the rest of the family and set about brewing coffee and making
Eliot fresh-squeezed orange juice. He was just folding blueberries
into the pancake batter when Eliot shuffled into the kitchen. The
little boy rubbed sleep from his eyes and hugged his father. He
then pulled a stool over to the counter and watched as James used
a ladle to spoon the batter onto the hot skillet.

"Can we have alien pancakes today?" Eliot asked.

"Aliens with blue spots," James agreed. He cooked one ovalshaped pancake and two silver-dollar-sized pancakes. The bigger
pancake formed the alien's face while the smaller ones served as
his eyes. Strawberries cut into triangles formed a sinister mouth
while half a banana cut lengthwise became the nose. James added
two chocolate chip pupils and presented the plate to his son with
a flourish.

"Earth has been invaded by aliens with blue spots," James announced in a robotic monotone. "Only one boy can save the day.
Eliot Henry, will you rescue our planet by destroying the mean,
spotty-faced aliens?"

"I will!" Eliot shouted and stabbed the banana nose with his
fork. James howled as though wounded and then they both
laughed. Jane entered the kitchen and headed straight for the coffeepot. James knew better than to start a conversation with her
until she'd had at least three sips, so he merely smiled at her and
continued making pancakes.

"I have the best husband in the world," Jane declared. "Makes
his pancakes light and his coffee strong."

Kissing Eliot on the top of his head, she took her cup out to
the front door and retrieved the newspaper. The Henrys batted
around proposals on how to spend the rest of the day. James had
to mow the lawn while Jane needed to do laundry, work on her
summer class syllabus, and get groceries at the farmer's market.

"I want to build a fairy house today!" Eliot announced and ran
to his room. He returned with one of the dozen library books he'd
checked out during the week. "See? This little girl makes one and
the fairies love it. You have to use stuff you find outside. If you buy
stuff that's cheating."

James examined the illustrations of the small structures crafted
from pinecones, twigs, and stones. "I think we can make time for
this project," James told his son. "It's going to be hot today, so let's
take a walk in the woods after we get dressed. Maybe Snickers
would like to come with us."

Hearing his name, the miniature schnauzer raced into the
room, his tail wagging. Jane got ready first and then left for the farmer's market. James and Eliot headed out back with both
Snickers and Miss Pickles trailing after them. It was James' job to
carry the hemp bag that would hold the fairy house materials Eliot
found.

"Okay, bud. Enough rocks." James protested as Eliot tried to
add another heavy stone to the bag. "How about some nice, lightweight sticks?"

It took another hour to construct the house and then Eliot sat
back on his heels and brushed the dirt from his hands. "All done!
When do you think they'll move in?"

James shrugged. "Fairies are very shy. They don't usually let
people see them."

Eliot pouted. "Then how will I know if they liked my house?"

"Oh, they have a way of letting you know that they were here."
He thought frantically. "Um, they might make a heart using flower
petals or leave you some other gift."

"Like what?" Eliot's eyes shimmered.

Now James really was stuck. He glanced around the yard,
stroking Miss Pickles as he tried to come up with a plausible answer. "A lucky four-leaf clover or an empty robin's egg. Something
from nature."

"Cool" Eliot seemed satisfied. "When should we look for presents?"

Knowing he'd need time to sneak back to the fairy house and
plant an item there, James waved Eliot away from the edge of the
woods. "Tomorrow. We need to give them time to discover their
new house. Plus, I heard they come out with the sun. Very early.
Let's go inside and see what Mom got from the market."

After a snack of celery sticks and peanut butter, Eliot went to
his room to play with the train set Jackson had bought him. James
donned a baseball cap and went back outside to mow the lawn.

"Take your shoes off before you come back in!" Jane warned.
"I'm going to vacuum and mop since neither of my men are underfoot."

The Henrys passed an industrious morning. James finished
with the front and side yards and stopped the mower, his shirt
soaked with sweat. He'd drained his water bottle and wanted a refill and a bite of lunch before attacking the large expanse of lawn
behind the house. He also wanted to check in with Lucy and find
out whether Kenneth Cooper had been charged with a crime or
had spent the night in the hospital, making phone calls to his firm
and practicing the statement he'd make to the authorities.

Mindful of Jane's request, he kicked off his sneakers on the
front porch and shook the grass from his socks. Frowning at the
green tinge discoloring the ankle area of his white socks, James
wiped his face with the old dishrag he used as a gym towel and
stepped into the blissful cool.

In the kitchen, he refilled his water bottle, noting that an unfamiliar plastic pitcher containing a brown liquid had been left out
on the counter. A tumbler with what James assumed was the tea
given to them by Roslyn sat next to the pitcher. He picked it up
and gave it a sniff. Normally, he wouldn't be suspicious of the holistic healer's odd visit the night before. After all, he lived in the
South and it was an everyday occurrence for the townsfolk to help
one another out, but why would Roslyn stop by when James had
already purchased the products needed to cure Eliot's false cold?

He found Eliot still in his room. Train tracks snaked across
the floor while library books, wooden blocks, and Lincoln Logs
formed a series of tunnels. "Just a few more minutes," his son
pleaded, assuming it was lunchtime.

"Where's Mom?" James asked, but Eliot just shrugged and continued to play.

Peering into the bedroom, James recalled that laundry had
been on Jane's to-do list. He walked back down the hall to the tiny
room next to the garage and found a pile of clean clothes partially
folded on top of the dryer. The T-shirts had been placed neatly
in the laundry basket, but the family's socks and underwear were
scattered on the floor. The sight of the freshly laundered clothing dumped on the tiles caused a stirring of anxiety in James. He
quickly checked the garage and, finding it empty, hurried out to
the deck.

Jane was there, hunched over the railing, retching violently.

"Honey! Are you okay?"

She couldn't answer. Each breath was a desperate gasp as her
body tried to inhale oxygen in between convulsions. One hand
kept her balanced on the rail while the other clutched at her stomach.

"Oh, my God!" James stared at her in fear. "Did you drink the
tea?"

Jane managed a nod and James flew into action. He raced into
the house and dialed 9-1-1. With a tremulous voice, he told the
operator that his wife had likely been poisoned by a herbal tea.

"Which herb, sir?" the woman asked serenely and James was
exasperated by her calm. He wanted her to speak rapidly, to hastily
tell him what to do, to promise that all would be well.

"I-I don't know," he stammered, picturing the shelves and
shelves of products in Roslyn's storeroom.

The operator spoke again. It took a moment for her words to
pierce the buzzing in James' head. "What are your wife's symptoms, sir?"

Suddenly, James felt that he was wasting precious time fielding
questions from the composed woman on the phone. He slammed
the handset down and yelled, "Eliot! Get in my truck!"

"But I wanna-" the little boy whined.

"NOW! DO WHAT I SAID RIGHT NOW!" James so rarely
shouted that his son responded immediately.

James grabbed a bucket from under the kitchen sink, ran back
out to the deck, and gently lifted Jane into his arms. "You're going
to be fine, baby." He rushed through the house, gently set Jane into
the passenger seat, put the bucket on her lap, and belted Eliot in
his car seat. He then raced inside once more, grabbed the pitcher
of tea from the counter, and jumped into the truck.

The drive to the hospital was hell. Eliot sat in wide-eyed silence
in his seat, his large pupils dark with fear. Jane retched several
times, but then dropped the bucket between her feet and grabbed
her belly with both hands, moaning in pain.

Her agony made every red light and slow driver James' agony.
Somehow, Eliot's mute presence in the back seat kept James from
taking too many risks, but each passing minute filled his mind
with a series of torturous questions. How powerful was the poisonous herb in the tea? How much did Jane drink? Would he get
her to the hospital in time?

James screeched to a halt in front of the Emergency Room entrance, unbuckled Eliot and told him to stay close. Lifting Jane out of the car, he left the Bronco where it was, doors open wide, the
key-left-in-ignition alarm sounding.

Ignoring the reception area with its enclosed desk, sliding glass
window, and sign-in clipboard, James carried his wife right up to a
man in scrubs, who was loitering near the vending machines.

"Please, my wife's been poisoned!"

To the man's credit, he leapt into action immediately. He
slammed a nearby wall button, automatically opening a set of double doors leading to the treatment rooms. Gesturing for James to
put Jane down on an empty gurney in the hallway, he removed the
stethoscope from around his neck and listened to Jane's breathing.

"Do you know what she ingested?" He spoke to James without
looking at him.

"An herbal tea. But I think it was deliberately brewed to do us
harm. I've got it out in the car."

The man gestured for a pair of his colleagues to come to his
aid. "Go get it, please."

James took Eliot's hand to fetch the pitcher and then he stopped.
"Thunder god vine," he said. "Check for thunder god vine."

The man removed the stereoscope stem from his right ear.
"Thunder god vine?" His look of astonishment was quickly replaced by a nod. "Okay. But get the pitcher anyway."

Murmuring words of comfort to Eliot, James grabbed the
pitcher of tea from the Bronco and handed it to the nurse stationed outside the double doors. "You've got to move your car
and check your wife in," she directed. "They're not going to let you
back in here until you do."

Too blinded by worry to realize that Jane wasn't the only patient the emergency room team would see that hour, James stalked off to move his car to the nearest lot. He completed the paperwork
as fast as possible, his handwriting an anxious scrawl. Shoving the
clipboard in the glass reception window's slot, he pointed at the
double doors. "Can I go back now?"

"Your wife might have been moved, sir. Let me find out where
she is." The woman picked up her phone and dialed a number. She
then glanced back at James. "I've paged the doctor. I'll call you as
soon as I have more information."

James controlled the rage surging through his body. He knew
it stemmed from his feelings of helplessness and that he needed to
press it back down. Only the warmth of Eliot's small hand in his
kept him from erupting. He led his son over to the vending machines and bought him a bag of pretzels and an apple juice.

"What's going to happen to Mommy?" Eliot asked, his lips
quivering as he held his untouched snack.

Gathering the boy in his lap, James whispered. "She was sick,
but the doctor's going to make her better. Don't you worry."

Deciding to funnel his anger, he called Lucy on his cell phone.
"Roslyn must be the murderer you've been looking for! She tried
to kill us! Me or Jane ... maybe all three of us." The horror of his
own statement sank in. "My God, she would have knowingly poisoned my son!"

"I'm on it." Lucy answered after James ran through the details.
"She must have been worried that you discovered something in
her office and that, eventually, you'd put two and two together
and turn her in. Think about why you spooked her, James. When
I catch her, I'm going to need as much information as possible to
toss her in a cell."

Sensing Lucy was about to hang up, James called, "Wait! What
about Kenneth?"

"He's denying everything. Says that he had the feathers in his
pocket because he took them off your car." There was a smile in
her voice. "Don't give him a second thought. He had cocaine in his
system. First thing Monday morning, we get a restraining order
for you and your family and go from there. He's never going to
bother you again, James. I promise."